The LGBTQ+ community mourns O’Shae Sibley in memorials across New York City

O’Shae Sibley, a professional dancer at 28 years old, was beloved by his community. 

Hundreds of people gathered throughout the weekend to memorialize Sibley. He was fatally stabbed at a gas station for publicly voguing as a Black, gay man to Beyonce’s Renaissance the night of her show at New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium.

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“This is not some sort of organic uprising of the people,” Kelley Robinson told LGBTQ Nation. “This is an orchestrated effort by political extremists.”

Beyonce dedicated the homepage of her website to memorializing Sibley’s name. “Rest in Power O’Shae Sibley,” reads the home screen. The 17-year-old alleged killer, who was caught on video, has since turned himself in. He has been arrested and charged with the murder of Sibley as a hate crime. 

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The suspect, who has not been identified to the public, attends high school in Brooklyn, NYPD Assistant Chief Joseph Kenny said at a press briefing on Saturday, where Mayor Adams announced the suspect’s apprehension.

As the Black LGBTQ+ community demands answers and change, they have worked to memorialize Sibley’s life.

There was a consistent message in all three memorials held throughout Thursday, Friday, and Saturday: Celebrate Black, queer, trans and nonbinary people while they’re alive. 

Sibley’s family speaks at NYC’s LGBT Center

Joseph Davis met O’Shae Sibley in the ballroom House of Old Navy, self-described as the “Royal Iconic Family” and two-time Hall of Fame Ballroom House established in 2008. He also co-organized Saturday evening’s vigil, press conference, and vogue march at Manhattan’s LGBT Center with Sibley’s family and loved ones.

Sibley was a “Dance-a-holic” and “super funny and vibrant,” Davis told LGBTQ Nation, adding that he was someone “you will not, not feel” dancing.

Davis is also a Godfather in the House of Old Navy. He says he serves as a support and inspiration, someone for the children of the house to lean on.

At the Center, the audience stood wall-to-wall to listen and grieve with Sibley’s family. They entered wearing orange and white T-shirts in a room strewn with orange balloons. 

“Orange was his favorite color,” Davis said. “He had to have a little bit of orange in everything he wore.”

Slowly, loved ones came to the podium to honor the person they loved with all their life. 

Joshua Sanchez was one of those people. He was with Sibley when he was murdered. 

“O’Shae and I, we took this journey together,” Sanchez said. “Leaving Philadelphia, just him and I with a book bag and a suitcase, and we started from the bottom.”

As Sanchez spoke, his voice cracked. 

“If this wasn’t caught on video, would we have gotten justice?” he questioned.

“I hate speaking about my brother in the past tense,” said Dezirah Kelly, one of Sibley’s sisters. “He got killed because he was comfortable and confident in who he was.”

Davis spoke to this comfort. He said that Sibley was killed for confidently expressing femininity.  

“I thought of [O’Shae] in this play ‘Soft’ and that play was so beautifully done,” said Davis. “When it comes – especially when it comes – down to Black men it was so beautifully done. I mean to watch him dance in that play was fun, and so, I think that tonight was just a celebration of [O’Shae’s] energy.”

After hearing Sibley’s family and loved ones speak, the audience marched to The Village piers with candles. The large crowd released the orange balloons into the air and vogued into the night. 

LGBTQ+ activists vogue down the street

“Let O’Shae rain down on us,” said trans activist Qween Jean on Friday evening, as the grayish, periwinkle rain clouds opened up on the hundreds of people below. Jean, herself, was arrested this year after organizing a rally protesting anti-trans laws and violence.

Jean and LGBTQ+ organizations like the Black Trans Liberation Kitchen and House Life Mattered organized an “Emergency Action” on Friday night at the Mobil gas station where Sibley lost his life. Sibley’s name echoed down the Brooklyn streets as people laughed, cried, and walked the asphalt.

“My god. My god. They have to stop doing this,” Drag Performer Kevin Aviance told the crowd. “We are the most beautiful things in the world. We Black, beautiful gorgeous jewels are the most important things in this world.”

The audience of vogue and drag performers, as well as other members of the community, cheered at Aviance’s words. Each person knew that what happened to Sibley could’ve also happened to them. 

“That’s right!” Someone in the crowd responded. 

Aviance’s career as a performance artist and club personality began in Washington DC when he joined The House of Aviance, a community of DJs, singers, actors, drag queens, and visual and performing artists, founded by house Mother Juan Aviance.

“There would be nothing in this world to dance to, to walk to, to aspire [to], if it wasn’t for us, Black, gay, trans people,” Aviance said. “So what I will say is keep your hands off of us. Keep your hands off our dreams.” 

The crowd roared, “I love you, O’Shae” as Beyonce’s PURE/HONEY  filled Coney Island Avenue. The crowd cheered, and Aviance began to vogue.

“C**ty!” folks chanted, referencing the lyrics of Aviance’s chart-topping hit by the same name. Meanwhile, the crowd clapped to the rhythm of the fifteenth track off Beyonce’s Renaissance album, on which Aviance is also credited. Soon enough, organizers called for space, and people opened up the street into a runway for dancers, performers, and the community to catwalk, dip, and pose. Each performer brought their own vogue style and technique while wearing shirts that read, “Vogue As An Act of Resistance.” 

In this political climate, voguing, drag and all LGBTQ+ performance art is under attack.

This year alone more than 500 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced around the country in a coordinated attack by white supremacists, a phenomenon that has been heavily documented by investigative journalist Imara Jones in the podcast, “The Anti-Trans Hate Machine: The Plot Against Equality.”

The ACLU has described the attacks on LGBTQ+ people as “a malicious attempt to remove LGBTQ people from public life,” and says that “drag bans threaten our freedoms and take the power to decide what is appropriate entertainment away from businesses and individuals.” 

Organizers know that Sibley’s death is not a coincidence. 

“I feel like this is something that could’ve so easily been me,” New York musician Devon Lemont told LGBTQ Nation. “I know if something like this ever did happen to me, my community would be here. I’m here with my entire queer and Black community as one.”

Tatiana Fermin echoed this sentiment. She stood by the entrance to the subway speaking into a megaphone. Fermin said she felt anger and stress. “My children are out here,” said Fermin. “It could have been my child. It could’ve been my brother. It could’ve been my husband.” 

As Fermin spoke, the hundreds of people waiting for their trains chanted, “Oooooo—Shae! [breath] Sib-ley!” 

“It means liberation for us to be standing here and creating awareness that voguing is not a crime,” said Fermin. She said O’Shae should be out here living his authentic life. 

Mourners at Stonewall “say his name”

“I’m here to mourn O’Shae Sibley,” Sunder Ganglani told LGBTQ Nation, as people congregated at the historic Stonewall Inn on Thursday. Ganglani came as part of The Stop Shopping Choir, a performance activist group formed in the 90s to protest systemic racism, capitalism, and consumerism. 

The group of harmonizing voices echoed into the clear blue sky:  “O’Shae Sibley was free to live.” They repeated this line over and over, crescendoing and decrescendoing like the rhythm of a heartbeat. As the group escalated their vocals, Ganglani projected his voice as loud as he could. “Say his name!” he cried to the dozens of gatherers. 

“O’Shae Sibley!” The crowd roared until approaching a whiplashing silence. 

“It just gets worse and worse,” said one bystander before the event’s organizer, Diamond Carter, commanded the crowd.

“Now the reason we are here today doesn’t deserve a clap,” said Carter. “I’m out here today because I want to unify my community.”

They took a minute to look at the crowd and compose their thoughts. They directed their words to their “Black, trans, nonbinary, and queer siblings.”

“I love you,” Carter said. “That’s why it’s time to celebrate our people, when they are alive, when they are thriving.”

Carter said respect from allies should come when people ask you to honor their pronouns; to give people food when they say they’re hungry, when people ask for information for resources, but “we are still fighting hatred,” Carter said. 

Tears welled in their eyes. 

“[Sibley] was dancing! That’s a form of art,” they cried. “I’m tired of seeing Black men die, I’m tired of seeing gay people die, to see trans people die, to see children die.”

“When I say his name, I’m gonna need the heavens, the sky, the ancestors, and this new additional angel to hear us.”

A funeral will be held for Sibley in his home city of Philadelphia this week.

**This story originally misstated the name of Dezirah Kelly. It has been updated.