No Ego, No Drama—Gelo Rivera’s Guide to Being That Guy
In the steadiness of Gelo, leader of BGYO, you begin to understand that true authority is in the stillness that holds everything together
The calm in the chaos
Gelo Rivera is the leader of P-pop boy group BGYO and it shows. During the shoot, there’s a moment that says it all: he can’t find his phone. “My phone’s missing,” he says; no panic, no rush. He moves slowly, assuredly, checking his pockets, glancing at the table. And there it is.
There’s something about the way he navigates the world, as if he’s already ten steps ahead. Not in a scheming way, but with a foresight that only comes from living at the heart of a five-piece boyband. One that dances in sync, performs with polish, and survives the chaos of fame and fatigue by holding onto each other.
In that one tiny moment of misplaced technology, you see leadership in the shape of calm.
“Beyond the stage and the studio, I feel like I’m a friend, a kuya. Someone the others can lean on.”
The title of “leader” in K-pop and P-pop groups often sounds like a formal designation, a position on a resume. But with him, it reads more like muscle memory. It’s not just that he’s one of the rappers or a standout dancer. It’s in how he steps up when things get heavy. The weight of the group, its emotional rhythm, small failures, and triumphs often move through him first.
And yet, he’s not one to take all the light. “One of our biggest challenges early on was making sure everyone felt seen. I always made the effort to encourage and motivate them.” That emotional labor happens in the quiet check-ins, in how he hypes them up for solo projects, or simply listens.
Leading with grace
There’s no ego here. Gelo talks about leadership the way someone might talk about dance: a back-and-forth of movement, of knowing when to step up and when to make space. “I’m a collaborative leader,” he says. “I listen to what everyone wants before coming to a decision that benefits the group as a whole.”
The choreography room is one of the few spaces where he does take charge more directly, “Since I started as a dancer, I usually lead in that area”, but even then, his style is less command and more conversation. That energy carries over into their music and performances, where you don’t see a single member towering above the rest. Instead, you see five artists in sync. Five friends. A family.
How do they keep it all together, in a world that demands so much from them?
“Humor. That’s our love language. Making each other laugh is how we cope.”
It’s a simple answer, but it reveals everything. BGYO has grown up together, through auditions, training, debuts, and two full albums. That closeness breeds not just loyalty, but fluency. They know each other’s silences, their thresholds, and the jokes that will crack even the tensest rehearsal day. “It’s why we value communication. We’ve been through a lot. We just make sure we’re there for each other.”
An on-and-off switch doesn’t exist for Gelo. “Being a leader, a brother, a dancer, a musician—it’s become a lifestyle for me,” he says. “If I didn’t see it that way, I think I’d struggle to stay inspired.”
For all the polish of their public image, BGYO’s work is life. And him, the one in the center, doesn’t seem to want or need separation between the two. His leadership isn’t compartmentalized. It spills into his friendships, his family, even into how he dresses; intuitively, stylishly, in whatever fits his mood or movement that day. Lately, he’s into the “boyfriend look,” soft, clean, with a little unexpected edge. You imagine that describes his personality, too.
Learning through leading
Ask him what being a leader taught him, and he doesn’t start with responsibility. He starts with people. “I’ve learned how to work with different personalities, how to clash and still care. I’ve learned balance, how to take care of the whole while still growing as an individual.”
He doesn’t say this in a lofty and rehearsed way. It sounds more like someone who’s done the work, made mistakes, learned to listen better, or figured out how to make space for others without dimming his own spark. And when he talks about BGYO, he talks about gratitude. About being able to train and perform every day with people he loves. “They’re my best friends. They’re my family.”
If you listen closely to BGYO’s songs, two albums deep with a newly released EP this March, you’ll hear more than genre play. You’ll hear layers. Joy, sadness, nostalgia, hope. And somewhere inside that is Gelo, shaping performances that aren’t just polished but lived-in. He doesn’t want you to just hear their music.
“I hope people connect with [our music]. Whatever they’re feeling, there’s something in there for them.”
That’s the mark of real leadership. It means guiding a group while also being a mirror for the people watching. It’s about showing what grace under pressure looks like, standing your ground, and lifting others up along the way.
Or, it’s probably even simpler than that. Maybe it’s just this: when the music stops and something goes missing, your balance, your direction, even your phone, someone like Gelo will still be standing there, calm, collected, already searching for what’s next.
As seen in the pages of VMAN SEA 03: now available for purchase!
Photography Joseph Bermudez
Art direction Summer Untalan
Fashion Corven Uy
Grooming Jaime Sy
Sittings editor Mike Miguel
Photography assistant Rojan Maguyon
Special thanks Naomi Enriquez



