Carlos Irizarry Tells His Story on the Dance Floor

Carlos Irizarry and his troupe of ballroom dancers

For Carlos Irizarry, dance has always been his refuge.

Carlos—known professionally as Carlos Basquiat—was born and raised in the Bronx. When he thinks about his childhood, his memories oscillate between his very musical, very Puerto Rican apartment, and the streets outside it where his rhythm felt off-beat.

At home, he did the salsa on Saturday mornings with his parents. Their taste in music was eclectic, and their vast vinyl collection was a testament to an array of genres. Spanish music. The Temptations. Aretha Franklin. Their home was festive and full of life—a cultural, creative oasis for a young Carlos to find his groove as a dancer.

The way his mother remembers it, Carlos danced at any and every opportunity. Birthday parties. Weddings. Dance teams in middle school and high school.

Like his mother and his grandmother, he was the life of the party.

“Dancing has always been my passion,” Carlos says on Latino Alternative Storytellers. “I don’t think there’s anything else that I do that I’m [as] passionate about. It’s my outlet … my source of freedom.”

Outside his family’s apartment, in the Bronx, he figured out that he was different—and that wasn’t a good thing then. He remembers being called names on the street on his way to school. His parents, who didn’t quite understand the vernacular, suggested he call them names back. It didn’t help. Carlos was feminine from a young age. He stood out from the other boys in the neighborhood, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it—except grow up, find love within himself, and use that self-love as armor.

“I was surrounded by straight men who didn’t understand [me],” Carlos says. “You are a product of your environment, how you grow up, [and] a lot of these guys didn’t grow up with parents teaching them how to respect somebody who was different. It was very tough, especially elementary school. This is a moment in life where you’re supposed to be enjoying school and enjoying yourself, but it wasn’t like that for me.”

Standing out can hurt as a kid, but that unique rhythm would eventually get him noticed and open doors to a dynamic career in entertainment.

He moved to Los Angeles and got in with some dance studios here. His breakout opportunity was dancing with Fergie, and that propelled him to new levels. Since then, he’s collaborated with Ariana Grande and Sam Smith. He’s done commercials for McDonalds and Pepsi.

The work was flowing, as was his choreographic style—rooted in voguing.

“Voguing … is a dance style that was created in the 60s and 70s in Harlem and is the depiction of models striking poses. It’s a style of self-expression, dating back to hieroglyphics [that now blends] popping-and-locking and a lot of underground street styles.”

Carlos was obsessed the first time he saw voguing, back in Harlem when he was living in New York. And since moving to Los Angeles, he’s been a notable figure in the expressive, queer-centric ballroom community here.

Carlos Irizarry on set for Latino Alternative Storytellers

Frames froze when he got an email from Parkwood Entertainment. Carlos was asked to join Beyoncé’s team as a contributing choreographer for the visuals of her Renaissance album.

“Renaissance was dedicated to her uncle, who was gay, who was a fashion stylist, [who] was also part of the ballroom community,” Carlos says. “It was meant for me to a part of the message of that tour, and what it stood for. It’s a very personal album for me.”

Carlos tells his stories on the dance floor. He’s vulnerable, expressive, and strong. He shows us firsthand how perseverance and passion can give your life meaning, no matter where you come from or what resources are available to you. As a liaison of the voguing community in Los Angeles, he will continue to inspire other artists and dancers to spread love.

Check out the full interview with Carlos Irizarry on Latino Alternative Storytellers.