CHEERS FOR THE QUEERS

[July 13th, 2005] Every small town in America needs at least one gay bar to call its own.

I came to this epiphany the night I was a judge for Vancouver's first-ever gay pride pageant at the Northbank Tavern, the only queer bar in all of Southwest Washington. A smallish affair (it was a benefit for last weekend's Vancouver Pride Festival Saturday in the Park), the judges nearly outnumbered the contestants. With only two queers competing in three categories of Miss (drag queen), Ms. (dyke) and Mr. (either gender could vie for this title), the show was over before it even began. But despite this small competitive showing, the event was well-attended, enthusiastically received and, ultimately, a welcome relief from the blasé behavior often found among the queer-friendly cabals in the "big city" of Portland.

Now, stepping into the Northbank seems like stepping back in time. Even though it's only a hop and a skip across the Columbia River, this old-school watering hole made me feel like I had traveled all the way back to a 1970s fern bar. It wasn't so much the space as it was the people. Most of the Stepford wife-looking drag queens in the audience were dressed as if they were going to a Baptist church picnic. The rest of us were a mixed set of old and young lesbians, gay guys and a bunch of straight people looking like they'd just discovered the secret juke joint on the wrong side of the tracks. There was a tension in the air, as palatable as my too-strong Maker's, as if what was happening here wasn't supposed to be happening.

Which brings me to my point. The way I see it, medium-sized and larger cities like Portland don't need gay bars anymore, but places like Vancouver do. Now, of course, I realize that alcohol fuels every bar scene. So does loneliness. But what if you take away the gin and juice? What do you have left?

A community gathering spot, that's what. And it's in the small towns where we really need to start providing places for same-sex folks to hook up that don't involve truck stops, rest rooms and uncomfortable park benches.

Now, I'm well aware that cities like Vancouver, Pendleton and The Dalles are unlikely spots for new queer community centers (hell, Portland's having its own problems trying to make that dream come true), but one look at Craigslist shows that queer people live in every inch of our Pacific Northwest states.

Sure, bars aren't the only solution to solving the homo-societal blues of backwater burgs, but they can be a place "where everybody knows your name." And for small-town queers, that name is usually "fag," "dyke" or something much worse. Every town needs at least one spot-jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this-where that name could actually be "friend."