Step into the spotlight: Vogue balls are taking New Zealand by storm
In the grand halls of New Zealand's national museum in Wellington, a vibrant crowd of 600 people erupts in cheers as a group of stunningly dressed performers grace the stage. With their arms twisted into geometric shapes and spinning gracefully towards the ground, these performers, predominantly of Māori and Pasifika heritage, contort their bodies into striking poses. Some strut with the confidence of supermodels, while others parade their intricately designed costumes. A panel of judges watches over the spectacle, ready to award '10s' for excellence or 'chop' those who don't quite make the cut.
This is a vogue ball, a dynamic form of performance and self-expression born in the queer Black and Latinx community of 1960s Harlem. It has now found a home in New Zealand's Māori and Pasifika queer communities and is captivating the mainstream. 'There's something truly visceral about witnessing black, brown, queer, indigenous bodies embracing themselves so authentically and unapologetically,' says Cypris Afakasi, known as Fatheir Fang from the Auckland-based Kiki House of Coven-Aucoin.
In ballroom culture, a 'house' is a collective of performers led by mother or father figures who compete together at events, forming a chosen family. Performances blend drag, dance, and fashion, often centered around a ball where performers showcase their talents before judges. Vogue balls emerged in New York as a defiant act against racism within the local drag scene. They gained widespread recognition through Jennie Livingston's 1991 documentary, 'Paris is Burning', and have since influenced countless entertainers, including Madonna, RuPaul's Drag Race, and the TV show Pose.
While some may be familiar with ballroom culture's slang - 'realness', 'yas queen', and 'throwing shade' - its global popularity has soared in recent years. New Zealand's scene took root over a decade ago in Auckland, led by trans Pasifika and Māori individuals seeking a safe space to express their identities and find community. 'Every day is a battle for us... ballroom is an outlet for resistance,' shares Karamera, a Māori artist and house mother of the Wellington-based Kiki House of Marama.
Karamera, along with their friend Romé, launched Wellington's first house in 2023 after attending a ball at the city's art gallery in 2020. 'Seeing others like us thriving in a ballroom setting was incredibly reassuring,' Karamera reflects. 'We've been immersed in ballroom culture ever since.'
Initially performing in living rooms for small audiences, the house now boasts 16 members and has evolved from intimate lounges and clubs to hosting Wellington's largest-ever ball at the national museum, Te Papa Tongarewa, in October. The museum's support was remarkable, Karamera notes, 'They exemplified allyship - I encourage other institutions to follow their lead and allow these performers to feel like the celebrities they are.'
Te Papa's public programming manager, Rachel Fox, highlights the increased visibility of ballroom culture in New Zealand over the past five years, partly due to public institutions embracing it. 'By participating in ballroom events like this, Te Papa is actively fostering a more inclusive and affirming cultural environment,' she says.
While New Zealand's scene draws heavily from New York's roots, it has developed a distinct Māori and Pasifika flavor, evident in music, styling, and cultural references. 'Our connection to our identities in Aotearoa [New Zealand] is strong, whether it's counter-culture or ethnic culture, so it's crucial for us to honor its integrity,' Afakasi, who is Samoan and Māori, emphasizes.
True to its origins, New Zealand's scene serves as a platform for political resistance. During a ball at the Dowse Art Museum in late 2024, House of Marama member Kiwi tore up a piece of paper depicting the government's controversial treaty principles bill, echoing a viral moment when Te Pati Māori MP Hana-Rāwhiti Maipi-Clarke tore up a similar document in parliament and led a haka.
'For Kiwi, it wasn't just the act of tearing up the bill; it was about tearing down everything, especially in a world that isn't made for her,' Karamera explains. 'Ballroom performers offer a unique perspective on life, choosing to either honor it or dismantle it entirely.'
Above all, ballroom provides a space where people leave feeling more excited about life, Karamera says. 'Get ready to be wowed by queer excellence if you've never attended one,' they encourage. 'When I step onto the stage, all eyes are on me, and I'm going to give you a show. And you're welcome.'
