DJ Ushka & Ora Wise on Creating Spaces of Joy Amid Struggle
Two longtime comrades discuss their upcoming collaboration and the deeper meaning behind celebration during difficult times.
It was such a dream to start the new year off with a message from Thanu Yakupitiyage (aka DJ Ushka) proposing a party collaboration. I was thrilled—first, because I was so glad to hear her thinking about love and celebration for herself and our community as an antidote to the heaviness and grief we're collectively holding. But also because it's been a dream of mine to create spaces of queer sensuality and pleasure with someone like Thanu, an OG comrade who shares a similar journey from movement work to creating spaces of joy.
As we prepare for tomorrow’s special event celebrating Thanu's 40th birthday, I wanted to share our conversation about why spaces like these matter now more than ever. Especially in this nightmare moment of fascism and genocide, these questions feel urgent: What are we doing here? How do we create moments of collective pleasure while staying true to our values? How can we build a rebellious culture and also be very strategic? What does it mean to prioritize joy without turning away from struggle? - Ora Wise
On coming full circle through New York's movement spaces
USHKA: What I've learned over almost 20 years of being in New York, being involved in movements for justice—from immigrant rights to climate justice work—is that in order to get through the constant continuation of struggle, we need joy. That's what brought me into nightlife.
I remember going to some of the early queer events in my twenties, and Ora, you were very involved in building those spaces. You were one of the first people I think I met in my first couple of years in New York. Because of the people I met, I had the opportunity to really connect the dots between immigrant justice, Palestine, climate justice, and queerness, etc.
When I was in grad school, DJing became this practice that allowed me to curate spaces in a different way. It was always with intention—I really wanted to build dance floor spaces where folks could have all of their feelings. They can be scared, they can be angry, they can be joyful, and then we could sweat it out on a dance floor together.
ORA: I remember those days! Like you said, you were at those first ever Palestinian hip hop shows I produced! I'm especially excited about our powers combined because of how I came from working through popular education and community art production into working with food. For me, food is a uniquely powerful medium for both healing and system change—individual and collective nourishment where politics and sensuality can all be engaged.
I've historically thought about how queers have been really good at fashion, dancing, sex, partying—all those creative expressions—but not always the best at literally feeding ourselves. That's for a million reasons, from internalized homophobia and transphobia to lack of access to resources. Queer and trans migrant folks in particular tend to be more cut off from family recipes and ancestral foodways because of being disconnected from their families and communities of origin.
So creating a space where we have both amazing music and thoughtfully sourced food and drink feels radical in its own way. It's about tending to the whole human.
USHKA: That's why I thought this would be an amazing collaboration. As I enter this new decade, I'm thinking a lot about pleasure and rest. The one thing that's often missing in nightlife spaces is the nourishment of actual food! I love how you bring that element to create more balanced, complete experiences.
In my earlier days, I used to keep my worlds pretty separate or siloed. I was worried that people would think I was vapid because I was in nightlife. I don't particularly care anymore, because my entry into those spaces actually allowed me to create a synergy between my movement work and creating celebratory spaces. At their best, nightlife and celebratory spaces really do connect people together in powerful ways.
On creating joyful spaces during dark times
ORA: I've also often felt uncomfortable with the contradictions within hospitality which can be similarly either vapid or transformative, like nightlife. I’ve often asked myself: What am I doing? Is this wrong? How can we possibly be partying now? We started Queer Aperitivo during a genocide, not to mention multiple other atrocities and crises. And so we're approaching our one-year birthday in just a few weeks, having built this entire project during one of the darkest periods in recent memory.
There was a week when Israel started bombing and invading Lebanon on top of their ongoing horrors in Gaza, and we had an event planned. We said, "This has to be a 100% fundraiser—we just don't feel we can have this be anything other than that, otherwise we have to cancel it." And so we had to change venues actually to make it that and our people showed up in full force, appreciating having a space that felt safe for their feelings and beliefs, to gather and support.
What we've experienced is that our communities are trusting us to create spaces for joy, dance, food, drink, flirting, and being in community in festive ways. They know these spaces are also based on their principles and values. I take that trust very seriously. I'm not going to do things in ways I wouldn't feel comfortable with—yes, I continue to throw a party essentially several times a month with so much suffering and injustice going on, but I'm making sure we're building in resource redistribution and highlighting partners and collaborators from communities being impacted.
USHKA: I've been watching Queer Aperitivo evolve, and what I really appreciate about it is that it's a gathering space. Even for those who don't always make it, it's obvious that people are gathering here—my comrades and folks who I know who are thinking deeply about the state of this country, the world, anti-militarism are coming together there in community.
Our people in particular are being increasingly attacked—to be trans, to be an immigrant, to be Palestinian, to be any sort of advocate for Palestinian rights. There's a reason for this: because we are sometimes the most joyful, the loudest, and we stand up against injustice. They're trying to quelch us.
I have a lot of fears right now. People coming on Saturday are dealing with stressful circumstances in their movement work, and I want to honor that through making it truly as safe as possible, through creating a celebratory space while recognizing that people will leave and go back to some dark realities. I feel like the particular moment we're in is that this administration is trying to make us comply in advance, and I think that's the balancing act—not falling into that while acknowledging there are real threats people face.
ORA: The question we're constantly navigating is: How do we create rebellious and insurgent spaces while attending to our safety? It's not one or the other, but we need different approaches at different moments. We don't want to be irresponsibly rebellious without intentionality and full awareness. As we move through this terrible time, this is what we're going to have to navigate together.
Joy isn't a distraction from liberation work—it's what makes it sustainable.
On music as migration & liberation
USHKA: I came into DJing as a kind of storytelling. I was so interested in the history of music and the rebellion that music is often birthed out of—whether it's house music, disco, or hip hop. My sound is a very global club sound—I'm known for blending music from all parts of the world. In a set of mine, you'll hear music from parts of Asia, South Asia, the SWANA region, Africa, the Caribbean, and queer Black and brown clubs from the US.
That's very much on purpose. As someone who thinks a lot about migration and immigrant rights, and as an immigrant myself who's had the privilege of living in different parts of the world, I want to show that a DJ set can be a journey, and those journeys can be migratory journeys.
There's a Sri Lankan music called Baila, and it actually sounds very similar to Soca Chutney music in Trinidad. Nobody would maybe make that connection, but I've been able to weave all these sounds together. Over the last year, there's been this defiance in clubs where a lot of people are playing SWANA music and Palestinian music. It's been really interesting to see this resurgence of people playing DAM in the club, literally 15 years later. So much of arts and culture is a demonstration that we cannot be silenced.
Queer club music is particularly important to me because it's been an important way queer people express themselves. It's a way to create spaces that aren't necessarily a rally or protest in a traditional sense, but still function as that in a different way—conjuring energy for people to take from the club into their lives.
ORA: Everything from hip hop to disco, the ballroom scene—these are all music and dance and fashion-based QT BIPOC insurgent spaces, spaces for cultivating self-love in the face of annihilation and degradation.
I think our collaboration offers a beautiful opportunity to weave together these threads. You're bringing a musical journey that celebrates migration and connection across borders, while I'm bringing food and drink that does the same. Your DJing tells stories of movement and resilience through sound, while our food tells stories of cultural heritage and adaptation. Together, we're creating a multi-sensory experience that honors the whole person, nourishing both body and spirit.
Dancing at night, marching by day—our movements have always mixed joy with struggle. The spaces of pleasure (bars, parties, dinners) were often the birthplaces of our most powerful organizing. Joy isn't a distraction from liberation work—it's what makes it sustainable.
On celebrating while supporting Black LGBTQIA+ migrants
For this event, we're proud to support the Black LGBTQIA+ Migrant Project (BLMP), chosen by Ushka as our fundraising beneficiary. All of the proceeds from our special fundraiser cocktail will directly support their work. Wild Arc Farm donated the vermouth we’ll be using tomorrow and Honey's provided the house-made vodka!)
USHKA: I’m choosing to support BLMP at my birthday event because they envision a world without forced migration where no one has to give up their homeland, and where Black LGBTQIA people are free and liberated. It's one of the only spaces that prioritizes Black trans and queer migrants.
Oluchi, who's the executive director and who I believe is going to be there on Saturday, is an incredible leader. In this particular moment, we've already seen the Democrats and mayors like Eric Adams vilifying Black migrants in particular—from Louisiana to New York. While certainly we see migrants coming to the U.S. and being busses to NY because of Governor Abbot’s policies from all over - including Venezuela, Honduras, etc there was a major concern rooted fundamentally in anti-Blackness about Black migrants (Haitian, Caribbean, African) coming through the U.S -Mexico border. All of these migrants are exploited and face major housing issues.
On top of that, Black trans people and trans migrants in general have been stuck in camps and shelters on the Mexico side of the border, given very few resources, and if detained, are treated horribly. Now with the administration's enhanced discriminatory policies, like putting trans women in male facilities, this organization feels like one of the most important organizations to be supporting right now. They are targeted while trying to support a community of folks who are deeply vilified for their immigration status, their race, and their gender identity.
On creating accessible joy
ORA: Queer Aperitivo is committed to being as accessible and affordable as possible. Admittedly, it's hard as food service workers to figure out a way to have our food and drink be affordable for our fellow limited-resource homies while making it sustainable for us. But we're doing our best, proving we can make it work through collaboration and a willingness to grow a bit slower.
Jena and I both have other day jobs to actually pay our bills. We are figuring out ways to make this more economically viable eventually, hopefully, as we remain steadfast in our commitment to keeping prices as low as possible.
None of our regular events have tickets or door charges. It's really actually sweet—I get DMs pretty much every week saying, "Is there a ticket price, or is there a charge at the door?" and it's really nice to be able to say, "No, come on through, honey; pull up, and just support by buying snacks and drinks." We also provide complimentary chips and olives at our regular events as a piece of my cultural background—in Italy, aperitivo is not some fancy foodie thing. It's super chill, and you can get a snack and a drink for €5. We want to preserve that ethos here.
USHKA: I'm so grateful that we're keeping this affordable. A lot of us have day jobs while we're trying to create these spaces, and things are getting more and more costly. This raises the question of what it takes for us to create spaces rooted in love and mutual aid sustainably.
When we initially talked about this event, we decided that rather than having a cover charge, we'd have the donations for BLMP be through one of the drinks. People will opt in if they can and want to. It's hard to have spaces that are beautiful and fun with quality music, amazing people, and quality food and drink, and still make them affordable. But that's exactly what we're committed to doing.
ORA: I think it says a lot about our values that we've collaborated to make this event happen without a cover charge. We're finding ways to uplift community organizations not through expensive ticket prices but through a model that keeps the event accessible while still raising resources for those doing important work.
Join us tomorrow (May 22, 2025) for a special celebration: Queer Aperitivo x Thanu Yakupitiyage's 40th Birthday. DJ sets by Oscar Nñ, MPeach, Riobamba, and Uproot Andy, Italian-inspired bites with seasonal ingredients, and special cocktails with proceeds benefiting the Black LGBTQIA+ Migrant Project.
No cover. Honey’s (93 Scott Ave.), 6pm-1am. Purchase of food and drinks supports this event.
Support Our Work
Queer Aperitivo remains committed to accessible, no-cover events with fairly priced food and drink. Your subscription supports our work creating spaces where pleasure and principles coexist.
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