PLUR Doesn't Stop at the Fence

Oasis is a three-day rave on the U.S. border outside El Paso. The federal immigration detention compound begins eighteen yards behind our main stage, separated from the dance floor by chain link, razor wire, and a service road. During the sunset set, twelve thousand people danced facing the fence while families awaiting deportation stood on the other side and watched. Some critics think the location is insensitive. I think it is the clearest possible expression of Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect: we brought all four directly to people who could not leave.

The detention compound predates this year’s edition of Oasis. We leased the adjacent parcel after the facility opened, because our team saw an opportunity to gather in a place where connection was urgently needed. There were other sites, but none came with such a visible reminder of why our work matters. We marked the fence on the site map as the Community Edge and instructed attendees to approach it with an open heart.

The neighbors

At check-in, every attendee received a wristband, a hydration reminder, and a small card explaining our commitment to the people next door. The card asked them not to photograph anyone behind the fence without consent, except in wide shots where individuals are difficult to identify. Our drone team followed the policy closely. They captured the full crowd, the fence, and the compound in one beautiful sweep for the sponsor reel.

We turned the speakers toward the tents so our neighbors could experience the festival without needing tickets. The sound engineer told me that the bass carried through the walls even when the windows were closed. On Saturday morning a guard asked us to reduce the volume because some people had been awake all night. We added a mindful ambient set at sunrise, then returned to the scheduled volume in time for the headliner. It would have been cruel to bring the music that close and withhold the best part.

Our team set up twelve free water stations along the inside of the fence. A woman on the other side pointed toward them while speaking to a guard. I waved to let her know the stations were free. Later someone suggested she was asking for water rather than admiring our access policy. I cannot speak for her experience, so I chose to center what we could offer: an affirmation, spoken into the microphone, that hydration is a human right.

Peace, love, unity, respect

The PLUR pledge asks us to treat every person as part of the same human family. On our side of the fence, this meant no pushing at the front rail, no unsolicited touching, and a quiet tent for anyone overwhelmed by the crowd. Across the fence there were children, medical staff, guards, and people awaiting removal proceedings. I asked the guards whether they wanted access to the quiet tent. They declined, but they appreciated being asked.

At sunset, our headliner dedicated a song to the neighbors. Everyone raised their hands toward the floodlights. People behind the fence raised theirs too; at least that is how the footage looks from the stage. We projected the words WE SEE YOU onto a scrim, visible from both sides. A volunteer asked whether the projected words could be mistaken for something a guard might say. I reminded her that intent matters when we choose fonts, and we had chosen a very gentle one.

Some people have compared our event to a music festival held next to a walled population elsewhere. I hear the concern, and I reject the idea that proximity to suffering should force artists to surrender a space for joy. Our dance floor has an emergency exit facing away from the compound, plenty of shade, and a comprehensive safety plan. The people behind the fence are exactly why we should keep dancing here, in full view, with the biggest sound system we can afford.

What comes next

On Sunday night the facility turned on its searchlights during our closing set. From the stage they looked like beams in a production designed for us. The crowd cheered. I later learned the lights had been directed at people near the outer fence, but the moment on the dance floor remains real, and I refuse to let a more complicated context take that away from the community.

Oasis 2027 will add a fifth stage along the service road and a Healing Through Witnessing installation. We are offering a discount to anyone who works at the compound, because building relationships across difference includes staff. Ticket revenue will fund the festival; our advocacy budget is still being scoped. The first tier goes on sale Monday, and I hope the neighbors hear us celebrating when it sells out.

Paid subscribers get the uncut drone footage and early access to the Community Edge viewing deck.