Shraven on Queer Art, Authenticity, and the Freaky Kiki Horror Ball

By Cesar A Reyes

When you meet Shraven, it’s clear right away this is someone who lives and breathes creativity. She’s not just part of the San Diego Kiki ballroom scene; she’s helping shape it. With three years in ballroom under her belt, Shraven moves through the culture not just as a performer, but as a connector, an advocate, a builder.

“I’ve always seen myself as an artist,” she says thoughtfully. “Anime, makeup, cooking, hair, music, dance—I’ve had my hands in all of it. Growing up in a third-world country, the arts were my escape. My safe place.”

That sense of safety, of finding a world where expression isn’t just allowed but celebrated, is what drew Shraven to ballroom in the first place. And it’s what fuels her work behind the scenes of this year’s Freaky Kiki Horror Ball—one of the most anticipated events in San Diego’s queer cultural calendar.

While she isn’t the founder of the ball, Shraven has been working closely with others in the community to help organize and bring it to life. The horror theme? That’s personal. “My birthday falls on Samhain,” she says, smiling. “So I’ve always felt a natural pull to the spooky, the strange, the theatrical.” But it’s also about something deeper: creating a space that feels rooted in the legacy of ballroom and fully owned by the community. “I wanted to help show San Diego’s scene—especially the newer generation—that we can create something for ourselves. We can do it right, and we can do it together.”

She’s quick to acknowledge those who paved the way: “I have to give props to the Queen of San Diego herself, Founding Mother Strawberry Mehron. She’s the one who truly brought ballroom here. We wouldn’t be doing this without her.”

This year, Shraven is excited for what’s coming: the growth, the energy, the families from Los Angeles coming to support, and even folks from the East Coast making the trip to walk and showcase their styles. “That kind of cross-country love and presence? It means a lot to us.”

And if you’re wondering who’s allowed to walk in the ball—Shraven’s answer is simple: “Everyone. You don’t have to be part of a house. Just come prepared. Know your category. Do your research. We’re open, but we also respect the culture.”

For Shraven, ballroom is sacred ground. “It was created by our Fem queens—trans women who built these spaces so Black and brown queer folks could have somewhere to feel free. Somewhere to exist. To compete. To matter.”

She talks about how ballroom once taught people how to survive—how to blend in, how to be “real” enough to stay safe. “That was the whole point of the realness category back in the day. It wasn’t just for fun. It was survival.”

And though times have changed, the spirit of ballroom hasn’t. “It’s the root of so much of today’s pop culture, even if we don’t always get the credit. Ballroom is authenticity. It’s raw. It’s joy. It’s truth.”

So what does she hope people feel when they leave the Freaky Kiki Horror Ball?

“I just want people to remember the feeling. The moments. And then—maybe—go home and start digging. Learn where all this comes from. Understand why it matters.”

When asked to choose a word that captures ballroom’s soul, Shraven pauses, then WORD is Eclectic, Eccentric. The kind of art you see in ballroom? It’s pure. It’s blood, sweat, and tears. People live this. And because of that, we’ve been able to shift how the world sees us—as queer people, as artists, as leaders.”

She sits with that for a moment. Then adds, “I’m forever thankful.”