When I started at UOB last year, I had not told anyone I was trans. It is a lonely situation to find yourself in, and in all honesty, it stays lonely a long time after you give up the closet. It is my opinion that the Bristol Ballroom Community is the only space in the city where shame cannot get through the door, the excellence you are to witness is far too hypnotising for that. When the MC says, ‘The category is....’, and the house music begins, and the death-dropping starts, you can feel nothing but love.
This is an account of the characters I have witnessed in the scene over the last year, and an introduction to Ballroom culture—I hope it encourages some of you to bring it at the next function. The names of performers may have been remembered, they may have been imagined. I apologise for that, some details got lost in raspberry vodka.
In the Trinity Centre, folding chairs are lined up in rows either side of the hall to make a runway. There are more people than seats, so we crowd the bar, stage and judge’s table. It is impossible to know who you are standing next to, whether they are an observer or the greatest dancer in the room. Some come in drag, or executive realness, in Studio 54 sequined mini dresses or KitKat club latex, but the best performers are often in a tank top and shorts.
Miss Major said of the New York Ballroom scene, ‘Whether you participated, whether you watched, whether you just wore a little cocktail dress and a small fur coat—it was just a nice time.’ Our nice time starts with the roll call. We are told by Gomez, the MC, that the energy must not dip, the performers are here to showcase their talent and we must show our appreciation. He calls the names, and one by one they vogue down the runway.
The MC oversees the ball and narrates the event. They might tell you to walk in the style of a legend, ‘Bring it like Ma Rainey. And if you don’t know, then get to know.’ They might repeat what they hear for the audience’s reaction. ‘You know what I just heard down here, “I bought these boots with my OWN money!” The Budget, darling!’ And they will make certain that first-timers don’t use the runway as a dancefloor, or walk without knowing their history.
The category is Old Way and Erica moves like hieroglyphs, geometric. Influenced by fashion magazines and martial arts, Old Way focuses on symmetrical lines, precise posing, fluid movement. Erica wears a red ‘90s windbreaker and thick rimmed black glasses. Her House chant, ‘Ollllldd...Olldd Naavvyy!’ and shout when she hits the floor.
A House is a family formed in kinship, not biology. The first Houses were formed by Black and Latinx TLGB people, rooted in the necessity for an alternative community that could provide safety and knowledge to Children who had no one else. In my experience, the knowledge that older trans people give you is the only way through. You need someone to tell you how to get on DIY hormones, you need someone who has endured the psychological body-horror of transition to believe that you can do it too. I'll tell you now, trans youth of Bristol, if you feel that no one is telling you how to survive, you are not looking in the right places.
Empress walks Body. The rule is, if you strip on the runway, you get cut. The first boy to walk takes off his shirt and is unceremoniously told to leave the floor. The rules don’t apply to her, though. Her robe is off at the top of the runway, and by the time she reaches the judges she is entirely naked. Her presence is commanding, she is led by each arm as royalty. No one can look away– the MC cannot even make himself heard over the crowd, who have never been this happy. The judges give tens immediately, and my sister cannot stop smiling.
Performing Hands, the Princess’s feet don’t move— unlike in other categories of voguing there are no dips or drops here. This is a showcase of your talent in intricate hand movement. It goes fast in sharp angles, wrist work, posing. Her long nails blur in front of her red headscarf.
One of the most memorable moments is a lip-sync to Charli XCX’s ‘Apple’. The Doctor 007 mimes driving a car, duck walking up and down the runway for 3 minutes. (‘I’m gonna drive gonna drive all night.’) It is completely insane.
Femme Queen and Pretty Boy Realness are my favourite categories. Realness was put this way in Paris Is Burning (2007):
‘If you can pass the untrained eye or even the trained eye, and not give away the fact that you’re gay, that’s when it’s realness. [...] It’s really a case of going back into the closet. [...] You erase all the flaws, all the giveaways, all the mistakes, to make your illusion perfect.’
The significance of this idea, to me, is not that I feel at risk of physical violence often, Bristol is the safest place I have ever lived. No, Realness is the understanding that no matter how difficult the government makes medical transition, there is work to be done. If you can carry yourself with conviction, speak with confidence, and dress with deliberation people will believe you. And so, you can become yourself.
A few minutes into European Runway, Amani Cosmo stops the walkers, gets up from her table and says, ‘Can I give you all some advice? Pick a lane, and STICK TO IT!’ Clicks in agreement from the other judges, and the runways get better. Amani is stunning, a true supermodel. Her hair flips are breakneck.
Sex siren comes last. It was the sex worker’s category, the gurls working the street would come and claim their trophies at the end of the night. This is the first time I ever saw a trans man lusted after. He’s called Daddy; he was drawn by Tom of Finland—cowboy hat and harness, square beard. He kisses the Mother of Bristol, Aysha Old Navy’s hand, everyone goes mad, and I cry.
There are open community sessions at the Island every Monday from 7pm if you want to train, and Kiki Balls every few months. I’ll see you there.
