For Courtney Hollinquest, artistry is about community — ensuring people feel seen and represented. Her creative journey stems from a deep connection to her cultural roots, using dance and music as a bridge for storytelling. Born in California’s San Gabriel Valley to a single mother, Hollinquest — an Afro-Latina of Black, Mexican, and Puerto Rican heritage — grew up in predominantly white San Marino, where racism and prejudice often made her feel like an outsider. Music and dance became her refuge. “I had to find an escape, and that was always dance and music for me,” she tells Remezcla over Zoom. “I would come home after being bullied for my skin color, my hair texture, and my body, and the only way I could stay sane and joyful as a kid was by dancing in front of my mirror, listening to music, and buying CDs.”
That passion became her path. Determined to explore her artistic potential, she pursued dance professionally, eventually securing a role as a backup dancer for a rising pop star — an opportunity that took her around the world for five years. But Hollinquest knew she wanted more. Stepping into the spotlight as a DJ, she embraced the freedom of creating her own artistic world. In 2020, she founded ¡BAILE!, a music party celebrating her Afro-Latina identity, fusing Black and Latine rhythms into an inclusive space. “It was a community effort,” she says. “And now, I see it going deeper — what does the word ‘baile’ mean? How does music connect us to where we are now?”
A choreographer and TV/film producer, Hollinquest is also bringing her creative vision to Netflix with Forever, a Los Angeles-set adaptation of Judy Blume’s novel, set to premiere in the coming months. As she continues to push boundaries, Hollinquest proves herself to be a Major Mujer, and we caught up with her to discuss her journey, challenges, and the power of community.
Did you always envision yourself pursuing a professional career in music and dance?
Growing up in an academically competitive city, you’re given a set path: college, job, family, life. While on that path, something felt wrong. I was instinctively creative — whether solving math problems or choreographing for cheer — so trying to fit into that box never worked.
My family wasn’t allowed those dreams. They hadn’t seen people succeed in creative spaces. As a plus-size Afro-Latina woman, I rarely saw girls like me on TV or professional tours. My family didn’t believe in the process, and the industry told me no. But I had so much love and faith in my destiny that I blocked out the doubt and followed my heart.
Then I got a call to audition for an up-and-coming pop artist, landed the gig, and it changed my life. It led me to my other passion — DJing and music. Not many believed I could do it, but once I did, I proved to them and myself that anything is possible.
When was that one moment or turning point in which you felt you were in the right space?
The first big step was being validated in my talent by getting this job [as a dancer]. Everyone needs to see their hard work recognized, and that moment led to five years of touring the world — seeing myself in places I never knew I existed, like Mexico, Brazil, and Ireland.
But the biggest turning point was creating a community on my own. Because I never saw myself in the worlds I lived in, I craved connectivity and relatability. My experience as a dancer shaped who I wanted to be, exposing me to art like DJing. In the music space, I realized I could create a safe space — not just for me but for others. That was the biggest turning point: seeing a community built through passion and love for the music and culture.
So often, we see people advancing in their careers or making “big moves” on social media, but it’s rare we hear or see those introspective moments in which a person considers quitting or transitioning — did you ever have a moment like that?
When I first stepped into being an artist, I tried to play by the rules. I thought, “Okay, this is something I love, so I have to follow the club’s standards: Hip-hop, R&B, just reggaeton.” These genres were separate, unable to exist in the same world. It may have been successful, but it wasn’t fulfilling. I didn’t feel like I had the formula for what I truly wanted. Watching peers and idols move in ways I wished I could but struggling to get my own footing was discouraging. But through introspection, I saw they were breaking the rules — people sought something outside the norm, and that was not just okay, but encouraged.
Instead of quitting, I asked myself, “What do I want to hear at a party?” I wanted all parts of my culture: dancehall, dem bow, reggaeton, cumbia, LA hip-hop, ‘90s R&B, and Black club music like juke and jersey. After hearing baile funk in Brazil, I realized few women like me were embracing it. So, I made a playlist and my first mix under “BAILE” in 2020, and that kept me from quitting. I finally found what felt natural and authentic. That led to creating a party for a like-minded community — brown and Black, girly, queer, wanting to feel safe, hear something new, and break from the norm. Seeing that people wanted and needed this pushed me to keep going.
In this journey of growth, were there any mentors or other women that inspired or helped you get to where you are now?
One of the first people who showed me the ropes of DJing and encouraged me was Zuri Adia. She’s an LA native, Black and Mexican, and I finally met someone I could relate to culturally and musically — someone with the skill set I aspired to have. She welcomed me with open arms and inspired me to keep going.
I also admired Mia Carucci from afar. Back in 2017, as I was figuring out my sound, seeing her unique artistry and growth showed me you can evolve into so many parts of yourself. My friend BAE BAE created her own space with “Hood Rave,” catering to a group that felt unseen for so long — the Black queer scene, underground music. As an Afro-Latina woman, she built a safe, sustainable business with her partner, DJ Kita, while keeping it accessible. She always considers those who may not have the funds for a ticket. Seeing that showed me sustainability and accessibility can coexist. I also want to shout out Bianca Oblivion, a Mexican DJ from LA who’s traveling the world, making her own music, and taking up space in ways the white underground electronic scene would say no to. She’s like, “No? Watch me work,” performing at festivals like HARD and EDC.
And what’s one of the biggest hardships you’ve faced as a woman — or even as a Latina — in the music industry?
The hardest thing is getting the same opportunities as the guys. The bar managers, owners, and curators I deal with are all men. I’ve never negotiated programming or space with a woman. It’s tough to pitch myself to men who don’t understand or to negotiate deals in an industry where they dominate. Sponsorships and money are another issue. I see male-dominated parties getting big brand deals, but female-run parties like ¡BAILE! don’t get the same backing. If you look at the industry, where are the really big female-dominated parties run by Latina, Black, and Afro-Latina women? The ratio is off, making women feel like they need a man to get to the next level. For a long time, I felt that way—needing validation from my male peers or a lineup spot to grow. But I’m welcoming an evolution of de-centering men and realizing, ‘I can be all that for myself.’
For Women’s Month, I get asked to do parties they don’t ask me to do in January. Can we just be equal? It’s not just about equality — it’s about equity. How do women get what men are given so easily? How do women get into studios to learn production? Bring women into the fold. Stop gatekeeping.
What do you feel can be done to make the music industry feel more safe and collective for women?
If we’re serious about de-centering men from our professional pursuits, women need to come together, figure out how we got here, and plan the steps forward — there’s power in numbers, right? I don’t know if the world is programmed to let us take up space safely without a man involved. So, we need a larger plan, like a coup: Collaborating, making a plan, and building our own community. Pooling funds to create festivals and bigger parties, instead of relying on male corporate brand deals. Let’s be our own brand deals.
The industry doesn’t hand things to women. They want to see what someone builds on their own before putting money behind it. Or maybe we can do it without that. You’d be surprised what happens when you call on your community for help. Somewhere in that is the solution, and I’m excited to explore it.
Women can affect each other’s journey or success, too. Can you explain why a crabs in a barrel mentality (“if I can’t have it, neither can you”) is harmful to women?
That mentality comes from a lack of opportunities, right? This space is so saturated with things men can get but women can’t. Of course, it feels like, “Wow, there’s one opportunity and 20 of us — equally good, equally beautiful inside and out, equally putting in the time — but only one can have it.” It creates competition. I can’t blame people for feeling that way. The world is set up for us to go against each other. I’ve felt jealous of opportunities I felt I deserved, but I had to rework that thinking: “Thank God one of us is there, doing a good job, so more opportunities can open for us as women, especially Black and Latina women.
The only way to break that barrel is to create more opportunities where we all can win. We want to be happy for each other, but the world breeds scarcity and competition, keeping us in survival mode. It’s a tough place to be. I’ve seen it improve, though, especially with social media. Now, we can put ourselves on, create our own jobs, and show why we’re different. You can go to two DJs’ Instagrams and see they are unique. The more we use these platforms, the more opportunities we create, and the less we have to fight each other for them.
Now that you’re mentioning social media, we’re seeing more and more women artists and music creatives speak out about how their work went unprotected or their trust was abused in the industry — what has been your perspective on this, if any? Is this something you’ve seen happen?
To be candid, that happened to me too. I was taken advantage of, and my creative license was taken from me. I wish I had the confidence back then — or had seen examples of people speaking out — to maybe stop it from happening to someone else. But I didn’t at that moment. Now, seeing women stand up for themselves makes me proud. It’s getting better because there are examples showing we don’t have to accept the treatment people say we must. It’s been really healing for me to witness and be inspired by it. You can’t censor that. People try, especially with everything going on in the world, and Latino people being so censored — but I’m happy we’re still fighting and creating discourse. It’s powerful that we have tools to express ourselves, speak on what’s wrong, and call on others for support.
What’s one of your favorite parts of where you are now in your journey?
I’m just so excited to have found my confidence and ideas. I feel like, for so long, I second-guessed them. Now, I’m in a place where I can be as unrealistic as I want and make [things] happen because I’m confident in what I believe in. If you don’t take risks powered by your heart and your love for “the thing,” what are you doing? I’m also really excited about taking ¡BAILE! to another level that is outside of just parties, and it’s going to be about culture. I’m also excited about learning how to make music, too. I know I’m a facilitator of music, but I’m excited to find my own identity through my own music-making.
What do you hope to personally change about the music industry, especially for the next generation of women in this space? Talk to us about your legacy of (the importance of) making space for others while on your journey.
I want people to see that you don’t have to fit into a box or play the game. This world has been set up with rules for so long, but music is inherently a creative space. You’re making sounds, melodies, words, and expressing emotion — none of that should be confined to a box of what needs to be successful. We’re seeing more people become successful based on intuition, not by playing the popstar game.
The legacy I’d want to leave through ¡BAILE! is to break those barriers. I was told I couldn’t do so many things, but once I shattered those chains, I was able to pursue my biggest dreams. I hope people find that empowerment. There will be new obstacles, but trusting yourself and listening to your intuition, especially in creative endeavors, is key, without giving too much power to the system.
