Strike A Pose
Billy Porter is on top of the world. Or, at least, on top of New York City. On a late summer’s afternoon, the fearless actor, musician, and advocate is lounging at the poolside bar on the roof of a swish members’ club in the Meatpacking district, sipping on a spicy margarita and kicking his shoes off. “Excuse me, I like to have my feet out!” he hoots, as his chunky designer trainers go flying.
The Manhattan neighbourhood we’re in was an LGBTQ+ hub in the ’70s, with back-alley bars like Mineshaft that catered to every shade of kink. But although the designer shops and boutique hotels that line the streets today attract quite a different crowd from the leather daddies and sex workers of previous decades, Porter’s fierce energy is an energizing reminder of the subversive creativity that New York is known for.
When he arrived in the city in the ’90s, Porter knew that, as a gay, Black man, he’d risk being put in a box if he didn’t beat his own path. When speaking about the hurdles he had to overcome, he’s a dose of unapologetic realness.
“I had to consciously choose the track,” he says. “What was available to me in
