From Underground Subculture to Global Phenomenon: An Oral History of Ballroom Within Mainstream Culture

Yusef Miyake-Mugler, overall father of the House of Miyake-Mugler: 

I think that in the ’80s and ’90s, the mystery of ballroom was more alluring to people. It was more underground, so everyone wanted to “discover it.” Once the 2000s came, things changed completely. People were on YouTube watching vogue clips, so it lost its mystery. Attention comes and goes, but in the 2000s people were still coming into ballroom and taking ideas without giving respect. Because I was working in fashion and with magazines and celebrities, it was my job that people knew what ballroom was. We never stopped moving at the same pace as in the ’80s and ’90s—we still had balls, if anything, having more. We started bringing in celebrities—I took Tyra Banks to a Latex Ball, and we brought Janet Jackson and eventually Rihanna. With people like Jack Mizrahi, we started to shift it. We became smarter, we wanted to be the people to usher these celebrities and editors into a ball and educate them on what the culture is. The 2000s were all about keeping the integrity of ballroom.

Jose Xtravaganza: 

I became a father of the house in 2002 or 2003. When I got offered the position, Angie, the mother, was really sick. She passed away and didn’t get to see me where she wanted me to be. I didn’t become father until way after that, but it was just because I had such a respect for it. Those were really big shoes to fill, and I felt unworthy of them. Then David passed away as well. We went through a few years without a father. We had suffered so much loss—us and the community. I try to lead it the way they lead it, with the values that they taught me. We stick together as being the first Latino house. We take pride in that, because back then, they really didn’t want us [laughs].

Twiggy Pucci Garçon, advocate and choreographer: 

In ballroom, we have these cycles in and out of the mainstream, which happen because of projects that are made about ballroom. In the early 2000s, I was privileged enough to come into the scene under the mentorship of people like Alexis Mizrahi, Shushu Mizrahi, and Jevon Chanel, who made sure I knew the history. This was a time between two heights, so after Paris Is Burning and Madonna and before what came later, with Vogue Evolution [a team on the competition series America’s Best Dance Crew], which saw [a return] into mainstream. That time in ballroom was less political, though the scene was also a lot more stern. There was a strictness to categories then. Now there’s more active houses than there were, and [the new generation] is more liberated, open, and free.

Jack Mizrahi: 

The doors really weren’t open as [wide] as you think in the 2000s. When Vogue Evolution came, you now have a performer like Leiomy [Maldonado] who is so dynamic—this was the performer you were waiting for. Then Dashaun, Pony [Devon Webster], Malechi [Williams], and, of course, Prince [Jor-el Rios]…they were made to get on there. We were very proud. I’ve traveled the world and spoken to so many different people, and a lot of trans women have said to me, “The first time that I knew that there was a name to my experience is when I saw Leiomy in Vogue Evolution.” That, and the communication opened a bit more. We were able to communicate faster than ever before. Facebook was about to start creeping in, we had our T-Mobile Sidekicks, and you were able to get out there more.

Leiomy Maldonado: 

My first ball was in 2003. It was the New York Awards Ball. I wasn’t even presenting as Leiomy yet. I competed against Dashaun and we both got chopped, which is crazy, because years later we are still friends and have been [part of] a huge movement for voguing. A year later at the Awards Ball, I walked as Leiomy and won my first trophy.

Sydney Baloue: 

The evolution of trans men in ballroom really picks up in the early 2000s, and it’s really because there’s greater access to hormone replacement therapy by that point. It was easier for trans women to get access to hormones and gender affirming care in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s. Jevon Martin is really important in the evolution of this category. He’s one of the trans men who was really big on lobbying for distinction.

Jose Xtravaganza: 

In the 2000s, I wanted the name Xtravaganza to continue, and to make it a brand—a name. I vowed to carry it around the world. That’s what ballroom has become. Now Xtravaganza rings a bell everywhere, just like ballroom. It’s what David, Angie, the founders of this wanted. For it to appear in magazines and videos and TV shows, that’s what I, what we did.

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

In the early 2000s there was a shift within the community, because ballroom started getting visibility in different ways than in the past. Now people could log online and engage in different ways, which didn’t happen back then. This shift came through visibility, which can be tracked to social media and Youtube. I have kids tell me all the time that when they started watching YouTube, I was the first they saw.

Michael Roberson: 

In the 1990s Paris Is Burning comes out, Madonna comes out, and we’re like Oh, we’re going to make it. Here’s the interesting thing about being underground: There’s a desire, to some degree, to keep it underground, but also to a large degree a desire to be seen and to be visible. Outside folk view the time after this as us going quiet. I remember hearing people say “Oh, that stuff still happens?” But the most amazing thing is that ballroom in the late ’90s and 2000s began to mobilize and to migrate.

Vogue Evolution

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

Myself, Leiomy, Pony, Malechi, and Prince created Vogue Evolution because we had seen a change in voguing that was happening then. People loved the “Old Way” and the lines and precision in music videos like Malcolm McLaren’s and Madonna’s, but there was a different style happening at the moment after “New Way”—it was more exciting. We were not going to let anyone stop us from doing what we loved and were good at. The world was watching us, and we had the opportunity to make sure we were acknowledged correctly.

Michael Roberson: 

Pony is my son, and he worked for me. He came and said he wanted to create a vogue crew that goes around the country and does social justice [work] and HIV prevention. I was having a ball called Evolution of Standards, so I said to call it Vogue Evolution. He went to Dashaun, who worked for me as well, and they began to create Vogue Evolution. They did not create it for [America’s Best Dance Crew]. I was a fan of the show and started seeing these dancers doing a little voguing and Leiomy’s moves. They went to audition for the show, and they made the show but were told they couldn’t go to Los Angeles because two of their members had open court cases. They auditioned again—it was around ten of them—and they took two members out, just for the show, and put Prince in and made it in.

Leiomy Maldonado:

In the beginning it was about showcasing voguing in a different way, but it came together because we got tired of shit being stolen. When America’s Best Dance Crew started happening, this was also around the time that Chris Brown did a dip in one of his videos and they started calling the dip “the 5,000.” It was nerve-racking, being an LGBT crew and having a more urban style. It was tough. But it was also life-changing for me.

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

Myself, Pony, Malachi, and Prince, we were watching America’s Best Dance Crew season one and in one episode there was this crew called Fysh ’n Chicks, and as they were doing their performance at the end they did the Leiomy Lolly [Leiomy Maldonado’s signature move]. That must have corrupted everyone in ballroom because we were like, “Did y’all see that on national television?” We knew we had to bring it out there because they were doing it already, without us. Vogue Evolution knew that vogue was changing and knew how we were connecting to society. So, we took the best performers from inside the community and put them together and formed a group.

Leiomy Maldonado: 

It was shocking [to see people do the Lolly]. At the time, a lot more famous people started doing it, and this crew on America’s Best Dance Crew called Fysh ’n Chicks, they had Beyoncé’s “Freakum Dress” in a mix, and at the end of it they did the Lolly. At the time I was excited about it, but then I realized that I was not getting credit. But all of these choreographers are the ones to blame—they’re the ones going out there and showing people these things. But even to this day when I see it, I’m like, You’re doing it wrong!

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

We went from New York City to Los Angeles and finally made it on the show. In our minds we were going to live our best ballroom selves, so we went inside the room where they had all the dancers, and they’re all in sweats and we’re all dressed up, ballroom style. In order for us to show up and be who we are, we had to present like we do inside of our community. At that moment, what we did was set the tone on how people should address us, and show them that we were competitive too. They didn’t know how to judge us because they did not know what to expect. We taught them how to communicate with us. I’m not saying these are the only moments when we had to teach people—Jose [Xtravaganza] and Luis [Xtravaganza] had gone on tour with Madonna already; Willi [Ninja] had done so—but this was still a shift, and it opened up a conversation we weren’t having. You had four gay men and one trans woman. Leiomy faced a lot for being trans in public in a time when it wasn’t even talked about. To see her be disrespected in front of production, to see her be misgendered when she would nicely ask to be referred to as she identified…we had to fight to get through. But if we wanted change, the only way was to show up and be ourselves.

Leiomy Maldonado: 

Being on Dance Crew was something personal to me that I had to go through. It was not only my first time sharing my talent, but also sharing my story with the world. 

The Age of Social Media

Michael Roberson:

A guy named Ceasar Will created Ballroom Throwbacks. He was the first to digitize old ballroom on YouTube.

Luna Luis Ortiz:

The Luna Show [on YouTube] started because I had a supervisor at GMHC who wanted to elevate youth programming. I wanted to do interviews where I asked young people about HIV and AIDS, and he asked me to interview people from the ballroom scene. I found that the reason to do it was to collect these stories that I felt like things like Paris Is Burning didn’t tackle. I wanted more depth. I did a show about asking trans women, femme queens in ballroom, about where they got their work done, because there was “basement” work and legit work. It got a life of its own, and it became important to me to tell these stories.

Aja 007, drag queen:

 When I was about 12 or 13, I was on MySpace, and I started adding all of the queer people I would see. I ended up becoming friends with this guy named Andre, and one day he was like, “Have you ever been to the Village?” And I was like, “What is the Village?” So he invites me and we are at the Christopher Street pier, and the girls are voguing on the grass. This is around 2006 or 2007. Eventually I decided to learn, and this is when the kiki scene was starting. There were a lot of resources in New York: we had the pier, the Hetrick-Martin Institute, the Gay Center on 13th Street, and the Latex Ball and GMHC. We also had social media to find each other.

Twiggy Pucci Garçon: 

YouTube hadn’t quite hit when I started in the scene in 2004, but we had DVDs and tapes that would come out after the balls. That’s what we’d watch and that’s how you’d know who the It girls were.

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

Back in the day, someone would do this thing called “Justice Reports” and write up the reports from the last ball. Someone would literally go home, type it out, and then print it and pass it out. Now within minutes of walking a ball, there’s clips all over.

Dashaun Wesley Basquiat: 

The 2000s changed the focus of where ballroom was going to go. Not to skip too many years, but we started doing commercials and other work and being on television. I had the chance to work closely with Willi Ninja, who had seen a spark in me and who told me to take my talents to other spaces. One of my first performances was back in 2004, and Willi picked me up and told me he, myself, and a few other folks were going to perform at Club Roxy for their black and white night. On platforms like YouTube and Facebook, we thought we were talking amongst ourselves, but people were watching us.

Leiomy Maldonado: 

It’s one thing being known in ballroom state-to-state, but when the YouTube era started, things changed because I started to be recognized by all types of dancers in the world.

Yusef Miyake-Mugler: 

I mean, people from Asia, from Russia, from all over the world were watching these clips on YouTube of people in ballroom and finding solace in them. It opened it up to the world for people to discover it.

Luna Luis Ortiz: 

Kids have gotten commercial jobs or modeling because of their Instagram, so that’s the benefit. But the internet made some people develop less of an individual style: They get stuck loving, for example, Dashaun, so they become Dashaun. But he is who he is because he is himself. It’s a great compliment to imitate somebody, but you have to change it up. What’s also bad about posting so much is that the world is watching, so they’re taking and not crediting.

Twiggy Pucci Garçon: 

For people who are looking for community and family [in ballroom], they can find it because social media provides an easier access point. But there’s now more spectators who aren’t in ballroom, and there’s an energetic shift in the way the balls themselves are happening. Not to say that they’re not welcome, but the energy is different. For the folks who just want entertainment or are just curious…they can get their fix online. It only makes sense for you to come into the space if you’re genuinely interested in the community and respect it.

The Kiki Scene