Discophobia: Dance, glitter and freedom

With the beginning of the post-pandemic era, Lima stopped being the tourist destination with the most attractive gastronomy in the region and became one of the most dangerous cities in the world, a place where violent crimes – robbery, kidnapping, Homicide, you choose – are a sinister reality for whoever walks its streets. As if this were not enough, after years of activism and the just conquest of public spaces, the local LGBT community suffered an absurd and implausible setback: an official decree that classifies transsexuality and transvestism as mental disorders. In this context of violence, stigmatization and regression in individual freedoms, a party ended up becoming the most recognized space of liberation where dance, fashion, music and the unprejudiced expression of sexuality in all its options and possibilities were presented as the best ways to resist a hostile and repressive environment.

Emerged in the middle of the last decade as an alternative party where the spirit of the disco era was revived, Discophobia was born as the meeting point for fans of the rhythms derived from this musical genre – Italian, house, eurodance –, for admirers of the most daring and provocative wardrobe in Lima, and also, of course, for any dissolute mortal in search of a night of enjoyment beyond any label. As the months went by, the hedonistic and liberal spirit of the party made it one of the favorite places of the LGBT community, and its dance floor was established as a space of visibility for its members and, in general, for everyone. one determined to freely exercise his or her identity.

As a devoted follower of disco music and its multiple ramifications, the idea of ​​going to Discophobia haunted me for months until, finally, in June 2023 I attended an edition held at the Barranco Convention Center. The experience was revealing. Plunged into a pulsating darkness, the place vibrated under a gigantic mirror ball while a multitude of bodies danced under the effect of the music and who knows what other stimuli. Phrases in defense of trans women and the right to abortion were projected on a screen at the back of the room, while around the DJ booth, on what appeared to be upside-down speakers, a succession of trans women paraded in a improvised walkway. That morning, as I left the premises, the idea of ​​the materialization of the safe exercise of freedom and the emergence of a community interwoven by affections and ideals accompanied me all the way back home.

Today, in the midst of violence that seems to have no limits and under the shameful wake of a decree that classifies transsexuality and transvestism as mental disorders, Discophobia presents itself as the ideal refuge for those who want to escape the absorbing monotony of Lima and of stigmatization coming from the State. With this idea floating around in my head, I attended the Annual Discophobia Gala at the Lima Art Museum, an event that, from its gala format to the emblematic place where it would be held, proposed a unique experience.

The event was unique in many ways: the experience, the production, the atmosphere, the reception, the visuals. However, some ingredients that he considered essential in Discophobia were missing. On the one hand, I expected a gesture of indignation at the decree that establishes transsexuality and transvestism as “pathologies” since the party has trans people as an essential part of his proposal. On the other hand, in a musical order of things, the weakening of the disco tradition that used to be the backbone of the party was noticed: classics like “Voulez Vouz” by ABBA, “Blind” by

Hercules & Love Affair and “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” by Sylvester were combined without much light with songs by Juan Luis Guerra and other Latin pop and even salsa hits that didn’t quite fit into the DJs’ set list. In summary, the Annual Discophobia Gala at MALI seems to point to a kind of “standardization” of the party in line with other parties in Lima. However, today, more than ever, the best of Discophobia is needed: its musical identity, its notion of community, its ability to be a refuge from the monotony of Lima, its free and unprejudiced celebration of what is different.