- A banging queer techno rave in a Chinese banquet hall.
- The first floor of the East Broadway Mall was unassuming. Hidden beneath the Manhattan Bridge in Chinatown, I've sped past the dim sum restaurant it houses, 88 Palace, countless times in a race to make other dinner plans. I was headed to the second floor, where the banquet hall-turned-afterhours venue felt both ostentatious and no-frills—a glittering chandelier, hovering above a grey staircase, welcomed me in. I was here for a long haul of barreling techno, yet as soon as I stepped into Morenxxx's opening set, a settling ease came over me. The night had corralled together some of the brightest names in New York's queer underground community, and, as expected, each set delivered.
DJ Delish was given the coveted honor of introducing the new decade, rumbling into a raucous two hour-set with hopping club music, stuttering vogue beats and percussive diasporic tracks. In typical ballroom fashion, commentator Kevin JZ Prodigy howled, "Does anyone here have a pussy?" inciting a chorus of yelps just minutes before the countdown. The night was a sprawling series of other call-and-response moments. Before the atmosphere veered into an unrelenting techno rager, Discakes's DJ Marley Marl hopped on the mic to remind the crowd, "POC to the front!" When I watched for movement in the crowd, I only glimpsed marginal shifts—POC had taken their rightful spots near the stage since the start.
When I wasn't on the dance floor, I was prancing around the venue to discover the surplus of condoms stocked on white-clothed banquet tables and in the corners of the lively, druggy, all-gender bathrooms. Elsewhere, disarming faces distributed free fentanyl-testing strips and info sheets on safer drug use. Giddy ravers shared morsels of Remedi Food's leafy treats. As the night progressed, I noted that every decision at the forefront of Discake's initiative can be traced back to the pressing concerns of the QTPOC community. Capitalism can breed raves that deplete their attendees financially, physically and mentally, leading to cycles of self-harm and burnout for vulnerable clubbers who only seek to transcend their undesirable realities for a night. This event felt like a direct protest against this individualistic approach, and seemed to promise comfort, prolonged safety and community for every black and brown person present.
At night's close, fluorescent lights flickered on and the temporary walls that had maintained the illusion of glamor began to fold out of sight. It had just brushed 5 AM, and Akua pummelled on with scornful, seething techno. Lust-filled swarms emerged from the dimming red lights to strip off their metallic costumes, kiss goodbye to their friends and make plans to see them at the next one. If well-curated raves leave moments that stay with you, intentional raves like Discakes, organised with meticulous care and impassioned love, hold the more enduring power of transforming you.
Photo credit /
Deonté Lee