Tucson Vogue: Southern Arizona’s Thriving Hub for Queer Culture

Technicolor lights illuminated the corners of a large studio, reflecting off a mirrored wall and casting vibrant hues onto the dancers’ bodies. Judges sat behind a table draped in shiny black fabric, adorned with tiny golden trophies and inflatable pool accessories for the winners. The night’s theme was “pool party,” a rehearsal for a future ball in Denver.

“Honestly, it’s cutthroat now. Let’s go!” shouted one judge.

The beat dropped, but it was a false start. The song began again. Aaron Cavazos, the first dancer, dressed in a black button-up shirt, tank top, and cap, sat in a chair, moving only his hands and arms to the rhythm. His sharp, fluid movements resembled the poses of still models in Vogue magazine or Egyptian hieroglyphics.

His friends and opponents laughed and cheered, urging him on.

“Judges?” one called.

“Ten, 10, 10! Tens across the floor,” another judge exclaimed.

He advanced to the next round where he would battle other contestants in the “Hands” category.

The event was organized by Tucson Vogue, a group of queer dancers and performers. They operate under the mentorship of the Kiki House of Paragon in Phoenix, aiming to create space for LGBTQ+ culture in Southern Arizona. Their first event, The Velvet Rope Ball, took place in February 2024, drawing more than 100 attendees to The Drop Dance Studio.

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

Most people believe vogue started with Madonna’s 1990 hit single “Vogue,” but its roots trace back to the late 19th century. Cultural studies professor Tim Lawrence notes that Harlem’s Hamilton Lodge held a queer masquerade ball in 1869. The balls gained popularity during the Harlem Renaissance, attracting crowds of up to 6,000.

Jazz poet Langston Hughes described the events as the “strangest and gaudiest of all Harlem spectacles in the ’20s,” where males in flowing gowns and females in tuxedos mingled and competed.

However, racial integration in the balls didn’t last. Black queens had to whiten their skin. This issue came to a head in 1967 when Crystal LaBeija walked off the Miss All-America Camp Beauty Pageant. She was denied her trophy because she was Black. LaBeija and another drag queen, Lottie, started the House of LaBeija in 1972, hosting their first ball, leading to the founding of more legendary houses.

Each house had “mothers” and “fathers,” and members, called “children,” competed as families in ballroom events. These houses provided refuge for many Black and Brown LGBTQ+ youth who faced rejection from their biological families.

Vogueing as a dance style developed in this ballroom scene as queens used dance to “throw shade” at each other in battles. Movements were inspired by model poses, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and kung fu movies.

Although mainstream attention came in the 1990s, many Black and Latinx queer performers were not properly credited or compensated.

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

Marcus White, an Arizona State University professor, was key to starting the scene in Arizona. He brought ballroom legends like Jason Rodríguez to local events. White also mentored students in the dance form. His influence extended to Come AZ You Are events until his death in May 2020.

Students Rylee Locker and Elleanna Spinelli, known as Rylee Paragon and Elle Paragon Prodigy, founded the first Arizona ballroom house, Kiki House of Paragon, in 2020, dedicating it to White’s legacy.

“We want to exude excellence like he did,” said Locker.

Spinelli, the current house mother, oversees the Phoenix chapter, while Locker moved to Philadelphia to start a second chapter. The house co-founder Avery Jenkins, known as Saturn Paragon, takes care of the fatherly duties. The group is more than just a dance community.

“We’ll cook for each other, help each other move,” said Spinelli. “We support each other because we care about each other.”

New houses like the House of Majestic have also been formed.

One night in December 2022, Tucson native Allison Dubose, known as Eclipse Paragon 007, met Salomé Siruno, SOS 007, who was impressed by Dubose’s vogueing skills. They worked together, traveling to Phoenix for sessions and eventually holding their own in Tucson.

The Kiki House of Paragon supported them from the start, with Spinelli giving classes in Tucson. Balls are known for their joyful yet competitive nature, and Tucson Vogue has begun to make a name for itself. The tough competition from Phoenix regularly joins in, rigorously maintaining tradition.

At a recent event, a judge praised a “Hands” category battle. “They kept the story neat and consistent, even while battling,” the judge noted. Categories like “Hands,” “Old Way,” “Runway,” “Butch Queen,” and “Female Figure” specify styles, techniques, and gender identities for participants.

Dubose and Siruno now lead Tucson Vogue, organizing their first ball in February 2024. Siruno, from Somerton, Ariz., felt vogueing provided a sense of safety and community, a sentiment echoed by Dubose.

“I’m doing queer dances with other queer people,” Dubose said. “I have a space where I belong.”

Tucson Vogue has already started to earn trophies. Tommy Huynh, known as Umamii 007, won the grand prize in the Old Way category at an anime-themed ball in Denver.

“They’ve helped me grow,” Huynh said. “I never expected such interest in vogueing here until we built it up.”

Dubose added, “Many people feel safe to be themselves here without judgment.”

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