If you claim to live by PLUR, it is time to put those values into practice — not just on the dance floor, but in every conversation that matters. This article is a call-in for white ravers and the broader festival community. Written by Caitlin Blake (@eduCaitlinB), it challenges us to examine how we use Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect — and whether we are actually living those values or weaponizing them to avoid discomfort.
For the rave fam who sees rave clothing as more than fabric — as identity, as belonging, as a statement — this conversation is essential. The culture we love was built by Black and brown artists, DJs, and communities. Honoring that lineage means doing more than wearing the kandi.
Why This Conversation Matters in Rave Culture
Rave culture has always positioned itself as a space of radical acceptance. PLUR is the ethos printed on trading cards, spelled out in kandi bracelets, and whispered between strangers sharing a moment under the laser lights. But ethos without action is just aesthetics.
White ravers benefit from white privilege — receiving advantages not earned but given based on the color of your skin. For example, knowing you will never be profiled for simply existing in a space. Some of us have been engaged in anti-racism work for years. Others, because of that same privilege, are only now beginning to reckon with race relations in the United States and within our own scene.
No matter where you are on that journey, this much is clear: using PLUR to silence BIPOC (Black and Indigenous people of color) brothers, sisters, and theydies when they tell you your actions or words are causing harm is unacceptable. It does not matter how good your intentions feel to you. Impact always outweighs intention.
What Is Toxic Positivity — and How Does It Show Up at Festivals
Toxic positivity might be a new term for some. It describes using words or actions to shut down a dialogue, especially when someone is sharing something vulnerable or sensitive — like trying to tell you that something you did was harmful. Positivity itself is not toxic. But when you deploy positivity as a shield to silence someone, it becomes a weapon.
Here is a concrete example. You post a photo intending to support BIPOC and use the hashtag #AllLivesMatter. People begin commenting to let you know that hashtag is harmful — it is used to uphold white supremacy and erase the specific experiences of Black people. They suggest #BlackLivesMatter instead.
Instead of listening, you respond: "You know my intentions are good. This is not very PLUR of you. I do not understand why you are being so negative." Then you block them — and anyone else who dares to point out the problem.
That is toxic positivity in action. You have used the language of love and unity to avoid accountability. And in doing so, you have caused more harm — not less. The rave community deserves better from its members, especially those of us who wear the culture proudly in our festival tops and kandi stacks.
Breaking Down PLUR as Anti-Racist Practice
PLUR is not a free pass. It is a framework — and frameworks only work when you apply them honestly. Let us walk through each letter and examine what it looks like when you actually put it into practice during difficult conversations about race and beyond.
Peace
You might feel immediately defensive or even angry when someone suggests you did something harmful. That is a normal human response — but it is not where you should stay. Change your perspective. Appreciate that someone is taking the time to engage with you rather than writing you off entirely.
Find your inner calm. Do not lash out or get defensive when someone is trying to have a real conversation with you. When a person takes the energy to educate you, it is an act of care. Recognize that care. Sit with the discomfort instead of running from it. Peace is not the absence of conflict — it is the willingness to move through conflict with grace.
Love
Express gratitude to the people who are taking the time to tell you how and why what you did was harmful. BIPOC often take on enormous emotional and intellectual labor when trying to dialogue with white people about race. That labor is not owed to you. When someone chooses to communicate with you anyway, it is an act of love.
Return that love by listening and reflecting — genuinely, not performatively. Pay it forward by committing to do better in the future. Love in the rave scene is not just about sharing water bottles and light shows. It is about showing up for each other when the music stops.
Unity
Show up alongside our BIPOC brothers, sisters, and theydies. While we may not experience the racism and erasure that BIPOC face in the United States, we can stand beside them, share our platforms, and take on the labor of educating and addressing other white people. Unity means we are all in this together — not just when it is comfortable.
Think about what unity looks like in practice at your next festival. It is not just matching with your crew in couples rave outfits. It is also checking your friends when they say something harmful, amplifying BIPOC artists and vendors, and making space — literally and figuratively — for people who have been pushed to the margins of a culture they helped create.
Respect
Listen to what BIPOC are telling you. Honor their experiences. Offer support when and where you can. Do not tone-police someone or ask them to be "more polite" in their communication with you. Nobody is being rude to you by telling you that you have caused harm. You are being rude when you dismiss what is being said.
Respect the bravery and energy of the person you are speaking with. It takes courage to confront someone — especially someone with more social power. The least you can do is receive that courage with humility. Respect is the foundation everything else in PLUR is built on. Without it, the other three letters are hollow.
Music Has Always Been Political
Before you tell someone to "keep politics out of the EDM scene" or out of music in general — pause. Music has always been an outlet for political expression. Francis Scott Key wrote the Star-Spangled Banner after witnessing an attack during the War of 1812. Woodstock was a direct response to civil unrest during the Vietnam War. House music was born in Black and queer communities in Chicago as an act of liberation and resistance.
Electronic music itself carries a political lineage. Detroit techno, pioneered by Black artists like Juan Atkins, Derrick May, and Kevin Saunderson, was a sonic response to post-industrial decay and racial inequality. To claim you love this culture while demanding it stay apolitical is to erase the very people who made it possible.
If you want to claim the EDM scene as your own, embrace its full history. The scene you love — the one you dress up for in your boldest rave bodysuits and most expressive accessories — was forged in struggle and solidarity. Honor that.
Moving Forward With Accountability
At the end of the day, we can hold different opinions. But if your "opinions" harm others or promote the oppression of people, then PLUR is the last thing you are practicing. Real PLUR means using these values to fight racism and make the world — and the rave — a better, safer, more inclusive place.
As white people, we carry a responsibility to dismantle the racist systems that those who came before us built. That work does not stop at the festival gates. It continues in our daily lives, our social media feeds, our friend groups, and our communities. It is ongoing, it is uncomfortable, and it is necessary.
Here are concrete steps you can take right now:
- Follow and financially support BIPOC artists, DJs, and creators in the electronic music space.
- Educate yourself — read, listen to podcasts, and attend workshops on anti-racism so the burden does not fall on BIPOC to teach you.
- Speak up when you witness racism at festivals, online, or in your crew. Silence is complicity.
- Support brands and organizations that center inclusivity — like plus size rave wear lines that make the scene accessible to every body.
- Check your own behavior regularly. Anti-racism is not a destination. It is a practice.
The rave scene we all love has the potential to be one of the most radically inclusive spaces on the planet. But potential means nothing without action. If PLUR lives in your heart, let it live in your hands, your voice, and your choices too. That is how we build a scene truly worthy of the music that moves us.
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