JT is the new princess of NYC’s queer underground

JT’s dalliance with queer culture didn’t start this weekend. It started in 2023 with the internet-shaking lyric on her song “No Bars”: “Pretty like a transgender.” The debate that lyric kicked off — Is that a compliment? Is that an insult? — lasted days, but the girls, guys, and gays who knew, knew it was meant to be the highest form of praise. Since then, JT has penned heartfelt Pride letters, supported the Trans Justice Funding Project, and shared plans to marry her non-binary rapper partner Lil Uzi Vert. Last week, rather than break the news of her forthcoming 2026 debut album online, she announced it at the underground ball Open To All Entertainment, attended by queens, fems, and N.Y.C.’s queer underground. JT’s alt-hood music might be new to our ears, but it’s taking its place in a community whose blueprint she’s been stepping into with intention.

But back to this weekend. When the N.Y.C.-via-Miami rapper released her new 80s, queer-coded new single “Girls Gone Wild,” and announced a no-phones party in New York City on Saturday to celebrate its release, the streets hissed.

I pulled up to Sugar Hill Super Club in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, to catch the “City Cinderella” in the flesh alongside a lineup of queer royalty: Arca, Cortisa Star, Ms. Carrie Stacks, Telfar Clemens, Chicken, Sausha, and NK. A line wrapped around the block going both right and left was populated by people in furs, puffers, and tights. I spotted the Queens-based trans influencer and Telfar model Trapselyna staking out the front. “Telfar and all of ‘em is DJ’ing,” she gushed excitedly. “My favorite JT song is definitely ‘No Bars.’ Cortisa, I can’t pick a favorite song for Cortisa. I’m sorry I cannot.”

Stepping inside felt like walking into an A24 triple feature of Zola, Euphoria, and Bodies, Bodies Bodies. Thick fog and blue-pink light assaulted the senses. Grimy, navy carpet swallowed the floor. Two employees smacked giant purple stickers onto my phone camera and reiterated that “no phones” was law. A girl floated by wearing an outfit made entirely of electronics and LED strips. Downstairs, the gender-neutral bathroom was its own separate party and equally entertaining. “Y’all are so cute,” yelled two boys with faces beat like Fenty-wrapped boxing gloves as my friend and I applied our fifth layer of lipgloss. Someone else piped, “If you want some K, let me know,” like Bed-Stuy customer service.

At the bar, two women served $15 rum punch like communion. When I came up $6 short, a girl next to me covered it without hesitation. Behind the booth, Chicken, the N.Y.C.-based DJ and producer behind “Girls Gone Wild,” tore through badass electronic selections. Later, Telfar Clemens, a man who does not DJ often, took the stage for a b2b with Ms. Carrie Stacks. Models from the brand’s previous campaigns filled the crowd as Clemens and Stacks cycled through anthems of the city, Stacks chopping and screwing R&B and pop hits. Arca closed out the night with a set of sounds my ears found trouble comprehending; I swear I heard Ke$ha’s “TiK ToK,” but the music was starting to blur together.

At 2 a.m., JT arrived: tiny, her blonde bob sharp, sunglasses still on. She was home. “White girls wasted, flash your titties If you’re pretty,” she rapped, reciting the hook to “Girls Gone Wild” as the audience screamed along. Cortisa Star, our Gen F alumnus, flung herself on stage for a brief interlude to bounce to her song “Fun,” a song that’s taken over TikTok and the streets.

Then, I heard JT’s song “Ran Out” ramping up, one of my top tracks of the year, and, criminally, pulled my phone out. She was mid-sentence on the beat, when she paused to yell, “PUT THE PHONE DOWN. I’m having all types of nip slips. If I catch you with that phone out again, I’ma escort you out.” I shoved my phone deep in my bag as the entire room cackled. JT had laid down the rule that keeps the underground sacred. I felt a reset in my body — the kind that comes from being part of a true community.

For years, N.Y.C.’s queer underground has been shaping rap, fashion, and internet culture. Parties like Dick Appointment and Papi Juice have built worlds where artists and DJs like Star, Clemens, Kai The Black Angel, Ms. Carrie Stacks, Chicken, Sausha, NK, Arca, and dozens more can sharpen their sound and identity long before the mainstream catches on. JT isn’t the first artist to mirror a new sound off of that, but her grassroots embrace of the LGBTQ+ community feels like a major step for rap, where homophobia is still standard. I’m here for her to rewrite its DNA, something she’s clearly going all in on.

At 3 a.m., when I stepped outside to go home, a girl sprinted past me, slapping her lap and screamed, “JT TWERKED ON ME! LIKE RIGHT. ON. ME!” Her fur jacket hung off her shoulder, and her lipstick cracked from excitement. “JT IS LIT. YA’LL GOTTA GET BACK IN THERE.”