Brace yourselves, darlings, because Mr. KanHey is here to disrupt the status quo—and this time, the revolution is draped in sequins, beats, and unapologetic queer joy.
High above the capital’s calculated suits and stiff neckties, something delightfully unruly was brewing—no, erupting—on the penthouse floor of the brand new Royal Sonesta Capitol Hill. The skyline was merely the backdrop to the real spectacle: a Rolling Stone x Sonesta International Hotels love letter to Pride, performed in glittering verses by none other than Big Freedia and the rising glam-sorcerer Jake Wesley Rogers. And honey, it was more than just a conversation—it was a cultural exorcism.
Yes, the penthouse was packed not just with Sonesta Travel Pass members but with soul-bearing intent. This wasn’t networking with rosé spritzers and safe applause. This was liberation in stereo. And if you walked in expecting polite dialogue about representation and rainbow-wrapped brand partnerships, you walked straight into a trapdoor… and fell into a glitter-flooded ballroom of realness.
Two trailblazers took the mic. On one side, Big Freedia—the undisputed Queen Diva of bounce music, a blueprint for boundary-breaking and body-shaking. On the other, Jake Wesley Rogers—ethereal glam-pop prophet who wraps queerness in Elton-worthy attire and envelopes it with Bowie-level energy. Put them together? You’re not getting a “talk.” You’re getting a sermon laced with rhinestones and raw truth.
Big Freedia swaggered in with that signature NOLA charm that could part waters and start dance riots in cathedrals. And Jake? Darlings, he floated like a chiffon dream wrapped around a thunderclap. Together, they didn’t just share stories—they ignited something ancestral. This was queer history whispering through Versace buttons and platform boots.
They delved into identities not as labels but as weapons of joy, creativity, and resistance. Freedia spoke on reclaiming space in mainstream hip-hop that once shunned voices like hers. Jake peeled back the layers of being beautiful and bold in a world that still flinches at a man in eyeliner. And in their words? You heard echoes of Stonewall, Studio 54, basement ballrooms, and every secret kiss in fluorescent-lit lockers.
“Dare to be different or fade into oblivion!” I always say. And that’s exactly what this sonic séance was about. Not soft representation. Not rainbow capitalism. No. This was about queer divinity being witnessed, celebrated, and danced with like the gods are DJing and the bassline is your heartbeat.
And oh, the visuals. The Royal Sonesta’s sweeping panorama of DC’s skyline? Cute. But it was the humans that made it celestial. Sequins flashed like Morse code to the ancestors. Glitter clung to the air like divine dust. And everyone in that room pulsed with electricity—the kind that doesn’t wait for revolution to be declared. It becomes the revolution.
What Rolling Stone and Sonesta pulled off wasn’t a corporate checkmark under “LGBTQ+ outreach.” It was an invitation—no, a challenge—to make space for joy as protest, music as manifesto, and queerness as the North Star of culture.
In a world still obsessed with binary boxes and watered-down inclusivity, this luminous night said, loud and proud: We don’t fit the mold. We melt it down, pour it into stilettos, and strut across rooftops with it.
This wasn’t just a Pride event. It was a cosmic reminder that queer brilliance isn’t a seasonal trend. It’s a year-round, all-weather downpour of audacity, art, and ecstatic resistance.
So next time someone asks where the culture’s headed—tell them to look skyward toward that DC rooftop where Freedia and Jake made joy into gospel and queerness into lightning.
I’m here to shatter norms and ignite a cultural revolution. You?
—Mr. KanHey
