Before EDM became a global phenomenon, it was the heartbeat of marginalized communities. For black and queer people in cities like Chicago, New York, and Detroit, dance music wasn’t just music. It was resistance, freedom, and survival. Recognizing the black and queer roots of EDM isn’t about gatekeeping. It’s about remembering the very soul and foundation of the genre.
Chicago: The Home of House Music
In late 1970s Chicago, joy wasn’t always easy to come by–especially for Black and queer people. A club called The Warehouse would become a place for liberation. Inside, a young black gay DJ named Frankie Knuckles was spinning tracks that blended gospel, disco, and soul, using early electronic synths and drum machines. The audience danced for hours, not just to party, but to heal.
People called it house music, after the very place it was played. Knuckles, now known as “the Godfather of House Music,” built a community around the genre. Within recently desegregated Chicago and at the height of the AIDS crisis, The Warehouse offered refuge for Black and queer people — a place where they could feel joy freely.
The infamous “Disco Sucks” riots at Comiskey Park in 1979, an event where disco records were destroyed, weren’t about music—they were a way to reject Black and queer culture. This backlash from mainstream America ultimately led to the evolution of house music.
Artists like Ron Hardy, Jesse Saunders, Marshall Jefferson, and Larry Heard (aka Mr. Fingers) were among those expanding the sound. Many were Black and queer. They weren’t making music for the charts, they were making a statement.
New York: Paradise Garage
Meanwhile, in New York City, something equally powerful was happening.
DJ Larry Levan, Frankie’s best friend and a black gay visionary, was shaping another scene at Paradise Garage. This wasn’t your average club. “The Garage” had also become a sacred space for the black, brown, and queer community during the AIDS crisis.
Levan would often play eight-hour sets that blended a new sound of soulful vocals, gospel, and funk elements that would become known as garage music. People would sweat, cry, scream, and most importantly, dance. His sets were healing for attendees, allowing marginalized communities to feel safe, united, and remember what it meant to be alive.
Detroit: The Sound of the Future
Emerging in Detroit was a genre inspired by the possibilities of the future, but just as rooted in soul.
Techno was born in the bedrooms of three Black teenagers–Juan Atkins, Derrick May, and Kevin Saunderson–collectively known as the Belleville Three. Inspired by the electronic sounds of Europe’s Kraftwerk and the funk sound of Parliament-Funkadelic, these teens created an Afrofuturistic sound. The whole idea was to “imagine a world that doesn’t hate us.”
Then there was Ken Collier, an openly gay Black DJ who helped lay the foundations for Detroit’s club culture. Clubs like Heaven were safe zones where techno brought a city divided by race, class, sexuality, and gender identity together.
When techno spread to Europe, much of that history was lost. Suddenly, techno belonged to Berlin’s warehouses and Ibiza beach clubs. What started as an Afrofuturistic statement had been left behind.
The Legacy
Somewhere between billion-dollar ticket sales and $15 cans of liquid death, the Black and queer roots of EDM got whitewashed. Artists like David Guetta and Tiësto became the face of dance music, while artists like Frankie Knuckles and Juan Atkins were hardly mentioned at all.
As a black woman who loves EDM, I’ve heard it all from “EDM is white people’s music” to “Raves aren’t really for us.” It’s so far from the truth. The black and queer roots of EDM aren’t just history, they’re fully alive in the present, and will remain in the future.
Today, artists like Honey Dijon, a Black trans DJ from Chicago, carry the legacy of EDM’s black and queer roots. She blends her unique style and sound with activism. Ash Lauryn, a Detroit native, is a DJ, curator, and activist who educates audiences about the genre’s roots and advocates for Black representation in electronic music. And Shiverz, in the riddim and dubstep scenes, is crafting fresh, heavier sounds, with sets grounded in cultural awareness and community.
Alongside individual artists are modern-day collectives making sure the roots aren’t forgotten. Black Techno Matters is a collective whose mission is to “reclaim techno as a manifestation of black expression in a society that has oppressed it.” They do this by curating events that highlight and celebrate techno’s black roots and modern-day artists. Discwoman is a New York-based collective that platforms women and non-binary artists in the electronic community. Both aim to ensure that the Black and queer roots of EDM are never forgotten or overshadowed in modern times.
Why This Still Matters
Understanding the Black and queer roots of EDM is important now more than ever. As the genre continues to evolve and reach new audiences, acknowledging its origins ensures the preservation of the stories of the ones who started it all.
This music was never just sound, and big stages and brand deals were never the point. It was created for liberation, community, and connection. A space for people to belong in a world where nothing else made sense.
Today, as people still fight for safety, identity, and joy, EDM remains a powerful tool for healing and connection. Honoring its black and queer roots while highlighting those who carry their legacy is how we can achieve an inclusive future.
Engage and Educate
EDM belongs to everyone, but I ask you to remember those who laid its foundations as a place for joy and freedom from the crises outside. Dive deeper into its history, explore foundational and modern-day Black and queer artists who carry their legacy, and advocate for inclusive spaces within the music scene. And next time you’re going through a tough time, put on some house or techno and remember that it all started in a place where people were struggling to survive, but danced anyway.
Want to support initiatives that highlight the Black and queer roots of EDM? Check out the resources below!
Frankie Knuckles Foundation: A non-profit continuing his legacy through music education, LGBTQ+ support, and HIV/AIDS research
Black Techno Matters: Creating spaces for Black artists in techno and preserving the memory of the genre’s origin
Bass N Babes: A femme and non-binary centered community hosting events and building safer spaces in bass music.
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