June 25, 2025

This Portland dance group is breaking gender norms and creating community with free Latin dance lessons

The White Owl Social Club is buzzing with more energy than normal on a Wednesday night in May. Small groups of people are gathered on the covered patio of the bar, anticipating the major event of the evening, a free Latin dancing class led by Queer Baile.

Nongendered, queer-centered Latin dancing courses are offered by Queer Baile, which is run solely by volunteers and aims to provide an inclusive environment for everyone. Cumbia and bachata are alternated throughout the monthly lessons. At 7 p.m., the next lesson, a cumbia night, will begin. July 16.

Lydia Greene founded the group in 2019 under the moniker Sapphic Salsa. The group first got together at Doc Marie’s, a lesbian bar in the Central Eastside of Portland. But the necessity for room increased along with the number of people. The monthly dance event has moved to White Owl, a few blocks away, and organizers reported that attendance has increased recently.

According to Kylie Davis, a cumbia instructor, one of Doc’s largest courses, when I counted, had about thirty students, which was hardly enough space to move your body with another person. We’re almost 100 at White Owl presently.

At Queer Baile’s bachata night, guests learn how to dance.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

A little history lecture on the evening’s dancing style opens the class. On May 21, Sarah Arias, a Cumbia music and dance instructor, gave listeners an explanation of how the music and dance began in Colombia as a fusion of African, Indigenous, and Spanish cultures.

According to Arias, one topic I frequently bring up in class is that, although cumbia originated in Colombia, it has spread throughout Latin America, absorbing many styles and sounds. Cumbia comes in a variety of forms.

Arias is of Mexican descent and learned to dance cumbia norte a, a northern style of the dance, as a child. For her, bringing the style to the Queer Baile community was a source of cultural delight and pride.

Arias stated, “I didn’t even think anyone was going to have an interest in it when we threw our first cumbia norte a.” Simply put, I was really anxious to present something that was so important to me. I adore telling everyone about it since it was such a lovely time.

According to Karen Ceballos, a bachata instructor, the place is far less scary than many dance scenes.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

Beginning with basic steps, participants line up in rows facing teachers Arias and Davis. Working with a partner becomes nearly instinctive after that. Holding hands while moving in time with the music is the fundamental step. To spice things up a little, a lead can spin their followers.

The format of Queer Baile’s other monthly dancing class, which focuses on bachata, is comparable. Once associated with the lower classes, bachata originated in the Dominican Republic in the middle of the 20th century and is today praised for its beautiful rhythms and private motions.

According to bachata instructor Anna Schneider, moves like the hug start with a spin and end with a tight, back-to-front hold. Both cumbia and bachata courses are beginner-friendly, according to instructors, even though the bachata steps make the class more challenging.

Queer Baile provides Latin dancing classes that are queer-centered and non-gendered.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

Following each one-hour class, the area is converted into a social dance floor where dancers can meet other attendees and practice their newly acquired moves.

A variety of dancing backgrounds are represented among the group’s volunteer instructors. Some learned Latin dancing later in life, while others were exposed to it as children. However, it is clear that all of the organizers have a love and enthusiasm for dancing and the community.

“I found my family in Portland through Queer Baile,” Schneider added. For many people, attending lessons is mostly about the sense of community, in my opinion. By taking the classes, no one is attempting to become a professional dancer. It’s only for the joyous, enjoyable part.

Arias, who learned the Mexican folk dance form known as baile folklorico as a child, remembers young ladies assuming male roles to fill voids in their lives.

“We hardly ever had boys,” Arias remarked. They were difficult to locate and to dedicate. Girls would therefore step up and perform the male roles whenever we required someone to dance in them.

That dynamic, however, became less prevalent as the girls grew older. Men were supposed to lead and women to follow. Most adult dance lessons have this gendered dynamic.

Attending Queer Baile does not require a partner.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

I attend a lot of dance courses, and I really want to take the lead, Arias remarked. I enjoy taking the lead, but because I’m a woman presenting, I’m automatically expected to follow.

No partner is required to attend Queer Baile classes; anybody can lead or follow. Because of the social style of the lessons, couples switch places during the lesson. According to organizers, a much more welcoming and comfortable environment has been created by emphasizing nongendered and consent-based dance.

According to bachata instructor Karen Ceballos, the room feels far less daunting than many dance scenes do. She also pointed out that the teaching style can be extremely hyper masculine or hyper feminine in many traditional dance societies. And people don’t always connect with that.

According to Davis, the Queer Baile community in Portland, a largely white city, is a place to celebrate intersectionality.

On Wednesday, September 18, 2025, attendees study dancing movements at Queer Baile.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

According to U.S. Census demographic predictions, in 2020, 11.3% of Portland’s population identified as Latino and 70.1% as white. Hispanic or Latino people make up 14.9% of the state’s total population.

Although the city’s queer community’s demographics are unknown, a Gallup poll conducted between 2015 and 2017 found that 5.6% of Oregon’s adult population identifies as LGBTQ+. There is currently no data that examines the interaction of racial demographics or Portland’s LGBTQ+ community.

Arias stated, “I think it’s always felt like a very divided choice for me personally.” I have two options: either I go to Latino places where I don’t feel like my gay identity is accepted or even celebrated in the same manner, or I go to a queer community where I don’t really see myself or my culture reflected very extensively.

Creating an accessible and welcoming space for queer Latinos has always been the group s driving force even if it means instructors volunteer their time so the lessons can remain completely free. Lessons are now offered once a month, but the goal is to increase the frequency.

Instructors Anna Schneider and Karen Ceballos demonstrate moves for attendees to follow.From The Oregonian, Allison Barr

We re just a bunch of friends in a group chat, making it happen every couple weeks, Davis said, emphasizing the queer joy that the group creates. Especially in the current political climate and how the world is right now, I can rely on Queer Baile to make me feel good no matter what s going on in my personal or external life.

If you go: 7-8 p.m. lesson, 9-10 p.m. social dance; July 16; White Owl Social Club; 1305 S.E. 8th Ave., Portland;@queerbailepdxon Instagram.

Faith and cultural connections

Chiara Profenna covers religion, faith and cultural connections. Reach her at 503-221-4327;cprofenna@oregonian.comor@chiaraprofenna.

The Oregonian/OregonLive receives support from the M.J. Murdock Charitable Trust to bring readers stories on religion, faith and cultural connections in Oregon. The Oregonian/OregonLive is solely responsible for all content.

About The Author