BINI: The Life Story Behind the Philippines' P-Pop Queens

Watch a BINI show for five minutes and you will understand why the Philippines fell in love with eight young women in pink and blue. The music is bright, the dancing is sharp enough to make your eyes widen, and the smiles on stage look like they belong to people who genuinely enjoy being there. BINI are called the Nation’s Girl Group, a title that sounds grand until you see a mall full of teenagers singing “Pantropiko” word for word, and then it sounds exactly right. Their songs are everywhere in the Philippines now, in jeepneys, in classrooms, in family gatherings, and that ubiquity did not happen by accident. It was earned in a training room, over years, by eight girls who arrived in Manila from different islands and decided to become one group.

What sets BINI apart is not only the polish. It is the warmth. K-pop-inspired groups can sometimes feel distant, perfect in a way that keeps the audience at arm’s length, but BINI feel close. They laugh on stage, they tease each other, they wave at fans they recognise, and they sing in Filipino about feelings that Filipino teenagers actually have. That closeness is why Blooms, their fans, follow them with such devotion. The group did not arrive fully formed. The public watched them grow up in training videos, in debut performances, and in the slow climb from “Born to Win” to “Pantropiko”, and watching someone grow is a different kind of love from admiring someone who is already perfect.

This is the story of Aiah, Colet, Maloi, Gwen, Stacey, Mikha, Jhoanna, and Sheena, eight young women who left their hometowns, lived together, trained for years under ABS-CBN’s Star Hunt Academy, and built the leading girl group of P-pop. It is a story about sisterhood, about bright colours and brighter songs, and about a summer hit that turned a hard-working group into a household name.

Eight Different Girls, One Shared Address

The eight women of BINI did not grow up together. Aiah, Maraiah Queen Arceta, comes from Cebu, and she brings a calm, graceful presence that steadies the group on stage. Colet, Nicolette Vergara, comes from Taguig, and her strong voice has carried many of the group’s hardest lines. Maloi, Mary Loi Yves Ricalde, comes from General Trias in Cavite, and her bright energy lifts every performance. Gwen, Gweneth Apuli, comes from Daraga in Albay, near the Mayon volcano, and her sweet voice and warmth have made her a favourite with fans.

Stacey, Stacey Aubrey Sevilleja, comes from Palawan, an island of clear seas, and she brings a powerful voice and a confident stage presence. Mikha, Mikhaela Lim, also comes from Cebu, and her rapping gives BINI a cool, modern edge that sets them apart from softer girl groups. Jhoanna, Jhoanna Christine Robles, comes from Calamba in Laguna, and as the leader she carries the responsibility of looking after seven other young women, a job she does with a care that the members often mention. Sheena, Sheena Catacutan, comes from Santiago City in Isabela, and her dancing and her bright smile have made her one of the group’s most recognisable faces.

ABS-CBN’s Star Hunt Academy brought them together, choosing them not because they were already stars, but because each one had a spark that could grow. They moved into shared housing in Manila, far from their families, and their days became a routine of classes, rehearsals, and more rehearsals. A girl who leaves Cebu or Palawan for Manila gives up the comfort of home, the food she grew up with, and the friends she has known since childhood. What she gains, if she is lucky, is seven sisters who understand exactly what she is going through, because they are going through it too.

Each member’s gift is different, and the group only works because those gifts fit together. Aiah’s grace, Colet’s voice, Maloi’s energy, Gwen’s warmth, Stacey’s power, Mikha’s rap, Jhoanna’s leadership, and Sheena’s dance are eight separate threads, and BINI is the cloth they make together. Remove one thread and the pattern changes. That is why the members talk about each other the way sisters do, with teasing, with pride, and with a loyalty that has survived years of hard work.

The Academy Years: Classrooms, Rehearsals, and Waiting

Star Hunt Academy was not a school in the usual sense. There were no semesters that ended with a holiday, and no graduation date circled on a calendar. The eight girls woke before dawn, stretched, sang scales, and then spent the day moving between vocal lessons, dance studios, and language and media classes. A single dance routine could take weeks to learn, with the choreographer breaking it into counts of eight, drilling the footwork until the whole group moved as one body, and then adding the singing on top, which is like learning to run while reciting a poem. The first time they tried it, most of them were out of breath by the second chorus. By the hundredth time, it looked easy, which is the whole point of training.

Criticism was a daily event, and it was blunt. A vocal coach would stop a run-through halfway through a line and say, again, flatter, and a dance teacher would point at a foot that was half a beat late. The girls learned to take those corrections without crying, or to cry in private and come back smiling, because a group that argues with its teachers does not improve. They also learned to correct each other gently, which is harder than it sounds when eight teenagers share a dormitory and a dream. A whispered “you were late on that turn” from a teammate can sting, but it can also save a performance, and BINI learned to hear it as help.

The hardest part was not the work itself. It was the waiting. Months passed with no debut date, no song on the radio, and no sign that anyone outside the academy knew their names. Some trainees in other programmes quit during that kind of wait, and the BINI members have talked about the nights when they wondered if they had made a mistake. What kept them there was not a promise from the company. It was each other. When one girl wanted to go home, the other seven reminded her why she had come, and when one girl nailed a difficult harmony, the other seven cheered as if it were their own success. By the time they finally debuted, they were not eight strangers who had been grouped together. They were a family that had been built, day by day, in a rehearsal room.

Born to Win and a Bright Debut

BINI made their debut in 2021 with the song “Born to Win”, a bright, confident track about believing in yourself and working for your dreams. The song’s message suited the group’s own story, and its dance was precise, joyful, and full of energy. The debut was a happy moment for the members, for their families, and for the people who had followed their training. They were no longer trainees. They were a real group, with a real song, and a real chance to be heard.

They followed their debut with more songs, including “Na Na Na”, a catchy, playful track that showed a different side of the group, a side that was fun, light, and full of joy. The song’s simple, happy sound made it easy to sing along to, and it became a favourite for their growing fans. BINI was building a catalogue of songs that were bright, hopeful, and easy to love, and that brightness became their signature. In a music world that is often serious and sad, BINI brought joy, and joy is a powerful thing.

“Lagi”, a song about a love that is always there, became another beloved recording, and it showed a softer, more tender side of the group. The song’s gentle melody and its warm words made it a favourite for couples, for friends, and for anyone who wanted a song about a love that lasts. BINI could sing a fast, joyful song and a slow, tender ballad with equal skill, and that range is a sign of a great group.

Their first album, Born to Win, released in 2021, and their second album, Feel Good, released in 2022, gave their fans collections of songs that showed the full range of their talent. They sang in Filipino and in English, they mixed pop, dance, and ballads, and they wrote songs that told their own story. The albums were a beginning, not an end, and they showed the public that BINI was not a one-song group. They were a group with a future, and that future was bright.

Pantropiko and a Song That Took Over Summer

In 2023, BINI released “Pantropiko”, a song that became their biggest hit yet. The word pantropiko means tropical, and the song is about a summer love, about the heat, the sea, and the joy of being young. The song’s bright, tropical sound, its catchy chorus, and its joyful dance made it a perfect summer song, and it was played everywhere, in malls, in schools, in cars, and on the beach. It became an anthem for a whole summer, and it made BINI a household name.

The success of “Pantropiko” was not an accident. It was the result of years of training, of hard work, and of a song that suited the group perfectly. The dance for “Pantropiko” was shared online by fans, by celebrities, and by people who had never heard of BINI before, and the song reached audiences far beyond the Philippines. It was a moment when P-pop stepped onto a bigger stage, and BINI led the way for girl groups.

The song also showed a new side of BINI, a side that was confident, bright, and unafraid to be joyful. In a world that is often serious, a joyful song is a gift, and “Pantropiko” was a gift to everyone who heard it. It made people smile, it made people dance, and it made people feel young again. That is a powerful thing for a song to do, and it is why “Pantropiko” is still loved today.

After “Pantropiko”, BINI released more hits, including “Salamin, Salamin”, a song about looking in a mirror and seeing yourself clearly, and “Cherry on Top”, a bright, playful track that continued their run of success. Each song added to a catalogue that has become the soundtrack for a generation of Filipino listeners, and each one showed that BINI could follow a hit with another hit, without losing the joy that made them special.

Blooms: A Garden That Grew Around Them

The name Blooms suits BINI’s fans in a way that few fandom names do. A bloom does not appear overnight, and neither did this fandom. It began with a handful of people who watched the Star Hunt Academy videos, then grew as the debut song spread, and then exploded when “Pantropiko” turned into the sound of a whole summer. Blooms are mostly young, mostly Filipino, and mostly girls who see themselves in the eight members, and they support the group the way a gardener tends a plant, with daily care. They stream the songs every day, they learn the dances, they make fan art, they organise birthday projects for each member, and they fill the front rows of concerts in matching pink and blue.

What is striking about Blooms is how organised and how kind they are to each other. Fan groups can be competitive, but Blooms have built a reputation for welcoming new fans, for translating interviews, and for sharing concert clips so that a fan in a province who cannot afford a ticket can still feel a part of the show. That generosity mirrors the group itself, and it is one reason BINI’s concerts feel like a community gathering rather than a performance for strangers. The members know this, and they return the affection constantly, waving at specific fans, reading fan letters on camera, and thanking Blooms by name in interviews.

The fandom has also carried BINI beyond the Philippines. Blooms in other countries share videos, explain lyrics, and introduce the group to friends who have never heard a Filipino pop song. That work costs the fans nothing but time, and it has given BINI an audience that no marketing budget could have bought. When the group walks onto a stage abroad and hears a crowd singing in Filipino, that sound is the sound of Blooms, a garden that grew around eight girls from the provinces and now stretches across oceans.

Concerts, Tours, and a Stage That Grew

BINI’s concerts became events, with large halls filled by fans who knew every word and every dance move. They performed at the Araneta Coliseum and in the biggest venues in the Philippines, and they filled them again and again. A BINI concert is not a quiet show. It is a night of bright songs, precise dancing, colourful costumes, and moments when the whole crowd sings along. The group has a gift for making a huge hall feel joyful and close, as if they were singing to each person alone.

They also went on tours, performing for Filipino communities and for new fans in other countries. For Filipinos living abroad, a BINI concert is a taste of home, a night of songs they grew up with, sung by a group they love. For new fans, it is a discovery, a group that sings and dances with a skill that rivals the best groups in the world. BINI carried the music of the Philippines to the world in that way, one concert at a time, and they did it with a warmth that makes every audience feel welcome.

Their album Talaarawan, released in 2024, gave their fans a collection of songs that showed how far they had come, and their later work, including the Biniverse concerts, continued that story. They have also won awards, topped charts, and set records on music platforms, and those achievements are a part of their story, but they are not the whole of it. The real achievement is that they built a new chapter for P-pop girl groups, and that they opened a door for other Filipino groups to follow.

They have also performed on television, in variety shows, and in special events, where their energy and their joy made them a favourite for audiences of all ages. A group that can make a child smile, a teenager dance, and a parent sing along is a group with a rare gift, and BINI has that gift. That is why their concerts sell out, and why their fans keep coming back.

The Pressure of Being Watched So Young

Fame arrived for BINI while they were still very young, and it brought a kind of attention that is hard for anyone to carry, let alone a teenager. Every outfit is photographed, every live vocal is compared to the studio version, and every tired face after a long tour becomes a topic of discussion online. The members have spoken about the exhaustion of back-to-back schedules, about sore throats before a show, and about the strange feeling of being loved by thousands of strangers while missing their own families. A girl group is expected to smile, and BINI usually do, but the smile is sometimes held together by willpower and by each other.

There is also a pressure that falls specifically on young women in the spotlight, about how they look, how thin they are, and whether they are pretty enough for the camera. BINI have faced that pressure openly, and they have supported each other through it, reminding each other that their value is in their voices and their dancing, not in a photograph. That support matters, because a single unkind comment online can stay in a young person’s mind for weeks, and eight sisters can answer it together in a way that one girl alone cannot.

The music business itself has changed around them, with streaming numbers deciding which songs get promoted and short videos deciding which dance goes viral. BINI have adapted, learning to film dance challenges, to talk to fans on livestreams, and to release music at a pace that would have been unthinkable a decade ago. Through all of it, they have kept the discipline they learned in the academy, showing up on time, rehearsing until the formation is clean, and treating every performance as if it were the first. That steadiness is not glamorous, but it is the reason they are still rising while other groups fade.

The Nation’s Girl Group, Still Blooming

BINI are still only at the beginning of what they can do. They are young, they are still learning, and their best songs may not have been written yet. What they have already done, though, is remarkable. They took a training system borrowed from Korea, filled it with Filipino songs, Filipino humour, and Filipino warmth, and made something that belongs to the Philippines. They gave young Filipino girls a group to look up to that looks like them, sings in their language, and comes from towns like theirs. That is not a small achievement. It is a change in what a Filipino girl can dream of becoming.

Their influence is already visible in the dance studios of Manila, where young girls practise BINI choreography, and in the schools where “Pantropiko” is the song of the summer. Other girl groups are forming, other companies are investing in training, and the whole P-pop scene is brighter because BINI proved that a girl group could fill an arena. They did not do it alone, and they would be the first to say so. They did it with Blooms, with their teachers, and with each other, eight girls who refused to give up on a dream that once seemed too big for them.

As long as there are young people in the Philippines who want to sing, to dance, and to be joyful in public, there will be a place for BINI. Their story is still being written, one concert, one song, and one pink-and-blue confetti shower at a time, and the next chapter is likely to be even brighter than the last.

Pink, Blue, and the Joy of a BINI Show

A BINI concert is a feast for the eyes, and the colours are a part of the story. Pink and blue, soft and bright, are the colours that BINI has made their own, and they appear in the costumes, in the lights, and in the confetti that falls at the end of a show. The eight members wear matching outfits in pink and blue, with bows, with ruffles, and with shoes that match, and they look like a group that belongs together, because they do. The colours are not an accident. They are a choice, a choice to be bright, to be joyful, and to be seen from the back of a huge arena.

The choreography is just as carefully made as the costumes. BINI’s dances are precise, joyful, and full of energy, and they are designed to be learned by fans, who copy the moves at home, in school, and in malls. A dance that fans can learn is a dance that travels, and BINI’s dances have travelled far, shared online by Blooms and by people who had never heard of the group before. The “Pantropiko” dance, with its bright, tropical moves, became a favourite for fans who wanted to feel the summer in a song, and the “Salamin, Salamin” dance, with its mirror moves, became a favourite for fans who wanted to play with the idea of seeing yourself clearly.

The staging of a BINI show is also a part of the magic. The lights change with each song, from soft pink for a ballad to bright blue for a dance number, and the screens behind the group show images that match the mood of the music. The members move across the stage as one, they change formation, they smile at the crowd, and they make a huge hall feel like a party. A concert that feels like a party is a concert that people remember, and BINI’s concerts are remembered for their joy.

What makes all of this work is that the joy is real. The eight members are not pretending to be happy. They are happy to be on stage, happy to be together, and happy to share their music with the people who came to see them. That happiness is visible in their faces, in their dancing, and in the way they look at each other on stage. A group that is genuinely happy is a group that makes its audience happy, and BINI does that, night after night, in pink and blue.

My Take:

When I think about BINI, I think about joy, and about how rare joy is in a world that is often serious and sad. I have heard many groups who sing well, and I have heard many groups who dance well, but BINI does something different. They sing and dance with a joy that feels real, as if they are happy to be on stage, happy to be together, and happy to share their music with the people watching them. I think about the first time I watched them perform “Pantropiko”, and about the way the whole crowd smiled, and I think about how powerful a smile can be. A group that can make a crowd smile has a gift, and BINI has it.

I admire them because they trained for years, in a dormitory, far from home, practising every day, and waiting for a debut that might never come. I think about eight young women, living together, rehearsing for hours, learning to sing and to dance as one, and learning to trust each other. I think about how easy it would have been to give up, to go home, to find a normal life, and to forget the dream. They did not give up. They kept going, and that is the part of their story that stays with me the most. It is easy to dream, and it is hard to train, and BINI trained.

I also admire the way their fans, Blooms, stood by them when no one else was watching. The name Blooms means flowers in bloom, and I love that name, because it says something true about the group and about their fans. A flower does not bloom in one night. It grows slowly, with care, with water, and with light, and then, one day, it opens. BINI grew slowly, in training, in small performances, and in the love of their fans, and then they bloomed. I think about that image, and about the patience it takes to grow, and I think it is a beautiful way to think about a career. A career is not a single moment. It is a slow bloom, and BINI bloomed.

I think about “Pantropiko”, and about the summer it gave us. The song is about a tropical love, about the heat, the sea, and the joy of being young, and it became an anthem for a whole summer. I think about the people who played it in their cars, in malls, and on the beach, and about the way it made them feel young again. I think about the power of a joyful song, to lift a mood, to make a hard day easier, and to bring people together. BINI gave us that joy, and they gave it freely, with a smile. That is a gift, and it is a gift that I do not take lightly.

I also think about the eight members as individuals, and about the way each of them brings something different to the group. Aiah brings grace, Colet brings a strong voice, Maloi brings energy, Gwen brings warmth, Stacey brings power, Mikha brings cool confidence, Jhoanna brings leadership, and Sheena brings joy. Together, they are more than eight singers. They are a group, and a group that works as one is stronger than any single singer alone. I think about the teams I have been a part of, and about the times when trust made the work easier, and when a lack of trust made it harder. BINI’s story shows what trust looks like, when eight people believe in each other, and when they work as one.

There is a sadness in their story too, and I do not want to hide it. The sadness is that a life of training asks young women to give up a normal youth, to live in a dormitory, to practise for hours, and to miss the small, quiet moments that make a life. A birthday at home, a family dinner, a normal evening with friends, these are the things that BINI gave up, and they are not small things. I think about the weight of that sacrifice, and I feel sad for the young women who only wanted to sing and dance and who found themselves carrying the hopes of a whole new music movement. It is a beautiful burden, but it is still a burden.

I also feel sad when I think about the way the public watches young women in the spotlight, and about how quickly it judges their looks, their voices, and their behaviour. BINI has faced that judgment with grace, and they have supported each other through it, but it is not fair, and it is not their fault. A young woman should be judged by her talent and by her heart, not by her appearance, and yet the world often judges her by her appearance first. I think about that unfairness, and I hope that BINI’s success will help to change it, because their success is built on talent, on hard work, and on joy, not on looks alone.

What I learn from BINI, more than anything else, is that joy is a strength, not a weakness. In a world that often rewards seriousness and sadness, BINI chose joy, and they made joy their signature. I think about my own life, and about the times when I have been serious when I could have been joyful, and I ask myself whether I am letting joy into my life enough. BINI’s story says yes, that joy matters, and that a joyful song can do as much good as a sad one. A sad song helps us feel less alone in our pain, and a joyful song helps us remember that life is worth celebrating. Both are needed, and BINI gives us the second.

I also learn from them that a group is stronger than a single person, when the group trusts each other. Eight different women, with eight different strengths, became one group, and that group became the Nation’s Girl Group. I think about the power of that unity, and about how it can carry a group through hard times, through long training, and through the pressure of fame. I wish I could learn that trust as well as they have, because it is a kind of wisdom that cannot be taught in a book. It can only be learned by living together, by working together, and by believing in each other.

I think about the future, and I wonder what BINI’s story will mean in twenty years. I think it will mean that eight young women from the Philippines could become the Nation’s Girl Group, and that a Filipino girl group could fill arenas around the world. I think it will mean that training, patience, and trust can beat a quick fame that fades. I think young groups will study their dances, learn from their songs, and dream of singing the way they do. That is a legacy that does not fade, because it is built on real work and real feeling.

If I could speak to a young person who dreams of being in a group, using BINI’s life as the guide, I would say this. Train hard, even when no one is watching, because the quiet hours are the foundation. Trust your group, and let each member’s strength make the group stronger. Be patient when the debut is slow, and be ready when the moment comes. Love your fans, and thank them, because without them the work stays hidden. And when hard times come, as they will, keep singing, keep dancing, and trust that joy is worth sharing. That is what BINI did, and that is why their music still fills the room.

I will finish with gratitude, because that is the feeling I have when I think about BINI. I am grateful that they trained for years without giving up, and that they sang “Born to Win” with a confidence that made a whole country believe. I am grateful that they sang “Pantropiko” with a joy that gave us a summer to remember, and that they did it with a smile. BINI reminds me that a great group is not only eight voices. It is eight hearts, beating as one, and a joy that refuses to fade.

I also think about sisterhood, and about what it means for eight young women to live, train, and perform together for years. I picture them in a dormitory, sharing a room, sharing food, and sharing the hard days of training. I picture them laughing together, crying together, and helping each other through the moments when one of them wants to give up. That is a sisterhood, and it is a beautiful thing, because it is built on shared work, shared dreams, and shared trust. BINI’s sisterhood is visible on stage, in the way they look at each other, in the way they move together, and in the way they celebrate each other’s success.

I think about the colours, pink and blue, and about the way they have become a symbol for the group. I picture a young fan, wearing pink and blue to a concert, and feeling that she is a part of something, that she belongs. I picture her at home, learning the “Pantropiko” dance in her bedroom, and feeling the joy of it, even when she is alone. That is a powerful thing, and it is a thing that BINI has given to thousands of young people, a colour, a dance, and a feeling of belonging. In a world where many young people feel alone, a group that gives them a colour to wear and a dance to learn is a group that gives them a home.

I also think about Jhoanna, the leader, and about the responsibility of leading seven other young women. I picture her listening to her members, caring for them, and making sure that each one is heard. A leader who listens is a rare leader, and Jhoanna seems to be that kind. I think about the other members, Aiah, Colet, Maloi, Gwen, Stacey, Mikha, and Sheena, and about the way each one brings a different gift to the group. Together, they are a whole, and that wholeness is what makes BINI special. No one member could do it alone, and that is the point. They do it together, as sisters.

I want to say one more thing about BINI, which is that they have given Filipino girl groups a new dream. Before them, a Filipino girl group that trained for years, that danced with such precision, and that filled arenas, seemed like a dream that was too big. BINI made that dream real, and they made it real by training hard, by trusting each other, and by sharing their joy with the world. I think about the young girls who are training now, in Manila and in other cities, and about the way they look at BINI and think, we can do that too. That is a legacy, and it is a legacy that BINI earned, one rehearsal at a time, in pink and blue.

I also think about the schoolgirls who practise BINI dances in their bedrooms, and about what that practice means. A girl who learns a dance is not only learning steps. She is learning that her body can do something hard, that she can be precise, that she can be joyful in public, and that she can belong to a group of friends who are learning the same dance. BINI give those girls a reason to move, to laugh, and to try. I think about the mothers who watch their daughters dance to “Pantropiko” in the living room, and about the way a mother smiles when she sees her daughter happy. That smile is a part of BINI’s legacy too, even though it never appears on a chart.

I think about the pressure on young women to be perfect, and about the way BINI answer it. They are not perfect, and they do not pretend to be. They miss a note sometimes, they laugh at themselves on stage, and they talk openly about being tired. That honesty is a gift to their fans, because it tells a young girl that she does not have to be perfect to be loved, and that she does not have to hide her tiredness to be worthy. I wish more stars were that honest, and I am grateful that BINI are.

I want to end my thoughts on BINI with a simple image, which is the confetti at the end of their show, pink and blue, falling over eight young women who are holding hands and bowing. The confetti is light, it is colourful, and it will be swept away by morning, but the moment it falls is a moment of pure joy, and joy is not a small thing. BINI give their fans that joy, again and again, and they do it with hard work, with sisterhood, and with songs that make people want to dance. That is enough, and it is more than enough.

Frequently Asked Questions

Who are the members of BINI?

BINI has eight members, Aiah, Colet, Maloi, Gwen, Stacey, Mikha, Jhoanna, and Sheena. Jhoanna is the leader of the group, Colet is known for her strong voice, Mikha is known for her rapping, and Sheena is known for her dancing. They came from different parts of the Philippines and trained together in Manila.

How did BINI become famous?

BINI became famous after debuting in 2021 with “Born to Win” and then releasing the hit song “Pantropiko” in 2023. “Pantropiko” became a summer anthem, with a bright tropical sound and a joyful dance that was shared online by millions of people. The song made BINI a household name in the Philippines.

What is P-pop, and what is BINI’s role in it?

P-pop is short for Pinoy pop, a style of Filipino pop music inspired by K-pop training, dancing, and group performance. BINI is widely seen as the leading girl group of P-pop, known as the Nation’s Girl Group. They opened the door for other Filipino girl groups to follow.

What are BINI’s most famous songs?

Their most famous songs include “Born to Win”, “Na Na Na”, “Lagi”, “Pantropiko”, “Salamin, Salamin”, and “Cherry on Top”. “Pantropiko” is their biggest hit, a summer song about tropical love. Their songs are bright, joyful, and easy to sing along to.

What is Blooms?

Blooms is the name of BINI’s fandom, and it means flowers in bloom. The fans supported BINI when they were trainees, shared their debut song, and have stayed loyal through every change. They stream the songs, vote in awards, and fill concert halls, and the group often thanks them with gratitude.

Where did BINI train before their debut?

BINI trained at Star Hunt Academy, a training programme run by ABS-CBN, one of the biggest media companies in the Philippines. They trained for years in singing, dancing, and performing, living together in Manila far from their homes. That long training gave them the discipline and skill that define their performances.