Aquenta’s DJ career spans both local and international stages, with performances at renowned events such as Pxssy Palace (UK), Daybreak Festival (Naarm), Dayshift Fest (Eora), Rave Relief (Boorloo), and Sydney World Pride (Eora).

Their mixes and performances are bold, empowering, and deeply meaningful—not just collections of hot tracks but powerful narratives often infused with political messages. One standout example is their Triple J Friday Mix, which weaves together footwork, rap, and grime, overlaid with the impactful words of Palestinian political activist Ghassan Kanafani.

Riana was recently honored with the Arts & Disability Award for early-career artists. Their multifaceted artistic practice spans choreography, video/film, sound design, writing, and installation, all challenging entrenched structures and advocating for social change.

We caught up with Riana ahead of their performance at Club 77 to discuss their artistic practice, accessibility in the club scene, and the groundbreaking party series Crip Rave Theory.

Tell us a bit about yourself and your practice inside and outside DJing:

As a DJ, my sound is a genre-blending concoction: I always start from my Afro-Dominican roots, and then go all over from there. Expect Bouyon, rap, Dancehall, breaks, global club, rnb and everything in between.

I also founded and run a club night called CRIP RAVE THEORY (@cripravetheory on Instagram), which draws on intersectional disabled/crip knowledge to try to create more accessible rave spaces. I practice as an artist, curator and a creative access producer/consultant and I make choreography, films, write and sound design as part of my broader artistic practice. I have a background in anti-discrimination law. All my work is both playful and political.

What are some things you want people to know about CRIP RAVE THEORY?

First of all, I think it does need to be said that CRIP RAVE THEORY club nights are just that; club nights. That feeling you get when you’re totally in flow, dancing to a really incredible track as part of a crowd under a wash of lights: the euphoria, the intoxication, the sense of belonging – that’s CRIP RAVE THEORY. And it’s also more than that. The club nights usually happen outside traditional club spaces, they are disability led and informed, and as part of them we try to put a range of intersectional access features in place, which take many forms and appear at many points pre, during and post our parties.

This could look like having Auslan (Australian Sign Language) interpreters available at parties – not just for interpreting functional info, but also for social interpreting; so that there is support available to enable D/deaf and hearing party-goers and artists to chat with each other in their primary languages. Or providing bathrooms that are all-gender and wheelchair-accessible. Or having a range of seating options in the club space, so people don’t have to dance on their feet the whole night – they can also do so sitting down.

One of the goals of CRIP RAVE THEORY is to create a space where disability is positioned as something that has a place within club and music culture, and where disabled identity is highlighted and celebrated.

Despite it being 2025, and more people openly identifying as disabled than ever, in most club and music places this aspect of people’s lived experiences continues to be really backgrounded. I’ve had so many friends and musical peers tell me they feel they can’t openly express their access needs or associate themselves with disability in club and music spaces, because they’ll run the risk of losing gigs, or not being invited to things anymore, or not being taken seriously anymore, or losing their cultural cachet because disability isn’t seen as something that can be associated with being fun, talented, sexy, cool, etc. I guess I wanted to challenge all of that.

Another of CRIP RAVE THEORY’s goals is to build inter-community solidarity and connection. It’s not about trying to create a space solely for people who identify exclusively with disability – it’s a space for everyone; and especially for people who have been sidelined or excluded from traditional club and music spaces for any reason - perhaps because they are bla(c)k, queer, trans, etc. The hope is that through attending our events, people can develop deeper understandings of one another, cultivating mutual respect, pride, and a staunch commitment to supporting us all to flourish within a broader culture that sees many of us as unimportant and disposable.

Underpinned by Disability Justice values, it’s also a container      within which people are encouraged to embrace and express the wholeness within themselves – the fact that they are black AND disabled, or queer AND disabled, etc.  

It’s not perfect – no space is, especially because needs, resources and capacities will always shift and change. But it’s a commitment to a series of ongoing experiments – that’s why the word ‘Theory’ exists in the name – and these are grounded in lived experience, ongoing learning, and solidarity not charity, which feel like good places to move from.

How would you like to see club and festival spaces evolve to become more accessible?

It’s a question I get asked all the time, and honestly there isn’t the time or page-space to list all the ways. But some places to start off the top of my head would be:

- book more disabled-identifying artists

- provide more information about your events, so people can assess for themselves whether they’re accessible to them as individuals or not, and

- make a commitment to making your events more accessible, and consult with people who have knowledge around this to support you in making changes  

As an interdisciplinary artist, how do you combine your different practices in your projects?

I think everything naturally feeds into and informs everything else? Like, curating is a type of choreography. So is playing music. You are creating the conditions for an experience.

If I’m making a film, I’m thinking about how I want it to be scored as I shoot it. If I’m throwing a party, I’m thinking about how the setup of a space will influence how people move around and interact with it. If I’m writing copy, I’m considering how it might make people feel and consequently the ways in which they might interact with the work. It’s all connected so I kind of just try to look at things many times, with many lenses.

Your sets feel incredibly passionate and often have underlying political messages, it's clear to me you understand the importance of music as a powerful tool for unity and empowerment. What do you hope for people to take away from your sets?

I hope my sets make people feel things! Galvanized, exhilarated, joyous, sexy, hopeful, pensive etc. Lots of things, not just one thing.

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