Over the past year, I had the opportunity to visit so many lifetime friends. During that period, I was privileged to be introduced to other amazing, beautiful people who were kind enough to share a bit of their personal stories with me.
I kept all those different experiences as 'food for thought'. I found typical traces while listening to those exquisite narratives from people who left home to brave the world. Despite their varied backgrounds, they always find a community to thrive and comfort themselves. This is where they feel safe and reconnect to their sense of belonging.
It has been the same feeling everywhere I have been. You will see different nuances, but at the core, you will find the same kind of sense of protection, unity and, most of all, affection.
"You can't get to where you are going if you don't know where you are coming from"
Honey Dijon, DJ and music producer
I have always been a big fan of pop music, disco and all the glam and glitz that comes with it. Basically, anything you would expect from an ordinary queer man.
During the pandemic, I started to read a lot and study everything that happened during the New York disco period as much as possible. I consumed all the possible knowledge I could via books, articles, zines, records, websites, interviews, and videos.
The main reason for my interest in this particular period is that it is relevant to today's culture. This was a period where police were raiding bars to beat gay men and take them to jail alongside trans women and drag queens. Society would handle that situation as entirely acceptable.
Until one powerful voice said, 'Enough!'. That was it. A butch drag king, a couple of powerful trans queens, a group of brave gay men, and lesbians, all together, and an uprise was formed against the establishment.
It's fascinating to hear all the zeitgeist that came out of it. It is no surprise that New York became what it is. It is a cultural reference that artists from all over the world would go to looking for an opportunity to develop their talents.
Larry Levan, DJ and one of the founders of the disco scene is in his element at the Paradise Garage, NYC, 1979.
Photo by Bill Bernstein
Following the yellow brick road
Grace Jones, the icon, the reference, the legend.
Photos by Adrian Boot and Ron Galella
The closer I have been getting to Queer history and to the many people that have been fighting for the right to be themselves, the more I felt compelled to take part.
One day, my father brought home a new stereo system. He played Jorge Ben, Tim Maia, Belchior, Marisa Monte, Gil, and Caetano. My mom brought Tina Turner, George Michael, Freddie, Madonna, and Gipsy Kings. Since that day, I have become obsessed with music.
One day, my father told me that happiness didn't exist. Since then, my life has become an obsession to prove him wrong.
One day, Mom told me I should treat everyone the same way. No distinction should be made between the top executive and the lovely person who cleans the kitchen. In fact, those are more likely to be the best people you will meet.
One day, my father told me he was the best friend I would ever have. That was quite a pretentious thing for him to say.
I could write this about everything I achieved in life, my path, and my CV. I choose to define myself in a simple way: I became the best version of my heroes.
I am just like my parents. I am only like this because I had the opportunity to be surrounded by a family that provided me with the best love one could ask for. And although life is not easy, although many times I didn't know how to communicate with them, I never stopped loving them.
Recently, Mom told me I'm a warrior. I learned everything from the best example one could ask for when it comes to strength, working hard, and never giving up despite life's challenges.
And yes, Dad was right. He is my best friend.
