‘Slaying’ the Kazakh night away

The tiny room was filled with flashing lights, bright colors and dancing bodies. My friends and I had just been patted down by a guard before we entered a slightly cracked, black door at this exclusive, invitation-only party hidden away in a nondescript alley in the heart of Almaty, Kazakhstan.

It was Saturday night, and we had just arrived at an underground gay bar called Amirovki.

Walking to the event, I told my group of girls that I really wanted to do karaoke, since I’ve always loved to sing. I picked the song “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan and waded my way through the crowd of moshing young adults to ask a stranger if I could be added to the list. But I was already too late.

By 10 p.m., the karaoke and performance lineup was already secured for the night so, instead, I became one of the many swaying, dancing bodies in the crowd. Not that I was disappointed. As an 18-year-old first year student, nightlife usually comes in the form of fraternity houses in State College, Pennsylvania with their JBL speakers and pong tables. But here, in this hidden Almaty queer bar, I finally experienced what it truly means to party.

Here, partying is an explosion of all the energy in the room. It is unexpected conversations and contagious dance moves. It is bright lights and excited people throwing their inhibitions away.

“It’s always full, and people sing, dance, and they do whatever they want to,” said Sophia Plotnikova, an 18-year-old dancer from Almaty. “It gives a feeling of freedom and expressing yourself, it’s just amazing.”

Although her parents were accepting of her queer identity, Plotnikova said, Kazakhstani culture generally disavows the LGBTQ community. Amirovki was one of the safe havens for queer nightlife in Almaty.

Throughout the night, people drank and danced as the floor became more crowded, the air became more smoke-filled, and the outfits became even more extravagant.

The young people coming into the club looked like they stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine in outfits that accentuated their queer identities and stylish Kazakh culture. And then there was me, the American, dressed in a tight-fitting black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. While this would have been a normal outfit for a night in State College, I felt completely underdressed next to the club locals.

While I had on blush, heavily smudged eyeliner and mascara, my fellow party-goers wore glistening highlighter, bright-palette eyeshadows, dark lipsticks and gems on their faces.

“I’m an art person, so my face is a place where I can draw everything I want to and help me express myself,” Plotnikova said.

She was wearing a strapless two-toned top, in black and white, with a smoky eye and two shining stones placed on the inner corners of her eyes. She danced and sang along to the mostly American playlist.

Lizzo, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Megan Thee Stallion and, even, Chappell Roan boomed through the club, reaching all three bars, the upstairs smoking area and the two stages.

The side-stage housed a stripping pole, that drag queens would circle seductively, before heading to the main stage to perform.

The night’s emcee, donning a long, purple shirt and a silver headdress, would mount the stage and introduce each performer. Each queen was individualistic and interacted with the crowd, one of whom even passed vodka shots into the crowd mid performance.

In Almaty, going out is a very different experience from my little college town. There’s a different standard for the quality of entertainment for guests and, inversely, there’s a different expectation for those that seek to be entertained. I have a new appreciation for Kazakh nightlife and the excitement we felt from 10 p.m. to 3:30 a.m., but I think that has come with a new disdain for the endless nights of frat-flicking and “No Hands” by Waka Flocka.

As my newfound friend, Sophia Plotnikova, put it, in Kazakhstan, “you have to slay every time you go out!”