office Initiatives: Creating Space with Cuties LA

February 03, 2022

There aren’t many spaces for queer, trans, and non-binary folk to show up and connect with one another, where alcohol or hard drugs aren’t present. While stimulants and party culture do make for fun nights, it’s refreshing to embrace community and partake in moments rooted in the present. Cuties, the Los Angeles community space continues to center this idea, where the queer and trans community can support each other through poetry nights, workshops, and other programmed events.

Sasha Jones, CEO of Cuties LA, began her journey with this established space while working as a part-time barista when Cuties used to be a cafe. Since COVID-19 took the physical space, Jones was given complete ownership and refocused the mission, specifically centering Black and POC folk. While Cuties predominantly functions through digital realms, especially their Patreon, they continue to curate in-person events, partnering with Black and queer-centric businesses and organizations. Cuties cultivates a culture of healing, community, and support through these widely popular events.

Text by Michael Hall
Photos courtesy of Cuties LA

With a growing social media presence, including an Instagram that continuously highlights the community and facilitates information about resources, Cuties is a vital space in the Los Angeles landscape. Toni Robinson, social media manager and events coordinator has helped shape what many know and love about Cuties' programming and connectivity. From poetry nights overlooking the Los Angeles skyline to weekly social media shoutouts to important calls to action, and so much more, Cuties LA delivers not only a message of unity but a safe space for QTBIPOC to be their full selves.

In an exclusive interview with Cuties LA CEO, Sasha Jones, office sat down with the organizer to discuss community building, creating space, and the power of QTBIPOC connection.

Sasha Jones Toni Robinson

Cuties began as a cafe centering queer folk, yet the pandemic took the physical space. Under new management, the digital space was emphasized, and programming continued. What was the transfer of power like, and what influenced you to take this leading role?

I don't know what year it was, maybe 2017. My partner Tracy and I went into the coffee shop, and we were like, 'Oh my God, this place is so cute.' And I had been working at coffee shops, so in the back of my mind, I always was like, 'oh, I want to work with Cuties,' you know, just kind of quietly saying it. They had a barista position that was open. I started in November of 2018. And I just started as a part-time barista, and it was very much on my terms because I was working at another coffee shop. I want to kind of feel it out and see what it's like. At that point, I was being trained by a person who was Black, but they were leaving. And so I was the only Black person, the only person of color, that was working there. Everyone else was white. The two previous owners were white; the majority of the people that came in there were white. And so I was like, even though this space feels good to me as a queer person, I'm sick of being the only Black person working here. The previous owner, Virginia, she trusted me from the beginning; even as a barista, she saw what I was capable of. And so, eventually, I went from being a part-time barista and I took over as manager in January of 2020. Before that, I had been helping more with events and doing more social stuff. At some point, even before I was manager, she told me to run the shop as if it were your own. She was an incredible coach for me and the type of person that I really needed. She was there for me if I needed her, but she was very hands-off and very trusting and was like, 'I believe in you.' To have someone that allowed me to use their space in that way was super empowering. I took over as manager in January and was really getting shit started, and then the pandemic happened in March. We temporarily closed at the end of March, but we never opened up again after that. So, Virginia, the previous owner, the whole time that cuties were opened, she also had a full-time job, like a corporate job.

When it was first opened, it was her and this other person named Iris. Soon after I started, Iris was no longer working with Cuties. So Virginia was like, I never planned on having a whole coffee shop to run with a job by myself. And so when the space, the physical space closed, Virginia was like, 'I'm leaving LA, do you want this,' she was like, 'I will help you. I'll help you disassemble the previous LLC; I'll have the lawyers start a new one for you. I'll transfer all the Patreon funds like you can have it if you want it.' And I was like, 'Okay,' and that was it.

Can you speak to how Cuties mission has evolved since you've taken leadership?

Initially, we were a coffee shop. We always had events, but towards the end of things, we were having monthly things and were starting to use the space in the evening. We were just really using that space to its full potential as far as events and community building. And so I feel like we've moved a little bit away from the coffee roots because we don't have a coffee shop. Our focus is the same which creating community, facilitating genuine connection, and, like you said, not having a space where people are bonding over hard drugs and alcohol because people will be smoking weed at Cuties events. I feel like that's always been the goal. When it was just operating as a backyard hang, it's really a place where we want people to actually come and be able to talk to each other and build connections and leave; maybe you met someone that night, you have a new friend. I do my own community organizing with my partner, and I've done event planning before, and that's the goal for me is to actually see people genuinely forming relationships that will exist outside of the space that we create; that's the goal. I also feel like not having a space has allowed us to further collaborate with the community; like The Hub, we had an event with Junior High LA, Pot LA, Reparations Club. The community-building aspect has gotten even stronger because we don't have a physical space. It's forcing us to find other people in the community that we vibe with, that we can work with, and we help each other. I don't think that we would have been connecting with these people in the same way if we had our own physical space still.

How has programming transformed since the pandemic began and the focus of Cuties has shifted?

I think a lot of what has to do with, I'm looking if something is not there if I notice that there's a specific group of people, there's not something that exists specifically for them. I'm like, oh, let's just make it like the queer family picnic. It was as simple as talking to two Queer parent friends of mine and saying, 'Hey, is there something like this that exists? Would you enjoy going to something like this?' And they're like, 'Oh, my God, absolutely. I would love that.' And I'm like, 'Okay, let's do it.' You know what I mean? I don't know if it means I'm necessarily seeking. I'm not. I'm not intentionally like, what's missing? I will notice a void, and then I'm like, Okay, let's, do something like, when Cutie's was open, my partner and I hosted a polyamory meet-up for Cutie BIPOC only, and every person that came, like, every month, when we did it, there was someone that was like, 'every poly thing that I've ever been to is just all white people. I've never been to something like this.' So, it's like just noticing, paying attention, listening to the community, and noticing what's not there. And if it's something that feels attainable, then I'm like, let's just do it. Let's do it. I feel like for sure, since I've taken over, and since the shop has closed, there's been a heavy focus on the Cutie BIPOC community that wasn't there before. Of course, it wasn't there before because there weren't any Black people there. So, I realize that we can't expect white people to do this for us. We've had our most recent event that's been really popular— It's called Lespay. And it's specifically for Black lesbians. It's sold out both times; it's beautiful. Everybody fucking loves it. And it's just really nice to hear, like, I'll go in there and help set up and break down, and people are like, 'Oh my god, I love this. It's so nice to have a space for us.' Like, people like just having spaces for them.

What's your relationship with other collectives or organizations that may not be as known, and how do you navigate this landscape where spaces appear sparse in Los Angeles?

At this point, I try not to work with many white folks. I listen to my intuition and my gut when I meet people and interact with them. I'm excited about getting to do the work that I do. I also feel like, with my own boundaries, I won't let myself feel overwhelmed or let myself feel pressure like so many people are relying on me, so I have to do this— I don't do that to myself. I rest when I need to. There's this organization that we're going to be collaborating with called Queer 26, their Black run. There are a lot of virtual offerings that are for BIPOC that I see happening. So, I don't really feel, I guess to me, it doesn't feel like we're the only ones doing this work. Maybe we're like one of the more well-known organizations, but there are definitely people out there who are creating space for us, where it doesn't feel like it's all on me, for sure. I see it; I see it happening.

I really enjoy getting to do this work. Like it makes me really excited. The queer family picnic that we had on Saturday was incredible. So many parents, so many toddlers. So many people who came with like their fur babies and people who came and didn't even really interact with the group. But like, on the way out, someone said to me, 'Hey, I just wanted to thank you, it was nice just to be outside and be around people.' So a lot of the time, it feels like pretty easy and really gratifying. I think the boundaries that I have with myself, I'm gonna do what I can; other people will do what they can.

What are some ways the public can support Cuties?

We have a Patreon; it's patreon.com/cutiescoffee. For all of our events, our patrons get first dibs on them. So they'll always get advance notice; there's also merch discounts and a monthly playlist with all Queer artists. That's the best way to really support us monetarily. You can also sign up for our newsletter; we send out all of our events that way. Even like following us on Instagram, sharing our events, attending our events, inviting people to come, all of that is really helpful. Because we are still just a small business, you know, it's just the two of us. We still always need support, and I think those are the best ways. Oh, and programming. Okay, so I told you that we have readings at sunset that are coming back next month; that will be monthly. And I'm really excited. I went through the year and picked themes for each month. So it's going to be theme poetry nights. And we're going to make the queer family picnic monthly also. We're going to bring back writing for collective healing, a virtual writing workshop for GT BIPOC—one of our more popular virtual offerings. The person who hosts it, essentially, every month, he'll have a featured writer-poet, and then we'll go over their writings and the time for them to free write and work on writing projects. We have some kink and play-based events that we're going to be doing with this organization, SPLA, Sex Positive LA. We're actually doing a grown and sexy Valentine's Day event with them on February 16, so that will be fun.

Yes, we're starting a musician's club called the Cuties musicians club with a mix, Pooja Singh, who's a close friend of mine and a Queer, Trans artist in LA. And that's going to be virtual and in-person jam sessions, virtual jam sessions. We are also bringing back our self-care listening party that's going to be virtual, and it's going to be in person at Reparations Club. We're doing queer film screenings with Q 26 or Queer 26, the organization I mentioned earlier— from May through November. I believe it's called Critical Eye Film Screen. So we're gonna screen queer films and then just discuss afterward. And markets, we're going to be doing vendor markets again.

I love to see our people win; I love to see our people be successful.

Can you expand more on the organizations you highlight through the Cuties Instagram and your website?

At the coffee shop, we had a huge bulletin board, and it was a really big part of the shop. We had everything there from Queer therapists to dungeons, to Queer doctors, like literally anything you could want, but queer. It was really important; people would come in there and look for the bulletin board. It was a huge resource. I think that's always something that I've wanted to continue, finding a way to do that again without the physical space. Even when we were making our website, I was talking to the designer. I want something that feels kind of like a virtual bulletin board. I want people to be able to go here and find things that they need. I think our website is a great place for that. On our Instagram, we started picking an organization, whether it's a nonprofit or just a local collective that's doing good work and featuring them on our Instagram once a month.

Someone that we recently have started working with, they're gonna be the home of our readings at sunset that are monthly, Easy Like Sunday Morning. They're this collective and are Queer and Trans-led music collective in Echo Park. And they have a music studio, a space to jam, and a beautiful backyard. I'm really excited about working with them and also about the work that they're doing. Also, Queer 26, Junior High LA, and Reparations Club, we're gonna continue working with. All of these people are the homies, and we're going to continue building relationships with them. I know the power of our community and the amount of followers that we have; I know that it can make a big, big difference. And like someone else's small business, we definitely have folks that email us like, 'Hey, can you share a workshop,' and then the workshops sell out after we've shared them. That makes me happy. I love to see our people win; I love to see our people be successful. And so it feels good to be able to share our resources that way.

With Cuties growing and the digital space becoming a huge touchstone for queer and trans folk in Los Angeles, do you see a physical space in the future?

I recently talked to a couple of friends of mine because I started as a part-time barista; I never really wanted to be a business owner. And so I was handed a business in the middle of a pandemic, and like full transparency, I'm a person with depression and anxiety. And I'm like, oh, okay, but I'm gonna go for it. So I have felt really overwhelmed at the idea of having to open a new coffee shop. Even though I know I have support, it's still a lot. So I talked to a couple of friends about just the idea of having a space, where it's part art gallery, part event space, part gathering space, where coffee is not the main product. It's just, we have a space, and you can come to hang out here. And maybe there's some hot tea, and maybe there's some drip coffee. Or maybe like we have folks come in and do coffee pop-ups. But I miss terribly having a physical space. That's always been the goal. I've just been patient because we've been in a pandemic. When it makes sense for me to have an event space where we can really gather again and finally feel like we're in a space where it feels safe enough for that to happen, I would love to have a new space. I've been saving up to do one big crowdfunding thing for the physical space. And hopefully, by the end of the year, we'll have something I would love to. I miss it so much.

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

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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.