On the Friday night after Thanksgiving, a hotel room on the 17th floor of the Hotel Indigo in Downtown Los Angeles was transformed into a leather dressing room. About a dozen friends crowded around a king-size bed, cracking open Tecates, vibing to techno house music from a portable speaker, and adjusting each other’s harnesses.
The flash of a digital camera went off like a strobe as Yair Lopez documented his friends before their night at an afterparty. They were all there as part of the L.A. iteration of CLAW: a national leather and kink convention that offers workshops, parties and community spaces for people interested in BDSM culture. Founded in 2002, the convention started out in Cleveland, but has also held events in in L.A. since 2021.
As others spent their Thanksgiving holiday with blood relatives at the dinner table, this particular gathering was dubbed “Leather Thanksgiving” — a celebration of chosen family, cobbled together from various corners of L.A.’s queer nightlife. For Lopez and his friends, that sense of belonging is only growing.
“This chain was gifted to me from a friend,” Lopez said as he adjusted the silver around his neck. “Chains with a lock represent that you have a dom and the other person has the key. I’m still waiting for the lock,” he added jokingly, glancing at his boyfriend.
It was a big day for Lopez. Earlier he showcased three of his photos as part of a leather art gallery and attended a screening of “Encuerados,” a short documentary he appeared in, which shadowed a group of Latino men carving out space in L.A.’s leather community. An “Encuerados” afterparty would soon follow.
For Lopez and his friends, leather is less about fetish and more about kinship, safety and visibility, in a city where queer Latino spaces remain scarce.
Lopez has become a visible force in L.A.’s leather underground scene, building community through both his art and the spaces he helps create. He has self-published his work through photos and zines; he also founded Contramundo, a Latino leather night at the Bullet Bar in North Hollywood. His community work even led to a third-place finish in the 2023 Mr. L.A. Leather competition.
He started shooting a decade ago, moving from street scenes and hikes to L.A.’s queer nightlife. That work eventually led him to the Eagle, where he found a muse and a community he didn’t know he needed.
“I grew up in a pretty religious Mexican household in the San Fernando Valley. I was made to feel ashamed of who I was, even my own body, so finding this felt so needed,” he recalled.
Located in Silver Lake, the Eagle is a legacy leather bar that has anchored L.A.’s kink scene for decades. It is also one of the few remaining spaces for this corner of queer nightlife. And while Lopez did feel seen through the leather community, there was still a piece missing.
“It is no surprise that a lot of gay spaces are predominantly white, so finding gay brown community is hard. But that changed when I started meeting other like-minded Latinos in leather,” Lopez said.
One of those Latinos was Leonardo Iriarte, the first Latino Mr. L.A. Leather and co-founder of Payasos L.A., a nonprofit that organizes events and mutual aid efforts to support Latino visibility in the leather world.
The group of friends ran into Iriarte as they made their way to the 18th floor, where he was DJing for the night in a large, dimly lit conference room.
Dressed in black leather pants and boots, Iriarte had “Mr. L.A. Leather 2011” embroidered across the back of his vest. The Michoacán native also happened to be the protagonist of the “Encuerados” documentary and host of the “” afterparty.
“When I moved to the United States in 2001, I didn’t move for the classic American dream of looking for a better life financially,” said Iriarte. “My purpose of moving here was to be free as a gay person.”
And while Iriarte did find that freedom he hoped for, he was not prepared for the racism he would encounter in the leather scene — especially after winning his title.
“I remember a hate campaign and even death threats after I won,” he said. “It was scary, but it opened a door for other Latinos, and this space has grown so much since.”
As it gets closer to midnight, the dark conference room swells with bodies moving to Iriarte’s pulsing techno. Partygoers poured in sporting leather chaps, chest-hugging harnesses, and even tejana hats for a vaquero-leather twist.
Lopez put down his camera to circulate and greet friends from over the years. He bumped into Orlando Bedolla, director of “Encuerados,” who first met Lopez four years ago while filming the documentary.
“I learned about his photography, the zine he was making, all of it,” Bedolla said. “I found him interesting because he is literally a Latino increasing Latino representation in the leather community.”
Bedolla recalled attending CLAW L.A. in 2021 and going to his first Latino party there after getting an invite from Payasos L.A. Inside, he found a room full of mostly Latino men in jockstraps, harnesses and leather. He was struck by the energy of an underground community he didn’t realize existed. That night would become the seed for the film.
On the dance floor, colored lights flashed across Lopez’s visage as he tried to keep track of his room key. His friends borrowed it to run upstairs to their shared room for more drinks — and he wondered aloud about how messy it would be after their two-night stay.
These spaces, low-lit yet overflowing with camaraderie, offer the community something harder to find anywhere else, especially during the holidays: the freedom to be fully themselves.
“When I step into spaces like this, I don’t just see leather,” Lopez said, taking a sip of his vodka soda. “I see people reaching for some kind of joy and connection we’re constantly told is wrong. But we all want to feel touched and seen — and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
The post Forget the ugly sweaters: How a Latino leather community does the holidays appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
