Ahead of Pride, Five Queer Voices Share What Prom Means to Them

May 27, 2023

Limousines; gowns; tuxedos; corsages; corny pictures taken by your mom; school gymnasiums filled to the brim with balloons; arms-length slow dances. Whether you went to prom or not, everyone knows what the night signifies, and for thousands of teens across the States, the end-of-high-school formal is a rite of passage long anticipated before senior year even arrives. Regardless of how goth we see ourselves, and as much as we may want to mock the affair, prom plays a critical symbolic role in American culture. It's the tradition that marks young people's passage into adult relationships and sexuality, and is therefore, by design, alienating to people who do not follow the conventional gender journey. Although much has changed, prom is historically heteronormative, and isolating to trans and gender nonconforming youth with its restrictive sex-specific dress codes and limited categories like prom king and queen.

Intro by Izzy Capulong
Interviews by Livia Rose Johnson
Photography by Hannah Khymych
Art Direction Odie Senesh
Styling by Willyum Beck
Production + Set design Liya Eliazar
Makeup Sophie Hartnet
Hair Chika Nishiyama
Nails Stephanie Hernandez
Casting Anthony Pedraza + Livia Rose Johnson
Production Assistant Joseph Oxly
Photo Assistant Ian Rutter
Digi Tech Laur

Short for the word promenade, the night is modeled after the debutante balls of high society, which served as coming-of-age ceremonies for young women from wealthy families. Participating in a debutante ball meant a teenage girl was ready to be introduced to society and meet her future husband. Until the early 20th century, proms were reserved for male college students and their affluent families. In the 1920s, the traditional was democratized and transitioned to high schools where they became a much more casual and inclusive event for boys and girls on the brink of graduation. In the 1950s, prom became an integral part of every student’s high school experience.

For the queer community, particularly in places where queerness is met with hostility, prom often brings about moral dilemmas, anxiety, and residual questions like, "Am I allowed to go with my partner?," or "Will I be allowed to dress how I want?" However, we respond with a resounding, "Fuck your censorship!" Prom is meant to be a celebration, filled with music and dancing, a time for young people to feel like royalty. And what about that doesn't scream queer?

This pride, office sat down with five queer people to dress up and reflect on what prom means to them — from experiencing hostility to using prom as an opportunity to pull a look and dance their hearts out.

ANGEL

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

My name is Angel, I’m 23 years old and my pronouns are he/him.

How would you describe yourself?

I would describe myself as a very introverted person. There are a select few people who would say I talk too much, but that just means I am comfortable with you. I am trying to get better at being more talkative but I tend to observe first and then say my two cents.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom is traditionally centered around heteronormative ideals, well at least from what the movies portray it as. There's usually always a prom queen and king but I think society has progressed past that now and I see more and more queer kids expressing themselves without judgment. To me, the idea of prom is just a silly celebration where you get to dress up/look cute, dance, and make memories. In high school I would have loved to have a boy accompany me as my date, but I had just as much of a fun time with my best friend.

How do you feel you truly express yourself in the world?

I express myself in this world by creating. I love expressing what is going through my mind with photos or my style. I don’t really speak much so I let my work speak for me.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love to me is being able to feel comfortable with whoever you are with and especially yourself. Love should never feel forced.

What drives your method of creation forward?

What pushes me to create is a person. My older brother constantly inspires me to keep creating and always wants what is best for me. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him. There was a period in my life not too long ago where I had zero motivation/drive. He would check up on me from time to time but I would always create bullshit excuses because I just would not have the energy to start a project. Whether I am doing something big or doing nothing..he is always there to support me and I love him for that.

JEFFREY ARMANI JACKSON-PERRY

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Jeffrey Armani Jackson-Perry, 20, he/him.

How would you describe yourself?

I am a fun, artistic person who loves to create.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom was always the time for highschoolers to have fun with their friends and their dates, but traditionally these dates tended to be boy/girl. Society has pushed the idea that in most settings, boy/girl relations are “correct”. Who’s to say that it can’t be boy/boy, or girl/girl, or anything else for that matter? In all realness, it’s just a highschool party and I think prom is just about being yourself and having fun.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love is a love with no limits, a love with no boundaries. Authentic love is that deep connection you feel with someone and you love everything about them, flaws and all. That feeling when you just want to be around someone, and their presence is enough. Having the ability to be free with one another, expressing your true identity with one another, that’s authentic love.

If you were to give your younger self any advice what would it be?

If I were to give my younger self any advice I would say that it’s ok to be different. You’re cool just as you are and you don’t need reassurance from others to prove it. Just be yourself, unapologetically.

KOI KING

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Koi King, 25, they/them.

How would you describe yourself?

I am an amalgamation of art, music, passion and freedom. A self constantly learning and evolving. An artiste.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

I think that prom has always been one of those things that’s unnecessarily nerve racking. I know of many queer folks that never went to prom because they couldn’t go with their partner, because it wasn’t safe for them to be out and attend in any manner that wasn’t the traditional cis-het expectation. Exclusion has always been something that people cling to for their own comfort and making simple things like prom inaccessible for queer youth is a reflection of what our society values. Exclusion in the face of difference. There are people that will argue against that, and so I ask what does our society think of our house-less population? The differently abled? The mentally ill?

How do you subvert binding traditions and normative structures?

I exist. And I do so loudly, and provide the space for others to do so. I am honest with myself, and the people around me. And I do whatever I want.

With so much of a celebratory nature surrounding Pride, especially by corporate America, many within the community have critiqued the lack of resources, collectives, and genuine opportunities that are shared during this time, in what ways would you like to see that combated?

I’d like to see pride for queer folks expressed all year round — not just during the month of June. I believe the best way to combat tokenism would be to include LGBTQ+ as you would cisgendered people. Whether that’s behind the scenes, on set, or in the office and not just project based. Providing a permanent seat at the table.

KYE QUINLAN

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

My name is Kye Quinlan, I’m 22 years old and I use she/her pronouns.

How would you describe yourself?

I would describe myself as a vibrant, genuine, and sexy person.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

I feel like prom means something different to everyone. I know for a lot of queer people that don’t have the safety to come out or openly express themselves, prom can be a source of anxiety. I would hope that in recent years, prom has transformed into a celebration for queer youth. I personally loved my prom! I was the gay prom king pre-transition vibes in Tampa, it was a gag.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love to me is love with no limits. For love to be truly authentic it needs to be unconditional through all the ups and downs of life.

What drives your method of creation forward?

My friends and the city inspire my creations into fruition. Being able to experience and love so many unique and beautiful trans people in the best city in the world gives me the imagination and courage to create authentically.

ALEX

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Hey! My name is Alex, I’m 22 years old, and my pronouns are they/them, she/her.

How would you describe yourself?

I'd describe myself as optimistic, lucky, hardworking and passionate.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom to the queer community has always been a place to show off your authentic self in a safe space with not too much judgment. I wore a suit to prom and it was everything I had dreamed of since I first started high school. I didn't have to adhere to gendered clothing on a night I wanted to be free. I think society can be more accepting when it comes to what teens want to wear on a night that’s all about them. Wicked makeup and crazy cool hairstyles on a day that only comes around once. A chance to be more daring.

What support do you feel during pride that you wish could extend throughout the year?

I wish the space that the queer community gets during pride month was year round, this aura of acceptance and acknowledgment that we’re here and just like everybody else. Not special, just different. I definitely feel uncomfortable when I’m idolized for my sexuality and appearance so it'd be nice to feel the normalcy that I feel during June all the time.

What is authentic love to you?

I feel the most authentic love when I'm truly being an embracing individual with all of my ever-changing flaws, I improve myself everyday and with that comes challenging topics about self. I love myself the most when I'm truly accepting of all my traits, good or not so good, they make me who I am.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

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Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.