For many, a gay bar represents more than just a place to grab a drink. It's a sanctuary, a community hub, and a vital piece of LGBTQ+ history. But what happens when those safe spaces fade away? In Norfolk, Virginia, the story of its queer community is being pieced together, brick by brick, memory by memory, as dedicated individuals work to preserve its rich, often hidden, past.
Imagine standing in a vacant space, once pulsating with music and laughter, now stripped bare. That was the scene during a recent walking tour hosted by the Tidewater Queer History Project, as they stood in what was once a beloved local gay bar. The silence spoke volumes about the fragility of these spaces and the importance of remembering what they represented.
These tours aren't just about nostalgia; they're about acknowledging the struggles and triumphs of those who came before. They highlight locations that, even if repurposed or demolished, were once crucial gathering places for Norfolk's diverse LGBTQ+ community. Each stop is a chance to bring those spaces back to life, sharing stories and inviting personal recollections.
One particular bar, Hershee, held a special significance. Before its forced closure, it was a vibrant hub where connections were made, friendships blossomed, and love was celebrated. One attendee even recounted scribbling notes on her 24th birthday while visiting Hershee, capturing one of the last joyful gatherings held within its walls. Watching older lesbians sing along to John Lennon's "Imagine" - it was a powerful, emotional moment, highlighting the enduring power of music and community.
What happens when these physical spaces disappear? Does the spirit of the community vanish with them? The answer, thankfully, is a resounding no. The LGBTQ+ community finds ways to adapt, to rebuild, and to ensure that their history isn't forgotten.
Driven by passionate individuals, including students at Old Dominion University (ODU), the Tidewater Queer History Project is working tirelessly to connect younger generations with their community's past. Through archival research, oral histories, and walking tours, they are creating a vital record of the community's struggles and triumphs.
Professor Cathleen Rhodes, who teaches queer studies at ODU, highlights the importance of this project. One key resource that the project has helped to uncover is "Our Own," a local LGBTQ+ publication, giving students a way to learn about and connect with the individuals who helped to build the queer community of Norfolk.
The project's efforts extend beyond Norfolk, too. They aim to digitize library copies of "Our Own" and conduct oral histories with local residents, ensuring that these valuable stories are preserved for future generations. It's a race against time, as many contributors to early LGBTQ+ publications are no longer alive. But even when first-person interviews aren't possible, the remnants of the past, etched into the landscape itself, can still offer powerful connections.
This isn't just a Norfolk story; it's part of a larger movement. Across the South, smaller cities and rural communities are beginning to unearth their own LGBTQ+ histories. Universities are joining the effort, recognizing the importance of preserving these narratives. Projects like Invisible Histories plan to bring together historians, researchers, and activists from across the South to share their work and collaborate.
Why is this important? Because these projects fill in the gaps left by past prejudices and community divisions. Early LGBTQ+ publications often focused on the experiences of white gay men and lesbians, excluding people of color, bisexuals, and transgender individuals. By actively seeking out and preserving the stories of marginalized voices, these projects create a more complete and accurate picture of the community's past.
Consider a seemingly insignificant piece of graffiti: the sentence "Danny is gay," etched into a slab of concrete near a Norfolk 7-Eleven. Initially dismissed as a relic of juvenile bullying, it has since been reinterpreted as an affirmation, a symbol of the enduring presence of LGBTQ+ people in every community.
The fact that this simple message has survived for decades is a testament to the resilience of the LGBTQ+ community. And when a listener of a local podcast chalked over the etching in bisexual pride colors, it became another layer of community interaction, a reminder that these stories are still being written, day by day.
So, what can we learn from Norfolk's experience? The importance of preserving LGBTQ+ history goes far beyond simply documenting the past. It's about creating a sense of belonging, fostering intergenerational connections, and ensuring that future generations understand the struggles and triumphs that paved the way for them.
And what about the current places where the community thrives? Take The Rainbow Cactus, for example. Or 37th & Zen, or The Green Onion. Or even the Wave, MJ's Tavern, and Broadway Nightclub. These spaces represent the current evolution of community - offering karaoke, drag shows, and a welcoming atmosphere. They build off of the work of the previous generations to carve out a place for a diverse range of people.
So, the next time you see a gay bar, remember that it's more than just a place to grab a drink. It's a living testament to the power of community, the resilience of the human spirit, and the ongoing fight for equality.