(Un)Stable Space(s): An Ethnography of a (Sometimes) Gay Bar

Using the front entrance, I hand the bouncer my identification; he directs me to the cashier. "One dollar cover." I've since found out it's the only night the club has a cover. One dollar--it feels like such an odd amount to me; getting a soda upstairs costs more. Why a dollar? What does this admission price provide for those who pay it? What do I get as a result of this fee? But it is a dollar, so I pay, week in and week out, as I travel Club North. The climb up the front stairs is rather steep, but the stairs themselves are not. At the top of the stairs, the bar is just ahead, and a sharp right will put you near the middle of the dance floor. Starting at the bar to get a party soda I notice the people. The people are the same; the people appear to be the same people that were there that first Saturday I went, and other Fridays and Saturdays since. This is what surprises me--everywhere else I've lived "Drag Night" usually guarantees a fairly large and visible gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender audience. Of course, it is quite likely that some of these people would identify as GLBT, but the club is by no means giving me a feel of a "gay space" right now. Outside of the loud Madonna remix blasting from the speakers and the three drag queens walking around the bar stopping to talk to patrons, I don't see much that reminds me of drag nights I've seen at other clubs. Walking the length of the bar, I step through the doorway into the entrance of the dance floor. The people seem to enjoy the Madonna mix, as people are dancing and laughing--by themselves, in couples, in groups. This is the first time I see an indication of this being a gay space--men dancing and touching in a way that I haven't seen any other night at this club. There are heterosexual couples doing this too, but nobody seems to take notice of anyone other than the people they are with. Weaving through the dance floor, back out to the other side of the bar, it feels like there are more people here now, despite the fact that I've been here only five minutes. Twenty minutes later, the emcee announces that the second show is beginning. Following the crowd of people back to the dance floor, I find a square foot to call my own and wait for the show to begin. The emcee is actually one of the drag queens who performs in the show. After announcing herself, she hands the microphone to one of the audience members and gets up on the stage (here a permanent fixture that takes up a third of the dance floor in the middle of the dance floor, two feet off the ground). With the exception of one, she looks like all the drag queens here: forty-ish, heavy, big hair, a little too much makeup, nice clothes, and a fair performance. Everyone seems to enjoy the performances, cheering, singing along, giving the performer a dollar. Having attended drag night regularly for awhile now, I see this part of the show differently; all of these performances are merely leading up to THE performance: Rebecca. Rebecca is the performer who looks different from the rest. Early thirties, thin, blond, large breasts, tiny outfits, and full pouty lips. Her performances are bigger and louder; her performance of Def Leppard's, Pour Some Sugar on Me, ended with her and half the audience covered in beer that she shook and sprayed all over everyone. As soon as she comes onto the stage, men and women will lay on their backs around the perimeter of the stage with dollar bills in their shirts and pants waiting for her to lean over, kiss them, and take the dollar. Introduction By going to Club North and observing and participating in the goings on there and interviewing other people who participate in that space, I had an opportunity to understand what was actually happening there and how the space was being used. Though everyone at Club North is participating in the same physical space, I argue that the ways in which that space is created from night to night differs. …