Julian Everett's SWACE Health Is Hosting a Week of Events Combining Public Health and Ballroom Culture

We're talking Ballroom — not ballroom dancing — but Ballroom as a liberatory space and community of care for Black, trans, and queer youth of color.

by Oliver Miska

Phrases like "it's giving," "serving," and "slay" are all in vogue. Some might point to the rise of RuPaul's Drag Race, or Beyonce's Renaissance, or, for those of us a little older, it was Madonna's Vogue or the documentary Paris Is Burning that controversially brought the subculture into the spotlight. While these popular references serve as introductions to the Ballroom scene, the heart of the culture lives in local leaders like Julian Everett who are fighting to keep the Ballroom scene unapologetically Black in an increasingly gentrified South End Seattle.

In June, Everett sat down with Deaunte Damper for an interview on Converge's "We Live in Color." During this interview, Everett announced that he and his team at SWACE Health will be hosting a week of Ballroom events with classes, a symposium, a brunch, and two balls, where members of different houses will compete or "walk" in different categories, such as "performance" (voguing), body, face, runway, bizarre, or hands. The Ballroom Advocacy and Community Engagement Conference (BACE) will be a historic week for Seattle, marking how much it has grown since Everett's arrival in 2021 from Baltimore.

"Houses" from across the country are flying into Seattle for BACE, so it made sense to sit down with Everett to ask him about not only what SWACE has been planning to put Seattle on the national map, but also to learn about how Seattle can respectfully appreciate, support, and even get involved in Ballroom culture.

To learn more about this historic Seattle event happening this week, check out our BACE Event Guide.

Oliver Miska: When I was watching your interview with Deaunte, I was struck by how your work is at the intersection of community education, creative expression, and public health services. Those of us who are rejected by our families, by the racist privatized health care system, and alienated in our schools often look to Ballroom for our "chosen family." How does SWACE address these intersections with the services and programs you provide in Seattle?

Julian Everett: Upon my arrival [in Seattle from Baltimore], I noticed young Black, trans, and queer members of our community lacked a liberating space for creative expression and access to culturally responsive health services. But before we could do that, we needed to disrupt the impacts of Ballroom becoming a mainstream trend.

For example, the first "Ballroom experience" I had in Seattle was hosted by two white gay men. It was a "Ballroom themed" birthday party. And we were the only Black folks to show up who knew anything about Ballroom. They were not only profiting off of Black queer culture by charging at the door, but doing it without the history and lived experience of Ballroom. We had to reclaim Ballroom culture, and that started with "Strike A Pose," a monthly kiki ball.

It was over two years ago, our Strike A Pose production team started to host these monthly, accessible but competitive balls. At first, few people walked, but because we hold weekly practice sessions, participant numbers have exploded. These programs are called "Hold that Pose for Me" and "Strike A Pose."

Our team quickly joined forces with other regional leaders and formed the SeaTac Ballroom Alliance, a leadership program to guide the direction of our Ballroom scene. By developing new leaders and capacity building for the community, we have had thousands of participants attend classes and balls, share meals, organize educational events, and gain access to health services.

Would you speak to BACE's week of events coming up and how it embodies the legacy of your work with SWACE and the Ballroom community in Seattle over the past few years?

This week is going to be fab. The week starts off on [Aug. 8] with "Make Ballroom Fun Again," a symposium co-hosted with the Black Student Union of the University of Washington. This will be an educational event to engage in a discussion about the future of Ballroom in Seattle.

Next, on Friday, the Strike A Pose kiki ball will allow for community members, artists, and health care professionals to network and cultivate comradery by implementing an artist exhibition, hosting a resource fair, and practicing the preservation of Ballroom culture via a ball competition setting.

Saturday, our "For the Culture Ball" will take place at the historic Washington Hall, where "Houses" from across the country will join us for a mainstream ball and a Community Resource Fair to engage in Ballroom activism and offer access to community resources.

There is also a cute little after-party on Saturday.

Providing closure for the week, we will be hosting a brunch on Sunday before folks fly home.

The whole week wouldn't be possible without our ability to get community access to these spaces, so there is money set aside for mutual aid to pay for transportation, food, and housing for some of our participants. People need care to thrive.

That all sounds really expensive. I can imagine finding funding for SWACE's partnerships, programming, and services is difficult. Imagine you had a $20 million grant from the city for a dream project, what would you do?

Oh my god, I thought nobody would ask. Young people need a third place between school and home that is safe.

I would create the first Black-owned and -operated recreational and resource center that focuses on the Black queer and trans community. It would be the first Ballroom-centered space in Seattle, and we'd name it after a trans Woman of Color. It would be like the trans sister of the Langston Hughes Performing Arts [Institute]. We love Langston, but what about the trans women and trans fems?

On the first floor It would offer not only consistent, accessible studio spaces for a plethora of artistic expression, but also space for community to gather and collaborate. It would feature black artists, LGBTQ history exhibitions, and restore so much of the culture that has been displaced from this city.

On the second floor, there would be a big ballroom where we would host balls, town halls, symposiums, galas, and performances to showcase the growth and empowerment that goes on in the first floor.

On the third floor, we would have direct care for culturally responsive mental health and community services, and, of course, our administrative team that would be ensuring we offer consistent leadership opportunities for our participants.

Queer People of Color from across the country come to Seattle, and it's really, really white, so we need a place to call home.

The one thing about Ballroom is that we have history, but we don't have monuments.

In 1962, James Baldwin wrote, "When Malcolm X … points out that the cry of 'violence' was not raised, for example, when the Israelis fought to regain Israel, and, indeed, is raised only when Black men indicate that they will fight for their rights, he is speaking the truth." Baldwin seems to agree with Malcolm X that "white liberals are the most dangerous people in the fight against racism in America." How do these words resonate with the experience you've had organizing in Seattle?

You know, Oliver, coming from a predominantly Black community in Baltimore, Seattle's

racism hit different. It's the passive aggressive, body language, and silent type of racism that keeps Black people second guessing themselves.

One time, I got on the street car and sat down next to an older white woman. As soon as she saw me, she clutched her purse, not even realizing that I had the same purse. Girl. She was intimidated because I was a Black man.

There are a lot of white allies in Seattle, but we don't need allies, we need accomplices. If I am disrupting the status quo and you get scared and run away, you are a performative ally.

If you can sit through the discomfort of a loving critique that comes with Ballroom, that comes with being chopped, you might just be an accomplice. Consistency and accountability, not performativity, are key for Ballroom and for life.

We have a lot of white philanthropists, for example, but if you are seeking funding as a Black organizer, funders will tell us, in so many words, they already have a token Black project.

This means Black Seattleites feel pressure to undercut one another, like crabs in a bucket crawling on each other, stealing from one another, canceling one another, because we can only go after the smaller fish to climb out the bucket. I mixed metaphors there, but you get it.

Mixed metaphors for a mixed-up world. The image that came to mind was giving a claustrophobic fever dream of racial capitalism.

Tokenization is inevitable in such an environment where access to resources and funding are not sustainable, let alone consistent.

We don't want a seat at your table, we want a table of our own.

So tell the people, what does the difference between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation look like? What does Seattle need to do to help Ballroom thrive in a white-dominated city that is increasingly displacing Communities of Color into the surrounding cities of Kent, Renton, SeaTac, and Tukwila?

Cultural appropriation is socially or materially profiting off of a culture you are not a part of. Cultural appreciation means you first listen, learn, and face loving critique with vulnerability.

Appreciation comes from accomplices that weaponize their skill sets, use their privilege to empower and participate in the Ballroom community. If you can stack chairs, stack chairs, if you do graphic design, if you code, if you fundraise, or if you sing, whatever it may be, come use your talents, but come first to listen and learn. Solidarity means using your skills for community, not a corporate paycheck.

To heal, we need to ensure we are sustaining leaders and elders with institutional experience.

Too often, I finish a 16-hour workday, and I get a call from a youth in the scene with an emergency.

We need to have the time to envision a better future for our community that is being displaced.

People displaced from Seattle are also moving to areas where People of Color are being displaced, like the cities you mentioned. The ripple effect of displacement is clawing apart an already vulnerable community. Vulnerability seems to be an intersecting theme here.

Vulnerability is hard for Seattleites.

You could put that on a T-shirt. But for real, Ballroom is healing work for Seattle. It allows you to understand the many sides of yourself. It's a way of reclaiming stereotype threats and having to code switch for our bosses, families, and on the street car. It allows us to heal the trauma of daily life.

We put on different hats, we play with who we are, who we can become. Julian Everett is sensitive, cries, and loves Jollibee's chicken, but Julian Balanciaga is a fierce competitor who serves cunt and adapts to the environment they are in.

We need more flexibility to question who we are and play with who we can become.

We don't need performative coddling by leaders, we need loving critique.

To disrupt the isolating impacts of the white majority in Seattle, we need reconciliation and more equitable redistribution of resources.

Opening a space for Black, trans, and queer youth to find their families of choice would be a good place to start.

Julian Everett, MSW, is the executive director of SWACE Health. As executive director, he has been able to integrate his many years within the public health profession and Ballroom community to cultivate a unique health care experience. He leads the engagement of direct health care services, capacity building, and community development for SWACE. His work includes guiding stakeholder engagement strategies, establishing community partnerships, constructing health messaging activities, and developing health disparities awareness and educational initiatives nationwide for the Black and Brown LGBTQIA+ community. Visit their website at www.SWACEHealth.org.

Oliver Treanor Miska, 33, is a queer Seattleite, educator, organizer, and community lobbyist for educational justice policy in Washington State. Transitioning out of Seattle classrooms after six years, they recently founded Solidarity Policy and Public Affairs, a political consulting firm. As a community organizer, Oliver has held leadership roles within Seattle Democratic Socialists of America and Washington Ethnic Studies Now. Oliver is also a member of SCORE, the Caucus of Rank and File Educators within Seattle Education Association, our educators union. They work to organize youth, families, educators, and community organizations to pass progressive revenue to fully fund our schools statewide. To contact them, email SolidarityPolicyWA@Gmail.com.

Featured Image: Julian Everett, MSW, the executive director of SWACE Health. (Photo courtesy of Julian Everett.)