Walking through the glass-laden murals underneath Lake Shore Drive, echoes of what’s to come reverberate through the tunnel. From the park next to Hollywood Beach, 5800 N. DuSable Lake Shore Dr., house beats gradually get louder.
In the wide patch of grass surrounded by oak trees and lit up by a singular spotlight, a group of four dozen guests either sit on stone seats or dance around a small fire pit.
It’s the third and last Semihard event of the summer. Ashanti Johnson went to the first on July 25 but missed their Market Days sunrise edition titled ‘Morning Wood’.
Instead of a morning party, Semihard lets guests embrace their comfort in the shadows of the ending warm nights of Chicago’s summer. Hosted by the Putopia Collective, the summer series of outdoor parties were created as a way of creating a barrier-free space for queer Chicagoans. They used to be smaller and weekly when they started, according to Miralu Grizales, one of the collective members.
“It’s a utopia of putas,” said Grizales, a transwoman from Brazil, as she laughed.
Puta roughly translates to “bitch” or “whore” in Spanish, Portuguese and Filipino. She explains the members were also from Colombia, and the Philippines. “Puta was like a word that all of us connected to,” she said.
Two years later, the collective had invested enough to blast DJ-sets through electric powered speakers for Chicagoans interested in a more organic queer party scene. An eco-friendly, barrier-free party willing to include all ages, races and genders.
Johnson, who identifies as agender, snaps a quick Snapchat photo with a woman tending to the fire. They don’t remember her name, but it doesn’t matter—here, the point is simply enjoying each other’s company.
“This is really a place for Black, Brown, queer and trans people to really come together,” Johnson said. “But at the end of the day, it’s a space for everybody.”
A South Side native, Johnson noted the history of the Bronzeville Ball scene and Hollywood Beach as a sanctuary for queer Chicagoans—something they feel has been missing recently. Putopia, they said, is helping to restore that history at an important moment for the community.
“I think it’s important to not lose touch of where you come from, especially when people are already trying to erase that,” they said.
On the deck, Gustavo Arruda Franco—also known by his DJ name BiLatinBby—remixed Chicago House music with his own Brazilian flare. He’s trying to recreate the street DJs from back home, who often set up booming sound systems from cars and drew crowds for free parties.
He’s grateful for the scene Chicago already has for DJs and thinks there’s a protective factor the community plays in preventing police from stopping the fun. “Chicago already has a culture of communities appreciating and looking out for their DJs which makes things safer for us too.”
The topic of police is serious for Kiam Marcelo Junio, another collective member who said they try not to draw attention and undue harm to the community. That responsibility means ending the party earlier than many might want—at 11 p.m., when the park closes.
While Northalsted continues their parties late into the morning, Putopia packs up earlier. Regardless of if you attend the afters, for organizers like Marcelo Junio the events are meaningful because they create a space that’s needed.
They describe the divide between homonormative white-centered gay culture, that dominates gay nightlife in the city, and queer and trans people of color in the community, leaving them many times feeling unwelcome or out of place. For Marcelo Junio it’s worth fixing, and for Putopia Collective, it has become a central part of their mission. “We have to create those spaces ourselves,” they said. “Creating a space where people can hear new things and move to different sounds that they may not have experienced.”