I remember the first time I went to a lesbian bar. It was an overwhelming experience, being surrounded by queer people—specifically, queer women—for the first time. That first night in Wildrose opened my mind to the possibility of being completely comfortable kissing my girlfriend in a bar full of strangers. Then, I returned to Boston.

As Amin Ghaziani illustrated in Long Live Queer Nightlife: How The Closing of Gay Bars Sparked a Revolution, gay bars are closing at a high rate, but in their place Club Nights and more inclusive experiences begin to rise. Boston used to have two gay bars, but one of them has closed down since the pandemic. The remaining bar, Club Café, is populated by a predominantly white cis male demographic. While that may seem like dire straights for queer Bostonians, my experience was quite the opposite.

Pop-up parties run by organizations such as Sapphic Nights, Issa Vibe, and LesbianNightLife cater to queer women and and lesbian-aligned people in an inclusive way despite not having a permanent home (the folks behind many of these parties are fundraising to open a lesbian bar! Donate here!). The queer nightlife community is vibrant, perhaps even more-so than when there were two designated nightclubs for LGBTQ+ people to frequent.

Ghaziani’s experience in the UK demonstrated the same trend across the Atlantic. Where traditional bars typically rose up out of the relative political acceptance of straight laced gay men, Club Nights stand in the gaps of the more marginalized members of the community. Femme people, people of color, and gender non-conforming individuals now have parties that represent them and give them a safe place to have fun. Despite only happening once a month—or sometimes once a year—these parties foster a sense of acceptance and often create more community than the traditional gay bar.

It did take me a while to get into the book. For the first 14% (a little over an hour), I kept saying to myself “this sounds like an introduction still”. Then the chapter ended and the author/narrator said the fateful words “Chapter One”. So it was in fact an introduction! It sounded like exactly what it was supposed to be! Still, I don’t think I’m alone in my thoughts that an introductory chapter should take up less than 10% of a book.

Once I got through the introduction, I was pulled into the world Long Live Queer Nightlife laid out before me. As a South Asian man, Ghaziani and I have more differences than we do similarities. However, the universal queer experience meant that our time in nightlife was shockingly alike. I would highly recommend this book to anyone looking for hope in a time when mainstream news makes it seem like queer nightlife is dying. It’s merely transforming into a new, 21st century version of the community we know and love.

I received a copy of this audiobook from the Libro.fm influencers program. All opinions are my own.

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