On the evening of Feb. 3, the Creative Arts Student Association (CASA) hosted an Introduction to Ballroom workshop, led by The Iconic 3x Hall of Fame International Kiki House of Pinklady. The event took participants on a journey through some of the most prominent categories of ballroom, offering a glimpse into the intricacies of its vibrant culture.
Emerging as a response to the discriminatory, colourist standards of the Harlem drag pageant scene, ballroom was created as a space for Black, Brown, and queer individuals to find safety, freedom of expression, and family within a predominantly White, heteronormative society.
In balls, contestants compete in different categories — a practice known as walking. During a walk, a contestant makes their way down a runway, performing for the crowd and, most importantly, for the judges. Each person tailors their walk to fit the category, reflecting their lived experiences and understanding of their own body. Said categories emerged out of necessity, providing a safe space for Black, Brown, and queer individuals to embody fantasies that were otherwise unattainable in a straight, cis, White society. Fantasies such as walking down a runway, being recognized for beauty and pageantry, and promoting queer POC fashion are reflected in some of the oldest and most prominent categories within ballroom culture: face, body, runway, and vogue performance.
“Each [category] is an event just like in the Olympics — soccer, volleyball, badminton — same kind of idea but different. Categories nurture creativity and not just queer expression but also cultural expression in many different ways,” explains Arsyn Pinklady, a member of the House of Pinklady.
A big part of understanding ballroom is recognizing it as not just an art form, but a culture. “It’s a culture because it’s what we know,” says Mother Slimthick Pinklady, pointing to her heart. “It’s what we see, it’s what we hear, it’s what we touch, feel inside and outside, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. When somebody gets a dip on beat, the spirits are up. That’s like our church, that’s our culture. Our culture is here.
“It started out of trauma, out of defeat, out of a war that was silently being fought by women fighting a different war,” she adds.
For instance, the face category provides valuable insight into ballroom’s cultural significance and impact. As one of the oldest and most influential categories, Face puts the focus on a contestant’s eyes, skin, bone structure, nose, and teeth, collectively known as the five elements of face. At a surface level, face can be seen as vain or restrictive with phrases such as “You either got it or bought it.” being common sayings in the scene. However, while this highlights the importance placed on both inherent and acquired beauty, there’s deeper significance in the lens through which this vanity is defined. In a world that often fails to celebrate beauty beyond the cis, straight, White standard, ballroom’s categories create a culture that uplifts Black, Brown, and queer features.
“[Face] is a category that means so much to me because growing up I never felt beautiful. And to have this opportunity to be told, ‘You are actually beautiful,’ it was very important to me and I didn’t know that I could ever be in a beauty category,” says Arsyn.
Despite the face category’s focus on visible traits, the final vote depends on the contestant’s performance and ability to accentuate their features as they walk down the runway. Ultimately walking in any category is above all a performance.
Historically, ballroom’s stunning spectacle has been exploited and stripped of its context. From Madonna’s “Vogue” to Paris is Burning and RuPaul’s Drag Race, much of ballroom’s cultural and societal impact has been appropriated. While monetary exploitation is a major concern, there are also social and cultural impacts that often go unnoticed.
The appropriation of language is a key example of this. When words, phrases, or expressions from the ballroom scene are used outside of their original context, they often lose their historical and cultural significance. At best, this results in a diluted version of the original term; at worst, it can become a harmful mockery. A perfect example of this is the word “realness.” While the average person may associate it with its modern pop culture connotations, the word is taken directly from the ballroom scene. In ballroom, “realness” refers to embodying one’s straight counterpart, essentially being “unclockable.”
“I don’t walk realness, but in some ways every femme queen [trans woman] walks realness outside of the ballroom floor,” says Godmother Serena Pinklady. “There was a time when people started to question whether realness was even relevant to ballroom anymore because of some of the gains made in society regarding the rights of queer and trans people. Obviously, the climate around transfolk is inflamed in Canada, the U.S., and around the world. Realness came from trans women who were running their houses [and] their queer families, who needed to work and pass, and [also] be able to walk down their street without getting beaten up or mugged; So that they could go to work and not be harassed or assaulted — so they could actually get the job in the first place.”
Ballroom’s emphasis on family and creating a safe space for marginalized communities is central to understanding its significance within queer and Black culture. Arsyn expands on this by sharing his own experience: “I was just fascinated. How amazing that this actually exists? Being a girl from Calgary who hasn’t been around much queer representation, I was just like, ‘How could something like this exist?’ On top of that, there are people of colour. It’s not just the queer community, it’s queer people of colour.”
In the ballroom scene, being queer and a person of colour is not only accepted, but is the default. It’s an opulent world where being your true self is not only enough, but is celebrated. Moreover, ballroom’s role as a sanctuary for marginalized communities has continually magnified its social and cultural impact. As Mother Slimthick explains, “Doing balls and all of these things promoted safety. Even though it wasn’t necessarily safe inside because we each have our own demons, it promoted safety because, at least when you came in here, you were one of us.”
Workshops like the one held at York are invaluable resources in offering our community an accessible and authentic window into a culture that can provide family, purpose, and education. These events allow people to learn about a history that belongs to the queer and POC communities, yet is often shrouded in layers of exploitation.
When asked who ballroom is for, Mother Slimthick responds by saying, “Ballroom is for anyone who ever had a question that wasn’t answered.” She further emphasizes that ballroom “takes work and faith.” In response to the same question, Godmother Serena agrees, stating, “Ballroom is really for anybody who does not believe or does not see that their light is really being seen out in the world.”
If any of these experiences resonate with you, keep an eye out for more ballroom-related events on campus. Or better yet, visit the Toronto Kiki Ballroom Alliance website at www.tkba.ca or follow @iconichousepinklady on Instagram to stay up to date with the latest balls and ballroom workshops, and to learn more about ballroom culture. The best way to understand and observe ballroom culture is through taking the initiative and going to a ball.
