"It’s 11pm at Club Cul*, a covert drag club hidden within a disused corporate building situated on the affluent east side of Caracas, Venezuela.
During working hours, security guards wander the largely vacant premises, eyes glazed over from the boredom. People do not visit; the elevator to the upper two floors no longer works.
But at night, Club Cul moves in – and the space transforms entirely. Step inside, through an unassuming beige door, and a blast of music hits you as bright neon lights dance along the walls.
The patrons – sporting shiny watches, spiked stiletto heels – take to their seats as the music fades and the room fills with anticipation. Then, as a lively salsa beat starts to play, the stage explodes with color: four drag queens, wearing intricate headpieces that tickle the ceiling, whirl onto the platform. Backstage dancers follow, moving through the audience as feathers and glitter fly through the air. The crowd erupts. This is what they came to see.
Outside of these four walls, Venezuela remains in crisis..."
Thank you to those who welcomed me into their world and thank you to Aron, the legend of Caracas drag. This story is a testament to you and your dedication. Rest in peace.