Cultivating Home

June 24, 2021

Though many of us have spent the last year in our homes itching for a sense of belonging to the outside world, the notion of home has always extended beyond the confinements of the spaces we inhabit. For black and brown members of the queer community, embracing home often means rejecting confinements, and cultivating space within yourself and your chosen “home.”

As Pride Month surges, Demíyah and Michael recall the genesis of their entry into queer environments. Demíyah Vanessa Pérez establishes safe spaces for people to come together and express their authentic selves through her career as a DJ and yoga instructor. Perez grew up in Kitchener, Ontario, finding community and agency with her mother’s side of the family.

Text by Kenna McCafferty
Interview by Micaih Thomas
Photos by Fernando Manuel Osorio

Demi and Michael met briefly at Demi’s first New York DJ gig with Telfar in 2019, and their bond was palpable. Following a successful Valentine’s Day event they hosted together and a transcendent tarot reading, Perez and Andres felt that they were destined to share space with each other and curate environments for queer people to feel nurtured, uplifted and celebrated in the same way. The two parted in tears, with plans to host parties and mutual aid events in the city, until the pandemic hit. After feeling alienated from their senses of belonging and purpose, their mission became more vital, and Angelito Collective was born.

You and Michael have a magical friendship. How did you two create the Angelito Collective?

Demiyah— After our first successful party, ‘Tentación,’ on Valentine’s Day of 2020, Michael and I knew we were destined to hold space for our community to come together and tell our story through our talents. The euphoria of this night truly inspired us into the next chapter of our lives. When the lockdown began, we recalled this evening as a means to hold onto hope and remind ourselves of our innate ability to foster community through radical acts of love and connection.

You both have created space for other queer people to feel community and warmth. How have you cultivated a home for yourself?

D— Growing up in Canada, going to a Catholic High School, being the only trans woman, there was a lot of ignorance projected onto me. My biggest strength was transmuting all of the negativity of those projections by stepping into my light and responding through love and compassion as well as embracing my role as a pioneer.

I began my public transition in high school, where I developed a strong bond with my vice principal who was an advocate for queer youth. Without her, I wouldn't have believed in my worthiness to exist and take up space. She held space for me to embody leadership in a way that I always aspired to. Her impact inspired me to want to be that change for others. I am a product of her legacy and I want to be able to show up for trans women and let them know they’re worthy of everything this world has to offer because we are the world.

What has been your process with unlearning ignorance?

D— My process of dismantling ignorance has also been affected throughout the early phases of my transition when I had to detach completely from my dad's side of the family who are Jamaican, Jehovah's Witnesses, and were never accepting of my truth. There was a lot of ignorance that came from them that I think I've had to do a lot of deep shadow work, especially in moving back home, of really confronting those experiences of not feeling like I was loved, and not feeling good enough. But in moving to Toronto, the pace of life was just so different. I was transitioning throughout University [and] everything was happening so fast. I didn't really have a moment to process my life and really understanding my life independently from all the things that have influenced me. So now returning back home during the pandemic, to a loving family, that is my mom's side of the family, everyone is extremely accepting. I get to now exist in a communal space with people that have been on this journey with me and that showed me, unconditional love. But because of the negative experience of my dad's side of the family, I refuse myself from accepting their love. It’s something I'm still working through- being open.

Michael, tell me about the time you stepped into your queer identity?

Michael — When I was 18, I moved to Florence, Italy to study abroad. After arriving at my residence, I was introduced to my roommate Mars, who was the first non-binary person I met. Although this was new to me, I recognized how important it was to them that we respect their pronouns.

Sharing space with Mars allowed me to step into my queerness. We would discuss gender all the time [and] share makeup and nail polish- forms of expression I didn’t allow myself to experience when I lived in the states. Back home, I was lucky enough to have the support of my family, but I saw this as an opportunity to experiment with my look and get in touch with my femininity.

How did you get into the Ballroom world?

M — I was introduced to Ballroom By Jason Rodriguez, who plays Lamar on the FX series Pose. Jason invited me to my first ever ball, OTA weekly, produced By Leggoh JoVera at 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn, New York. Jason ended up missing the ball due to work, but I was already there and I thought I might as well have a ki'. But luckily I was there with my friends and the next category was face. I was like, ‘I should walk,’ and my friends were really supportive. So I ended up stepping into the light, walking the category, and getting 10s by some of the panel, but also getting chopped by some of them because I wasn’t smiling. They ended up cutting the music and saying, ‘If you did not do your research coming to the ball, make sure you do your research before you come to the ball.’ They were telling me to smile and that was the reason why I didn’t get my 10s. Luckily they let me walk again. I had my second chance and I ended up getting Grand Prize that night. After that night, I was just like, ‘I have to be back.’ Then I went back every single Monday.

Tell me about some of the members of the Collective

M— Last June of 2020, when the Angelito Collective came into conception, we were introduced to Alfonso Estrada. At the time, they were organizing their first-ever birthday fundraiser to support the community in Corona, Queens during the pandemic. Alfonso helped Demi and I curate our first, digital fundraiser in support of La Red Comuntaria Trans in the Red Light District of Colombia.

D— With this fundraiser, we were able to raise 17,000 dollars that provided on-the-ground resources as well as supported costs towards housing for trans women.

M — Sinn had painted my face a couple of times before she officially joined our team. We knew Sinn’s innovative makeup style would be perfect in the development of the ‘Toxic’ characters, a short film we shot in the fall of 2020, inspired by Michael Jackson’s Thriller. After her exceptional work on set, and her commitment to help us create space for members in the community, we knew we needed a star like her in our team.

M— Cheyenne and I go way back- we met in high school. Early on in our relationship, we enjoyed imagining all that our lives could be and how excited we were to attain those things for ourselves and others. One of the things we dreamt about was making a short film. Her background in screenwriting and her excitement to direct made her the perfect fit to help us bring ‘Toxic’ to fruition.

D— When we finalized the script for ‘Toxic’ we were in search of a videographer that could execute our vision. By the divine synchronicity of the universe, we were guided to have Jordan Shelwood, who shot and edited ‘Toxic.’ Jordan’s interpretation of our story was perfectly translated to telling the story of a black trans woman struggling to navigate the social barriers and challenges of a heteronormative world.

Any future projects from the Angelito Collective?

D— During the pandemic, I was able to do my 200hrs Yoga Teachers certification and this journey has inspired me to set renewed intentions for how I can create spaces of healing in the community. As I return to New York this Pride weekend, I will be leading the Angelito Collective’s first Heal In community yoga class.

M— As for creative projects, the Angelito Collective is working on a fashion film campaign with an NYC Femme footwear brand. We are also in the process of planning our first in-person community gathering and other mutual aid programming. This year we are also being highlighted in the We The Collective documentary, centered on NYC’s nightlife economy and the black and brown LGBTQIA+.

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.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

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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.