A Queerer Vision for the Future of the Lesbian Bar
For older institutions, survival necessitates a certain degree of transformation
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Nestled on the corner of West 4th and West 12th streets in Manhattan’s West Village is the forest green facade of a very small, very well-known bar. Cubbyhole has been a locale central to New York City lesbian nightlife (and broader lesbian lore) since Tanya Saunders opened it in 1994.
Cubbyhole’s popularity is increasingly rare among bars of its kind; pre-Covid-19, there were only 16 lesbian bars left in the entire country. Seven months into the pandemic, it’s clear that some will survive, but less obvious what role they will play in an ever-evolving LGBTQ landscape, where queerness means something very different than it did a generation ago.
In the late 20th century and early aughts, these bars enjoyed ample success, savoring the status that comes with being, often, the lone community watering hole for queer women. Compounded with the introduction of lesbian politics into feminism in the 1970s, many became central to LGBTQ culture and nightlife. But the dawn of the internet (and, thus, the rise of online dating), coupled with the gentrification of the once-affordable neighborhoods the bars are predominantly in, has permanently changed their status. When the global pandemic descended upon the states in March, the future of the already dwindling lesbian bar scene looked especially bleak.
Of the lesbian bars that have survived so far, many are neighborhood strongholds like Cubbyhole. In April, current owner Lisa Meninchino started a GoFundMe to help raise money for the bar and its staff; they raised over $67,000 (the original goal was $30,000). The page is littered with comments from past visitors — people who say they met their partner there, had their first kiss there, or spent a memorable Pride there. It is a bona fide institution; a living museum of people’s memories.
“Cubby is a magical little place,” said Meninchino. “There’s something transformative about it. It’s become a second home to some people, almost like a living, breathing thing. It’s so much more than just a bar you go to to drink and pick someone up.”
