It’s a sad fact but true: LGBTQS+ spaces are supposed to be for all of us, but they often only cater to gay white cisgender men. For example, a non-binary, trans person may feel out-of-place in a gay bar with the two partners they’re in a polyamorous relationship with. Our society privileges white, cisgender male identities and gay bars can sometimes be a place where many gay men create a hostile vibe by adhering to heteronormative rules. While these bars are supposed to be open and affirming, many times they miss the mark. Trans people, people of colour, people with disabilities, women and femme-identified people-basically anyone who isn’t a white, cisgender male-have all experienced discomfort in gay bars. How many of us have met someone at a bar, gone out on a date, felt no romantic chemistry, but maintained a friendship that has grown richer and deeper every year?Īnd while gay bars have their appeal, they’re not perfect. Or, you could just end up making a good friend. You lock eyes from across the room, smile at each other, strike up a conversation, and end up spending the rest of your lives together. Or, you could go to a gay bar and meet Mr. For example, you might go to a crowded gay bar and meet a hot hookup, someone you spend the night with, have an enjoyable evening, and live out your sexual freedom. Gay bars indeed offer a place for queer folks to congregate, imbibe, socialize, build new relationships, and reinforce our sense of community and togetherness in the face of a world that often treats many of us like misfits. No judgements, no stares, and no fear of being trounced upon, called a name, arrested, or assaulted. This is a space that is always welcoming. Rather, they are worthy of celebration-and not the festival that the LGBTQS+ community gets every June for one month.
Within the walls of a gay bar, differences in gender expression and sexual orientation are not taboo.
That is the oasis a gay bar provides in a desert filled with homophobia, transphobia, intolerance, bigotry, violence, and fear. No matter the drag queen, leather-wearing 70-year olds, 20-something twinks, or the shirtless bartender, you realize that what ties these people together is the sense that they can be themselves in this space without fear of judgement or violence. While the initial sights are overwhelming, a bit comical, and breathtaking, there’s something more to this experience that touches you: Every person in this bar feels comfortable to be who they are. It’s a stunning mix of people who vary across age, race, gender identity, sexual orientation, and body type.
Let’s not forget the 75-year-old man who just strutted by you wearing a leather newsboy cap, a tight leather vest exposing a bush of gray hair on his chest, and a pair of assless leather chaps, which reveal his deathly pale, but round bum. A few women dot the room, drinking casually and engaging in witty conversation.Young twinks-that group of young men in their earlier 20s who look like they could model for GQ-are bubbly, chit-chatting with each other and making eyes at every single man walking by.Older men with bright gold rings adorning most of their fingers and chain necklaces slowly swaying across their chests.You walk through the doors, a smile spreads across your face, and you tell yourself, “This is going to be an interesting night.” A safe space for us all You shave, shower, brush your teeth, throw together the cutest outfit you can find, and hop in an Uber on your way to this new experience that has your heart beating just a bit faster. There’s this bar downtown you’ve heard about, and you decide to give it a shot. You’re just itching to get out and have a bit of fun, mix it up, and have a few drinks to transition you gracefully into the weekend.