NYC Queerness, Pride, and Parenthood: Part 1 with our mentor Laura!

As soon as Laura’s camera blinked on for the interview, the three of us couldn’t stop smiling. Her grounded nature, kindness, and intelligence, which nurtured us throughout our time in high school, were immediately palpable.

The three founders of :a new spelling of my name, Zoe, Sofia, and Miriam, came together in high school to study queer theory, history, and literature, and Laura was the professor who guided us through it all. She is deeply beloved by all of us. Laura has a way of making everyone who comes into her path feel seen--we would often stop by her office to grab a piece of chocolate, and there would be other professors and students alike waiting to share a moment with her. In the classroom, she is a deliberate and caring teacher, with beautiful meandering paragraphs of thought that would slowly assemble into clear and emergent ideas. It was meaningful to all of us to have a queer educator and mentor to guide us through our high school experience, and we were grateful to catch up with her through this conversation!

Miriam: [In the past and present, what were some queer spaces in New York and how have you experienced queerness in New York in general?]

Laura:

There’s a lot fewer [queer bars] now. [I remember] when I [turned] 21, I went to Meow Mix, which was a lesbian bar at the time in Manhattan. All my friends from college came to my house, and then we went into the city for my 21st birthday. And that was the best thing ever because at the time, when we were deciding it was going to be Meow Mix, there were so many choices of where we could’ve gone! And now there’s just not as much choice.

Every Sunday night there was this party I loved. It was a gay bar that was called Starlight Lounge, but on Sunday night it was called Starlits and it was the queer women’s night. During the week there weren’t so many women there; you could go there, obviously, but Starlits was Sunday night, and I loved that one. And I loved that there was this bar called Rubyfruit; I was saying how funny it is now because when I would go to Rubyfruit, which was in Manhattan, it was like older women. But I’m actually really scared to think about how old I thought “older” women are, because they could’ve been like 35 and I was, you know, 21. Now that I’m 41, I definitely think they probably were just my age. But that seemed like older, sophisticated women drinking cocktails; it wasn’t a loud bar, you could hear each other talk.

Or [there is] Cubbyhole, which still exists! Which I love! That one is so tiny, but it was one of the few places that, then and now, kind of had a mixed scene of all different kinds of queer people. A lot of the other ones that I’m naming were for women specifically. Also, in Manhattan was this place that I liked to go to dance called Henrietta Hudsons. We would just call it Henrietta’s, and that doesn’t exist anymore...which is really sad…

Then, after college, I went to Boston. But when I came back to New York and lived in Park Slope, Cattyshack on 4th Ave was just the place to be hands down. It had two floors, a dance floor, and a porch off the back so you could be outside; it was like the place to go, all the time, to find people who were young and my age at that time. And they closed down. All the places that I’m mentioning except for Cubbyhole don't exist anymore.

But then, also, in Park Slope, on 5th Ave, Ginger’s was always there. It’s still there, and I think Ginger’s is going to be there for a while. It’s gonna hold on. They also have a backyard, and that backyard was awesome; I would go and play cards back there during the day because it was open all the time and would be really quiet. Then it would get really busy, and it had a little bit of a bar inside with a TV over it with some sport playing, and there was a pool table in the backroom. I loved going to Ginger’s also.

And of course, when I first came back, everyone also went to the bookstore. There was a thriving book store scene of queerness that was also true for me. And all of those spaces were really meaningful because they were the places we found each other.

[Editor’s note: one of the bookstores in question, Bluestockings, is relocating and needs our help! Donate to preserve New York’s queer spaces.]

And then there started being, over the years, a lot of different rotating party nights. I didn’t go so much, but there was this party that I think still happens called Hot Rabbit, and you’d follow them on facebook and it would announce where the party was going to be, because it wasn’t always at the same venue. Mr. Sunday was another dance party that rotated; that one might not have been exclusively queer, but that was another one that sometimes we’d go to. And there was one that used to happen at the Maritime Hotel, in Manhattan.

It was just like a really big scene in a way that you’d go with all your friends, and sometimes you’d see the same people there, because it was the same queer network of people who would go. I just feel like it was such an angsty but fun time of who’s dating who, and who’s running into whose ex. Because like I said, if you’re running into the same people all the time, it meant you were connected to so many people and sometimes avoiding those people, in the same way that that’s what the Dyke March felt like. You went but everybody was always fearful they were gonna run into their ex somewhere along the way. And that was filled with terror and dread and also fun.

And I would see everyone that I went to college with at all these things, so many people lived in New York.

I feel like there really was a lot more spaces, and it’s not that there aren’t [any now]. There are just fewer spaces specifically for queer women; that’s what always drew me the most, were the spaces that were for queer women specifically. A lot of the other ones I used to go to would be predominantly men, and I’d go with all my queer friends who were male-identified and it was fun to go out with them. Inevitably they would leave me at some point because they’d meet somebody and be like “bye,” and I’d be like, “I guess I’m leaving...because there’s not a lot left for me here to hang out for…”

So I just think that part feels sad to me. When I graduated from college in 2000, New York felt different to me than it does [now]. It doesn’t feel less queer-friendly, but I guess it ends up being about money. There used to be a way that that community could sustain these businesses to stay open, and I guess as rents went up, they closed, which I think is really sad. But now it just means I hang out with people, but not in spaces that are only queer. And maybe that’s good news too because all of those bars were created because those were the only places we felt comfortable being and that’s not as true.

When I walk around my neighborhood for Pride, all of these places that I would never describe as being queer have rainbow flags up front. There is a really tiny gay bar called the Toolbox, and they opened up a Boxers, a chain of gay sports bars, which closed; they didn’t stay open for very long. But there’s a million rainbow flags. That wasn’t true in 2000. Even in Park Slope you didn’t have that many places in 2000 that had rainbow flags everywhere. And as I lived longer and longer in Park Slope, that changed, which is great.

But I do sometimes wish I could take you back to what it felt like in 2000 because it was a fun going-out scene in a different way. My nostalgia for it I’m sure has been replaced by places and spaces that I don’t go to because I think I recognize...you hit 40 and then everyone seems really young. Not that I feel old but they seem young in a funny way, where sometimes when I go out I’m like oh right, that would’ve been us if we just graduated, we would’ve been at this place, and now I’m gonna go home (laughs).

Oh, I thought of another one! There was one that was called Q Train in Midwood, Brooklyn and the closest stop to it was actually on the Q train. But then, Q for Queer so they called it Q Train! And there was a florist’s shop in the front of it, and then the back part was the bar; that one might still be there.

It was fun that there were so many options. When I wanted to stay home, I knew there were things I could be doing and people would text me -- I guess they were emailing me? I don’t think I sent text messages in 2000. People would ask you, “Am I going to see you tonight at fill-in-the-blank place?” And I would have to make a decision if I really wanted to go out or not. But I had so many choices!

Zoe: Since [in-person] Pride can’t happen, are there ways that you’re celebrating on your own, or queer media that you’ve been consuming during this time?

Laura: I feel like because I’m home, there’s a lineup of new [queer] documentaries I’ve wanted to watch. [Editor’s note: Laura initially mentioned a Marsha P. Johnson documentary which we later learned took research from Tourmaline, a Black trans filmmaker, without crediting or paying her! :a new spelling of my name would like to recommend Happy Birthday, Marsha!, a film created by Tourmaline, instead.]

And technically I’m wearing one of my Pride shirts! I have a lot of Pride shirts. And I was just thinking, “Oh, I want to buy new ones for this year!” In zoom world, I’ve been seeing a lot of BLM Pride shirts, so I wanted to get one.

Because we’re not able to celebrate in the same way, wearing my shirts feels like a way that people can see them because they’re in zoom calls with me. [my daughter] has a lot of Pride shirts/onesies that I buy and that other people buy. She has a lot of “I love my two moms” things.

What’s really sad is one way I really do celebrate every year now, and have for a little while, in Provincetown every year [at] queer family week. It’s the last week of July into the first week of August. I have two sets of friends that I meet there every year, and they had kids before I did, so their kids are now a little bit older. So even before I had [my daughter] I would go meet their families there and spend the weekend in P-town with them. Family week is happening virtually this year. So that’s gonna happen! I’m making it happen even though the event’s not happening. So at the end of July we’re just gonna head to P-town anyway and we rented a place so that we could be up there and see our friends! So that feels important to me because it does feel like I like to be connected.

And especially because I had [my daughter], it feels really important to be in even more touch with my friends who have kids because I want them all to know each other growing up in a way that I think is really powerful and important. In the same way that my parents--didn’t do a lot of it--but they were an interracial couple that tried to find other interracial couples because they wanted their kids to at least see each other and know each other sometimes. I feel like it’s similar where the beauty of Pride week up there [in Provincetown] is you’re around a whole bunch of kids where nobody is questioning that your family looks different than theirs because there’s so many different kinds of families that go up there.

So you get to grow up and--we have good friends that live in Brooklyn and they have twins, and on father’s day they celebrated their baba who’s nonbinary; they made this really sweet kids book together. And I was like, of course I want [my daughter] to know them growing up, and know no one’s gonna question who your family is.

So I do think that also shifts because that’s an age thing. I wasn’t thinking of it for her before, and now I am and I think that that’s important. Like I have bought every single queer kids book that is out and also ones all about race and diversity, that’s what her bookshelf looks like. I think that that’s how I’ve been celebrating, I keep buying books for Pride month. Because people will text me like, “Hey, do you know this book?” And I’ll be like “Nope, but it’s in my cart! I just bought it!”

I’m trying to not buy as many books on Amazon and [get them from] smaller booksellers, but I am a really big impulse book-buyer online. So every day there’s a new box that comes and it has more kids books. To me, that feels really fun, those books are amazing; I love the books that are coming, especially this month [they] have been really queer-focused for her.

I don’t think I’ve been doing that much, though; through the DOE [Department of Education] there’s been a lot of programs and I keep thinking I should do one of those things because they seem really cool! Stonewall created a virtual tour that you could do online. That’s all that I would say that I’ve been doing, other than acknowledging that it is Pride Month, and talking about it. It doesn’t feel like Pride out in the city in the same way but I guess my book buying will have to do for right now!

[Click through for part two to read about Laura’s experience as a queer educator, her thoughts on queer family, and the possibilities of queerness as a verb!]

Note: Interview has been lightly edited for clarity.