Amon Elise is a community organizer, cuddle facilitator, consent guardian, and erotic communicator. They are reshaping Black queer spaces in Los Angeles through the revival of Decadence, a Black and queer-only play party, and LA Cuddle Club, a space for platonic intimacy. With an intentional approach, Amon Elise fosters environments where Black queer people can exist without compromise; reconnecting with each other through community, consent, and care.
I first met Amon Elise over FaceTime—not for this interview, but for the vetting process of Decadence. But before getting the stamp of approval, Amon needed to confirm that I was, in fact, Black, queer, and had a solid understanding of consent. The process wasn’t just about checking boxes but ensuring the space remained safe and intentional. It made me want to be there even more.
By the time the night arrived, I was a ball of nerves and excitement, standing in my sheer black lingerie in a sexy downtown L.A. loft. (This, from the girl whose nighttime uniform is usually an oversized tee and maybe some cotton panties.) I had never been in a space so Black and queer—aside from the Renaissance concert—but this space was exclusively Black.
Before the evening festivities began, Amon walked the crowd of about 30 Black queer folks through consent and a grounding exercise. I had to know more about the person who moved so effortlessly in such an intimate space, encouraging others to let go, get their lives, and explore their inner freak.
A Name That Holds Power
They were born Cori Amon Elise. But for the sake of ease in queer spaces, they go by Amon Elise. They find that it aligns more with their identity and expression.
“My mother wanted me to break glass ceilings. She was like, boy names get hired more than girl names, and white boy names get hired more than Black boy names. And so she named me Cori because she thought I would get paid more and have more opportunities than I would if she had named me something else.”
Having a parent so aware of gender and racial inequality helped shape their identity and politics. And just as their mother intended, their legal name led them to unexpected opportunities. It got them into the automotive industry, where they worked in a warehouse, maneuvering forklifts and cherry pickers to move heavy car parts. At just 120 pounds, they were navigating a world dominated by men, proving their capability in a space that might not have welcomed them otherwise.
But while Cori served its purpose professionally, Amon found that in queer spaces, the name didn’t align with how they saw themselves. “Cori is a cool name, but I never really felt like it fit,” they explained. It was through their move to L.A. and immersion in Black queer community spaces that they fully embraced Amon Elise—an identity that felt wholly their own.
From the Warehouse to the Play Party
Amon’s career path took an unconventional turn from warehouses to community spaces, but the shift was a natural progression. After a difficult breakup in 2021, they took time away in Hawaii, seeking healing and clarity. Upon returning to LA, Amon committed to intentionally cultivate friendships within the Black queer community.
“I wasn’t settling for anything less. I wanted Black queer friends. I wanted spaces that centered us. And if I couldn’t find them, I was going to create them.”
Their community work expanded organically, beginning with LA Cuddle Club, a platonic space dedicated to nurturing touch-based intimacy. They also became an ambassador for Feeld, a dating app that centers alternative relationship structures.
Amon connected with DC Cuddle Club founder Jax, creating a sister organization that prioritized consent education and destigmatizing non-sexual touch. Their work in consent facilitation caught the attention of Sasha Jones, the head of Cuties LA, who saw Amon as the perfect person to help revive Decadence—a Black and queer-only play party that had previously been on hiatus.
Decadence: A Space for Black Queer Liberation
“I love the idea of queerness centered around people of color.”
Amon Elise’s approach to gatekeeping the attendance list for Decadence was firm yet intentional—ensuring that Decadence remained a true refuge for Black queer folks.
“We’re not doing a paper bag test. It’s not a one-drop rule. But we are making sure that Black people feel safe here. If you have to explain your Blackness, this might not be the space for you.”
But their efforts haven’t come without pushback from non-Black people of color. But Amon Elise has also experienced critique from other Black queer people, less comfortable with the intimacy they are trying to foster. “People dox you out of fear—and it be our own,” they said, acknowledging how internalized biases sometimes threaten the very communities they are trying to uplift.
Beyond building individual spaces, Amon is focused on a larger vision. “I want people to steal my ideas. I don’t like having to run everything.” While they have created revolutionary spaces, they want others to take the reins so they can focus on building new initiatives. “I have a laundry list of places I want to create. I want people to prosper.”
The Erotic as a Tool for Liberation
Beyond facilitating play spaces, Amon describes themselves as an “erotic communicator,” a phrase that extends beyond sexuality into the broader experience of pleasure, community, and connection.
“Eroticism doesn’t always mean sex. It’s about keeping things juicy, about bringing community closer, whether that’s through touch, conversation, or movement.”
As a poet, writer, and yoga practitioner, Amon incorporates sensuality and embodiment into their work. Trained as a yoga instructor, they practice with an awareness of how movement connects to self-liberation. Their experiences have led them to embrace an interdisciplinary approach to community care, one that values emotional, spiritual, and physical intimacy equally.
Creating the Future of Black Queer Community
Amon’s vision for the future is expansive. They see spaces like Decadence and LA Cuddle Club as part of a larger ecosystem of Black queer liberation.
“If we don’t create these spaces, no one else will. And I refuse to wait for permission to exist.”
Amon also strongly believes in the value of Black labor, pushing back against the idea that Black people should offer their work for free.
“I don’t believe in Black people giving free labor—we did that. And I don’t mean slavery, because that’s stolen labor. I mean, we as Black people give out free labor all the time. We’re done. We need to eat.”
Their work continues to evolve, grounded in a deep belief that Black queer people deserve more than just inclusion. We deserve spaces built with us in mind from the start.
“I want us to be free in every way possible. Free to touch, to play, to exist without explanation. That’s the work I do, and that’s the world I want to live in.”
For more on Amon Elise’s work, follow them on Instagram at @amonelise or visit LA Cuddle Club’s page for upcoming events.
