The first time I stepped foot into a gay bar, I was filled with years of pent-up closeted anticipation and excitement. It was the day COVID-19 restrictions allowed dancing again. I could feel the music beating through the door as the beautiful drag queen checked my ID, and ushered me into... a room full of men.
Furrowed eyebrows and confused looks followed me through the bar, as I am ‘straight-presenting’, i,e, not your typical butch lesbian.
I wasn’t expecting the entire place to be full of queer women by any means, but I also didn’t expect to feel so completely out of my depth.
A lack of lesbian bars leaves queer women & GNC people having to resort to being a minority in gay bars, which ultimately leads to harassment and rejection due to a common assumption that we are straight women invading queer spaces, when in fact we just want to find community and connection.
In 2019, a U.S. based study found that the number of bars catering to queer women in the country had halved since 2007, and the decline had reached 60 percent for bars catering to queer people of colour. [1]
This trend is reflected in Australia through the blatant lack of remaining spaces for non-men.
In Sydney, there is only one night at one venue broadly known and dedicated to queer women and gender-diverse people.
This event called Birdcage, which hosts drag performers every Wednesday, has become an intimate space to be unashamedly yourself in a supportive, safe environment amongst people with similar experiences.
It offers an oasis of queer expression and comfort for women and trans people.
In comparison, there are a number of queer bars in the city, namely along Oxford Street, which are dominated by and designed for gay men. This imbalance in visibility means that queer wom*n and non-binary people don’t always feel included in these supposedly inclusive places.
Meeting other queer people is hard enough as it is, so feeling out of place in what’s supposed to be our safe haven is an isolating experience.
HER, an online dating app for queer women & GNC people, conducted a survey back in 2016 of over 3000 of its users, who noted that many Pride events felt more catered to gay men. [2]
One in three respondents stated they didn’t feel comfortable or welcomed at Pride. [3]
Pride is such an important part of LGBTQIA+ history and is an event where all queer people should feel supported and celebrated.
We want the entire community to be able to celebrate their queerness, but condensed into one month (and two weeks in March for Mardi Gras), we have to rely on gay bars throughout the rest of the year.
Of course, these clubs often aren’t free from cisgender heterosexual influence either.
I have a number of straight female friends who love to loudly proclaim, “I go to gay bars all the time! They’re so fun and there’s no men that will hit on me!”
I ask them, ‘Do you go with other queer friends?’, and receive rolled eyes in response.
What cis-het women don’t understand, is that while these spaces are intended to be free of straight men, that ‘privilege’ is not theirs to enjoy. They are also not a quirky experience for a hens night or a wild 21st birthday.
This trend has resulted in further isolation for queer wom*n in these spaces, as some gay men interpret our presence as a threat.
This is not a new occurrence. Back in 2011, a popular gay bar in Collingwood, Victoria, Sircuit Bar, successfully gained the right to ban women from the venue. [4]
This narrative enforces outdated stereotypes of ‘predatory females’ - women who approach gay men attempting to change their sexuality. It deliberately excludes the experiences and existence of queer women & gender-diverse people.
Additionally, where straight women go, straight men inevitably follow.
“Straight men refuse to leave me alone, even when we’re in a gay bar and I’ve made it clear that I’m not into men,” a non-binary friend of mine told me.
The audacity and persistence of cis-het men in openly queer spaces isn’t really surprising at this point, but beyond the microaggressions and actual aggression perpetuated by cis-hets in gay bars, these environments are a breeding ground for misogynistic bias.
The intersection of queerness and misogyny is a hazy area. We’re already marginalised enough, we don’t need ‘infighting’ within the community to further any homophobic stereotypes.
But when cis gay men think it’s okay to touch us, or harass us, simply because they’re not attracted to us, it is difficult to ignore.
As gay bars are the only places for queer men to express themselves freely as well, their desire to detach from an attraction to women is natural, but this tends to leave behind a hostile attitude towards queer women.
This sense of patriarchal entitlement over LGBTQIA+ spaces, which appears to transcend the ostracism of being queer is not uncommon, but is also not widely acknowledged.
By enforcing a scrutiny over our identities and gender expression, the structures of power afforded to gay men due to their position as men are nevertheless reinforced, which you’d think would have been left at the door.
Some queer theorists argue that the reverence of hyper-femininity by white gay men (i.e. drag or camp) relies on the priority response they receive, over that of trans women or femmes, both in queer circles and heteronormative society. [5]
While drag in particular is a form of subversive art which makes ironic commentary on gender stereotypes, it has the potential to simultaneously dismiss the feminine presentation which trans women use to resist patriarchal expectations. [6]
In these spaces, queer women & GNC people are pushed to the edges in favour of the residual hegemonic assumptions which underpin our everyday interactions.
Bars and clubs have historically been the only locations where we could explore diverse sexualities, but surely we’ve progressed beyond these clandestine meetings.
Why are the only safe spaces for LGBTQIA+ people clubs or bars? Why can’t we have more wholesome experiences like Sappho’s in Glebe?
Despite not being a targeted space for women or GNC people, Sappho’s is a queer-centric book and record store, and cafe which fosters balance, respect and open communication between and among queer communities.
Queer wom*n deserve more places to meet, to connect, and to enjoy without the entrenched pressures that come with gay bars and male-centric spaces.
[1] Greggor Mattson, ‘Are Gay Bars Closing? Using Business Listings to Infer Rates of Gay Bar Closures in the United States, 1977 - 2019’ (2019) 5(1) Socius: Sociological Research for a Dynamic World, 1-2.
[2] Diana Tourjee, ‘LGBTQ Women Don’t Feel Comfortable at Pride, Survey Says’, Vice (online, 25 June 2016) <https://www.vice.com/en/article/kzeedn/lgbtq-women-pride-uncomfortable-her-survey>.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Padraic Murphy, ‘Gay Sircuit Bar wins right to ban ‘predatory females’, Perth Now (online, 10 June 2011) <https://www.perthnow.com.au/news/nsw/gay-sircuit-bar-wins-right-to-ban-predatory-females-ng-bff4efaa8a454379f5a7b5c17c81d030>.
[5] Julia Serano, Whipping Girl: a Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity (Seal Press, 2nd ed, 2007) 11.
[6] Ibid.
Written by Alannah Galloway and edited by Anita Huang