Photography by @TroyHallahan and Wardrobe Styling by @discowhoreslut
Many thoughts raced through Luis Fernando’s mind as he received his U.S. citizenship in 2016: the attempted murder that forced him to flee Ecuador, the power of freedom and safety, and, most of all, a craving to explore the uncharted waters of his gay identity.
Although Fernando’s life had been split in two the moment a homophobe attacked him at a gay bar in his native country, he didn’t let it define him. He wanted to be known for what he accomplished in spite of it, placing less emphasis on the 21-year-old refugee and more on the successful immigration lawyer he became.
However, during a phone call with So.Gay from his newly-opened club Bonito in Mexico City, Fernando says his citizenship opened a new chapter to his existence. He suddenly felt like nothing was holding him back.
The Zoo Party producer shares how he proceeded to dive headfirst into gay culture in New York and how DJing at gay parties as a side hustle laid the foundation for producing them, ultimately leading him to start his own hospitality portfolio.
“As a U.S. citizen, the weight I had been carrying for the eight years prior was lifted,” says Fernando, who never stopped fearing the risk of having to return to persecution in Ecuardo. “For the first time, I felt able to explore who I was as a queer person fully, and that meant taking risks in how I presented myself.”
The buttoned-up lawyer bought his first makeup kit, finally allowing himself to experience the art of drag as a performer. He felt comfortable expressing himself at gay bars beyond the dance floor, getting to know different drag queens, and asking DJs tips for breaking into music.
Fernando had always been infatuated with all aspects of gay nightlife, even if it almost cost him his life. In New York, he realized he didn’t just want to enjoy the magic—he wanted to be one of the people making it happen.
“Within the LGBTQ+ community, you have so many subcultures and subgroups, right?” says Fernando. “It took me a couple of years to find my place within it. I moved to Brooklyn in 2019, and being so close to Bushwick gave me that ‘Oh my gosh’ moment of discovering the community I belonged in: one that takes risks with gender and expression and places emphasis on art rather than money or muscles.”
Like many queer people, nightlife manifested as Fernando’s church. It fueled both his sense of belonging and self, not unlike a spiritual awakening. A Brooklyn rave was a sermon for joy, no matter what was happening in the world. Without blood relatives nearby, the motley, loving individuals he met while partying became his chosen family.
Until 2021, Fernando had only hosted one party, called Love Prism, which was done by Ty Sunderland at 3 Dollar Bill and coincided with his birthday. But that year, a friend invited him to DJ a party on a Brooklyn rooftop, which was such a hit they turned it into a repeat after-hours affair for the community seeking more thrills once bartenders announced the last call.
“There were 300, 400, 500 people on this rooftop,” says Fernando. “The elevator broke because so many people were going up and down.”
Logistics aside, Brooklyn’s party people got a taste for Fernando, and the invites to host and DJ other events escalated from there.
Still, the nightlife world wasn’t perfect. Fernando might have been embraced by the party circuit with open arms, but he didn’t see many others like him.
“I didn’t feel represented in the vast majority of the parties and the spaces being created,” says Fernando.
Despite it being old news that gay parties tend to celebrate white, cis, gay men, Fernando knew the problem was rooted in the lack of diversity among the hosts and DJs being hired to promote them.
He knew from his own DJ following that individuals are organically drawn to places where their culture and taste are spotlighted. Perhaps for that reason, he developed a strong queer, Latinx following, including often underrepresented Latinas.
“I’m one of the only party producers who is an immigrant,” says Fernando. “And I’m definitely the only refugee that I know of.”
So it should surprise no one that Fernando took his passion for gay nightlife to Mexico City—the gayest city in Latin America, famous for its club scene—even if it is often snubbed for the likes of the Big Apple, Berlin, and Milan.
“Mexico City is one of the most premier club destinations in the world, and people need to understand that,” says Fernando.
He initially found himself spending more time than he ever imagined in Mexico City, enamored by its melting pot of Latinidad, parties, and gayness. He opened the dance club Bonito and Hotel Sebastián de los Milagros to leave his own mark and offer a safe space not just for gay people but for any nightlife enthusiast.
And like the once-great Studio 54 and the current best clubs in the world—Berlin’s Berghain and Milan’s Plastic—Fernando’s Bonito doesn’t focus on any one sexuality or gender but invites anyone daring to have a good time.
“It always upset me to hear misogynistic comments from privileged white gay men complaining about women at parties, especially considering there are gay women and trans women,” says Fernando.
“I want to ask them, who was the first friend they told they were gay? Women have been our most trusted allies and best friends when we didn’t have anything else. I will continue to open up my spaces for women or anyone not just to feel ‘welcome,’ but to have a blast, make out with someone, and dance all night.”
