Despite their limited numbers, these Southern lesbian bars continue to discover methods to prosper.
Tucked away on West Main Street in Durham, amidst confusion for navigation apps, lies the solitary lesbian bar of North Carolina. Hidden behind some of the city's trendiest restaurants, a circular sign marks the entrance opposite the railroad tracks that traverse Durham. A descent down a flight of black stairs, scented by an Indian fusion eatery overhead, leads to a candlelit space adorned with antique furniture and local artwork.
The room hums to the tunes of Sade and Tracy Chapman, as Erin Karcher, the owner, tends to patrons at the bar. These customers affectionately call her by name. Arcana, established in 2015, is part of a diminishing category in the United States - lesbian-specific bars, of which only 33 remain, as per The Lesbian Bar Project. This initiative aims to boost and track these establishments.
On a quiet Wednesday evening, with only a few customers, Arcana maintains a comfortable, subdued ambiance. In the rear, a burlesque class is in session, and a tarot card reader, equipped with a rainbow face mask, offers her services in the corner by the bar.
Previously, Joy Carter, a Raleigh resident identifying as queer, would travel specially to Durham merely to frequent the bar.
"When I was here, it made me yearn to be here more often, as I felt safe and comfortable, in ways I don't in the wider world," Carter said.
Similar sentiments are shared by others. Arcana also hosts regular craft sessions, figure drawing, and even queer bachata lessons. Its monthly "Dyke Night" dance parties can draw up to 100 people, such was the case for one of its very first events last year, where a line formed eagerly outside the door.
"It was a feeling of, not only is this desired, but it's been desired for a while," Karcher said.
In spite of political pressure to restrict gay rights in states such as North Carolina, Texas, and Tennessee, many Southern towns boast a thriving LGBTQ scene. These bars serve as more than just drinking spots; they function as integral parts of the community and symbols of LGBTQ history.
Lesbian bars: strongholds of identity and defiance
Nightlife has been an integral aspect of LGBTQ culture for much of US history. Being gay was a criminal offense until recently, carrying the threat of not only social rejection but imprisonment. Public displays of queer association were met with shame, making it essential for LGBTQ individuals to seek refuge in bars and parties, where the cover of darkness, close quarters, and plausible deniability offered protection.
In the 19th century, women associated with other women primarily at private parties and gatherings. Lesbian bars began to emerge in cities like Chicago and San Francisco during the 1920s and 1930s, but most lesbians shunned them, according to lesbian history authority Lillian Faderman, as detailed in her book "Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers."
Instead, they would attend private parties, like the weekly meetings arranged for lesbians and gay men by New York's Nucleus Club. As they departed, each man would pair with a woman, thereby avoiding raising suspicions amongst neighbors.
Today, these bars provide an alternative to the mating rituals typical of common taverns, where groups of women and men often circle the room like predators and prey.
Even in these safe spaces, there is diversity: Some are sophisticated cocktail lounges that close at a reasonable hour, while others are dance clubs that don't wind down until 3 a.m. Despite the atmosphere, all cater, in some aspect, as a haven for LGBTQ individuals to express themselves.
Most American lesbian bars are situated in larger cities. In the South, The Lipstick Lounge, Tennessee's only registered lesbian bar according to the Lesbian Bar Project, is in Nashville's fashionable East End district. Atlanta's My Sister's Room, the sole known lesbian bar in Georgia, is nestled amidst towering office buildings and modern apartments. The Pearl Bar, Houston's only lesbian bar, is located amidst Washington Ave's chaotic bar scene.
Though Arcana is Durham's only known lesbian bar, other gay and LGBTQ bars can be found in the city, hosting everything from queer dance parties to fundraisers for sexual assault survivors. These events can be well-attended, attracting numerous locals and students from nearby colleges. Depending on the occasion, you're as likely to see industrial workwear as you are leather fetish gear.
Navigating Through Queer Venues Across the USA
Exploring lesbian bars throughout the nation for nine months, Krista Burton delved deep into their unique atmospheres, recording her observations in her book "The Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America". On her Southern adventure, she noted a remarkable shift in the environment and camaraderie.
In every Southern bar she visited, Burton instantly gained attention and warm greetings, a stark contrast to her experiences in other regions. Strangers would converse freely with her, fostering a relaxed, inclusive vibe - similar to a secret club or sanctuary in a portion of the country not generally welcoming to LGBTQ individuals.
"Entering those doors was a fresh kind of welcome I had never experienced before," Burton stated. "It felt like a community welcoming me, like I belonged."
The term, "queer Southern hospitality," might best describe this experience. At Herz, in Mobile, Alabama, everyone turned to greet Burton upon her arrival, creating an unusual, extraordinary atmosphere. By her departure, she had conversed with everyone in the bar - approximately 50 people.
Similarly, at Yellow Brick Road, in Tulsa, Oklahoma, bartenders actively introduced her to regular patrons. In Dallas, at Sue Ellen’s, a packed bar teeming with hundreds of people, a bartender who initially welcomed Burton shouted goodbye when she departed several hours later, revealing he still remembered her name.
At the end of Burton's journey, she found that the narrative of "dying lesbian bars" might not entirely be true.
Lesbian Bar Culture's Progress Parallels Shifting Demographics
According to Gallup, more individuals, especially Gen Z, are identifying as LGBTQ, with 3% of Gen Z adults labeling themselves as lesbian. This younger generation increasingly uses terms such as "queer" or "pansexual," embracing labels that challenge standard classifications of sexuality and gender identity. These fluid identities contribute to an ever-evolving culture.
Though about a quarter of Gen Z adults identify as part of the broader LGBTQ community, not everyone may self-identify solely as "lesbian," potentially favoring a more non-specific LGBTQ space.
"Sometimes it's a physical move from a lesbian bar to a space that occasionally caters to queer or lesbian events," Burton explained. "The need for spaces like this is still there, but the venues adapt in appearance."
That's what transpired at Harlym Blue’Z, a bar in Richmond, Virginia, jointly owned by Shamecca and Le’Teshia LeSane. While they don't strictly categorize Harlym as a lesbian bar, their clientele encompasses a broad spectrum, with rainbow decorations scattered across the space and collaborations with local Black LGBTQ organizations for weekly events in the past.
When customers discover their marital status, some have questions, ranging from managing a business with a partner to their identities. Some of the regulars, who were previously unfamiliar with any LGBTQ couples, even invited the LeSanes on a week-long family cruise.
"Being able to educate people by showing them who we are," Le’Teshia explained, "and if they appreciate our dance club or our place, this is who we are, and this is what it's about."
Lesbian Bars Stand Firm Against the Tide of Time
LGBTQ bars built a strong following, yet they continued to face police raids and violence in the latter half of the 20th century. Famously, the Stonewall riots in 1969, which inspired our contemporary Pride parades, started as a police raid against the Stonewall Inn, an established gay bar.
These days, the belief that a bar is the sole secure haven has decreased, possibly accounting for the perceived decline in lesbian-specific bar culture. However, these establishments still face general challenges.
Like any bar or restaurant, staying open and viable is a challenge for these venues. Last year, Herz in Mobile shuttered after four years, as announced in a Facebook post. Numerous patrons lamented the bar's closure in the comments section, missng the karaoke nights and the "safe haven" the bar provided.
It's a massive blow for the Mobile community and Gulf Coast region, as folks from Florida and Mississippi often visited Herz. The closing of the joint left everyone heartbroken, with many shedding tears over its loss, since it was a sanctuary for many, a very comforting space. Similar sentiments are shared in Virginia, where long-standing LGBTQ bars, like those in Richmond and the surrounding areas, have been closing down. Club Colours, a popular LGBTQ pop-up bar on Saturdays, had to shut its doors after nearly a decade. Although other LGBTQ bars in the vicinity remain, Club Colours was unique due to its diverse clientele.
"I don’t get the same vibe as before," Le'Teshia explained. "Now, it seems like groups of people are heading to regular clubs and bars instead."
In larger cities, some believe lesbian-specific bars are becoming obsolete, with general bars and clubs offering comparable experiences.
However, Christa Suppan, who's been running Nashville's The Lipstick Lounge for over two decades, disagrees. "The essence of the culture remains. At the core of any bar lies a common language," Suppan asserted. "You know when you're among your people. I believe it's simpler to establish a community within a space where everyone shares similar thoughts."
Creating that shared space is what any lesbian bar aims to achieve. And in the South, it's crucial, as the community they cultivate isn't merely cherished; it's indispensable, even if you need to hunt for it.
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The US community is home to only 33 remaining lesbian-specific bars, with Arcana in Durham being one of them. Despite political pressure in states like North Carolina, these bars serve as integral parts of the LGBTQ community and symbols of LGBTQ history.
In her book "The Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America", Krista Burton observed a remarkable shift in the environment and camaraderie in Southern lesbian bars, describing the experience as "queer Southern hospitality".
