just the beginning
Description
Welcome to our final historical episode! We’re picking up right where we left off last historical episode, in the mid 2000s with the closing of many beloved Queer spaces in Southeast and new bars trying to fill the gaps left behind by the spaces lost. This episode will journey from the mid-2000s to present day. Featuring the longest running lesbian bar in the District, protest block parties, bars you know and love operating today, and more! Join us this week to learn about some of the District’s most legendary bars.
You can find the transcription for the episode below or in pdf format here.
You can also find a version of the transcript with a works cited and in text citations for the episode here.
If you want to learn more and stay up to date on all things Queering the District Podcast, follow us on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube.
Have a story to share? Think we missed something? Give us a call, and bare it all after the beep at 202-753-6570.
Special thanks to the Rainbow History Project, the DC Public Library, and the countless other academics and historians, whether featured in these episodes or not, who helped inspire and guide us through this process.
Audio editing by Madalyn Reagan
Spanish transcription by Fabianna Rincon
transcript
You can read a full transcript below or in pdf version. You can find a pdf version of the transcript with in-text citations here.
Text in italics and parentheses indicates ambient sound, sound effects, and music integrated into the podcast, unless noted otherwise.
(Jazzy music fades in and plays in background)
ABBY: Hey folks, thanks for tuning in to Queering the District Podcast, where we learn about the history of Queer third places in Washington, D.C.! Season one is focused on the evolution of Queer bars, from prohibition to present day.
This season we’ve got two types of episodes: historical and after hours. Our historical episodes explore decades of Queer bar history through narrative-driven stories, while our After Hours bring back favorite guests for gossip games, advice, and late-night chats.
This week is a historical episode picking up right where we left off in the early 2000s. If you’d like a chronological storytelling of this podcast head to our first historical episode, “xoxo ladd forrester.”
Now, we start with shirtless men, go-go dancing, and x’s on hands.
(Jazzy music fades out)
(go-go music with lots of percussion starts to play and then fades into the background)
NICK: “That was the first time that I had been in a Queer space, and that was the first time that I was, like, excited to be Queer. And I thought, like, one day I'm gonna come back and I'm gonna be a go-go dancer at Town.”
ABBY: In 2007 a massive 8,000 square foot warehouse club, with an additional 4,000 square foot patio opened in Shaw, just off of Florida Ave (Bailey).
NICK: “I kind of felt like it was out of a movie.”
ABBY: Before Nick Tsusaki became a Queer bar owner in D.C., he was just a young 18-year-old Georgetown student finding his place within the community.
NICK: “You get up to the window, you get these big X's on your hands because you're under 21, pay your cover, and then you're in this, like, whole other world of just, like, shirts off, and there's a Drag show, and people don't care what you're doing for the first time. I definitely got kicked out of Town once (Abby laughs in the background), and I, I'm pretty sure it was by Ed.”
ABBY: Ed Bailey, was the co-owner of Town and still to this day has patrons gushing to him about what Town meant for them.
ED BAILEY: “It was unbelievably well received business, to this day that people, ‘Oh, my God, that's the best thing.’ ‘Well, I met my husband there.’ It's heartwarming to always hear that and to feel those things. And I miss it tremendously.”
(go-go music ends)
ABBY: Ed, the once famous DJ at Tracks is now a renowned Queer club owner with his business partner, John Guggemos. Together, they have opened 10 D.C. Queer bars, with two of those businesses still operating today, in 2025: Number Nine and Trade.
Now, as an experienced bar owner, Ed understands the business like the back of his hand and knows that you always have to be ready for anything.
ED BAILEY: “Change or die is a thing in the bar business.”
ABBY: While most of the decades we’ve explored so far have discussed the growth of Queer bars and spaces, as we enter the 2000s and early 2010s, the Queer community begins to see and feel a dramatic loss in Queer spaces. Hung Jury, Club Chaos, Nob Hill, in fact, almost every bar we’ve discussed, except for Phase One and The Bachelor’s Mill, had closed at this point in time.
(soft, romantic, electric guitar music plays in the background)
In 2016, there was only one remaining Queer bar left on the “Gay Way” on 8th St Southeast: Phase One.
(Crunchy footsteps, with shoes pulling up from a sticky floor)
SARAH: “We used to joke, it was like the place you loved to hate on.”
ABBY: Sarah Marloff, arts editor at The Washington City Paper, frequented Phase One in the 2010s. Sarah moved to D.C. expecting to stay here for a year and then move to New York—that was the dream. But one night filled with pirates, linedancing, and a messy dancefloor makeout changed everything.
SARAH: “We end up at the Phase, and it's, I kid you not, Pirate Burlesque night.”
(Pirate says, “Argh” and pirate jjg music swells and then ends)
ABBY: Blimey! That was not what Sarah was expecting or wanting to take in, so Sarah found refuge in a gay line dancing bar a couple blocks down, hoping to wait out the buccaneer crowd.
(Country music swells then ends)
Alast, when they thought it was safe to venture back into Phase, Sarah spotted a girl wearing a white t-shirt and vans with some interesting accessories.
(romantic pop rock starts to play in the background)
SARAH: “She had a eye patch on her forehead, like she had clearly went to pirate burlesque. And I was like, I don't know, I don't know, but it's also been a minute. So we had one of those really sloppy dance floor makeouts. She was super drunk. But when I was finally like, I don't actually know where my friend is, I need to go home, she was like, ‘We should do this again next week.’ And I was like, ‘or like, maybe we could do something else next week.’”
(romantic pop rock music ends)
ABBY: Sarah found the ultimate treasure, her wife, at The Phase.
SARAH: “And that turned into a, god, I think we're going on like, 14 years now.”
ABBY: The Phase was Sarah’s and many Queer’s and lesbian’s go-to. One of Sarah’s favorite memories at the bar was its yearly weekend music festival, called Phasefest, which featured, as Sarah described...
SARAH: “Swoon-worthy Queer bands that were, like pop punk and like very 2010 sounding and looking.”
(pop punk music begins to play in the background)
ABBY: The yearly September festival was created by The Phase’s general manager, Archer Lombardi. It was a nationally recognized and beloved event. However let’s not forget that the Phase wasn’t a big bar.
(large crowd of people talking loudly in the background)
SARAH: “You were sardined in there, which is like, also, like, a very common memory for me at like Queer bars, or like lesbian bars, is that there'd be nights where you were, like, I literally cannot move. And like, to get through the crowd, you just, like, hold on to your, whoever you were with, and just pray you made it to the door together. The stage was across from the bar, and I don't know there was maybe five feet between those and just wall to wall Queers.”
(fade out pop punk music fades out and sound of people talking ends)
ABBY: At this point, the Phase had been open for 45 years. In that life-span, the Phase became a cultural hub for the lesbian community. One listener left us a voicemail on Phi-Phi about the impact Phase One had on them.
(audio a little muffled and filtered as it comes from the voicemail left on the rotary phone)
FRANKIE (VOICEMAIL): “I was freshly 21 or 22 years old, and I went to Phase One, which is my first ever lesbian bar, possibly my first ever gay bar. And I was in the bathroom, hammered out of my mind, and I saw this old dyke who had to be at least, like, 55 years old, and I told her that I liked her glasses. And she was like, I need to buy you pizza. So she dragged me out of the bathroom of Phase One, took me to the pizza joint next door, bought me an entire pizza, gave me a hug, told me to have a nice life and enjoy my pizza. And that shit sticks with me to this day.”
(phone hangs up)
ABBY: Phase One was the only lesbian bar in D.C. at this time, meaning that was the only place that D.C. lesbians could call theirs. Was it the best place to dance or the cleanest bar you’ve ever seen? Probably not, but it was a place you could always rely on to be there. Until it wasn’t, when it closed in 2016.
SARAH: “Again, the Phase was a place that you love to hate, but it was also at the time, like when it closed, it was the longest operating lesbian bar in the country. So it felt, and it was, historic, like, this is such a piece of our history. How can we lose it and how, how can we let it close?”
ABBY: Not every Queer bar or club needs to be 4,000 square feet, or play the best music, or even have the best owners to be a beloved space. Ed said that it’s more about filling a void than crafting the perfect place.
ED BAILEY: “Sometimes people who are in that position and own a bar, and all these people start coming to their bar, think they're doing something unique and special, and realistically, they are just the stewards of a location that is incredibly needed, and so people come to it. They may not even be doing anything right about how they're operating it. It may still be successful, because it's so necessary that the space exists.”
(lo-fi music plays in the background)
ABBY: Nob Hill
JIM: “You felt ever so elegant, standing there drinking champale and grenadine in a champagne glass at Nob Hill on a Friday or Saturday night. It was just so much fun.”
ABBY: Tracks
ED BAILEY: “It was this amazing feeling to watch all these people enjoying themselves, and you felt like you were at the center of making that happen.”
ABBY: Tracks
ED BAILEY: “It was this amazing feeling to watch all these people enjoying themselves, and you felt like you were at the center of making that happen.”
ABBY: Escandalo
JOSÉ: “For many Latinas and Latinos with no safe space, Escandalo became like a community center for Latinos.”
ABBY: Bachelor’s Mill
TONY: "It was always family, people were always welcome.”
ABBY: Brass Rail
RAYCEEN: “It was a place where no one judged you, no one looked at you. You weren't beneath them. You weren't above them. We were all equal in the Brass Rail.”
ABBY: and so many others were outlets for the Queer community to gather. None of them were perfect, but they were god damn special to somebody. Whether it was where they found the love of their life, their best friends, met their family, got a strong drink, or just had fun on the dance floor, these bars were essential.
None of those bars exist today.
(lo-fi music ends)
In the midst of losing some of these Queer homes, there were two historic moments that impacted how Queer folks gathered in bars, not just locally but nationally.
(soft acoustic latin music plays in the background)
ABBY: On June 12th, 2016, gay nightlife all around the country was changed forever. Forty-nine people were killed in a mass shooting during a Latin Pride night at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. This tragedy prompted new discussion about how to protect Queer spaces, especially Queer bars.
DR. GREENE: “The clubs beefed up their security. You saw people taking greater precautions to sort of protect people. Right, whether it was, you know, eliminating purses and bags from entering into the bar to a whole series of security mechanisms to sort of provide safety.”
ABBY: Chapter five of Dr. Greene’s book Not In My Gayborhood: The Gay Neighborhood and the Rise of the Vicarious Citizen focuses on how the white gay community dismissed how the shooting impacted the Latine community and Muslim community in D.C.
DR. GREENE: “But I think the major thing that's also happening at this time is a call for a lot of these predominantly white spaces to acknowledge and embrace diversity in important ways.”
ABBY: Dr. Greene’s book highlighted the ostracization that the Muslim Queer community faced after Pulse. He wrote of a Muslim gay man, who was called slurs behind his back while going to Queer bars along 17th street. Another gay man, who was misidentified as Arab, was told that he had quote “got some fucking nerve” for being in a gay bar.
The Latine community was also suffering. They too mourned those who they’ve lost, while also being left out of the conversation of safety in these predominantly white spaces. Dr. Greene attended a vigil where one Latina trans woman yelled, “You all can sit there crying about no longer feeling safe in your bars. Pulse wasn’t even a Queer Latinx nightclub. It was only Latinx once a month.”
As Queer communities around the world were healing and finding ways to reshape inclusivity in bars, a couple of years later, another catastrophe hit— a global pandemic that shut the entire world down.
(soft acoustic latin music fades out)
(news broadcaster announcing, “This new virus represents a tremendous public health threat. We don’t yet have a vaccine for this novel virus, nor do we have a medicine to treat it specifically. We are now taking and will continue to take unprecedented aggressive action to reduce the impact of this virus that it will have on the communities in the U.S.” Broadcasting gets quieter but continues to play in the background: “We are working with state, local, and territorial health departments to ready the public health work force to respond to local cases and the possibility this outbreak could become a pandemic.”)
ED BAILEY: “It almost seemed hour to hour like the news was shifting and the information was shifting, or how you were supposed to be doing this was shifting.”
(News broadcast ends)
ABBY: Queer bars across the District closed, (doors lock) or were at the very least operating in an extremelylimited capacity. In May of 2020, Trade bar, on 14th Street Northwest, reopened for carry out and had 25 socially distanced seating on their patio. Ed said he did this for two reasons: to keep his staff paid and employed and to provide a safe space for the Queer community, even if it was just 25 customers at a time.
ED BAILEY: “And you're doing it for nothing, money wise, as a business, you're doing it for the people that work for you and for the community of people that enjoy being a part of your business and people who needed something. They didn't want to be sitting at home. They didn't want to be confined and cooped up and have a sense of not being able to be with people. So we're just doing what we kind of always do, which is trying to create a space that felt safe and comfortable for people in our community who didn't have other options.”
ABBY: A year later, when Queer bars were finally able to open, around Pride of 2021, the Queer community, yet again, had to ask and challenge the Queer bar status quo, when a video of an employee at Nellies Sports Bar dragging a young Black woman down the stairs by her hair went viral.
MAKIA GREEN: “If you don't want to apologize, then we're going to come back and we're going to boycott this place.”
ABBY: That’s Makia Green, co-founder of Harriet’s Wildest Dreams and one of the lead organizers of the Boycott Nellies 2021 Summer Movement. The boycott stemmed from a viral video of Keisha Young being dragged out of the popular gay bar Nellies by her hair. It was the first time Nellies had been opened since their closing during the COVID-19 pandemic. Keisha contacted Harriet’s Wildest Dreams for support in retrieving her personal items following the violent attack.
MAKIA GREEN: “Her phone had been taken, had been confiscated or lost during the incident, and she really wanted her phone, I think she had a bag or other things, because she was physically dragged and thrown out of this place. And so, when we got there, there was a couple things that we noticed. One, when she first went in, the staff were very resistant to her. They were like, not helpful, even though it wasn't a very crowded day, and they were kind of like, mean to her. And so we were like, ‘Okay, well, we need to go in there.’ And then they just, like, acted like they didn't have her things. It was unnecessarily difficult. And when we asked for the owner to come speak to us, and like, let's talk about this, and like, probably apologize to Keisha, because, remember, that was the only thing. We just wanted her things. And she just, you know, expected an apology, and he refused to come. And the owner lived three blocks away and was at home. Like the staff let us know that he was home. So he was literally down the street, and we actually ended up marching, at one point, to his house and protested outside of it.”
(protesters chanting at the block party plays in the background)
ABBY: The owner refused to apologize. This launched a summer long block party boycott in front of Nellies every Friday night.
(Protesters chanting. The leader with a megaphone says, “When I say fuck, you say Nellies. Fuck” Protesters respond, “Nellies” “Fuck” “Nellies”)
(music, cheering, and chanting from the protest block parties plays in the background)
MAKIA GREEN: “We wanted to also kind of remind people that Queer spaces, especially ones profiting off of Black and Brown people, needs to be accountable to us. And so yes, we could have done a traditional protest. It would have worked in getting a message out there, but a block party meant reclaiming space with music, dancing, celebration. It made it a lot harder to ignore, and it allowed us to build with the Black Queer nightlife community.”
(protest block party chant swells, protesters chant “Justice for Keisha” while dancing, chanting and cheering fades back into the background)
ABBY: Gathering directly in front of the bar on U Street, Harriet's Wildest Dreams and other local organizers partied in defiance.
MAKIA GREEN: “We projected images (projector hums) onto the buildings around the bar and onto the bar. That also helped us amplify the messaging. We did, like, #ProtectBlackWomen, #FuckNellies, which was kind of the unofficial slogan of the campaign, which also just really reflects some of the rawness and honesty in the Queer community.”
(Sounds of protesters swells and they scream “Fuck Nellies” then fades back into background)
ABBY: While there were a few actions taken by management—they fired the security company and issued a statement, the block parties continued, asking for longstanding change. After the first week of protest, the bar temporarily closed. But the block parties didn’t end, every Friday night the community would gather, dancing and protesting. When Nellies did eventually open back up, pressure from the mayor and local officials to stop these protests began to build. Then the police (police siren goes off) started getting involved, arresting local U Street vendors who regularly sold drinks on the street. Then the garbage trucks came.
(Sounds of protesters ends)
MAKIA GREEN: (large truck engine runs) “They started bringing in these massive trucks, just like big garbage trucks, and they would just park them in the middle of the street. They ran the exhaust, so the place would be flooded with car exhaust and gas in that way. And so it was like, kind of hard to breathe, at times. And honestly, we were, like, kind of worried about the people who were sitting in those trucks because we're like, you know, it's also really hot, it's summer. And like, we understood that the maintenance people that they were sending to come out there, like, had no issue with us specifically, but more so the like, city ordinances and the police that were like deciding this is how they were going to respond to us.”
ABBY: The summer was filled with scheduling meetings with Nellies management, only for them to be canceled and management actions that Makia felt were more performative than actual solutions.
MAKIA GREEN: “They canceled immediately beforehand, and it felt like they never intended to actually sit down with us. And so in the end, after the 11 weeks, because we knew that one, the police were arriving en masse, it started to feel more dangerous for people, as well as like, after the 11 weeks, we had started to, like, move forward. Keisha had a lawyer. They were starting on conversations, and so we decided to close out the protest. However, we never closed the boycott. We never said, Oh, the boycotts over, Nellie's has done what they needed to do. However, over time, many of our demands were met, and Keisha and her cousin did come to an agreement with the Nellies owner that was, like, an undisclosed amount.”
ABBY: The impact of the boycott wasn’t just felt at Nellies, Makia said it put all Queer bars on notice.
MAKIA GREEN: “I think at the end of the day, right, like, Boycott Nellies was a movement to hold a popular D.C. Queer bar accountable for the violent mistreatment of a Black woman during Pride. And so, yes, it's targeting Nellies, but it's honestly targeting all of the Queer spaces in D.C. and pushing everyone to be more accountable to the community they serve.”
ABBY: Many bar owners reached out to Harriet's Wildest Dream during their boycott, offering support and feedback on how they can make sure Black Queer folks feel safe in their spaces. One dynamic duo was partying alongside Harriet's Wildest Dreams almost every Friday night that summer. They even helped sell shirts that read, “Boycott Nellies.” They’re owners of one the most beloved Queer spaces in D.C., and, of course, their journey to bar ownership starts as a love story.
(soft, romantic, pop music starts to play in the background)
COACH: “She was the general manager and I was head of security.”
ABBY: Jo and Coach, owners of As You Are, met while working at A League of Her Own, a lesbian basement bar underneath the gay bar Pitchers in Adams Morgan. As their relationship progressed, their desire to create a more inclusive Queer space became clear as well.
COACH: “There are many reasons that we kind of ventured off on our own, one of which was there was a no fraternization policy there, and we were in love. So we wanted to do that (Coach chuckles). We had our other other issues with the space or with the ownership, and so we decided to kind of do it ourselves and make what we needed.”
JO: “One of our main goals was to empower and give a voice to the parts of our community who weren't getting spoken up for.”
(soft, romantic, pop music fades out)
ABBY: So with their combined 30 years of Queer bar experience, Jo and Coach began looking for a brick and mortar. The world was still in lockdown from COVID, but Coach explained that didn’t stop them from starting to create their community.
COACH: “Jo ran a Wednesday Instagram Live show, where we would like bring in a community member and highlight what they're doing and how impressive they are. I ran a Monday Happy Hour called Clickin with Coach, and we just met up virtually and talked for hours…” (Jo jumps in)
JO: “There is a couple who met on Clickin who are now married with a baby. (Ellie awwws in the background)”
COACH: “Yes, that's true.”
ABBY: During these virtual events, the pair found their dream location for their bar: 8th street Southeast. The famous “Gay Way” that in the past couple decades, Queer local establishments were squashed under the veil of “revitalization” and gentrification.The bar was one block down from the shuttered Phase One and used to be the home of The Bachelor’s Mill. It checked all their boxes. But to others, the location seemed so far away from the gay community, which has now settled mostly amongst Logan Circle and U Street, Northwest, D.C.
COACH: “A couple, like, cis-white gay guys had come in, and they were like, ‘Y'all, y'all, should be in Northwest. This would be awesome if it was in Northwest.’ And I was like, actually, the thing that makes it awesome is that it's not in Northwest with everything else to give access to people that are monied enough to live in Northwest, we're intentionally over here, where housing's more affordable. We're down the street from the metro.
(metro boarding announcement plays, “doors opening, step back”)
The bus lines run. (air blows as the bus lowers to ground to let passengers on) So I hear you, from your perspective, what you're saying, and there's a reason we didn't do that, and it's because there's plenty over there for y'all. This is for people that don't access that as easily.”
(upbeat dance music and loud conversations starts in the background)
ABBY: The stars had aligned for Jo and Coach when finding this location. However the local neighbors had become very protective of their neighborhood. They wanted to maintain its respectability and peace, so much so that community members protested granting As You Are their liquor license.
JO: “To quote one of them, “we are hostile neighbors.”
COACH: “Yeah, they told us we were hostile neighbors. They said it was about the sound. So we spent a lot of money we didn't anticipate spending (conversations in background end) on creating a sound deadened space upstairs where the music plays (upbeat dance music plays muffled, as if behind a wall), then it wasn't about the sound. (upbeat dance music ends)
Now, it was about us pouring out of here drunk (giggling and laughing in the background) and having our love affairs in their front yards, which is not what we're gonna—” (giggling and laughing ends)
JO: “Direct quote.”
COACH: “That was a direct quote, yes, which we're not gonna do. One of the neighbors wrote a letter to their Commissioner that got somehow leaked onto Twitter that said that they preferred the “rats at the Popeyes that used to be across the street to As You Are. We go too far,” which all feels questionably homophobic (Coach chuckles). So when we had our first meeting with ANC, it was us two verse like 30 of them, and they were not having it. And so we did a call to the community, and we hosted a little meeting downstairs, and we said, ‘hey, you got to show up on these calls, or this is not going to happen.’ And the next call, we had 120 people log in, crash the facilitators computer. (beeping starts slowly then increases in speed until computer shuts off)
And really the neighbors couldn't argue. They did try, but they really couldn't argue with the importance of a space like this. And our voices weren't enough. We needed the community to say why it was valuable, and now we're probably their favorite establishment in the neighborhood.”
ABBY: As You Are isn’t the first gay bar to have its liquor license protested. Uproar, a gay bear bar in Shaw was protested. The Fireplace Inn, the oldest gay bar in D.C. and a prominent Black gay bar in Dupont Circle, had its liquor license threatened. Ed Bailey tried to open a second version of Town in the former Saint Phillips Baptist Church in Northeast, also had ANC members and neighbors protest their liquor license. Queer spaces should be recognized as vital investments to the community—not as threats to safety or peace. At the same time, Queer entrepreneurs must be mindful of the histories of the neighborhoods they enter. 8th Street Southeast has historically been home to numerous Queer businesses, so to open As You Are, a new Queer-celebratory space, was nothing short of a homecoming. And after successfully acquiring their license and opening the bar, it has now a welcomed sight in the neighborhood, attracting not just Queer partygoers but Queer families.
(phone rings)
COACH: “So we got a phone call. Tina, our manager, picked up the phone. Jo was here, but not on the bar, and Tina came over with the phone and was like, ‘hey, somebody wants to know if they can do a gender reveal party here.’ And Jo goes, ‘Oh, I absolutely can't wait to tell them why we don't do that.’ Gets on the phone. You want to tell?”
JO: “Yeah. She goes, ‘Hi, my name is Monica, and my nibling is nine years old, and wants to come out as non-binary to their friends, and we want to throw them a gender reveal party.’”
COACH: “So got us! (Abby and Ellie laughing loudly in the background) That one we will do. So they came at like noon on a Sunday. It was a beautiful day outside. They had the whole patio set up. What we didn't know is that this child was Deaf, and a lot of their friends were Deaf and signing. And so we just had all these, like, nine year old children, their parents, which were straight, cis, Queer, all over the place, celebrating this kid's coming out, you know, this gender reveal. And we had sidewalk chalk, and they were drawing on the on the concrete, and like the kids were really into Dance, Dance Revolution, which, now that I know more about the Deaf community, and I've educated myself, like, it makes sense that that would be a game they would love to play. And so they were drawing like a string of directions, like arrows on the thing. And then they had made a pad, if they were all like it was. It was so delightful. There were bubbles. I mean, it was amazing. It was an amazing afternoon. I mean, we just pretty much stood out there with them and just—”
JO AND COACH: “cried.”
ABBY: Beyond adorable celebrations, As You Are stands out (electronic dance music starts to play in the background) because it operates as more than just a bar, something Jo said was a priority.
JO: “The dance floor is like a huge part of our cultural history, right? Like our joy has always been a form of resistance. It's always been where the revolution starts, is in this moment of, like, joy.
(record scratch and then electronic dance music ends abruptly)
But we’ve shifted as a society, where we recognize things like anxiety and we recognize things like addiction and propensities toward behaviors that are not as great. And so folks have shifted the way they live their lives.
(conversations begins in the background)
And so sometimes reading a book downstairs in the cafe with a, you know, glass of wine or a kombucha, you know, or a cup of coffee is a far more comfortable way for them to engage with community than the dance floor. And we love the dance floor. We're grateful folks have that. But to have more than that was our goal, to have more to appeal to a broader part of our community.”
ABBY: Whether you’re playing cards over their delicious seasoned french fries or partying on their second-floor dance floor, the Queer community can always find a home or place at As You Are.
(conversations in the background end)
(bus driving down the street in the background)
Over on 14th near the U Street corridor, new Queer bars are popping up left and right. But one historic bar picked this location, not just because of its popularity but because it felt like home.
(Fast paced song with heavy drums and horns start to play in the background (same as from episode one when describing Club Madre))
SHAUN: “We wanted to be in the U Street corridor area because, first, it was nostalgic for us, because that's where we started Thursday Bliss. We started it at Bohemian Caverns on U Street. And so you know that that area for us, was like home, and then also, just because of the, you know, the foot traffic of that area, and because it's known for being Black Broadway as well.”
ABBY: That’s Shaun, co-owner of Thurst Lounge, he and his business partner, Brandon, opened the club in December 2023. Not only is Thurst Lounge on the same street as the historic Black Broadway, it’s the same building as the legendary Club Madre, which was owned, of course, by D.C.’s Lady Al’Capone, Odessa Madre.
(Fast paced song with heavy drums and horns ends and transitions into modern club music)
The lounge, once filled with sounds of jazz, comedy shows, and roses, is now home to D.C.’s only Black-owned Queer bar. Shaun told me the path to bar ownership wasn’t one they always dreamed of, but one that rose out of necessity when all of their safe, celebratory Black gay spaces closed.
SHAUN: “Somewhere around 2010, 2012, those spaces started to close down, and they started to build up, you know, developments and apartment complexes and things like that. And so, we lost those spaces. The community was doing more parties and events at other bars and spaces, mostly straight spaces, actually. So we would go to those parties, and we would realize that while we enjoy the promoters, they seem to not be as welcoming to us. It didn't feel like home. It felt like, you know, we were basically borrowing someone else's space, and they were using us to get their bar tab.”
BRANDON: “We go to these other bars that, you know, I mean, they're great havens, and they're great spaces to have, but you go there and they're not necessarily catered to us either, because none of them are Black and Brown-owned.”
SHAUN: “So we looked at each other, and this might be about eight years after that first experience, and we looked at each other and we're like, -Well, why don't we start a lounge, or, why don't we do it?’”
ABBY: After finding their home on 14th street, they created a sleek, black and purple themed multilevel bar. Photos of Black Queer icons, like James Bladwin and Marsha P Johnson, adorn the walls, and music from different eras and genres fill the rooms.
SHAUN: “Our DJs do a really good job of incorporating (modern club music ends and transitions into nostalgic, groovier music) 70s, 80s, 90s, now, and they're not just playing it at one time. They're like, putting it all together, so a person will hear a song and be like, okay, they're listening to something they're listening to on the radio today, but then they hear something else, and they're like, my mom used to play this song when I was, you know, when I was younger, and it'll bring them back to that experience.”
(nostalgic, groovier music transitions to gospel music)
SHAUN: “Someone was playing gospel the other day, like, sometimes, you think, in those spaces, can this be played here? But, you see the response from, you know, the clients, and they're just really happy to hear, like, that type of music as well, because it's joyful, you know. And I think that, you know, that is really important. We've mixed sacred and secular in a way that I didn't expect it to be received, and it's received very well.”
ABBY: Shaun said they even have what he calls “Thurst Ambassadors,” club regulars that make newcomers feel welcome.
SHAUN: “Something happened I think maybe two weeks ago, where a young lady came in and she was by herself, and so one of our regular customers comes and gets me, and was like, ‘hey, I want you to meet someone.’ And so I went over, and he was introducing me to her, telling me she was from out of town, and the fact that they feel like the space is like their home, and they want to make sure that other people are comfortable, like you're doing my job for me, you know. We have created a network of people who are regular and also just treat the space like it's their space, and that, to me, is just something, I mean, it's not something that I expected, especially to happen so quickly, but I so appreciate it, because I don't know what we would do without those people who are there every week. The parties are one thing. When it's packed, it's great. But on those days where, you know, everybody's not coming out on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and they're there at the bar, you know, eating food and enjoying themselves like that's what keeps the business going.”
(gospel music fades out)
ABBY: Thurst Lounge isn’t the only new bar in the area, luckily more and more Queer bars are entering the scene.
ED BAILEY: “I think right now, we have more bars than we've ever had.”
ABBY: Ed thinks that there are two things that have contributed to this increase in Queer bars..
ED BAILEY: “I think that's a result of COVID creating opportunities and options and businesses that were vacated and our community being people that want to be out and be with each other and have places to do that.”
ABBY: Since 2020, numerous Queer bars have opened. The most recent Queer bar is something the city has never seen before— an entirely non-alcholic Queer bar: a two-level brick and mortar, with an outdoor back patio and swanky vibes. I admittedly work as a part-time bartender there (conversation, laughter, and distant dance music starts up in the background), so let’s just say I got the best scoop from owner Nick, who decided to pursue bar ownership over being a pro go-go dancer at Town.
(Abby while working at Spark says, “Hey there, how are y’all doing? What can I get for ya?)
NICK: “I just know that there's so much more to our community than drinking. And it felt like we had just resigned ourselves to thinking that, like, being gay means you either have to, like, drink to socialize or stay home. And I love karaoke, I love Drag, I love everything that we do at the bars, but there is a lot more to our community. So it's been really cool to be able to host an art market, to be able to host a HIV education seminar, you know, all these, like, kind of different things, just where the being in an alcoholic space or in a bar just isn't quite appropriate, that we get to kind of create this new opportunity to bring in parts of our culture that previously didn't have a space.” (conservation, laughter, and distant dance music ends)
ABBY: Whether you’re sipping a cappuccino at As You Are, singing karaoke at Thurst Lounge, selling your crochet projects at Spark Social, there are so many Queer bar hubs in D.C. to go to!
Uproar (tiger roars)
Shakers (cocktail shaker rattles)
Trade (shimmers sparkle)
Number Nine (sexy guitar riff)
Bunker (laser sounds)
Kiki (beer cracks open)
Pitchers (video game trills)
A League of Her Own (baseball bat hits a baseball)
And so many more!
And boy does the community feel the love that these spaces offer. We’ve heard so many of your stories about these new bars. So instead of me going on and on and on about your favorite spots to go to, let’s instead let y’all tell the story. (mid-tempo gay pop music begins to play in the background)
Let’s tune into our landline phone, “Phi-phi” who's been gathering your silly, juicy memories and stories about Queer bars in D.C.
CALLER ONE: “Hey baby…”
CALLER TWO: “Hey babyyy (giggles)...”
CALLER THREE: “Hola…”
CALLER FOUR: “Heyy, how you doin? This is Ethan…”
CALLER FIVE: “One time I went into the bathroom, and I saw a bunch of people doing copious amounts of drugs…”
CALLER SIX: “I had a really nice time recently with my friends from a dance performance that we did…”
CALLER SEVEN: “Oh my gosh, so we’re at the femme fatal like slow jams little thing…”
CALLER EIGHT: “One time when I was starting to see my boyfriend before we officially were starting to date, we went to the Green Lantern during one of their underwear party nights…”
CALLER FIVE: “And I joined in and did copious amounts of drugs.”
CALLER SEVEN: “And it’s so cute!”
CALLER NINE: “The drinks are strong. People smell good. I think it’s a really nice time.”
CALLER EIGHT: “Neither of us are really underwear party gays, so that was a decision that I made, it was a poor decision…”
CALLER SIX: “After our show we went out to a bar, and they were asking me about like what it means to be non-binary and what my gender means to me, a bunch of stuff like that. And then throughout the night, they start asking more and more questions about and just wanting to chat more about what that might mean to them and questioning aspects of their own gender…”
CALLER THREE: “Un día, un 13 de enero, estaba con mis amigas y decidimos salir a la noche. Primero fuimos a un bar que se llama Mission, que queda en Dupont Circle, y después de tomar un par de cervecitas fuimos a otro bar acá en Washington, D.C. que se llama Pitchers…”
CALLER FOUR: “I have no idea the name of this bar to be honest, but the guy outside said we’d get a free shot if we came inside, so we came inside…”
CALLER TEN: “So, I brought my partner to D.C. for them to experience D.C. nightlife for the first time ever in a dress…”
CALLER EIGHT: “So we went. We were fully clothed and it was really awkward. And we’re just kind of like awkwardly dancing with all these guys in their underwear dancing around us. We were about to leave and then we notice, in the corner, there was this guy wearing a three-piece suit…”
CALLER SIX: “And it was just a really interesting and really like special night. It felt like they felt comfortable coming to me about that and getting to hear people who were really important to me introspect about that stuff for the first time. It was really cool…”
CALLER THREE: “Una de mis amigas me dice: “Mira a esa chonga” — chonga es como le decimos a una lesbiana más masculina en Argentina, o algo por el estilo, algo inapropiado — y yo entonces le dije que vaya a pedirle el número. Pero le daba vergüenza y dije: “Bueno, vamos a ver yo”, porque acá es que era de todos…”
CALLER ELEVEN: “I’m glad this exists. I’m out here with my spouse, and it’s just so nice…”
CALLER SIX: “And I hope everybody should look into their gender, even cis-people ya know…”
CALLER EIGHT: “And my boyfriend and I, we’ve now been dating for three years. We still think about this man at least twice a month. Just like, what was we he doing there? Where was he before the underwear party? I never have been disturbed by somebody over dressed for a function, but yeah…”
CALLER FOUR: “And, honestly, kind of worth it. So maybe you should do the same…”
CALLER THREE: “Entonces le dije “okay” y le pedí el Instagram y me tuve que ir corriendo a otro bar en el último momento, fue Cenicienta. Pero bueno, han pasado tres años y estoy casada con esa persona, y me hace muy feliz. Estamos proyectando una vida juntas, entonces menos mal que mi amiga no venció el temor y a mí que le di un chance.”
CALLER TEN: “And we went and bought these really tall six-inch heels. They’ve never worn heels before in their life, and they absolutely rocked them and we had the best night with them exploring their transness. And yeah, I love T for T!”
CALLER EIGHT: “And I still don’t know if that man was real or if he was a victorian ghost. Okay, thank you for listening!”
CALLER TWELVE: “Steph finger banged a girl at Kiki last night.”
CALLER ELEVEN: “This is a sign to go out, go to a Drag show, go to anything where you can be trans, you can be non-binary, you can be gay, you can be Queer, you can be everything you are unforgivingly, unapologetically…”
CALLER THIRTEEN (ELLIE): “We’re at our launch party, listening to Bad Bunny off a playlist that I spent hours making and feel very proud of. But I feel even more proud of the work we’ve created with two of my favorite people in the world…”
CALLER ELEVEN: “This is for you. This is everything you deserve to be. Please do it. Do it for yourself…”
CALLER THIRTEEN (ELLIE): “And I’m really glad people are getting to hear it, and that we got to meet all these wonderful people through the process. Um, yeah. So, here’s to more seasons hopefully, love you, bye!”
CALLER SIX: “Hope everybody has a good night, love you, bye!”
CALLER NINE: “Peace out!
CALLER ELEVEN: “I love you.”
(phone hangs up)
(mid-tempo gay pop music fades out and slow atmospheric music starts to play in the background)
ABBY: If I’ve learned anything from writing, interviewing, and recording this season, it’s that there is so much love in the D.C. Queer community. Some of my favorite memories have been talking to Queer elders and seeing their eyes light up at memories they haven’t recounted in decades, listening to all y’alls raunchy and wholesome voicemails from Queers all over the District, and really just learning how precious our history is here.
I’m going to be honest, this year has been exhausting, especially under this current administration, the threats to not only Queer safety but to the erasure of our history has been alarming and scary. For me, this podcast has served as a reminder that we’ve always been here, no matter what. Whether that be during the Lavender Scare, the AIDS epidemic, COVID-19, Queers have and will always find a way to be together and love one another. Some bars will stay open for 50 years, others just two, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t cherish and remember those spaces. Queer bars are proof of our joy and resilience.
Thank you for joining us on this journey, I hope that next time you walk down 8th Street Southeast or 17th Street Northwest, you’re able to feel connected to the Queer history flowing through those streets. Or, the next time you go to a bar and see someone from a different generation you feel inspired to start a conversation about their favorite Queer memories and bars in the District. I hope this podcast is just the beginning of your journey towards learning more about Queer D.C., towards asking new questions and making new discoveries.
But most importantly, I hope listening to this podcast has made you feel seen in some small way, and know that no matter what happens, this city will always be Queer. From bars dating back to prohibition to new bars opening today, this city is bursting to the seams with Queer joy, resistance, and love. And no one can take that away from us.
(slow atmospheric music fades out and jazzy music fades in and plays in background)
ABBY: Hey baby, we’re so glad you’re here, and thanks for listening until the end of the episode.
This is our last historical episode of the season! We hope you’ve enjoyed learning a little more about some of the most iconic Queer bars in the District.
Don’t worry, we still have one more episode. Next week, we’ll have our final After Hours episode. Where I’ll be asking Frankie Witzenburg to talk a little bit about their perspective of the changing Queer bar scene in D.C. and, of course, play some fun games, so be sure to tune in!
We want to thank the Rainbow History Project, the DC Public Library, and the countless other academics and historians, whether featured in these episodes or not, who helped inspire and guide us through this process.
And shout out to the rest of the QTDP team, Ellie and Mads for making this podcast happen. I love you both!
You can find a transcript for this, and every episode, on our website at queeringthedistrictpodcast.com and linked below in the episode notes.
If you want to learn more and stay up to date on all things Queering the District Podcast, follow our social media pages @queeringthedistrictpodcast! You won’t want to miss exclusive interview clips, juicy voicemails, and bi-weekly spotlights.
Have a story to share? Think we missed something? Please, give us a call, and bare it all after the beep at 202-753-6570.
And if you’re still with us, as always we have a treat for you. Since this is our last anonymous caller voicemail this season, we thought we’d leave you with something we know to be true of all of you!
CALLER: “You are so loved and you are absolutely gorgeous. Bye!”
(phone hangs up)
(jazzy music fades out)
