Adventures in Latex

HIV Prevention Is Served!
by Joseph Huff-Hannon

It’s hard to decipher which is brighter, the flashing strobe lights illuminating the packed interior of the historic Roseland Ballroom in midtown Manhattan, or the blue tint to Langston’s hair, a nineteen year-old from Akron, Ohio, and a recent New York City transplant. “I love it here. This city teaches you to use your creativity, to represent your own style.” No further explanation needed. Langston, decked out in gold sunglasses, spiky aquamarine blue hair, and sporting an exquisitely androgynous outfit (a sequined multicolored frock hanging over baggy pants and high-top chucks) is one-third of a thoroughly glammed up trio of ball kids here tonight to bear witness to a “Legendary” event—last August’s fifteenth annual House of Latex Ball: Atlantis. Step aside Sadie Hawkins, these girls (and boys) aren’t asking anyone’s permission to dance, vogue, and walk their way to fame on the runway. They also aren’t asking anyone’s permission to educate their peers about HIV prevention, or to look great while doing it.

For those who thought the vital “ballroom” subculture popularized in the 1990 documentary, Paris is Burning, had gone the way of the Macarena, think again. In the words of NYU-based scholar and ballroom scenester Frank “Mizrahi” Leon Roberts, “Paris is still burning. While New York City certainly remains the epic-center of contemporary ballroom culture, within the past few years’ cities such as Los Angeles, D.C., Chicago, Philadelphia, and especially Atlanta are catching up fast. Contrary to popular belief, the ballroom community did not dwindle away once the Material Girl decided to cease appropriating their fashions.”

The ballroom scene, historically the domain of divas, transgender, and gender-bending men and women of color, blends the trappings of high fashion (flamboyant outfits, runway walking and posing, attitude) with urban music, culture, and style. Participants almost always claim membership to various “Houses,” modeled after the most famous houses of fashion (Chanel, Blahnik, Balenciaga). Not so the House of Latex, which remains refreshingly free of brand loyalty, inherent in its dedication to latex in all of its variants, but primarily in the form that is the most effective in stemming the spread of HIV.

“This ball allows people to have a kind of fame, to compete and show off their skills,” says Langston, “it represents a lot of things; creativity, positive living, safe sex. It teaches you to represent yourself truthfully in front of your peers.” Those with more experience in the ballroom community are more direct. “There is no other function like it…this is the Grammy’s of the Ball Scene” says Juan La Perla, founder of the eponymous House of La Perla.

Over the years the annual House of Latex Ball has come to be recognized as the biggest, and one of the most important balls in the country. It is a party, a competition, a celebration—and a creative medium for bringing a critical HIV/AIDS prevention message to a subculture that is vibrant, insular—and very much at risk. If only the Grammy’s were as consequential. Not to bad-mouth good TV, but the health crises facing the ballroom community, primarily made up of young African-American and Latino men and women, mostly GLTBQ youth, is serious. According to a 2005 report released by the CDC, based on a random study of men who have sex with men, eighteen and up, in five major American cities, forty-six percent of black men were HIV-positive—a rate much higher than previous studies had suggested. Perhaps the most disturbing result of the study was that the majority of black men who had tested positive (over sixty-five percent) were unaware of their status.

Transgender persons, who occupy a prominent place in ball culture, are even more at risk for HIV and other STDs. Although there is no national data available as such, a body of research based on various citywide studies highlights a variety of reasons, from the prevalence of sex work, unprotected sex, and the needle sharing related to the hormones injected by many trans people. Another potent factor is the struggle with social stigma and/or rejection by potential sex partners that can be an issue for transgender people—often interfering with the negotiation of safer sex practices.

“Please people, get yourself tested, it is 2006 and having HIV is no longer the end of the world, but you need to know your status. We have agencies downstairs, and you can do it tonight for free. Once you know your status you can move on with your life,” announces M.C. Jacque Mizrahi, an Icon of the House of Mizrahi, decked out in a brilliant purple sports coat and matching purple baseball cap, blinged out with silver sequins. The announcement follows the recently wrapped up “Women’s Body,” “Runway as a House,” and “Butch Queen in Drag” competitions. A few “walkers,” or competitors, are “chopped,” that is, dismissed by the reigning panel of judges, while a talented few are awarded their trophies, coming a step or two closer to everlasting fame.

Soon thereafter a swarm of mermaids and mermen take to the stage as a trippy dub version of “Under the Sea” starts oozing out of the sound system. Blue and green condoms fly through the air as these sprites of the sea, wrapped up in shimmering gold and silver body suits, toss them out into the crowd. The organizing theme, after all, is Atlantis. “The planning committee for this ball, made up of members of the House of Latex and leaders from over twenty other houses, came up with that. The idea is that Atlantis represents a mythical community, full of creative, talented, and beautiful people, which ultimately—through carelessness—created its own downfall,” says Laura Horowitz, associate director at the Institute for Gay Men’s Health at GMHC (Gay Men’s Health Crisis), one of the sponsors of the event. “The idea is that, out of willful ignorance, we’re letting HIV do the same thing.” Since the ball, the House of Latex has undergone some changes—many members have joined other Houses, a not altogether uncommon occurrence as young participants regularly change affinity based on friendships and styles—but GMHC will keep the tradition alive with a Latex Ball this coming fall.

Does the ball make a difference? Perhaps success should be measured in a variety of ways: qualitatively and quantitatively, statistically and anecdotally. “It does,” says China Doll, twenty-six, a tall, curly-haired attendee who has represented the House of Latex at balls in years past. “This is the biggest free ball in NYC. Most of them cost $10–25 dollars, have fewer people, and they don’t necessarily stress prevention. Also, it’s drug and alcohol-free, and allows people eighteen and up to get in. This ball is trying to be a breakthrough into the community. Really they should do this more often, like every month.” Tens of attendees availed themselves of the free HIV test offered on the premises, and others made appointments to visit a clinic in the near future. Free condoms and peer-to-peer educational materials were spread out across the venue, and numerous service agencies and NGOs were on hand to answer questions, offer advice, and provide volunteer opportunities and/or service referrals. At the very least, people who didn’t have any condoms on them walking in came away from the Ball with a pocketful of latex.

The House of Latex has also inspired other organizations to produce balls and inculcate the subculture with a prevention message. Brooklyn-based People of Color in Crisis (POCC), for example, is organizing a large ball this year to coincide with Black Pride. Says Michael Robertson, the nonprofit’s director of services: “Last year we held a ball during Pride and offered free testing for the first time. More than 140 people were tested, twenty of whom came back positive, people who we could follow up with immediately, offer counseling and service referrals. Our goal this year is to have even more volunteers and test more people than last year.”

And let’s not forget about another very important indicator of success. That indicator is realness, a patently subjective quality that carries the ultimate premium in the ballroom community. “This ball is great, it allows people to dress their best, show off, act cute. It’s hot,” says Kelley, twenty-one, a member of the House of Kahn (a House best known for its vogueing prowess) who traveled up from D.C. with friends to attend the ball. Perhaps with a few exceptions, Kelley, Langston, and thousands of other GLTBQ youth had a blast that night. As did Janet Jackson, I might add. One of her dancers was competing in, and won, the “Women’s Vogueing Performance” category, and Ms. Jackson and entourage were there to cheer her on. And not even the Grammys can boast that kind of realness.

For more information about upcoming balls and HIV/AIDS outreach, visit www.houseoflatex.org and www.pocc.org.

Joseph Huff-Hannon is a freelance writer on politics and culture based in Brooklyn, New York.

March 2007