The Secret Society of Dykes

The first time I went gay bar hopping was with one of my male high school friends who had just come out. We were all "green", innocent, not sure what we were doing, and all wanted a taste of the "gay scene".

This was my freshman summer, two years ago now, in Hong Kong. I was expecting Hong Kong to not be particularly chock-full of gay bars, and I was right. Finding them, first of all, was an absolute pain in the ass. It seemed like we had to walk down a number of winding, obscure side-streets, and a couple of the places we had looked up turned out to be closed, or deserted. None of the bars were located smack in the middle of the big clubbing districts. Talk about being in the closet...

Eventually we found a place that was open and pumping. Once we went inside, we found that what looked shady on the outside was absolutely full of life, color, excitement, people of all kinds of ethnicities, and very gay dance music. The atmosphere was glitzy but cosy, due to its small  size. Music videos were projected onto the walls, and the bartenders were all cute enough to eat.

We acquired a table and ordered drinks. Soon, I realized that there was a problem. I tapped my friend on the shoulder.

"Where are all the women?"

It's not like there weren't any women there... but they all seemed to be straight. How could I tell, you ask? Well, I have to admit my gaydar when it comes to women isn't very accurate - but none of the women there were together in a big group, instead they were in ones and twos in groups of flaming gay men; and none of them were craning their necks, searching for other women to talk to, like I was currently doing, instead they were all happily giggling and chatting with their men.

In short, I had walked into a bar gull of gay men and straight fag hags.

(Not that I have anything against fag hags... I mean, my relationship with the Actor is probably as fag haggy as it gets...)

Soon, we decided to check out one of the other bars on our list. This one wasn't as nice - it was very big, slightly more sleazy, with booths and a dance floor. The Actor had left by now, and me and my other friend drank for a bit before hitting the dance floor. The lights dimmed, and it was dark.

The same thing happened. Lots of men, only a few women, and none of them seemed to be interested in meeting other women.

My friend started talking to a cute white guy, and left me dancing by myself. I looked up, and realized that a young woman was coming onto the dance floor. She was alone. Finally! I thought. Someone who hasn't just come to drool over all the gay men!

I was sorely disappointed. She started dancing intimately with someone else... who was a man. What the hell.

"This is ridiculous!" I finally yelled in frustration. Thankfully, nobody could hear me over the music. "WHERE ARE ALL THE GAY WOMEN?!"

---

Jump ahead two years. I'm visiting San Francisco, and me and some friends are hanging out in the Castro. We check out at least three bars before heading to "Hot Cookie" for some... hot cookies. (That place is fucking fabulous, by the way. Cute men, yummy cookies, bright red briefs with the name of the store on them, and photos of people modeling said briefs all over the walls.) Throughout the night, we had seen older men, young men, hyper men, metro men, men who could dance and men who danced like idiots, black men, hispanic men, white men, and asian men.

No women.

"Can we please go to a lesbian bar?" I finally asked. "Can't you look one up on your iPhone or something?"

"Fine," my friend said, and he did. He found one called the Lexington Club.

It wasn't located in the Castro - it was slightly in between the Castro and the Mission district. We started walking. By this time it was nearing the end of our night and I promised that we wouldn't stay for very long.

When we found the bar, I was nervous and intensely curious. I refrained from complaining about how there were gay bars up the wazoo, but in order to find one lesbian bar, we had to hunt for it.

We walked inside. The bar itself was very laid back, with lots of art on the walls, and everyone was busy chatting.

It was full of women. Not a man in sight. Butch women (omg, so many gorgeous butch women!), skinhead women, cute women, hipster women, girly women, androgynous women.

I thought it was fucking wonderful, but I also became very shy. I looked at my feet as we walked further inside, finding a spot at the back.

As I looked around, I noticed something. The women in the bar all looked very different, some of them wouldn't have tripped my gaydar at all if I had just seem them in the street, but I felt like, compared to them, I looked out of place. While they were all different, there was a bright colored thread of similarity in the way that they dressed and acted that was impossible to ignore. They were all dressed in a manner that screamed "alt"; I was dressed in skinny jeans, and a hot pink, off the shoulder blouse that hugged my waist and had a scribbled picture of a flower on the front, in black and silver. The Actor said that I looked too "glam", like I belonged in New York. So maybe it was that...?

We walked out soon after coming in, and I puzzled over what all those girls had in common that I didn't.

As we headed home, my friend remarked that me coming into a gay bar with him was kind of awkward, as was his coming into a lesbian bar with me. I could understand what he meant. I felt like people would have been more inclined to come talk to us if we were alone - or with friends of the same gender as us.

"But that's stupid," I said grumpily. "Why do we have to be separate? Why can't we just all hang out altogether?"

I've read lots of articles and posts about how women, gay or otherwise, often feel more comfortable in an all-female space. It was completely the opposite for me. It just felt unnatural.

---

Jump ahead by two weeks. I'm back home in Hong Kong again, and I'm getting ready to go out. Skinny jeans again, a cute purple tank top, a silver bracelet, silver hoop earrings, a huge silver ring, and 4-inch silver pumps. I'm finally going to check out the monthly queer women party which is thrown by a group called "Les Peches."

As I wait for the train, I think to myself that it's funny that I feel like I have to make up for how "not-gay" I look by appearing as hyperfeminine as possible.

---

Regardless of where I've been, whether at home in Hong Kong, in San Francisco, or at my college in the northeast, I feel like the gay men's community has always been very out there, very in-your-face, very present, while the gay women's community has always been even more hidden and underground than the LGBTQA community already is.

At my college, I'm a member of a queer-dominated frat, but most of the queer community there is male. I have no idea where the queer women mostly are. (I hear that most of them are athletes, or are members of these two sororities on campus, but if you're not a member of those groups, then how do you go about meeting them?) I find it ridiculous that I've been at my college for more than three years now and I still haven't been able to get "into" the queer women's community. Or maybe there isn't a community, maybe we're all just fragmented.

What am I doing wrong? Is there a secret handshake I have to learn? Some kind of color-code? Do I have to wear a bright red bandana in my right back pocket?

Have any of you found it this difficult to find other queer women, or is it just me?

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