Gay clubs bellingham wa

I love gay bars and queer havens—especially the ones in smaller, regional towns. And—underscore why they even existed in the first place:. This past weekend, we headed out to the only gay nightclub in Bellingham, Washington.

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Interesting thing about Bellingham: the bar was not the only place in Bellingham we saw a gay pride flag. There is no gay enclave here so the businesses flying the flag are making a very bold declaration. Bellingham minutes of walking into Rumors just before midnight, I felt as if we had happened onto a movie set which had perfectly curated a circas small town gay bar.

The whole place felt about a decade or two behind: there was no club by music or style that it was the second decade of a new century. Among those missing this night were drag queens, muscle boys, and leather daddies. The music was a random, non-stop parade of current hits and timeless gay anthems—many inserted from audience requests.

The crowd danced with the same enthusiasm and vigor whether the track came from or The only go-go dancer was a thin-mustached, Just for Men-jet-Black coiffed, shirtless septuagenarian who, with his body and rhythms, stood up on that stage and owned every song from Cher to Rihanna. In fact, the glassware of most of us gays would have overflown with judgment and snark.

But not in here. Much like our experience of Bellingham as a whole, all were welcome, regardless bellingham any outward characteristic or expression. People danced around and beside the older man, apparently unbothered by his age, his imperfect body, or his expressive if not also imprecise clubs.

But as they danced with each gay, they also did not seem to ignore him or act like he did not exist. In fact, many people interacted with the man, returning high-fives and dancing with him. The lack of judgment in the room was almost jaw-dropping. Space was made for him to feel simultaneously free and respected. As I stood and surveyed the scene, my husband and I smiled heartily at one another.

Yes the scene was almost tragic. And therein lay its sacredness. Here in this Pacific Northwest college town halfway between world-class cities Seattle and Vancouver existed a little piece of gay heaven on earth, a reminder of why we need gay bars and still curate queer spaces. The gay kids have to have a place that is theirs where they can be truly free.

The old queers need a place to remember and be seen. And everyone needs to know gay it feels like—in that beautifully tragic blending of bodies—to sing and dance to We Are Family. For that is the beauty of sacred spaces such as Rumors Cabaret and other like it in smaller towns and cities. Pretension and judgement are left at home.