To Flame or Not to Flame: The Gay 90's
Know by all, feared by the queers
By Shanna Sivakumar
Perhaps the most (in)famous club in all of Minneapolis, Gay 90's is a name known by all and feared by the queers, which is ironic, if anything.
I remember first hearing about the club my sophomore year from one of my only cishet friends, relief and excitement in her voice at the thought of going to an 18+ club where she won’t have to deal with the casual misogyny and nonconsensual wandering hands of straight men. At the time, something about her eagerness sat unsettlingly in my chest. After all, every woman should feel safe in any nightlife space they enter, and there’s nothing wrong with that. So why was I uneasy? I took the issue to a trusted lesbian source and we talked about it, did a little deep dive into the modern day queer experience and came out feeling irritated over the slow but steady spread of cishet people— especially straight women— coming to queer clubs for a night out.
But after talking to other queer people and diving into online forums, I found that straight gentrification was just the tip of the gay iceberg. And while straight women find safety and solace in the queer community, I actually don’t think the amount of groping has decreased— especially as more and more cishet men step foot into the establishment. And to further push the knife in, queer people have also reported being groped by other club-goers, stolen from, and treated poorly by bouncers. Some have even reported violent attacks and robberies that occurred right outside the club.
But perhaps it’s unfair to speak of Gay 90's without learning of its place in queer history. Fear not, because I have done my research. The Gay 90's was established in 1948 as a straight(!) supper club and built next to a gay bar called Happy Hour. In 1976, the two buildings fused and Gay 90's expanded into the large gay complex we see today. As I went digging, I was surprised by the popularity of the LGBTQ+ spaces in Minneapolis and St. Paul. One of the more interesting facts about the queer scene here was our exceptionally large bars and clubs. Due to the long and cold winters, bar hopping was not a commodity in the state. This resulted in big queer spaces such as Gay 90's and Town House (now a soccer-culture club called the Black Hart of St. Paul). So it’s rather heartbreaking to watch as these historical landmarks either disappear or lose their meaning.
And I can’t speak for the whole of Minneapolis, but at least at the University of Minnesota, Gay 90's is a landmark destination once you’ve stepped foot on campus. Whether it’s for its supposed inclusivity or its 18+ age requirement, I don’t know, but most everyone that enjoys going out to the bars and clubs have been to the establishment at least once.
As for personal experiences, the one time I ventured to Gay 90's, I was almost rejected at the door for having an expired permit at the time (yes, permit. yes I can’t legally drive, nobody’s perfect please stop throwing tomatoes at me everytime I step foot onto public transport). I mean, I understand her frustration, but it was a legitimate permit, not a fake! Additionally, the bouncer was irritated with me, and I would like to give her the benefit of the doubt and say maybe she was having a bad night or just genuinely tired of interacting with drunk college students, but no one can really say if she was acting out as a result of her circumstances or out of animosity towards me. (I still got into the club though!) I don’t know… AITA? Help me.
Sure, it can be argued that these are risks that exist in any nightclub, so why point out one of the only queer ones? And while that may be true, is it wrong to ask for a safe space meant for queer people? Especially when so much of our culture and history exists in nightlife. Safety shouldn’t be a luxury, but it’s begun to feel like one— and Gay 90's has become one of the main perpetrators.