Death of the gay bar

This distinction has been rendered irrelevant by the pandemic.

From the Door of a Gay Bar, You See the Scope of Life—and Death

A film director and a museum curator come to mind. The status quo of cities developed over time and resulted from fissures — like war, like plague. Maybe we were due a change. Gay bars were already shuttering across the UK and the States, a trend blamed on property developers, hook-up apps, assimilation.

Their flickering out altered the cityscape — as if signalling the demise of gay identity altogether. In London, young promoters re-envisioned queer space. Nights were devoted to womxn and femmes of colour. There were sober events, drag-king shows, activist meetings, literary happenings and policies forbidding inconsiderate behaviour; idealistic visions, whereas nightlife venues have often reflected the worst of society — like racism, ableism, ageism, lookism, transphobia and misogyny.

At the Chateau in south London, which took over from a wine bar with a holy communion theme the stained glass with Biblical scenes remainedthe house rules were posted as the Ten Commandments. A death charter was issued by the Friends of the Joiners Arms, gay collective throwing of events under the banner of the much-missed namesake.

On the dance floor, I espied a semi-erection brandished like a Blackberry. Certain aspects that made the new models refreshing — such as parties that roam rather than fix to one place — hearken back to historical queer socialising. In London, proto-gays were on the move through the ages, taking to the shadows of gardens, arches and public toilets.

At flashy bar, queerness hid in plain sight, indecipherable from cosmopolitanism. The orchestra would strike up a tribute when a dishy young man entered the room. Dingy cellars were furtive and self-protective, but could come with a frisson impossible to replicate in a high-street club with colognes in the loo and swarming hen parties.

There can be no gay-bar grand narrative. The first gay bar? Depends what you mean. That was Singapore, In London, theatres provided a location to rendezvous since something like the 16th century. The molly house, a meeting place for proto-gays and cross-dressers in the 18th century, is cited as a predecessor to the gay bar as we know it.

The surfaces were smooth and impenetrable, like the staff. Through large plate glass could be seen gaggles of proudly out, wholesome gays. I assumed such places had been around forever, whereas gay bars had only recently been unmarked, with blacked-out windows. A few decades prior, a Soho pub was vulnerable to raid if it had the whiff of too much panache.

The future gay bar might err on the side of caution. Walking past the nitrous canisters and rainbow flags chalked on pavements, I considered how easy it is to neglect the existence of vulnerable gay elders in our vicinity.