Showing posts with label lesbians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lesbians. Show all posts

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Jodie Foster is Back on the Market

A few breakups ago found me bemoaning my bad luck and bad choices to my mom. I was giving her the whole "I'm gonna die alone" and "why do I select the hopelessly incompatible" laundry list of self-pitying bullshit, when she helpfully offered, "Ellen's cute."

It was heartening and amusing to think my mom believed Ellen Degeneres might be, um, in my league and social circle, and were I single now I wonder if she might point out that Jodie Foster, too, is cute, as she and Cydney Bernard, recently revealed partner of 14 years, have split.

Cydney, we hardly knew ya. Let's hope the two kids and fortune between them don't make this ugly on top of sad. On the bright side, Jodie Foster is Back on the Market.

Read More......

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Couple in the Group House

When I first moved to D.C., I lived in a group-house-in-name-only. We were a bunch of Craigslist randoms that just happened to cohabitate. The sheer nonsense of our union was exposed when I left work early one afternoon only to return home to an improvised meth lab, constructed like an elaborate game of Mousetrap™, throughout our house’s first floor.

As I acclimated to the D.C. queer scene and met more people, I traded weird dormitory-style living arrangements borne of necessity for more cohesive, organic group house settings--pretty much all in Columbia Heights. You don’t have to be Tangina (pictured) to sense the poltergeists of gentrification encircling the Party on a Whim aisle of the new Target, and likewise sending housing (group or other) in the Cola Hey into total chaos. So inevitably, my house sold into million dollar condos, and I was left scrambling for a new place to find passive aggressive notes about dishes and/or bills.

My girlfriend was moving into the Aqueerium at 14th and Monroe--a still to this day shambolic utopia of dance parties, DIY music-making, and well-fed garden rats. My temporary decision to move in with her until I found housing turned into nigh-on three years of living together in group houses. Sure it’s awesome to pay under $200 a month in rent, and sharing a room seems more feasible in the honeymoon phase of a relationship (okay maybe this is a particularly dykey statement). These perks aside, being the couple in the group house pretty much sucks an elephant-in-the-room-sized-dick.

I have to preface this by saying I love my friends that have lived with me and my gf over the years. But let’s be honest, no friends, no matter how close, want to partake in the cuddliness, mundane domestic logistics, or naked contempt that are part and parcel to the average relationship. Friend relationships within the house begin to morph around “the unit” of the couple; meanwhile, the couple is struggling to stay relevant as individuals while working on growing together in healthy ways.

Last year, my group house disbanded, and I got my own place with the gf. I’m sad that we’re all a little more scattered and a little less entwined, but I think it’s probably for the best. When I bike past my old group-haunts in the Heights, it is almost as if I can hear Tangina cackle, “This house is clean!” (of couples).

Read More......

Monday, May 12, 2008

Reminder: Ms. Cavanaugh Presents: A Ladies Happy Hour Tomorrow

Ladies, I hope to see many of you out tomorrow for the happy hour I'm throwing at Red Derby from 7-9 p.m.

This will be a great chance to connect with other lesbians in the city, and can you really turn down a night at a bar that serves beer in cans? I didn't think so.

I'm looking forward to finally meeting some of our frequent commenters and readers.

Hope to see you there!

Read More......

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Will There Be Lesbians? You May Rely On It

Hebden Bridge is falling down...under a great density of lesbians. NPR reports that the Yorkshire, England locale was "just another dying mill town" before being overrun with strange sisters in the '90s. Today, 1 in 5 adults is of the gay lady persuasion, thanks to the welcoming nature of Hebden Bridgers.

Do you know where else 1 in 5 adults are lesbetarians? At HRC's Mystics Pride Night. There's no time like three weeks from now to finally get your ass to a Mystics game. It'll be like having Guerilla Queer Bar at a queer bar.

The helpful flyer says that $40 gets you a decent seat and entry to the after party, which the players are supposed to attend. Do not get drunk and hit on a player. You will look foolish.

Where: Dewar's 12 Clubhouse, 2nd Floor of Verizon Center
When: Saturday May, 31 from 3:30pm - 10:00pm

Read More......

Friday, May 02, 2008

May 7: Network Wednesday

Ladies First is hosting a women's networking session.

Date: Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Time: 9pm to close
Location: Fab Lounge, 2022 Florida Avenue NW, Washington DC
(corner of Connecticut & Florida Avenue)
Cost: FREE
What: This is a networking party for local professionals, entrepreneurs, promoters, artists, DJ's, queer revolutionists, and innovators in the women's lgbt community. That means you!! Come out and enjoy a few drinks, great music, and great company with DC's finest.
R.S.V.P.: Please R.S.V.P. to info@eventboi.com or 301-873-7365 by Tuesday, May 6, 2008. We look forward to seeing you!
[*Note: Feel free to pass this along to friends and associates that you think might be interested in attending this event.]

Read More......

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Ms. Cavanaugh Presents: A Ladies Happy Hour

Ladies, are you having trouble meeting other women in the city? Me too.

After reading the recent posts lamenting the difficulty of meeting other lesbians, I decided to throw a happy hour, so we can meet each other in a stress-free zone. The event will be on Tuesday, May 13, at Red Derby in Columbia Heights, from 7-9 p.m.

I'll be showing up alone, so don't feel awkward if you don't have a friend to drag along. The point of the happy hour is that after this, we'll be able to go to events at Phase 1 or other venues and know a lot of the other women there.

I created a Facebook invite so I can keep track of who's coming and so I know who to look out for.

Oh and Red Derby is cash only, though there's an ATM in the bar.

Email me at mscavanaugh@thenewgay.net if you have any questions, but otherwise I'll see you there!

Read More......

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Lez Casual

This post was submitted by Coach Varlas, who lives in Brightwood and has not gone to the new Target.

I've been at my office job for eight years, but can count on one hand the number of times I've put together a work outfit that felt both professional and true to my personal sense of style. As someone who's not really butch or femme, it's a little less clear what qualifies as business casual, and what looks like I'm vying to understudy Paula Poundstone (pictured). There's a dyke that works at the building across from mine who pretty much always looks like she's about to go on safari. This simply won't do. I don't want to spend a ton of money on power dyke drag, don't feel comfortable in dresses or skirts, and know that thrift store irony often just looks frumpy after eight hours in a cubicle.

I feel like dressing for work is this daily personal statement--about my gender, sexuality, and professional aspirations. So far, I feel like I'm saying I'm a little boy that likes girls and one day wants to be a cowboy. To figure out if other dykes also wrestled with work wardrobe, I asked some friends for their personal definitions of Lez Casual. Apparently, the sweater vest is the lesbian desk job equivalent to the little black dress. Read their responses / add yours below the fold.

Jenny: I think 40% of why I wanted to work from home was because of this dilemma.

Sench: Every time I wear a suit I look like a women's basketball coach. It's really annoying. I just look like a dyke in a suit. There's nothing getting around it. "Hustle in ladies! We're running the picket fence play! Watch number 32! Number 32!"

Jeanni: I dunno, I enjoy dykes in suits looking like dykes in suits and / or basketball coaches! Personally, I'm a fan of the sweater vest layered with an assortment of (preferably vintage) collared dude shirts. That's how I've learned to get through my day here at an office full of 'mos. (Can we also just have an option for dykes to wear nothing? That's always a winner!)

Stephanie: Once, I wore a sweater vest to work and when I got there I realized I would have felt less conspicuous amongst my middle schoolers if I had just wrapped myself in a rainbow unity flag. Still, I also stand by the sweater-vest. I've worn a button down/up(?) every single day of teaching except when we wear our school polos. I even have the most amazing Halloween teacher shirt. When my students talked about what culture means, fashion came up, and we talked about genders and fashion, to which one of my students noted, "Like you--you dress like a boy." [Class Reaction] "What? What? No offense! I was just sayin!" I think the real challenge is shoes. Pumps? I think I would look more natural in clown shoes. Flats? I would get less blisters if I held matches to my feet. Chucks? Unprofessional. Sensible sneakers? I guess so.

Polly: My biggest beef is that I like wearing ties, but feel a little strange if I wear them because it is so out of the ordinary. My dream outfit is navy blue slacks with a v neck gray sweater and a collared button-up underneath.

Shauna: I dress like a half-baked art teacher in 1974: goucho pants, giant necklaces, secretary blouses, ballet flats, subtle triangle post earring. But I recently had occasion to accompany Maegan on her first foray into the double-knit world of biz-caz, and the plight of the butchish professional womyn, it is dire. It was worse than when we went swimsuit shopping. It was like Cathy, but with 700 pairs of black boot cut pants and another lady couple bickering in the next stall down. I dunno how you andro girls manage. She just kept murmuring, "Dickies." We ended up spending $300 at the Gap again.

Maegan: My issue has always been is that it is hard to butch it up, even slightly, in women's work attire. You shop in the ladies dept. and you end up feeling awkward cuz you're wearing femme cut clothes that you would not have chosen were a paycheck not at stake. Or you venture into the men's dept., with high hopes, and end up looking ill-fitted. 'Cause you may be a little butch but you still got hips. Sigh. Anyway, I've found that wide leg trousers do the job nicely. They work with the hips and still look good. Also, I'm pretty adamant about there being no stretch (or as little as possible) in the pants. I like my pants to feel like real pants, you know what I'm saying? As for shirts-- it's a personal preference, but I like oxfords. And collared shirts in general (like polos). French cuffs are nice for the oxfords. Then you can layer and pair the oxfords / polos with a v-neck sweater or sweater vest. For jackets I've got a brown corduroy that I like, and a black linen affair if it has to be fancier. Shoes are always my sticking point. I hate, with a fiery passion, those bulky black numbers most people wear. I'd rather experiment with sedate slip-ons or a pair of boat shoes. Women can get away with more than men. Basically, if I have to dress up my usual jeans-and-a-hoodie self, I just pretend that I'm a dapper British fellow.

Vicki: I stopped working in settings where biz caz was expected more than five years ago, and this dilemma was totally part of the reason why I chose to tune in and drop out. Seriously, shoulder pads? Why do women's suits STILL have shoulder pads?! Check out the first thing that Google brings up when you do an image search for "women's business casual"! Ah, the flair white pant suit with shoulder pads on the right. And the bowed-baby-doll thing second from the left. And these looks are very edgy, considering. WTF?

Cara: I waitressed in a penguin suit for a few summers, but I've never worked in an office. I wear jeans and t-shirts when I teach or when I work. I guess I'm lucky. When I'm working on a ladder, faculty and others look down on me as though I were a monkey. Same as for my wardrobe (which is conducive to the tech aspects of my job), but I think I'm seen as immature, unprofessional, and slovenly. Because I have a mini-mohawk, wear jeans, and have about 16 gallery keys I carry around. The important people never carry keys.

Suzanne: Well, since my new-found funemployment, I tend to wear pajamas, cut-off shorts and a tank with no bra or sometimes just underpants to work. No one seems to mind. Before that, I worked at a gay youth center, sooo, pretty much my work drag was jeans, shirt, and baseball cap. I tended to look like a middle school boy most of the time, and I loved it. I always, always, always dreaded days that I had meetings and had to dress like an adult. I always felt like nothing fit, my shoes didn't match, and was self-conscious about my hair, 'cause there is no real way to dress up a devil's lock. I always felt stupid. On those day, I longed to be wearing a homemade, moth eaten, stank ass t-shirt that said "fuck business casual" in big letters on the front. But I sucked it up and put on some slacks and the most flattering button down I could find. Summers got a little tricky too, especially for someone who can sweat through a mesh top in 20 seconds. Even though it felt totally weird to wear a skirt to work, I found myself pulling them out, if only to catch a breeze. This confused the fuck out of the lesbian young women at the center, who would persistently ask me, "What are you?! A Dom (butch) or a Femme? I need to know!!" To which I could only reply, depends on the heat index. But the boys were extra nice to me on those days because I looked "cunt-gay", boy slang for feminine--the supreme and ultimate compliment.

Marla: I have gone through so many phases with this. I am lately wearing various H&M shirts (or "tops"?) and then cotton non-jeans pants. I got a girlier pair of shoes recently for more dressy days, and to wear with my brown suit, on rare occasion. And I have one or two pairs of traditional lesbo loafers, of course. It's an ongoing struggle though. I still feel like I am embarrassed if I run into a friend on a day that I have to dress up at work. Working at a nonprofit, you really can't afford nice work clothes, let's be honest. So I try to find things on the cheap, at thrift and vintage shops, too. Here in San Francisco, that means Buffalo Exchange, Crossroads, and Painted Bird. I think with work clothes though, especially for carpet munchers, it's vital to splurge every so often to get something that will make you happy when you need to dress up. I've done that with shoes and a Banana Republic suit (!). The best "work shirts" are ones you can also wear out with your friends, but I don't think I've ever had work pants that I felt that way about. In summary, two words for you: sweater vest.


Gmail Bonus: This whole exchange took place over Gmail, and some of the relevant ads and links popping up to the right of this email conversation were: "Buy Girls Underwear Online," "Girls Wear Thongs!," "Need an Image Consultant?," and "Kentucky Derby Fashion." Perhaps within these clues lies the solution to the age-old riddle of dyke dress-wear.

Read More......

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Time to Get My Hair Did

Many gays have a special talent when it comes to hair; in fact, going into a gay event – boy or girl – is generally like walking into a waiting lounge for a Short Cuts magazine shoot, minus the 80s eyeshadow and tall shoulder pads. Your eyes lay witness to a whole range of short dos – the swoop, the buzz, the faux-hawk, the asymmetrical emo cut, and even the mullet. I, myself, have had a range of gay-dos; I’ve sported everything from dreadlocks, to fancy designs shaved into the side of my head, all the way to my personal favorite – the mullet.

I think that hair can be pretty telling of sexuality, particularly for the lady gays, but really for both sexes. In fact, hair is usually one of the first things I analyze when trying to decide if a girl is homo or hetero. First her sneakers; then, her hair. (This survey technique is definitely biased against femmes, but its success rate is pretty high, and I’m pretty sure it is how the world secretly knows that Missy Elliott prefers the ladies.)

Once when I was in the lezbo-womyn town of Northampton, someone once told me that the fem-mullet originated as a type of identifier, like a way that old dykes could spot each other when the styles of the late-80s and early-90s had reached a low point and all women, not just the dykes, were wearing unflatteringly long-zippered pants, baggy and awkwardly fitting shirts, and weather resistant shoes. Basically, the point was to look for the mullet, then ask for the number.

This theory makes me wonder if many gays today don’t use their hair, whether consciously or subconsciously, as the same type of social cue. I know that before I became a working professional I surely did, and I can tell you – I definitely got cat-called a lot less back then. On the other hand, I think the motives can go the other way, too; being gay allows many of us to say, “Fuck the gender norms of hair styles, I’ve already gone and broken rule numero uno of the gender code, so I might as well shave a lightening bolt into the side of my head.” Given our lack of ties to gender norms, we go ahead and cut and chop our hair into whatever style we desire.

Anyway, all of these thoughts are a diversion from my real end-goal. I’m desperately in need of a hair cut and looking for a good DC place to get one. I don’t want a place that is going to give me a – I have to hold my breath as I even type the word – bob (gross!), nor do I want to have to explain step-by-step how to create a hairstyle that is anything but a bob. Basically, I want somewhere hip and open-minded - somewhere that won’t make me sign a release form when I ask them to give me a 21st century fashionista mullet. Any suggestions?

Read More......

Friday, April 25, 2008

Breaking News: Wendy Rieger's Not a Lesbian


How do rumors get started? I'm not sure, but the entirely unsubstantiated urban legend/wish of DC lesbians that NBC anchor Wendy Rieger is one of us is presently being undermined by reports of the existence of a boyfriend. I guess being cute, emceeing SMYAL events, and "then of course alllll the on-air leather vests in July on the evening news" does not a gay make. Still, the Washington Post's Reliable Source seems suspiciously surprised, too: Wendy Rieger's Birthdays Take the Cake. We love you regardless, Wendy.

BONUS! Bizarre three-minute silent video of Wendy at the Washington City Paper: Three Minutes with Wendy Rieger

BONUS (barely related) BONUS! Co-Anchors Jim Vance and George Michael busting up over a model falling down. Jim Vance loses it on WRC-TV

Read More......

Friday, April 18, 2008

Can Queer Girls Have Boyfriends?

This post was submitted by Chris, who was a blogging virgin until Zack seduced her into posting for TNG. She lives in Columbia Heights and hopes to be a big bad investigative reporter one day.

The tiny room was packed with at least a dozen women sprawled over the bed and on any available chairs. The TV screen flickering on the dresser turned sepia-toned as "The L Word's" Bette and Tina finally got busy. One of my friends commented: “Has anyone noticed how they only have sex like straight people?”

I jumped right in. “Yeah! My boyfriend and I were just talking about that the other night!”

There was a pause. Heartbeat heartbeat.

Or was there?

Then someone else chipped in, and the conversation (and hetero-normative "L Word" sex scene) moved on. But I didn’t. Those two seconds of silence after I said “my boyfriend” went straight through the pit of my stomach. I took a deep breath, slapped a lid on it and a smile on my face, and finished the episode out. Then I left, pleading exhaustion from a busy weekend.

When I got home I called a friend in Missouri and recounted those awful moments. I hadn’t realized how upset I was until I almost started crying on the phone. I’m not the waterworks type, so Stephanie was probably pretty shocked. She said she couldn’t believe a bunch of queer women would pause over anything I said about sexual orientation; weren’t they supposed to be more tolerant and accepting because of everything they’d presumably been through? We agreed it was messed up and I started to relax.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. I called him next, and he said something to the effect of “maybe it was just jarring to hear you say ‘my boyfriend’ in that context, and they just needed a moment to adjust.” He pointed out that it could also have been just a natural pause in the conversation and nothing to do with what I’d said.

Now that I’d calmed down, I wondered if he could be right. It’s possible that, after 10 years living as a closeted queer in Texas and 4 years coming out in a very hetero college in rural Pennsylvania, I’m hypersensitive to that moment where people who had assumed you were just like them suddenly reclassify you as other. The distance that immediately springs up in their faces, body language, or even just in their eyes. How their voices catch, change, stop to take a breath before going on. And the sometimes painful consequences.

When I moved to DC, it was the first time I’d ever lived in the middle of a vibrant, politically active, safe GLBT community. It was the first time I ever felt comfortable walking down the street holding hands with a girl, let alone making out with her on a street corner. Prior to moving to DC, I’d known a grand total of 3 women who were out as lesbians, and I didn’t know them well. I’ve since befriended more out and proud lesbians and queer women than I could have imagined existed in a single city.

I felt a sense of belonging when surrounded by queer women that I’d never felt before. There were just certain things I didn’t have to explain, like why it was obnoxious that all the apartment ads in the paper pictured happy “couples” with one male and one female. Or how hot that girl we just passed on the sidewalk was. With them, I wasn’t making a point when I said I wished straight people would stop assuming I was also straight just because I look femme; they got it. I could just be myself.

And then I fell head over heels for this guy. This wonderful, amazing, compassionate, sensitive, intelligent, hilarious, feminist straight guy. This guy who is now my boyfriend.

Suddenly I found myself coming out all over again. Sure, I’d told my friends I was bi. But I was a bi woman who only dated women, as far as any of them knew. As I’ve found out, being a bi woman who dates a man is different, especially to other queer people. Suddenly those jokes about non-detachable penises seemed to need disclaimers around me. Suddenly I was explaining myself, and doubting myself, around a group of women I had felt completely at ease with.

For the most part it’s been smooth, although there have been some inappropriate and downright weird comments from women I’m not close with. Like: “I’m just afraid we’re losing another cute one… are you exclusive?” Those I pretty much shrugged off. But there are those moments I have trouble putting my finger on that make me wish I could just crawl back into the pink and plaid closet. That I could just be a normal lesbian, drink some beer, munch some carpet and shut up. Except that I love this guy and I refuse to pretend to be what I’m not: straight or gay.

When my boyfriend hinted that I might have been imagining things, I wanted to say: “You weren’t there and you’re straight, how the heck could you know? Don’t patronize me!” But being a straight male doesn’t make him blind, just like being bi and female doesn’t make me crazy. He was trying to make me feel better, even if it came across to me as dismissive. I could have been overreacting or jumping at shadows because I’m afraid my queer friends will reject me now that I’m “not gay.” I could have just misinterpreted it. Or, I could have been completely right.

I went back to L Word night two weekends later for more wisecracks on Betty’s intro and Shane’s hair, and everything seemed fine. I didn’t say the b-word that night because I decided I would rather be chicken than feel like an outsider with my friends. But I still wonder what exactly happened that first night, and to be honest, I’m still a teensy bit uneasy about going to gatherings specific to queer women.

How do you handle it when your friends suddenly pull back because you say “my boyfriend/my girlfriend”… or do they pull back at all?

Read More......

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Thank You Sir, but, Uhhh – No, Thank You…

Yet another post by Stephanie. She needs to find some new friends in Columbia Heights so someone will walk her home at night.

"…No, seriously – no, thank you….Uhhh, sir, please leave me alone… "

WTF?! Okay, I hate to write right after the TNG party because it makes me look like some blogging nerd-o, but my departure from Solly’s was too much of an exemplar of an average walk home for me to not acknowledge. I don’t get – why the fuck do I still get harassed by straight men even when I “look my gayest”? As proof, standing at the bar, I overheard another lezzie describe me to her man-friend as “…well, she definitely is…” Okay, so, yeah, gays do have some sort of intuitive gay-chip, so we can judge a little more accurately, but that doesn’t mean straight people are oblivious to the sexual world around them. My question: Am I the only non-femme out there still being cat-called on a regular basis by men who clearly don’t know their ass from their elbow?

At first, I politely told the man outside of Solly’s whom, because of his pushy attitude, I initially assumed was a cabby, that I was headed home. Next, he insisted upon driving me there, so I said I was taking the metro…to, uh, meet someone. Then, as I walked up 14th – clearly not on the metro – I look to my left, only to see the man calling to me out the passenger-side window of his car. AHHHH! I hopped into Busboys and Poets because at this point I was a little freaked out; eventually, however, I got bored of browsing books that I had no intention of buying and decided to jog the rest of the way home with my phone in my hand.

I guess this post has no purpose other than to see if other dykes are plagued with same problem. I honestly don’t get it. Sure, I wear mascara, but I also wear my pants half-way down my ass, men’s cardigans, high-top sneakers, and fanny packs as purses. Nothing about me shouts, “Men, I am sexy – come and call to me!”; so, why do some men still keep trying so ardently? Is it cultural? Am I only a raging dyke by white American standards? Or is it moronic? Is it that the men cat-calling me are single for a reason?

Gay men, do you ever face the same problem with straight women, or are they usually pretty quick to tune into reality even if they think you’re a hunk and a half?

Read More......

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Phase 1: A Love Story

This post was submitted by Meaghan, a local blogger and big fan of Phase 1.

In the Fall of 2001, I was a few months into my first lesbian relationship, and while I was reticent to identify myself as a lesbian, I was certainly intriqued by the community of which I had recently been made a member. One night, my girlfriend and our friends decided it would be fun to head to a bar, dance, drink and get out of the suburbs for a while. The only bars I had the fortune of frequenting in the city previously were along Pennsylvania Ave, and filled to brim with annoying interns. We armed ourselves with our sexiest "on the town" outfits, MapQuest directions, and the fervent hope that we'd enjoy ourselves enough to stay awhile. I was filled with nervous, giddy excitement. I was going to a LESBIAN BAR. And not only was it a lesbian bar, but it was the oldest lesbian bar in the country.

I was going to Phase 1 .

Seven years later, I can say with complete sincerity and pride that Phase 1 is MY bar. And let me tell you why...

There is little to no written history about Phase, which frustrates the academic in me, but doesn't surprise me either. Over the years, there is little doubt that the Phase just kept on moving. The bar opened its doors in 1970, situated in the heart of what is commonly referred to as Barrack's Row, SE and just a stone's throw from Eastern Market. I can't imagine what 8th Street looked like back then. With the Marine barracks taking up the most significant chunk of real estate and the street being otherwise filled with what I can only assume were small, local stores, restaurants, and community offices, Phase 1 was probably a shocking addition. It was, however, a sister bar to an establishment that would go down (and if you've been keeping up with the news, reemerge like a phoenix from the ashes) in Gay DC infamy, Ziegfeld's & Secrets. Allen Carroll, and his partner Chris Jenson, managed to plant deep, vibrant roots in a region of the city that has only seen the limelight recently.

Phase 1 has grown into something incredible. You might be fooled by the exterior, which looks like wood panelling painted over and over again with a demure rust red color. The heavy, bolted, black door might even make you hesitate. The sweet stench of over 30 years of cigarette smoke as you enter the bar might cause you to wrinkle your nose, but I can imagine that if you just inch in a little bit more, there will be a smiling face to greet you and welcome you in. Phase 1 is a dive bar, always has been, always will be. It thrives not because of ingenuity and forthright thinking, but because everyone returns "home" at some point and everyone has planted roots of their own in this bar, in this town. For many years, it was the only place lesbians could go. And for many years after that, it was the preferred choice because gay men in this city (God love ya!) are notoriously territorial. So we forgive the bar for its shortcomings because it is something that belongs to our community.

Beyond the historical and community impact of this bar, I have to articulate how it has become MY bar, and why I love it so much. When I walked into the bar almost seven years ago, I literally felt like I was coming home. My friends could tell you that I still let a twinkle or a tear escape my eye when remembering this moment, because I finally accepted the fact that I was gay. Over the years, I've shared so much with the bar. My first slow dance, not counting sixth grade, was in this bar with a DJ who currently still spins on Wednesday nights. We probably retell that story everytime we see each other, and I can imagine us in our old age returning to the bar, embracing and laughing about the story in retrospect. I've come to the bar after failures and firings and found strength, empathy and compassion. I've also come to celebrate and found that people who visit Phase sincerely know how to enjoy life. And even over the course of the past few months, when I've been regaining my footing after a lengthy absence due to health issues, I've found old friends embracing me like I haven't left, my old sassy humor boiling back up, and a degree of realness and honesty for which I have yet to find an adequate comparison. All of this does not negate the very realness of queer drama and dysfunction that exists at Phase, but I have found this everywhere in my life. But the bar, in many ways, is very much like a family. They will tolerate your crap, deal with your slip ups, and love you all the same.

Dykes in this city complain with great regularity that there aren't great places to go for queer women and transfolk. I guffaw at this! There is, in fact, one great place where you can go. And if you go often enough and bust out of your shell once or twice (I recommend karaoke on Thursdays), you'll find that Phase 1 really IS the place to be. It's where everybody knows your name, it's where everyone is glad you came, and it has maintained this standard for over 30 years. Club nights, hipster bars, and outsourced events cannot and will not stand the test of time like my bar.


Read More......

F*** the Cowboys; Where have all the Lesbians Gone

This post was submitted by Allison who, like Stephanie, wants more out of DC's lesbian community.


This past weekend my travels led me to Chicago. There, I met more out lesbians in the airport terminal than in my 19 years living in D.C. I tripped on 5 more getting my luggage. "Lesbians! Everywhere!" I said doe-eyed eating pizza-flavored combos. These lesbians were not only in "gay" bars, but scattered throughout the city; even in places without the promise of a drag king show or a quirky singer/songwriter. Sure, there may be a 3% margin of error in this vague statistical study, but let's be real. Lesbians of the DC metro area: get out of those beds! Trim those faux hawks! Cut out a rainbow from your old Lisa Frank stationary! There should be plentiful pussy in the Maryland, Virginia, DC areas.

Every gay male event in DC is packed to the brim with gay men. I can't even say "vodka cranberry" before someone's balls are in my mouth (not complaining). Lesbian Events in D.C. (besides Pride and the L Word Premier) do not compare. Last week, my friend Stephanie and I went to Be Bar for their new weekly lesbian event. At first, the event was substantially full, but the crowd thinned out rather quickly. True, it was a Wednesday evening. However weekend lesbian events in D.C. do not differ.

The following weekend some friends and I went to DuPont Circle. Bars were packed, and we all danced in our 'apple bottom jeans, and boots with the fur.' Everything was great until my girlfriend kissed me. Immediately after, 4 or 5 men asked us to kiss again and physically pushed us. Other girls looked us up and down as if we were making a scene. It was the "could you do that somewhere else?" look. After ONE kiss. True, this bar had a high douche bag ratio, but it's not like I was giving her a motorboat (note to self: must perform motorboat in public).

I'm tired of having to choose: "do I have a 'gay' night tonight or a 'straight' night." Why do there have to be such large extremes? A not-so-well-attended lesbian event vs. a hyper-heterosexual fraternity party. WHERE HAVE ALL THE LESBIANS GONE? If we attended these lesbian events at Be Bar, Town, Taboo, DC 9, there might be more!

Maybe I just answered my own question: Why would gay women want to be around douche bags like those described above? Is this why we are hibernating at home watching "But I'm a Cheerleader?" My girlfriend suggested that many lesbians may not "like" lesbian culture. Or maybe it's just the "D.C." lesbian scene? Maybe it's that women have more powerful jobs and don't identify with stereotypical "lesbian" interests. Does that mean they can't come out to play?

It better not be the "I have a girlfriend and want to stay home" syndrome. That's for sure.

Read More......

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Lez Be Friends

This post was submitted by Stephanie, who should probably have her own TNG account by now for all the posts she's submitted.

I have a theory: Most lesbian events are under-attended because many lesbians can’t find someone to drag out with them (there is no lesbian equivalent to the fag-hag), nor do they feel comfortable going to lesbian events alone. Sure, there are other factors: the natural inclination to stay home petting the dogs; Adult Swim; and sports games that we need to rest-up for. However, my own recent experiences and conversations with other dykes make me believe that my theory has quite a bit of validity to it.

Take this scene: On Friday night I decided that I really did want to see what the inside of Phase 1 looks like, so I decided to suck up my gay-litist aversion to lesbian bars and head on over to Slut Night. Naturally, I asked my usual right-hand lesbian friend to come along with me; and then, when I found out that she already had plans, I told myself that maybe a night in playing video games wasn’t such a bad idea anyway. However, a message on Facebook reminded me that there was another lesbian friend from college whom I wanted to catch up with, so I texted her about going out. Since she was enthusiastically up for the event, I braved the rain and took a cab over to Eastern Market. Unfortunately, however, my friend and her girlfriend were running late, so I ended up making small talk with the few people I knew there, and then just sat and people-watched in the corner while I waited. Eventually, I found myself bored, cashless, and craving a box of DOTS more than any of the women around me, so I texted the friend and told her I’d have to catch up with her another time and headed out.

I don’t blame my lack of fun on the event - dykes all around me were having what appeared to be a good time. The truth is, though, who the hell ever has fun hanging out alone in a bar/club on a Friday or Saturday night except, perhaps, for the most extreme kind of loner and/or alcoholic?

I know from conversations with other D.C. dykes that I am not alone in this annoying lack of lesbian friends. I mean, I don’t work for a gay non-profit, nor do I have time for a sports team, and I didn’t move here with a girlfriend; this all being said, my lifestyle, like that of my gay girls, isn’t particularly well-suited for meeting other queer ladies.

While I’m not quite at the point where I would respond to any of the craigslist calls to form L Word-modeled social groups, I do think that I would like to be a little more proactive about fixing the pathetic situation so many of us face. I mean, gay girls are generally pretty fun to hang out with - no matter how much we age, we don’t seem to lose our ability to drink, dance, or see the potential for fun in a variety of Nerf games.

So, homo-sisters, how about we suck up our awkwardness for a bit and try venturing out to places even when we have no one to use as our social crutch; then, once out, try to introduce ourselves to new people (this is the part I failed at on Friday). Seriously, no one really looks over at the person alone at the bar and thinks, “HOLY SHIT – THERE’S A LOSER!” Maybe this Wednesday I’ll wear a name tag to BeBar’s weekly dyke night. If you feel uncomfortable being alone, you can come and introduce yourself. If you don’t see a name tag, just look for a person wearing a cardigan and/or sweater vest and sagging skinny jeans while mocking the fancy furniture, and come over and say hello. Seriously, see you on Wednesday.


Read More......

Friday, April 04, 2008

The New Lesbian

I went to a work party last night for my gay-oriented job. These are usually fun, since I consume a lot of liquor and meet new homos, but this one was entirely different.

In the hour and a half that I was there, three comments were made about my sexual orientation — as in “she looks straight so she’s obviously straight.” One person commented that I don’t play for “that team.” The second person asked me what I was doing there. (Well, for starters I don’t think that’s a polite way to strike up a conversation with anyone. Maybe ask me what I do for work and see if that illuminates anything.) The third person asked me if I was a friend of my gay co-worker. (Do people not realize that heteros can work for a gay organization too?)

I realize that these sort of comments aren’t particularly hurtful and I’m aware that I don’t look like the stereotypical lesbian. But at a gay party? It didn’t cross anyone’s mind that maybe I’m not heterosexual?


At the first TNG party in February, someone told me that they were surprised by how “thin and pretty” I was. Now I’m sure some of this has to do with the fact that bloggers are associated with sitting in their parents basements and typing away, but I’m sure it also had something to do with the fact that people don’t think lesbians can be attractive. Well, we can. And many, many of us are.

I spent a long time thinking about how I would define the “new lesbian” and I guess this is it. I’d rather go out to museum parties and martini bars than sit at home with my cat, I listen to more music than just Ani (though she is absolutely on my iPod), I won’t attempt to move in with you after the second date (maybe because my high school nickname was the Ice Queen), and I wear skirts, get pedicures, like high heels, have long hair and like pussy. Get over it.

Read More......

The Craigslist w4w Crisis

We all know this: the w4w ads on Craigslist suck. Both the Missed Connections suck, and the Women Seeking Women, suck. Is it because lesbians are hopelessly earnest, irredeemably dorky, and terrible at spelling? Perhaps. Is it because we don't know an attractive picture from an unnatractive picture? Is it because we don't understand how these ads are supposed to fucking work? Ladies, I know we can do better. For the next week I challenge All DC-Area Lesbians to place a regular or Missed Connection ad on Craigslist that does not suck. One that you yourself could imagine responding to. Do it. And report back.


Is it because we inadvertently bait necrophiliacs?

Read More......

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

The Name of the Night is Be: XX...


...AND I'm plugging my housemate's event, but neither of those undeniable facts means tonight's inaugural "alterna-queer weekly for the ladies" at Be Bar/She Bar isn't actually going to Rule. What's not to like? The D.C. Kings and D.C. Gurly (burlesque) are no longer refugees, now that Be Bar's hosting every first Wednesday, and $2 rail drinks says you'll be lubed enough to dance your way through three sets of DJs.

Just the facts, ma'am:

Kings and Burlesque Show: 10pm
DJ Joshua (Riff Raff at Asylum) 11-12pm
Natty Boom (from the king shows) 12-1am
Junebullet (First Ladies DC) 1-2am

Read More......

Friday, March 28, 2008

Lesbians, Start Your Calendars

This post is by Coach, who knows what's happening, generally.

This Sunday, if you wanna:
Sun Mar 30- CAROL BUI, THE ANDALUSIANS (to benefit Girls Rock! DC) $8 Backstage 8:00 (Black Cat)


Also this Sunday, Ladies Tea w/Richmond Dykes (!) at Phase

04/04 Girls Rock the Movie at the Avalon (there'll be shows associated with this, too)

04/03-06 Load of Fun Gallery, B'more: Transmodern Fest (queer-pos artfest, features performances by TNG faves Katastrophe & Dynasty Handbag)

4/11 Phasefest benefit: Slut Night

Read More......

Friday, March 21, 2008

A Different Kind of Ladies' Night Anniversary


It must be anniversary season. A Different Kind of Ladies' Night turns four with a celebration on Saturday at Fab Lounge. There will be 2 for 1 drinks on every drink in the house from 8 p.m. to midnight, and CUPCAKES, which might be my favorite things ever. 1805 Connecticut Avenue, 2nd Floor.

Read More......

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Straight Crushee

This post was submitted by long-time TNG reader Stephanie, who is a teacher and resides in Columbia Heights.

Oh shit, is generally my first thought. Then, there’s usually some lag time where I retreat into denial of what I’m doing, and cross my fingers that it’s just a passing phase. Finally, when I come to terms with my feelings (usually after a night of heavy drinking and undeniable flirting) my thoughts usually quickly change from shame to self-righteousness - “Oh, come on,” I reason with myself, “she’s GOT to be gay…who does she think she’s kidding? Maybe her boyfriend and the rest of society, but definitely not me!”

Several topical events - the L Word’s newest unrealistic storyline with Shane and What’s Her Name; the recent tragedy of an eighth grade Californian gay boy who was murdered after he asked a straight classmate to be his Valentine; and my own current crushing experiences – have got me spending a lot of time thinking about the one thing that could bring a Catholic-raised kid more shame than the actual realization of being a gay: the straight crush.

It’s not surprising that these types of crushes – gay on straight – can make the normally socially functional gay feel so ashamed – our society is filled with so many mixed awkward messages about gay acceptance. So many of our straight friends are completely accepting of us being gay. However, they still cringe and/or giggle awkwardly at the idea of our gay crushes, or even worse – our gay sex lives. These friends really do understand why we often prefer to go to gay nights around town, but if you’ve ever tried to drag one of them to a gay night, you have seen just how much many straights still squirm at the idea of mingling solely among homos for a whole Friday or Saturday night (granted, I don’t like mingling among straights for a whole night either, but I already did that shit for a significant portion of my life). In general, so many of our straight comrades don’t see a problem with homosexuality, but they’re still not socially comfortable with it. This is what makes the straight crush so oddly unacceptable. When a gay person crushes on a straight person, it still seems to be viewed as if the gay has overstepped a social boundary.

I’ve often wondered if gay guys have this experience as mush as