May 17, 2026 was the international day against homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia. The Month of May is also the Asian Heritage Month. “For us queer Asians,” the MC Kě said, “today is our Christmas.” Laughter and applause in the crowd. “Grab a drink. Get yourself comfortable!” they continue. Sure, I thought to myself. Let’s get immersed. I don’t drink alcohol, so I bought myself apple juice, branded Palestine. 50% of proceeds are donated to IDRF.

That’s nice. I get myself comfortable.

Kě does the land acknowledgment, highlighting Asian support in Indigenous struggles. “Think beyond colonization.” Asian railroad workers were nursed back to health by the Indigenous. “From Turtle Island to Palestine!” they shout, affirmative.

The show begins. Lights dim.

In the darkness is where the first performer, Kajol, enters. He thrusts his head back and begins his lipsync performance. When you walk among the stars. Spotlight on him. He’s unafraid to be seen. Hold your head up high in the dark. Kajol’s lipsync performance is interspersed with protest footage against section 377: an Indian law, first codified in the British Empire, that criminalizes all sexual acts “against the order of nature”, affecting homosexuals, and trans people… an anti-LGTBQ law with penalties that can result in violence and even death. The woman on screen laughs at the government’s dismissal of activists: “A minuscule majority? I refuse to hide.” As I stared at her laugh, transfixed, Kajol re-enters my view. Hold your head up high in the dark. We live in a time where LGBTQ rights are under threat, where the far-right is experiencing a new rise. Yet Kajol is unafraid to be seen, to be heard, to be witnessed. Just like the woman, he refuses to hide his identity.

The next performer, Lørra, pulls out her guitar. “Stuck in black and white,” she sings. “With thoughts of you…” I wasn’t sure about the message. Do the lyrics reference the narrator’s struggle with heteronormativity? On stage, Lørra switches up the mood. “You guys know this!” she proclaims. “I will fight ‘till on my knees, so fuck the set-up—” She thrusts the mic towards the audience.

Mumbles in the crowd.

She brings the mic back towards her. “...fuck the set-up!” She does this about two more times. Maybe sing the chorus first before introducing an audience sing-along. As a dark-skinned Filipina, Lørra struggles with colorism, and ends her performance with a teaser to an unreleased song. Baby bubbles, like to show some brown bubbles? As a black woman, I genuinely wanted to engage with Lørra’s message, but I could not resonate with the lyrics.

Joy Rider, the event’s headliner, arrived on stage with a charming energy. She boasts several accomplishments, including 3X Burlesque Hall of Fame. She held two fans, wore a golden corset and headpiece. And, of course, golden nipple tassels. I enjoyed how she used the fan as a phallic prop to mimic ejaculation. Words escape me when I describe her performance—I suppose that is the power of her charm. I could not think critically, immersed as I was when Joy Rider danced, stripped, came, on stage.

After the interim, the MC himself, Kě, performed a stand-up comedy. I found it fascinating to hear how they interweaved their identity as trans man into comedy, particularly in day-to-day interactions with store clerks and asian aunties. How they asserted to elementary students that men, too, can get pregnant. So boys better wear condoms! Now I could write all of their jokes if I wanted to, but it would be best to attend their future shows personally.

The founder of Paifong, Komodo, sprung to life with an elegant, sleek body dress, a wooden umbrella, and fog. Their songs explored Taiwanese folklore. They did a little stripping towards the end. I had difficulty engaging with Komodo’s performance, as I could not understand the lyrics, but the visuals were decent.

Raised in London, Mx. Masala reconnects Punjabi culture through song. I appreciate their skill range on the guitar. My favorite song of theirs, “Sita”, is about the goddess Sita kidnapped by Ravana. When her husband rescues her, she must prove her purity by walking through fire. I wish the fire only burned the liars. Masala sang. What kind of saint would take a woman from another man’s home? Why must women hold the burden of purity? Sita had no say in her kidnapping. Why must she prove herself? I am reminded of a historical Hindu practice: a funeral pyre is held when a man dies—and Sati is the practice in which a widow burns alive on her deceased husband’s pyre, either voluntarily or by coercion. A pure woman would survive trial by fire. A good wife would die by her husband’s side, burning alive. Certain death, disguised as virtue. I wish the fire only burned the liars.

The final act of Cabaret Splendour was delivered by Kuya Atay. And here I thought only Joyrider was this sensual and bold! They came in with a fluffy, purple scarf—great outfit, I thought—and would then drop it to the floor, the scarf becoming a phallic prop as Kuya rode on it with great athleticism, gyrating their hips. As Kuya removed their clothing, piece by piece, an audience member snapped pictures of their body. I frowned. I thought it was bad manners. I thought someone should stop him. But no one did. I thought to myself, but what about the consequences? What if this ruined Kuya’s career prospects? But then I recalled the beginning of this performance. The protestor who laughed. I refuse to hide. Stripping oneself bare, in front of an audience, is not only an act of seduction, but an act of visibility. To love yourself is to show yourself in front of the world, in naked splendour.

As Cabaret Splendour culminates, I think back to their description of the event: “Asian queer pride on stage!”. As the performers danced on stage, together, in celebration, the audience remained in their seats and watched. The end. We clapped. Some performers mingled with the crowds, perhaps their friends. I spoke with the organizer of the festival, Mr. Tabassian, who highlighted Joyrider’s efforts to gather this group today. I briefly chatted with Joyrider. I took one last glance at the room, clutching at my empty Palestine bottle. Then I left.

Cabaret Splendour was performed at La Sala Rossa, as part of Festival Accès Asie from the end of March to the end of May 2026. You can find more information about it here.