Am I Performing Queerness When I Mix?

I was working on a DJ mix for fun — nothing fancy, just a 30-minute blend. But when I listened back, I noticed something odd: all the tracks I’d chosen had high-pitched, autotuned vocals, blown-out kicks, distorted transitions. It was dramatic, disjointed, and, I realized, deeply familiar. Someone casually commented, “That’s such a queer mix,” and I laughed at first. But then I thought: wait… is it?

That comment stuck with me. Was I mixing like this because I’m queer? Or because I’ve been shaped by queer sonic culture? I started reflecting on how my musical instincts are connected to my identity. Was I just performing a stereotype — the glitchy, chaotic gay sound — or was I expressing something more personal?

I revisited SOPHIE’s interviews, especially the one where she said, “You can completely design your own voice.” That hit me. Maybe queerness isn’t about sounding a certain way — maybe it’s about intentionality. I scrapped the mix and rebuilt it, choosing tracks that felt uncomfortable, unstable, emotionally off-balance. It didn’t “sound queer” by any obvious label, but it felt honest.

I’m still asking myself where my taste ends and my queerness begins. But maybe that blurred line is the whole point. Maybe queer sound isn’t a genre. It’s a permission slip — to be messy, to be extreme, to be unsure. And to play anyway.