By DAMON SCOTT / The Paper.

Pride marches began 54 years ago in response to a riot that took place because police were brutalizing New York City’s gay community at the Stonewall Inn gay bar. Why? Because they had the audacity to gather there. It was a time in America when gays were constantly under attack and same-sex sexual activity was illegal. But gay liberation has come a long way in the decades since Stonewall, and while it hasn’t been fully realized by all, society’s views and attitudes have changed and many laws have been reformed for the better. 

Pride week in Albuquerque is a great example: Participation in events is not a hard sell and Burqueños of all stripes look forward to it. The annual parade and expo attracts scores of sweaty people across the gender and identity spectrums who are ready to party, celebrate and collect all manner of rainbow-colored swag.

But when it’s time to cool off from the hot June sun in a Duke City gay bar, you’ll be hard pressed to find the haunts and dives that once dotted the landscape. It’s a bit disorienting for the city’s LGBTQ+ community.

“From the EQNM standpoint, and as a leader and activist in the queer community, the decrease of queer spaces and gay bars is a negative and a positive,” Marshall Martinez, the executive director of Equality New Mexico, tells The Paper.

The positive, he says, is that gays no longer have to be in a queer space to feel safe.

“When I became old enough to go to bars, Downtown was not a safe place — the clubs were not safe before Effex [Night Club],” Martinez, who’s lived in Albuquerque for 23 years, says. “The reality now is that a lot of the queer folks I know that go out on a regular basis feel safe going to the Library [Bar & Grill]. That’s a plus. Society is more accepting.”

He says it’s a shame, however, that gay bars options are down to two — the Albuquerque Social Club and Sidewinders — in a metro area not far from reaching a population of one million. Martinez says he’s seen data from the National LGBT Chamber of Commerce that shows having a considerable number of gay bars, which Albuquerque once had, doesn’t adversely saturate the market, it energizes it.

“I know that anecdotally, too — all the gay bars were busy when they were all here,” he says.

Martinez recalls that the former Albuquerque Mining Co. (better known as AMC), Pulse/Blu, Foxes Booze & Cruise and the District, once combined with Effex (now considered gay-friendly but more mainstream), Sidewinders and the Social Club to be busy on the same nights.

“There used to be lines to get in,” he says.

It’s generational, too

The Social Club and Sidewinders have also become more mainstream and diverse.

Josh Garcia says the crowds at the Social Club are increasingly mixed and inclusive. He’s worked there since 2014 and has lived in Albuquerque since 2005. Garcia is the club’s lead bartender who also performs in drag and emcees shows as Kobaine Eriks. 

A group rehearses for an upcoming show at the Albuquerque Social Club. (Roberto E. Rosales/The Paper.)
Josh Garcia is the lead bartender at the Albuquerque Social Club. (Roberto E. Rosales/The Paper.)

“Since the pandemic it’s definitely changed,” Garcia, 40, says. “When I was in my early 20s, I used to think it was where you would either go if you were a drag performer, or if you were a more mature older gay.”

New generations have come, he says — groups that are more tolerant and less cliquish.

“The younger people don’t like that at all. If you’re kind of standoffish to a certain type of person, they’ll call you out on racism or misogyny or transphobia,” Garcia says. “These younger LGBTQ people know what they want and know who they are. If you don’t like it, then that’s cool, but just have fun.”

Adrien Lawyer is part of the generation that had more options to gather with likeminded peers at bars and clubs. He admits that he has some mixed feelings about the current environment.

“I’m among a group of folks that are older and sometimes we have a hard time letting things change,” Lawyer, director of the Transgender Resource Center of New Mexico, says. “In the queer communities, we went through so many hardships, it brought us together, but young people don’t go through the challenges or hurts sometimes.”

But Lawyer, 53, says gay liberation is about just that — removing the roadblocks, stereotypes and prejudices.

“What’s the movement about if it’s not about being accepted? It’s hard because movement folks say this is the goal, but when we get to it we’re kind of mad. I think it’s a trauma response,” he says.

Meanwhile, EQNM’s Martinez says he’s noticed the shift among his young staff who range in age from 18 to 23.

“They grew up in a generation where there were safer places. They don’t care about exclusive places as much, while I still do,” Martinez says. “I still don’t go to bars that aren’t exclusively queer, or if I do, it’s for 45 minutes. Those of us that grew up in a time when being queer wasn’t accepted, we might never feel totally safe. We have fought really hard to have accepting spaces.”

Not ready to let go

Like many other U.S. cities, the pandemic threw Albuquerque’s economy and its small businesses into a tailspin. The Social Club and Sidewinders were no exception, but the city’s gay community and its allies stepped up to make sure the damage wasn’t permanent.

The Albuquerque Social Club is located at 4021 Central Ave. NE. (Roberto E. Rosales/The Paper)

During the statewide pandemic shutdown, the Social Club racked up about $65,000 in debt and it looked like it would be forced to close its doors for good. To survive, it organized live streamed drag shows and other programming, including a Zoom Sunday brunch, rummage sales and other fundraisers.

“I think the pandemic brought together a community who wasn’t ready to let go of a cornerstone, a big pillar like the Social Club,” Garcia says. “Without that place, I would be really lost because I have so many friends now. That’s what kept me wanting to perform and help keep that place open.”

Martinez agrees: “The reality is I don’t think a community would have come together to raise $65,000 in 90 days if there wasn’t a strong desire for spaces that are committedly safe,” he says. 

Sidewinders, also known as S4200, is located at 4200 Central Ave. SE. (Roberto E. Rosales/The Paper.)

Sidewinders owners Michael Burdick and his husband Renator Estacio said they’ve also started to emerge on the other side of the pandemic’s effects. To keep business going during the shutdown, they used their savings to open a kitchen — a requirement to be classified as a restaurant so they could do takeout orders.

Burdick says he made just enough money to stay afloat. 

“We’re still pulling out of it, but are at a point where the bills are being paid on time,” he says. “I was quite surprised that we had a regular group of 20 to 30 people who would order at least once a week. It was a really good feeling to have those people supporting us.”

Burdick says Sidewinders is now regularly full or close to full on the weekends.
For more information about Albuquerque Pride events, go to abqpride.com.

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