Two sides of the turnstable:

Collins said it can work well when events in the underground scene are DIY, or “do-it-yourself” — like they are at Happy Gallery — because organizers can seek like-minded individuals from the community to help keep these smaller events safe.

Collins witnessed this when taking part in a recent show organized by someone who was trying to raise money to help a friend’s family escape war-torn Gaza.

“I think people are much more capable than they think they are,” she said.  “... This person had never even organized a show before. They just really cared about helping their friend ….” 

Lindsey Williams, vice president of the DJ Club, says poor substance management and questionable leaders at bigger venues often create problems.

“Whether it be like Narcan or needle disposal areas, they need to be providing stuff like that,” Williams said.

Accessibility of resources includes overdose preventative tactics and providing DJs with their own mediator, DePaul professor Daniel Makagon, who specializes in urban communication and underground culture. 

“One of the most important things I learned from DJs I have met is that it is important to have a trustworthy team,” said Makagon, adding that having a safe person with the DJ at all times can lead to a better community. 

Harm reduction organizations have been around since the underground music scene in Chicago became commercialized in the 1990s, providing a safe space for all patrons by educating them on drug use effects and informing them about purity levels in substances. 

Because of the structure of the underground scene, organizers can be held responsible for not taking the proper procedures to handle drug users, and the responsibility can fall on performers, says Torres. 

“This sounds like something antithetical to DIY community-building and connection,” said Makagon. “but that person who works with the DJ can understand that community-building and safety are complementary, not at odds.”

Torres recalls not having full reign on what happens at the shows where she performs and having to handle difficult situations, like someone using substances, by herself or with friends who attend.

Having only been a part of this community for a little over a year, Torres is still figuring out what she’s OK with at an event – and what she’s not.

Similarly, Suggs and Williams created “Girls Underground,” a DJ collective for women and people assigned female at birth (AFAB), who are based in Chicago. The collective serves as a safe space for women and AFAB DJs to be a part of a group that values safety and promotes community.

While such things can be an afterthought for larger underground events, spaces like Happy Gallery are trying to provide attendees with a safe underground experience that also features artists native to Chicago.

By promoting themselves on social media, the art gallery opens its doors to all people engaged in the underground music scene.

The self-proclaimed DIY gallery and artist studio features knick-knacks scaling the walls behind and around the makeshift dance floor. Strangers invite each other to dance, accepting one another into their circles with no issue.

“Someone working the venue, someone working the door, someone working at the bar, someone being at the show, someone being on the guest list,” Torres said. “That's a hierarchy that we've created within these scenes. So, people hold certain positions of authority, and there's a structure to it.”

That organizational structure, she said,  can help DJs thrive and stay safe in the underground music scene.

“It’s a very human thing I don’t want people to lose,” Torres said. “I think DJs are pretty important, even if we're kind of over-represented sometimes. I feel a part of something, not (just) as an individual.”