Where would club culture be without queer nightlife? Thankfully, that question is mostly academic, though its answer should be remembered more often by anyone who steps past a bouncer, gets a stamp on their hand, and finds themselves under a club’s lights at 2am.
New York City has played a particularly vital role in that history. In bars, dancefloors, warehouses and whatever spaces were necessary, queer people, and especially queer people of colour, have helped shape club culture as we now understand it. Not just the music, but the codes, the style, the freedom, the refusal, the sense that a dancefloor can be more than a floor to dance on.
Papi Juice sits within that lineage. Founded in Brooklyn and now entering its 13th year, the collective describes itself through a mission “to affirm and celebrate the lives of queer and trans people of colour.” That mission has taken shape through parties, photography, music, visual identity, public space and what Oscar Nuñez, one of its co-founders, calls the need “to find community, to find your freaks.”
For Nuñez, that relationship with nightlife started early, through college radio and secret basement parties at his mum’s house. “I feel like I was born to do nightlife in a way,” he says. For Mohammed Iman Fayaz, Papi Juice’s art director, growing up in Queens meant going out across the city from the age of 18, before discovering queer nightlife as a space where nights out “didn’t have to only be reckless and fun” but could also be places to hear “incredible music.”
That seriousness about music still runs through Papi Juice. DJs are trusted to follow their instincts rather than fit a fixed brief, and the party itself changes shape depending on the setting, the night, or most recently, a 24-hour party at the iconic Nowadays. As part of their collaboration with UNCLE, their work now moves into another kind of space again, appearing across New York through a flyposting campaign built from photography taken at their events.
The collective started with a free-entry clubnight at a 75-capacity venue that, despite managing to squeeze in a few more dancers than that, was tiny compared to some of the events they host now. But speaking to UNCLE not long after the Nowadays party, Mohammed and Oscar trace the identity of their events back to that first one.
“You could just roll up, soak up the vibes, contribute to the vibe and be a part of it,” says Mohammed. “That allowed people to access it and shape it.”
Thirteen years on, they describe Papi Juice as a “moody teenager,” still trying out new things rather than repeating what has already worked. “At times it feels like year one,” Fayaz says of their current moment. Nuñez puts it more bluntly: “I find complacency, especially in artistry, a little boring or expected. I don’t want to give that.”
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06.26 Papi Juice on queer POC nightlife, New York lineage and revolutionary joy
STARTING AT THE VERY BEGINNING, WERE THERE PARTICULAR PARTIES, VENUES OR PEOPLE THAT INSPIRED WHAT PAPI JUICE BECAME?
Mohammed: When I met Oscar, I think it was around his first DJ set at Azúcar, a party in Bed-Stuy on Franklin Avenue. That was one of the first moments where I remember hearing really interesting, fascinating club music.
Then, of course, GHE20G0TH1K (Ghetto Gothic) is one of our absolute predecessors and forefathers of the scene. It was a place where many different types of music could clash and collide and still work really well.
Oscar: I agree with Mo on that. But also, this is New York City. There’s such a long legacy of people, especially queer people, who have worked in nightlife. I think we are inevitably inspired by them, and we are also furthering the work that they did.
I think about Paradise Garage, Limelight, the club kids in the ’90s. All of these people participated in nightlife before us, and we are all descendants of their work, whether we have taken blatant inspiration from them or whether we are almost subliminally inspired by them.
Very few things in New York City exist in a vacuum. We are all part of a lineage of rich cultural history of nightlife and dance music.
Mohammed: When I met Oscar, I think it was around his first DJ set at Azúcar, a party in Bed-Stuy on Franklin Avenue. That was one of the first moments where I remember hearing really interesting, fascinating club music.
Then, of course, GHE20G0TH1K (Ghetto Gothic) is one of our absolute predecessors and forefathers of the scene. It was a place where many different types of music could clash and collide and still work really well.
Oscar: I agree with Mo on that. But also, this is New York City. There’s such a long legacy of people, especially queer people, who have worked in nightlife. I think we are inevitably inspired by them, and we are also furthering the work that they did.
I think about Paradise Garage, Limelight, the club kids in the ’90s. All of these people participated in nightlife before us, and we are all descendants of their work, whether we have taken blatant inspiration from them or whether we are almost subliminally inspired by them.
Very few things in New York City exist in a vacuum. We are all part of a lineage of rich cultural history of nightlife and dance music.
WHAT ARE THE REALITIES OF TRYING TO SUSTAIN A COMMUNITY SPACE IN NEW YORK IN 2026?
Mohammed: We’re definitely beholden to a very strict city compared to some other cities. We like to work with venues. DIY spaces in New York are intensely policed, and friends of ours who do that have got really good at working through loopholes.
But for us, as marginalised people, we don’t really want to interact with cops or deal with being overly policed or overly regulated in that way.
There is also this rapid turnover of venues in New York, and each venue has its own personality. One of my favourite things is that we joke that Papi Juice is a liquid. Whatever venue we’re in, it feels like a different container that we can fill into.
Since our events are roving, and we’re not tied to one venue, there is no Papi Juice bar. So it becomes: how does the one at this bar feel? How does one at this venue feel? How does the one at this warehouse space feel?
Oscar: Another challenge we’ve been facing, at least in 2026, is the economics of nightlife and the financial burden that artists are under in a city as expensive as New York.
All of these rich people move to New York because they are attracted to what artists are making, what artists have built and how artists live. Then all of a sudden, a lot of artists can’t afford to be here. A lot of native New Yorkers who have made the city, built the city and withstood all of the hardships of the city aren’t even able to stay here anymore.
I’ve been talking to a lot of friends in nightlife and we’re all like, I don’t know what’s going to happen. How are we going to survive? We’re hopeful, and we’re artists, so we’re innovative and creative and we’re going to find a way. But the economics of nightlife right now are something we have to navigate very precisely and with a lot of intention.
Unfortunately, that takes a little bit of the magic and the artistry away from it. Artistry is always going to be the focus, but having to work so hard to create is a challenge.
Mohammed: We’re definitely beholden to a very strict city compared to some other cities. We like to work with venues. DIY spaces in New York are intensely policed, and friends of ours who do that have got really good at working through loopholes.
But for us, as marginalised people, we don’t really want to interact with cops or deal with being overly policed or overly regulated in that way.
There is also this rapid turnover of venues in New York, and each venue has its own personality. One of my favourite things is that we joke that Papi Juice is a liquid. Whatever venue we’re in, it feels like a different container that we can fill into.
Since our events are roving, and we’re not tied to one venue, there is no Papi Juice bar. So it becomes: how does the one at this bar feel? How does one at this venue feel? How does the one at this warehouse space feel?
Oscar: Another challenge we’ve been facing, at least in 2026, is the economics of nightlife and the financial burden that artists are under in a city as expensive as New York.
All of these rich people move to New York because they are attracted to what artists are making, what artists have built and how artists live. Then all of a sudden, a lot of artists can’t afford to be here. A lot of native New Yorkers who have made the city, built the city and withstood all of the hardships of the city aren’t even able to stay here anymore.
I’ve been talking to a lot of friends in nightlife and we’re all like, I don’t know what’s going to happen. How are we going to survive? We’re hopeful, and we’re artists, so we’re innovative and creative and we’re going to find a way. But the economics of nightlife right now are something we have to navigate very precisely and with a lot of intention.
Unfortunately, that takes a little bit of the magic and the artistry away from it. Artistry is always going to be the focus, but having to work so hard to create is a challenge.
WHAT HAS ALLOWED PAPI JUICE TO KEEP EVOLVING THROUGH THAT?
Mohammed: I do think a big part of it is the music.
We have two resident DJs, Oscar and Adam R, and when we invite DJs to play, in the early days they would ask, “What kind of set of mine are you looking for?” Very early on, we let them know: “No, here are the keys. Here’s the slot. You can do what you want with it, wherever you’re at as an artist.”
One thing I love about New York is that audiences are very devoted to our DJs and they really do see them as stewards. When a favourite DJ is up there doing their thing, wherever they end up taking it on a certain night, the audience is pretty down for the ride.
Especially at Papi, people know: we can trust this person to take us somewhere. Whether an artist is starting out, playing Papi for the first time, or has been at it for a while, they can do what they want on that stage and the audience will meet them there.
Oscar: This might be a little corny, but honestly, the love for each other and the trust that we have in each other (has allowed Papi Juice to keep going). To have been working collectively for 13 years requires a certain amount of trust, love and devotion, and that requires constant work.
Even with Adam, who is our third member, the three of us have to constantly work not only on our professional relationship, but also on our friendship. Ultimately, it is our friendship, our queer, very queer friendship, that guides the project and guides the work.
Mohammed: I do think a big part of it is the music.
We have two resident DJs, Oscar and Adam R, and when we invite DJs to play, in the early days they would ask, “What kind of set of mine are you looking for?” Very early on, we let them know: “No, here are the keys. Here’s the slot. You can do what you want with it, wherever you’re at as an artist.”
One thing I love about New York is that audiences are very devoted to our DJs and they really do see them as stewards. When a favourite DJ is up there doing their thing, wherever they end up taking it on a certain night, the audience is pretty down for the ride.
Especially at Papi, people know: we can trust this person to take us somewhere. Whether an artist is starting out, playing Papi for the first time, or has been at it for a while, they can do what they want on that stage and the audience will meet them there.
Oscar: This might be a little corny, but honestly, the love for each other and the trust that we have in each other (has allowed Papi Juice to keep going). To have been working collectively for 13 years requires a certain amount of trust, love and devotion, and that requires constant work.
Even with Adam, who is our third member, the three of us have to constantly work not only on our professional relationship, but also on our friendship. Ultimately, it is our friendship, our queer, very queer friendship, that guides the project and guides the work.
THE PHRASE “SAFE SPACE” GETS USED A LOT, BUT IT’S HARD TO EVER GUARANTEE SAFETY. WHAT DO YOU PUT IN PLACE TO MAKE PAPI JUICE FEEL INTENTIONAL AND PROTECTED?
Oscar: One of the first lessons we learned in our work is that we can’t call ourselves a safe space. Ultimately, we’re only three people. We can’t be in charge of whether 75 people or 2,000 people in a room are safe.
I’m not the police. I’m not a judge. That’s not my job. As much as we would love to, we can’t guarantee the safety of every single attendee.
But we’ve had systems in place for a very long time. For our bigger events, we always do community guidelines where we highlight all of the information around the event. That might be accessibility notes, the ethos of our collective, ticket information, hours, number of stairs, seating areas, location of speakers and things like that.
With almost every new venue we work with, we have a chat with security and let them know that a lot of our community might not present the way they look on their ID, or with the name on their ID. So we ask them to be extra sensitive around that.
We also ask security to take a de-escalation approach as opposed to an escalation approach. Most of our community are queer and trans people of colour, and a lot of the time, when we’re out at night, we’re on watch.
Then there are little things that we do. I will personally walk around the party a couple of times an hour, through the whole thing, just to suss out the vibe and smile at people. Sometimes I’ll bring a friend and we’ll dance in different rooms. Maybe that’s more spiritual or vibey, but it helps to know how people are experiencing the space.
Oscar: One of the first lessons we learned in our work is that we can’t call ourselves a safe space. Ultimately, we’re only three people. We can’t be in charge of whether 75 people or 2,000 people in a room are safe.
I’m not the police. I’m not a judge. That’s not my job. As much as we would love to, we can’t guarantee the safety of every single attendee.
But we’ve had systems in place for a very long time. For our bigger events, we always do community guidelines where we highlight all of the information around the event. That might be accessibility notes, the ethos of our collective, ticket information, hours, number of stairs, seating areas, location of speakers and things like that.
With almost every new venue we work with, we have a chat with security and let them know that a lot of our community might not present the way they look on their ID, or with the name on their ID. So we ask them to be extra sensitive around that.
We also ask security to take a de-escalation approach as opposed to an escalation approach. Most of our community are queer and trans people of colour, and a lot of the time, when we’re out at night, we’re on watch.
Then there are little things that we do. I will personally walk around the party a couple of times an hour, through the whole thing, just to suss out the vibe and smile at people. Sometimes I’ll bring a friend and we’ll dance in different rooms. Maybe that’s more spiritual or vibey, but it helps to know how people are experiencing the space.
WHAT ARE THE SMALLER MOMENTS WHERE YOU FEEL THE PURPOSE OF PAPI JUICE MOST CLEARLY?
Mohammed: I love the crowd.
We can sit and work on our nights so thoroughly, produce it down to the final detail, but we can only really go 50%. The other 50% is when those doors open and the crowd arrives. It’s the looks, the DJs people are excited for, the energy they bring.
For our larger events, we do free tickets, and sometimes on the form we ask: what DJ are you most excited for? I love being surprised by the answers. I love being able to invite an artist from a foreign country and have their local audience get really excited. It creates these only-in-New-York moments, and I feel like that happens a lot at Papi.
I try to find myself in the middle of the dancefloor a lot and really soak it up. I’ll almost try to imagine objectively: is this fun? And then I’ll be like, okay, yeah, this is actually really special.
The set design, the lighting, the DJ that’s playing, the combination of everything. You can’t replicate it from one night to the next. But when people are up there dancing, sweating, losing their minds to a certain DJ, that is so the vibe we’re looking for. I love to create space for that and then step back and let it happen.
Oscar: It’s all about those little moments.
Coming off the last event we had, which was our 24-hour party at Nowadays, it literally went from Saturday 10pm until Sunday 10pm, non-stop 24 hours of music. There was a moment where 10010, a producer and artist from Mexico, played salsa with this drummy club pattern underneath it. It was something I had never heard before.
It was 5am, we had RICO RICA on the mic from Montreal moaning and screaming Papi Juice, and it was just like: wow, this is so fab. Just so fab.
WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE UNCLE FLYPOSTING CAMPAIGN, AND WHAT DO YOU HOPE PEOPLE TAKE FROM SEEING PAPI JUICE ON THE STREET?
Mohammed: One of our biggest dreams is to become a New York institution. For Papi to have such a home in New York, and to be born and raised here, is such an honour.
Being of nightlife, there is something really exciting about being on the streets, all over the city, in the daylight, in front of a lot of eyes that are maybe not seeing us. There’s something fun about getting a little cheeky. We are aware that the name makes people curious, so with the campaign we have this idea of almost teasing Papi.
We’re using photography from our events. We hire a photographer for each event, so a lot of it is film, a lot of it is really beautiful. Similar to the DJs, we let people know: do your thing.
If you know what Papi Juice is, it will be exciting to see it out in the wild on the street. And if you don’t, you’ll be curious. You almost do a double-take, like: I’m sorry, Papi Juice? Why is that in front of my pharmacy?
We really love this idea of being so public and out there. Sometimes, depending on who we’re working with, people see us as more above ground or underground on any given day. Being quite literally on the street in this way is a fun space to occupy.
Whether nightlife is a huge part of your life in New York, or whether you’re a weekend warrior and only really go out for big moments, there’s something charming about being on your way to work, seeing this on the street and being like, “Oh, I know that.”
Oscar: It’s a cheeky little thing. It’s like a wink to people that know us and our community. It’s like, “Hey boo, enjoy your dentist appointment today,” or something like that.
One of the other things we’re going to do with the campaign is promote our residency on Little Island, which is a man-made public park here in New York City. We had our first year last year, and now we’re continuing and deepening our relationship with the island and the park.
We’re also going to use it to announce our Pride plans, since it will be going up in the first week of June. Some of the spaces will promote our Pride calendar, which is already looking stacked.
Mohammed: I love the crowd.
We can sit and work on our nights so thoroughly, produce it down to the final detail, but we can only really go 50%. The other 50% is when those doors open and the crowd arrives. It’s the looks, the DJs people are excited for, the energy they bring.
For our larger events, we do free tickets, and sometimes on the form we ask: what DJ are you most excited for? I love being surprised by the answers. I love being able to invite an artist from a foreign country and have their local audience get really excited. It creates these only-in-New-York moments, and I feel like that happens a lot at Papi.
I try to find myself in the middle of the dancefloor a lot and really soak it up. I’ll almost try to imagine objectively: is this fun? And then I’ll be like, okay, yeah, this is actually really special.
The set design, the lighting, the DJ that’s playing, the combination of everything. You can’t replicate it from one night to the next. But when people are up there dancing, sweating, losing their minds to a certain DJ, that is so the vibe we’re looking for. I love to create space for that and then step back and let it happen.
Oscar: It’s all about those little moments.
Coming off the last event we had, which was our 24-hour party at Nowadays, it literally went from Saturday 10pm until Sunday 10pm, non-stop 24 hours of music. There was a moment where 10010, a producer and artist from Mexico, played salsa with this drummy club pattern underneath it. It was something I had never heard before.
It was 5am, we had RICO RICA on the mic from Montreal moaning and screaming Papi Juice, and it was just like: wow, this is so fab. Just so fab.
WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE UNCLE FLYPOSTING CAMPAIGN, AND WHAT DO YOU HOPE PEOPLE TAKE FROM SEEING PAPI JUICE ON THE STREET?
Mohammed: One of our biggest dreams is to become a New York institution. For Papi to have such a home in New York, and to be born and raised here, is such an honour.
Being of nightlife, there is something really exciting about being on the streets, all over the city, in the daylight, in front of a lot of eyes that are maybe not seeing us. There’s something fun about getting a little cheeky. We are aware that the name makes people curious, so with the campaign we have this idea of almost teasing Papi.
We’re using photography from our events. We hire a photographer for each event, so a lot of it is film, a lot of it is really beautiful. Similar to the DJs, we let people know: do your thing.
If you know what Papi Juice is, it will be exciting to see it out in the wild on the street. And if you don’t, you’ll be curious. You almost do a double-take, like: I’m sorry, Papi Juice? Why is that in front of my pharmacy?
We really love this idea of being so public and out there. Sometimes, depending on who we’re working with, people see us as more above ground or underground on any given day. Being quite literally on the street in this way is a fun space to occupy.
Whether nightlife is a huge part of your life in New York, or whether you’re a weekend warrior and only really go out for big moments, there’s something charming about being on your way to work, seeing this on the street and being like, “Oh, I know that.”
Oscar: It’s a cheeky little thing. It’s like a wink to people that know us and our community. It’s like, “Hey boo, enjoy your dentist appointment today,” or something like that.
One of the other things we’re going to do with the campaign is promote our residency on Little Island, which is a man-made public park here in New York City. We had our first year last year, and now we’re continuing and deepening our relationship with the island and the park.
We’re also going to use it to announce our Pride plans, since it will be going up in the first week of June. Some of the spaces will promote our Pride calendar, which is already looking stacked.
THERE’S A POEM ONLINE BY SA WHITLEY, PUBLISHED BY SCALAWAG MAGAZINE TITLED: ‘UPON LEARNING THAT PAPI JUICE JOINED THE PALESTINE ACADEMIC & CULTURAL BOYCOTT OF ISRAEL.’ IT REFRAMES THE DANCE NOT SIMPLY AS ESCAPISM, BUT AS A PLACE WHERE JOY, GRIEF, POLITICS, IDENTITY AND COMMUNITY CAN ALL EXIST AT THE SAME TIME. DOES THAT RESONATE WITH HOW YOU SEE PAPI JUICE?
Mohammed: Yes, it absolutely resonates.
I love the idea of people arriving to our space and engaging with it while showing up with whatever they are showing up with from everywhere else. So often there is escapism in nightlife, and if you want to create this utopia, I love the idea. But everyone is still showing up with who they are, what they’re going through and what they’re dealing with.
Either you’re working it out on the dancefloor, or you’re in the courtyard crying your eyes out to your friend, or your personal baggage is coming up too.
If these sprawling, dynamic, really energetic and charged spaces can let people allow their currents through, whether political or personal or the many combinations of both, then I’m very happy about my job and about creating space.
Oscar: In these days of war and genocide, I strongly believe that showing up somewhere takes a lot. I think it’s truly a privilege to show up somewhere without something in mind already, or without having had to process something that day.
I love the dancefloor as a tool for treating the different feelings people are having. Sometimes you need the dancefloor as escapism, especially if you’re a queer or trans person of colour and your daily life means you have to be so present and so vigilant.
For me, I love going to the club and chatting. I love a good chit-chat in the smoking section. That always heals me. I’m a high-key extrovert, so that is my release, my escape. It recharges me.
But for somebody more introverted than I am, maybe a solo moment next to the speaker, feeling the bass take over your heartbeat, is almost like somatic therapy. It can be a form of therapy.
I’ve always said this about queer spaces too. There is something about feeling like you are in the majority somewhere. Showing up to a queer dancefloor, that feeling of majority is empowering. It is something everybody deserves to feel: collective joy, collectively, that moment of being together.
It can have a positive release, and also a long-term effect on endurance and survival. I’ve always said joy is revolutionary, and it’s a necessary tool to the revolution. As queer people, we’ve always known that joy is a very important part of our survival, and I think a lot of us can find joy on the dancefloor.
WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO ANYONE STARTING THEIR OWN NIGHT OR COMMUNITY SPACE?
Oscar: Keep at it, and surround yourself with people that you trust and love.
Relationships change. Dynamics change. But building something with someone else is so special, and it can really motivate you. In a world where sometimes we can feel so alone, you are existing with someone else and creating with someone else.
It almost gives you a reason to exist and to coexist. So keep at it, find someone that you love and work with them, create with them, get stupid with them.
Mohammed: I love that.
I would say there are no ideas that you can have that you can’t make. It might seem lofty. It might seem impossible. You might not even know where to start. But the fact that it came to you means it is meant to come through you.
That idea landed in your brain for you to explore. The more you deny it, or the more you find excuses for it not to sprout, it is actually a painful experience. So if you think it, go for it.
Campaign photography by Elle Pérez, Guarionex Rodriguez Jr., Courtney Sofiah Yates, and Elliott Jerome Brown Jr.
Mohammed: Yes, it absolutely resonates.
I love the idea of people arriving to our space and engaging with it while showing up with whatever they are showing up with from everywhere else. So often there is escapism in nightlife, and if you want to create this utopia, I love the idea. But everyone is still showing up with who they are, what they’re going through and what they’re dealing with.
Either you’re working it out on the dancefloor, or you’re in the courtyard crying your eyes out to your friend, or your personal baggage is coming up too.
If these sprawling, dynamic, really energetic and charged spaces can let people allow their currents through, whether political or personal or the many combinations of both, then I’m very happy about my job and about creating space.
Oscar: In these days of war and genocide, I strongly believe that showing up somewhere takes a lot. I think it’s truly a privilege to show up somewhere without something in mind already, or without having had to process something that day.
I love the dancefloor as a tool for treating the different feelings people are having. Sometimes you need the dancefloor as escapism, especially if you’re a queer or trans person of colour and your daily life means you have to be so present and so vigilant.
For me, I love going to the club and chatting. I love a good chit-chat in the smoking section. That always heals me. I’m a high-key extrovert, so that is my release, my escape. It recharges me.
But for somebody more introverted than I am, maybe a solo moment next to the speaker, feeling the bass take over your heartbeat, is almost like somatic therapy. It can be a form of therapy.
I’ve always said this about queer spaces too. There is something about feeling like you are in the majority somewhere. Showing up to a queer dancefloor, that feeling of majority is empowering. It is something everybody deserves to feel: collective joy, collectively, that moment of being together.
It can have a positive release, and also a long-term effect on endurance and survival. I’ve always said joy is revolutionary, and it’s a necessary tool to the revolution. As queer people, we’ve always known that joy is a very important part of our survival, and I think a lot of us can find joy on the dancefloor.
WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO ANYONE STARTING THEIR OWN NIGHT OR COMMUNITY SPACE?
Oscar: Keep at it, and surround yourself with people that you trust and love.
Relationships change. Dynamics change. But building something with someone else is so special, and it can really motivate you. In a world where sometimes we can feel so alone, you are existing with someone else and creating with someone else.
It almost gives you a reason to exist and to coexist. So keep at it, find someone that you love and work with them, create with them, get stupid with them.
Mohammed: I love that.
I would say there are no ideas that you can have that you can’t make. It might seem lofty. It might seem impossible. You might not even know where to start. But the fact that it came to you means it is meant to come through you.
That idea landed in your brain for you to explore. The more you deny it, or the more you find excuses for it not to sprout, it is actually a painful experience. So if you think it, go for it.
Campaign photography by Elle Pérez, Guarionex Rodriguez Jr., Courtney Sofiah Yates, and Elliott Jerome Brown Jr.
