Girl’s Night Out

Anyone who knows me knows that my community of lesbians is very important to me. (You may remember me from such LGBT events as NYC PRIDE, Blue Crush pool parties, or any of the many girl parties thrown on random weekdays, because that’s the only day they’ll give us. But that’s another story.)

That being said, it’s been 114 days since I’ve seen a lesbian other than Kelly. (But who’s counting…)

My friends here don’t understand my need to see others like myself, to find a community even here, because I have a girlfriend. Now, it’s true that Kelly’s definitely moved serious points on the gay scale since we’ve arrived (her becoming Volleyball Coach Callahan definitely bumped her up) but it’s no secret that she doesn’t share my affinity for lesbian culture.

I decided that it was past time for me to actively seek out at least a party or a club. There is something about walking into a room with just women like myself that is reassuring and comforting for me. Here, where everything is like a concrete cultural slap in the face, I was overdue for a little comfort and community.
That’s when I found out about Pink. I saw it advertised in City Weekend under LGBT nightlife (which had one other entry just for boys).

"Every Saturday, PINK, Party at LAN with Beijing' LGBT community. Queer Comrades organizes this weekly LGBT even tthat geatures 2 for one drinks, Y30."

I didn't know what “queer” meant in Beijing, but I was so interested to find out. I was trying to explain to my friends here, who don’t know about the scene in NYC, the difference between girl parties and queer parties (between Eden and choice c’s). But I had no idea what it meant here.

I was excited either way, especially because of the venue. LAN is a really swanky and interesting spot that I’d been dying to check out again since I was first brought there. There are giant paintings hanging and overlapping all over the celling. There are vintage couch spots facing the stage, and a spot in the middle for dancing. They have a spot for live bands interchanging with a decent DJ, and a bar in the next room with tall vintage stools with magnified body parts on the backs. It sounds weird to explain, but it makes for a cool vibe.

At the back, you can wind your way through a hallway with different rooms on either side, separated at times just by hanging curtains and rugs. In each room is a pre-set table and chairs. Each dining room is unique with outlandish chandeliers, plates, chairs, and tables. I’m no artist, and I’m no architect, but I know that these rooms are gorgeous and I loved walking around, sitting in them, and pretending to be at the mad hatter’s tea party.

Saturday finally came and, armed with my new haircut and motley crew of Kelly and two straight girls, we set out to check out Beijing’s LGBT scene.

Honestly, setting out, my expectations were beyond low. I had already heard from a gay may I happened to chat with one night while I was being a wingman for my straight friend, I was told that the “queer” mostly meant men. I remember, though, from my early days of going out to with gay men friends, that being one of the only lesbians in a gay man bar can be good for your odds. (This only really works in cities where the scenes are so small that they’re overlapping if not combined, outside of NYC.) I was ready for those odds. I was even ready to meet some gay men, who may know lesbians or other LGBT hang outs, where the G is less pronounced, or at least the L is included.

You can imagine my surprise when even those expectations were too high. The crowd at LAN was and older, stuffier, more pretentious group of straight people that even I’m willing to ignore just to have a good time. I asked the hostess about PINK, and she squinted her eyes and looked at me like she’d never heard that word before in her life. We stood by the bar and reassessed the place, the crowd, and came to the same conclusion. My friends went to scope out the awesomely decorated rooms and I cried by the bar over my disappointment.

My mistake, well, one of my mistakes, had been to discuss at length over dinner the intricacies of the scene in NY and ideas about identity. I quoted too many Savage Podcasts. I had let too much ride on one night.

We decided not to contribute any money to the false PINK and got our coats to leave. On the way out my friend who speaks Chinese asked the same hostess about PINK in English and, after a few rounds of denying everything, eventually admitted that they’d had it twice and then discontinued it. (For what it’s worth, which is nothing, I told her that she should know they’re still advertising for it as a weekly event.)
If you’re reading, my NY girls, go out for me, the last lala in China!

(I was resolved to find people using the internet. I typed in “Lesbians” in Beijing and was told, “There are results for your search.” That hurt.)