Technicolor lights placed in the corners of a large studio bounced from a mirror wall onto the dancers’ bodies. Judges sat behind a table draped in shiny black fabric and topped with tiny golden trophies and inflatable pool accessories for the winners of each category. Tonight, the theme was pool party, a pratice for a future ball in Denver.

 “Honestly, it’s cutthroat now. Let’s go!” said one of the judges.

The beat dropped, but it was a false start. The song started again. And Aaron Cavazos, the first dancer, dressed in an black button-up shirt, a tank and a cap, sat in a chair and moved only his hands and arms to the rhythm. He was all sharp angles, each fluidly disappearing into the next gesture. It looked like the poses of still models in a Vogue magazine, or maybe the figures in Egyptian hieroglyphics.

His friends — and opponents in that night’s contest – laughed and whooped, urging him on.

“Judges?”

“Ten, 10, 10! Tens across the floor,” one called.

He passed through to the next round, in which he would battle other contestants until one person won in the “Hands” category.

The event was held by Tucson Vogue, a group of queer dancers and performers who, with the mentorship of the Kiki House of Paragon in Phoenix, are creating a space for LGBTQ+ culture in Southern Arizona.

They threw their first event — The Velvet Rope Ball — in February 2024. It was well-received, with more than 100 attendees crowding into a room at The Drop Dance Studio, located at the end of a solitary street lined with warehouses and construction offices just off East Benson Highway and South Park Avenue.

LGBTQ+ venues and events often book the group as well.

“There have been so many inquiries that we can’t even keep up right now,’ said Allison Dubose, a co-leader and the main organizer of the group. “We have to say no to people because we have so much stuff coming up. So it’s been a real blessing.”

Dancer Eduardo Manuel Escobedo, known as Bello 007, performs in the “Hands” category.

A short history of vogue

Most people think vogue started in the 1990s with Madonna’s hit single “Vogue,” but it actually harkens back to the late 19th century. According to University of East London cultural studies professor Tim Lawrence, Harlem’s Hamilton Lodge threw a queer masquerade ball in 1869, however the balls became popular during the Harlem Renaissance when a thriving Black and Brown LGBTQ+ community called Upper Manhattan its home. The events attracted crowds of up to 6,000, writes Lawrence.

In his essay “Spectacles of Color,” jazz poet Langston Hughes described the balls as the “strangest and gaudiest of all Harlem spectacles in the ‘20’s”:

“During the height of the New Negro era and the tourist invasion of Harlem, it was fashionable for the intelligentsia and social leaders of both Harlem and the downtown area to occupy boxes at this ball and look down from above at the queerly assorted throng on the dancing floor, males in flowing gowns and feathered headdresses and females in tuxedoes and box-back suits. For the men, there is a fashion parade. Prizes are given to the most gorgeously gowned of the whites and Negroes who, powdered, wigged, and rouged, mingle and compete for the awards.”

But the racial integration of the balls would not last, and black queens were expected to whiten their skin.

In 1967, the issue came to a head when Crystal LaBeija, whose last name meant “the beautiful” in Spanish, walked off the Miss All-America Camp Beauty Pageant. She was a star, but was denied her trophy because she was Black. In a scene from the documentary The Queen, she’s told she’s “showing her color” to which she replies,“I have a right to show my color, darling. Because I’m beautiful and I know I’m beautiful.”

LaBeija and another drag queen, Lottie, started the legendary House of LaBeija and hosted their first ball in 1972. More houses were quickly founded, and many became legendary.

Each house includes house “mothers” and “fathers” and their current members dubbed “children” would compete against each other. Each house often became a family for Black and Brown LGBTQ+ youth, often on their own after they were rejected by their families and discriminated against.

Vogueing as a dance style was developed later in the ballroom scene as queens “threw shade”, or subtly insulted one another using dance in ‘battles.’ Movements were taken from model poses in Vogue magazine, Egyptian hieroglyphics and even kung fu movies.

The mainstream took notice in the 1990s, but despite the attention, many of the performers, mostly Black and Latinx queer people, were not properly paid, or credited for their work.

Younger performers made their own space in “kiki balls,” or balls for beginners and less experienced dancers.

Manuel Escobedo and Destiny Rinker show their faces off to the judges in the “Face” category.

Arizona enters the scene

Marcus White, a professor at Arizona State University, was pivotal to kickstarting the scene in this state when he brought out ballroom legends such as Jason Rodríguez to various ballroom events that featured vogueing. He also started mentoring students interested in the dance form.

White previously ran his own dance company in Detroit and was well-known for his focus on dance forms rooted in the Black Queer Radical Tradition. He was particularly influential in the Come AZ You Are events. White died in May 2020 at 31 years old.

Two of his students were Rylee Locker and Elleanna Spinelli, also known by their ballroom names Rylee Paragon and Elle Paragon Prodigy.

“We were best friends, and she was also a student at ASU. We took these classes together,” said Spinelli. “Rylee ended up hosting more classes and open sessions in the community. And that’s kind of where it really began.”

In 2020, Locker and Spinelli founded the Phoenix-based Kiki House of Paragon, the first ballroom house in Arizona, and named it in honor of White.

“All we want to do is exude excellence like he did,” Locker said.

Spinelli is the current house mother, while Locker, the founding mother, moved to Philadelphia and opened a second chapter of the house. Avery Jenkins, known as Saturn Paragon, is the founding father of the house. Like the houses in the 1970s and ’’80s, the House of Paragon is more than a place for dancing. 

“We’ll cook for each other, and we’ll help each other move,’ Spinelli said. “We will come drop off the spare tire when we’re stuck in the middle of the road, driving back from Tucson. We do these things for each other because we care about each other.”

Other new houses have also been created, such as the House of Majestic.

Destiny Rinker competes in the “Face” category.

Matt Pham, or Matt 007, dances in the “Old Way” category.

And Tucson Vogue begins

One night in December 2022, Allison Dubose, a Tucson native known as Eclipse Paragon 007, was practicing vogueing at The Drop Dance Studio when Salomé Siruno – known by their vogue name SOS 007 – walked in to grab their stuff.

“I specifically remember Salomé coming in and being like, are you voguing?” said Dubose.

“Cause nobody vogues here!” Siruno said, laughing at the Tucson dance scene.

They traveled to Phoenix for sessions, and then held their own in Tucson’s The Drop Dance Studio.

Allison Dubose, known as Eclipse Paragon 007, and co-leader of Tucson Vogue participates in “Runway.”

Zeke Mendoza, or Zeke 007, performs in the “Hands” category

The Kiki House of Paragon backed them up from the beginning. Spinelli gave classes in Tucson, and members traveled from Phoenix to participate and give advice.

Balls are raucous, joyful and colorful, but also extremely competitive. Members from the House of Paragon regularly travel to Tucson to participate and give advice, rigorously passing down the tradition.

Members react to a battle.

Back in the studio

In the recent category night, one of the judges complimented a battle in the “Hands” category.

“They were telling a story. They kept the story consistent, they kept the story neat, even though they were battling each other they were still talking to each other,” one judge said. “That was a battle!”

“Hands”, as a category, involves participants usually sitting down and using only their hands and arms. A category determines a given style, technique and gender identity that the participants must meet. Some – like “Old Way” and “Runway” – are more about technique and style. Others are about gender, such as “Butch Queen” which is for feminine same-gender loving men, and “Female Figure” for anyone who identifies with femininity and womanhood.

These categories are not hard and fast rules. They can shift depending on who is throwing the ball and the ball’s theme. Different cultures can have their own take on the rules.

Dubose and Siruno now co-lead Tucson Vogue and organized their first ball in February 2024.

Siruno is from Somerton, Ariz., around 10 miles north of the border, and said that vogueing made them feel safe and like they were a part of a community. Dubose echoed him, saying that despite queer culture influencing dance, she didn’t feel like she truly belonged.

“I’m doing queer dances, but I’m not doing queer dances with other queer people,” she said. “I actually have a space where I’m with other queer people. And I didn’t have that before.”

Still, Tucson Vogue has started to pick up trophies. Member Tommy Huynh, known as Umamii 007 in ballroom, won the grand prize in the “Old Way” category at the Mile High Rumble ball in Denver.

“They’ve watered me, you know? I’m like a little bamboo plant and they’ve watered me, until like the full 50-foot bamboo tree that I have not yet become, but I will soon become,” he said of Tucson Vogue’s influence in his dance career.

“I would have never guessed that there would be so many people interested in vogue out here in Tucson until we started building it up,” said Dubose, who later became a member of the Kiki House of Paragon. “I think that a lot of people do feel safe here to be exactly who they are, without any kind of judgment.”

 “It’s just beautiful to see how much Tucson has grown,” said Spinelli.

The panel judges Manuel Escobedo’s peformance.