May 30, 2024
As I was biking down Commercial Street in Provincetown, Massachusetts, commonly known as "Ptown," it struck me that I was living in an alternate universe. Queer people filled the street, playing Rush on their speakers, heads adorned with outrageous wigs, loudly slinging vernacular.
I envision a future where I can be my Ptown self all the time. Even though the threat of violence is low (but not zero) where I live just a ferry ride away in Somerville, Massachusetts, I code-switch to fit in: I change my references, pick the polish off my nails, and adjust my language to make myself fit in with the straight majority. In Ptown, the roles are reversed, and queer people can be themselves. To make that possible everywhere, queerness must be integrated into the fabric of all corners of the city — and I've found that pop-up spaces are the perfect stepping stone to this reality.
Aaron Greiner is an urban designer and social entrepreneur. Photo courtesy of Aaron Greiner.
For generations, queer people have created enclaves for themselves to be free of heterosexism. Spurred by zoning and loan programs that incentivized straight white couples to move to the suburbs after World War II, queer people bought up property in urban neighborhoods, forming "gayborhoods." These neighborhoods created a refuge removed from the homophobia and heteronormativity of the outside world. However, the conditions that largely white gay men took advantage of to form these neighborhoods were the same set of redlining policies that displaced Black and brown people, including many thriving BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) queer communities. Consequently, the gayborhoods and the gay bars that followed typically centered white cisgender gay men.
But today, these neighborhoods — and queer spaces more broadly — are disappearing. The South End, once considered Boston's gayborhood, has seen queer residents move to more affordable parts of the city while several queer bars have closed. In London, 58 percent of queer spaces closed between 2006 and 2017, according to a University College London study. The decline of the gayborhood has been traced to economic displacement, broader acceptance of queer people, and online dating.
Another phenomenon called hetrification — when straight cis women go to gay bars for safety from straight men but end up dominating the space — can mean places that were once queer sanctuaries are now predominantly straight. The only places that don't appear to be losing their queer concentrations are vacation destinations like Provincetown, Fire Island, New York, and Palm Springs, California. Even as queer people appear less likely to choose an LGBTQ+ enclave to live in full-time, those who can afford to still flock to these towns in their time off.
Despite the changing geography of queer neighborhoods, one thing remains certain: queer people need queer spaces.
Despite the changing geography of queer neighborhoods, one thing remains certain: queer people need queer spaces. Being queer is not the norm in families of origin, in the workplace, in schools, or in public spaces. Instead, queer people must actively decide to be in community. And while broad acceptance creates the conditions for queer people to be more integrated into the general population, as a minority group, we will always need dedicated spaces that center our identity. Having many queer spaces outside the bounds of the traditional gayborhood makes the choice easy, and pop-ups make that possible.
Pop-up queer spaces are more expansive and inclusive
The rise of queer pop-up events shows one way to fill the void left by the gayborhood with a new approach that increases access to queer spaces for BIPOC, women, and trans people. A 2019 study published in City & Community urged researchers to look at pop-ups and events when studying queer spaces and communities. When the authors included pop-ups in addition to their study of brick-and-mortar businesses, they saw a surge of queer spaces, while without pop-ups there was a decline. They also found that events tended to be more inclusive of BIPOC, women, and trans people and more spread throughout cities. Whether it's a late-night dance party or sports meet-up group, queer pop-ups have the power to make queer people feel safe and included right in their neighborhoods.
Pop-ups are useful for more than just expanding representation. The temporary nature of a pop-up or event can allow queer people to take lessons from tactical urbanism. Rather than go through lengthy and expensive processes, queer people who don't have access to money and power (typically women, trans people, and BIPOC) can create space for their community with a pop-up. Events also can easily expand outside of the alcohol-centric gay bar — an often unwelcoming space for people who are older, sober, or prefer to socialize through shared interests. A quick look at the queer event aggregator site Kikipedia shows a diverse set of events happening in cities across the U.S. on any given day. In my community, there are queer groups for everything from hiking to knitting.
While queer-centric vacation destinations like Ptown still boom in the summer, some urban gayborhoods have lost their LGBTQ+ majorities. Photo by Vadim Anvaer/iStock Editorial/Getty Images Plus.
These spaces don't arrive overnight. In the Boston area, the queer bookstore All She Wrote started as a pop-up, while QT Library has been hosting events across the city in advance of opening their permanent space. An LGBTQ+ senior housing development (The Pryde) is also opening soon. "Pop-ups were extremely helpful, as they allowed us to start building a community and our base of customers way before we got into a brick-and-mortar," Christina Pascucci Ciampa, founder and owner of All She Wrote, told me. "And the best part is that much of this community is still with us today."
While pop-up events do have significant immediate and lasting impacts, many organizers dream of turning their pop-ups into permanent spaces. This process can be long, laborious, confusing, and expensive. Dani's Queer Bar, a sapphic bar opening in Boston (which started as a pop-up event), has faced significant issues with licensing and obtaining funding, causing a delay of over a year.
Queer people are excellent at creating places, but getting access to a space to do so can be a significant barrier. Finding a bar to host an event on a weekend night can come with significant costs or be outright impossible. When I was starting a new queer DJ night in Boston, it took me six months to find a place to host it. Another queer event in the city started with a Wednesday night event because it was all they could find.
The high stress and often unpaid labor that goes into running events can quickly lead to burnout among organizers. Permanence can give stability, allowing for queer spaces to stay resilient and to continue serving their community.
What planners can do
Pop-ups and events allow queer people to test out and prove their concept. They give a glimpse into what it would look like if queer spaces existed across neighborhoods and identities. Planners are in a unique position to support queer people in creating and claiming space. In addition to advocating for basic protections and rights, planners can create a foundation that makes it easier for queer people to start and run pop-ups.
Planners are in a unique position to support queer people in creating and claiming space.
Dani's received a grant from the City of Boston, which helped them get closer to their fundraising goal. Providing assistance in navigating bureaucratic processes and raising funding will help queer people control their own spaces. When I asked how city planners could help them, Niki Green, director of operations at QT Library, mentioned that making information about grants and programs more accessible and supporting initiatives to diversify retail would help these spaces grow.
Even without resources, connecting event organizers with space managers or offering up available space in municipal buildings can be the small boost that a new event needs to get off the ground. Promoting queer events in city publications and event calendars can broaden an event's reach.
These are ways to make progress. But looking beyond just pop-ups, my vision of the queer city — where queer people can be in community no matter their neighborhood, gender, or race — has queer bars, queer libraries, queer housing, and queer bookstores. I believe queer people are ready to create the queer city, and planners can help make it a reality.
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