Here is my baby. My ongoing project.
It sounds like World War 3, 4 and 5 combined. The tribes have convened. A stand off lasts into the night and breaches the morning. Twisters, Butch Queens, School Boys, Female Figures, all intertwining their limbs to hold down the front lines.
This is the Ball Scene. This is Chicago’s Ball Scene. It all started here. The Balls, my life, these young men and women’s lives, all here in the wind, the hustle, the grit, the class, the womb.
The story has it that in the 1880s, Carrie Watson, one of Chicago’s top madams after the Great Fire threw the first ball in support of “Lame” Jimmy, her house piano player. Debauchery, drunken policemen shooting at each other and leaders of the underworld were all present. “Joy reigned unrefined” said Carrie Watson. Eventually, due to public condemnation, the Ball was shut down. But that was only her Ball. Others followed.
I was born in 1982, in the bedroom of the house my parents still live in. This is Brookfield, IL Cook County (bounce it break your back) USA Planet Earth. In the 90’s Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls won three NBA Championships in a row, well, they did it twice. Basketball! (I totally can beat you in a game of 21. In the hood, you play 32.) I was inspired to be like Mike. To just do it. Though I found out I do it like spirals. Like lazers, rainbows, power towers disguised as nature. I signed on to play basketball for life.
2008, I am on YouTube looking up “Chicago street ball” and following random links. I come across a video with hundreds of men in the dark in one of Chicago’s gigantic halls. Music raged as two men in the center of the circle of spectators were engaged in a dance battle. Spinning, dropping to the floor and the crowd following their every movement. Whatever was going on, I wanted to be there. I’d figure out the facts later. This looked too good.
I had seen the film “Paris is Burning” with my uncle at Sidetracks on the North Side a couple years prior. I had no idea that Vogueing and the scene out lived the 80’s. But damn I was wrong. Chicago seemed to be exploding with energy, creativity and as always, emotion. I felt it through the internet. It was a communication of my people summoning me home.
I began creeping around the internet. Stalked YouTube and Facebook. Figured out when and where a Ball was gonna happen. That lasted for 6 months when I finally found a Ball coming up. I even had a phone number of the guy throwing it! Then my mother’s voice chimed in, my mischievous angel, “It’s better to ask for forgiveness then it is for permission.” So I decided to go. Just do it!
I arrive and struggled to get in. I couldn’t find the entrance to the building. I want to give up. Its cold, its dark, its late and life seemed easier elsewhere. As I was leaving I noticed a small little walkway. I head down it and find where I need to be. The entrance to the Ball, with security? Security pats me down, grabs my bag and says “I don’t know about no white boy coming in here with a camera. What are you doing?” I explained the YouTube thing. He decided to grab one of the organizers of the event, as I sat in a weird room alone… without my camera. Where did he put it?
The organizer arrives with my bag. I told him the story I explain above. He agrees to let me in as long as I pay the $35 admission. "No video!“. This whole night was a blur. I found out that security was in there protecting everyone from each other. A small fight broke out, I made one friend and got a flyer for the next Ball. It was a success besides the fact that 9 rolls of film I shot didn’t have one image that came out! My flash was out of sync the whole night. In a round about way this cemented my commitment. I must redeem myself. And not redeem myself like Michael Jordan playing baseball or for the Wizards. But like a Taj Gibson dunk in the face of Dwayne Wade. Ballers recognize Ballers.
In my short time in these lives I have learned this:
The Ball Scene is organized by Houses, a House is a collective of Ballroom participants that care for each other and help one another when needed. Some examples are the House of Ninja, House of Infiniti, House of Escada. It is not uncommon for members of these Houses to come from broken homes where they did not receive support or encouragement for their sexual identities. The Ballroom scene is a means for escape into a fantasy world where they can find acceptance for whomever they wish to be, be it a man or a woman. The Houses provides a launching pad for transformation and while providing a support system for its members. One of the main functions of the Houses is to "walk” or compete against one another in the Ball, where they are judged on dance skills, costume, general appearance and attitude. No touching is allowed, even though dancers often become intertwined in each others extended arms, legs and hand moves. Participants dress according to a category in which they are competing and are expected to display appropriate “realness”. Realness being who looks the most convincing in categories such as Butch Queen (thug), Sex Siren (best body), Female Face (most convincing woman). The judges each pick their own winner. The person with the most votes from the judges wins the walk… if not, that’s a chop bitch!
Go Bulls!
