Alise King on Performing Pride and Finding Her Voice as a Queer Black Woman

From emotional crowd moments to family reconciliation, the Detroit performer reflects on what Pride has taught her about connection

Kelli Dunham

Published: May 20, 2026 | Last Updated: May 20, 2026

Before the first note lands, Alise King is already doing something arguably even harder than singing — she’s reading the room. A Detroit vocalist rooted in R&B, soul and gospel, King has built a reputation for performances that don’t just sound powerful, but feel personal. Her voice carries the kind of control and emotional range that can cut through even the chaos of an outdoor Pride festival. And her stage presence makes it clear she’s not just performing at a crowd, but connecting with it.

A multi-award-winning artist, King has been recognized with honors including the Spirit of Detroit Award and multiple Detroit music awards, including being named Best R&B Female Artist at the Detroit Black Music Awards. She was also named the Detroit winner of BET’s “Apollo Live.” Over the years, she’s been the opening acts for icons like Chaka Khan, George Clinton, Cynthia Erivo and Aretha Franklin — a testament to her staying power as a live performer. Her most recent EP was 2022's “Love Drunk," and she is currently back in the studio recording "Diary of a Soul Singer," a more introspective project with songs that focus on the singer's interior life.

King will kick off her Impossible Dreams Tour by headlining Ferndale Pride on May 30, hitting the stage at 8 p.m. on the Credit Union One Performance Stage. You can also catch her on the Pride Stage at Motor City Pride at 4 p.m. on June 7. In our interview, King reflects on building trust with audiences, finding her voice as a queer artist and how she turns even the most unpredictable stage into something that feels like home.

Outdoor Pride events can be tough environments for performers. But based on the videos floating around the internet, it seems like you’ve really figured out how to connect in that space. How did you get there?

It took trial and error — years of it — to really hone my craft. Especially with outdoor performances, it’s very different. You’ve got a massive crowd, open air and completely different acoustics. But I don’t want any of that to be a distraction. My focus is making sure my voice still reaches people — really reaches them — and connects with their hearts and minds. That’s always the goal. Pride events are for our community, so I want to give to people both on and off the stage. I’m not just there to perform. I do meet-and-greets, I connect, give hugs, give love, give encouragement, give support. That’s the mindset I go into it with. I want people to know I’m not just showing up to get paid. I’m showing up to say, “Hey, family.”

LGBTQ+ audiences are not comparable to any other audience. The energy is so high, the love is indescribable. For the longest time, I was trying to find my voice as an African American queer woman. I’m a woman first. I’m African American second, and I’m queer. I had a lot working against me. So I set my sights on making those things my superpower. When I said, “You know what, I’m just going to be me,” I had one of those moments where I could finally breathe. This is what I’m supposed to do. I’ve learned so much from so many different cultures and communities at Pride events. It’s opened my mind and my heart to a whole new way of looking at the world. I’ve met amazing people and heard some of the most inspiring stories.

Do you have a specific moment that really inspired you?

I performed at a Pride festival in Ohio where I met a young man named Zach. It was his first Pride — he was maybe 14 or 15. His aunt brought him because his dad had put him out when he came out, and he was living with her. Zach’s aunt accepted him, but all he wanted was for his dad to be there. We talked, and I gave him one of my CDs. He kept saying, “I just wish my dad could see me like this, right now, in this moment.”

Then, as we were leaving the venue, we saw Zach with his aunt — and his dad had come. His dad showed up. His aunt had told him, “This is the happiest I’ve ever seen your son. You need to see this.” There was this embrace — hugging, crying. I stood there watching and started crying myself. I walked back to my trailer in tears because it was such a powerful moment. It was beautiful.

I’m not just there to perform. I do meet-and-greets, I connect, give hugs, give love, give encouragement, give support. That’s the mindset I go into it with. I want people to know I’m not just showing up to get paid. I’m showing up to say, “Hey, family.”
— Alise King

That’s about as powerful as it gets.

And I related to it, to some extent, because I got kicked out when I came out at 18. And my mom came around. But it didn’t happen quickly. I think a lot of parents struggle because they don’t know their child can be happy this way. When my mom saw that I had a community around me, it changed things. She realized I wasn’t alone. I think she had been afraid — afraid of what people would say, afraid of her child being judged or excluded. I grew up in a very religious family, and she’s a mama bear — there are nine of us — so she was protective. She didn’t want people talking about her child in a negative way, and I understood that.

A big turning point was my grandmother talking to her — her mom. She told her, “You can’t live her life for her. She has to live her life, just like I let you live yours.” And then other people helped her see things differently, including my pastor at the time, whose daughter is gay. It opened her mind. Sometimes it takes someone outside the situation to help a parent understand, because emotions run so high. After that, my mom apologized, and things started to shift. At the end of the day, she just wants me to be happy, whatever that looks like. Even if it doesn’t fully align with her beliefs, she understands it’s not her life to live.

Even now, 20 years later, she’s still getting used to it in some ways. But she fully accepts me. She comes to Pride festivals. She’s my biggest fan.

Wow — the magic of Pride! So was it always smooth sailing in the month of June? Has it always been easy to make Pride such an important part of your performing career?

I used to get a lot of backlash for doing Pride festivals because my band at the time was primarily straight men. They had these stereotypes — like the idea that if someone is gay, they automatically want you. And I’m like, “Listen, I have a type. Just because I’m gay and you’re a woman, or he’s gay and you’re a man, doesn’t mean anyone automatically wants you.”

Through working with me, those straight men got to see who we really are as a community. They gained understanding, and with that came respect. A lot of them are now allies. Even though I don’t work with some of those guys anymore, they walked away knowing something important: We’re just like you. We’re no different.

A lot of the fan commentary online talks about your ability to really read a crowd. Can you talk about a moment where that changed your performance in real time?

There was a moment at Ann Arbor Pride last year. I was on stage singing, and I felt this energy pulling at me. There was a massive crowd, so I couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but I could feel it. This energy felt heavy. So I stopped mid-song and scanned the crowd. I saw a woman to the left of the stage, just bawling. I said, “You — come here.” She and her partner came forward, and she was sobbing. I could tell she was carrying something heavy. I said, “I’m going to repeat this verse.” I was singing CeeLo Green’s “Crazy,” which is about wanting to be yourself when people try to make you feel like something’s wrong with you. I sang it again, and she broke down. I told her, “There’s nothing wrong with you. You are exactly who you’re supposed to be. Be unapologetic. Set your boundaries. Love yourself louder than anybody else will.” She kept saying, “I needed to hear that.” Whatever she was feeling in that moment, I was able to meet her there through the music — because I’ve been there before.

After the set, I went straight to her and gave her a hug. When I first started, I used to be in my head: “Do they like me? Are they laughing at me?” But once I became sure of myself, I let that go. When you carry that confidence on stage, the audience feels it.

What can audiences expect from your Pride sets this year?

Listen, this year especially, we’re going to dance, we’re going to sing. I want people dancing until they’re sweating. I want people to levitate. I don’t want anyone sitting down — I want them completely captivated. I’m looking forward to the dancing, the laughter, and seeing people smile. I want to see the voguing. And yes — I’m pulling people on stage. Come dance with me!

The whole show is going to match that energy. I’ve got my drummer, my musical director and an incredible team — people from the community and allies. When I tell you we’re about to get down, I mean it. I always map out my set, and honestly, 45 minutes wasn’t enough. It was hard to cut songs because I want to give a little bit of everything — a little bit of me in every song. And I’m getting a custom outfit made, so I can’t say too much. But it’s going to be grand. Just know there will be some thighs out. In the end, I want people to walk away feeling encouraged, supported, seen. And to know that they matter. For me, this is more than a performance. It’s my purpose.