Damn the man! Damn Gurl on the dance floor

By Josiah M. Hesse

As queers, Lauren and Israel weren’t happy with the Denver dance scene.

“We started Damn Gurl because there simply weren’t any safe, queer dance nights,” said Israel Rose Oka. “My experience of going into a gay bar is just being grabbed by random people that I don’t even know.”

“I used to DJ at Meadowlark,” said Lauren Zwicky (DJ Narky Stares) “and it just wasn’t a safe, inclusive space.”
The divisions between the “Queer Scene” versus the “Gay Scene” may not be apparent to a straight person from the suburbs. They both dance to the same music, drink the same drinks and have a liberal attitude toward sex that could shock James Dobson into a coronary. Though for Lauren and Israel (and the small queer army that attend their monthly dance parties), the differences are clear and necessary.

“The gay scene seems to stick to a binary gender,” said Israel, “but some queers don’t fit with either of those genders, or both, or somewhere in between. I know my gender, my identity, can change from day-to-day. Or hour to hour.”

“It comes down to a vibe,” said Lauren, “if you’re going to a dance party, to a ‘scene,’ you’re going to see certain people of a certain ilk. You’re going to get a certain vibe. And the environment we create at Damn Gurl is unique. And I’ve DJ’d bars and clubs all over.”

Beyond identity politics, there are a host of complaints that the queer scene has had with the gay scene. Most of it seems to come down to one group (gay) attempting to be assimilated into mainstream society, and the other (queer) wanting no part of it. It would be an overgeneralization to say that all gay people vote Democrat and all queers are anarchists – but that would point you in the right direction.

“The gay scene seems to keep a lot of mainstream ideals of what ‘normal life’ looks like. Whereas the queer scene is more diverse, fluid and overall non-conforming,” Israel said.

Like it or not, there’s no denying that there was a demand for the environment that Lauren and Israel wanted to create.

After meeting at last year’s Bash Back Convergence, the pair found they both shared the same ideals and were eager to create a regular dance party to represent their community. Around the same time, Israel landed a job as fundraiser for Prax(us), a non-profit working to end human trafficking. Damn Gurl became his first fundraising project.

“Israel knew a lot of the folky-punk scene, and I knew a lot of people in the DJ/electronic scene,” said Lauren.

The monthly event has evolved over the last year, but Israel and Lauren have worked hard to maintain the standards of a “safe space.” In addition to allowing a space for fluid gender expression, Damn Gurl maintains an all-ages policy, no mandatory cover (“sometimes people try and sneak in” Israel said, “and I remind them they don’t have to pay”), sensitivity to the appropriation of indigenous cultures, all profits going to a charity, and a pacifist approach to security. “I have training in non-violent communication,” said Lauren, “so if we ever do come across an [undesirable] situation, we can find a way to mediate it quickly and easily. And that’s the beauty of having our night in a DIY space, without being under anyone’s thumb.”

Before you go thinking that Damn Gurl is a stuffy, ultra-PC fest where everyone hugs from the side and any sex is done under contract in a hyperbolic chamber, you should know that sexual expression explodes from each party with a Dionysian rage. During my conversation with Lauren and Israel, stories of blowjobs on the dance-floor and plans of on-stage fisting contests are thrown around. “At this last Damn Gurl, we had a lot of performers fellating dildos and wearing strap-ons,” said Israel.

An encounter between two strangers could lead to a makeout session or full on sex in less time than it takes to boil an egg – though it will always begin with a handshake and a conversation. “It’s a space where any person, of any body, can be free,” said Lauren, “so long as they’re not screwing with other people – crossing other people’s boundaries.”

“It’s about respecting other people’s boundaries while at the same time respecting your own personal desires,” explained Israel.

While Damn Gurl has been a kind of traveling circus, its primary location has been the DIY venue, Glob. Not being restricted to the regulations of a more commercial venue, Glob has allowed Damn Gurl to keep the standards of a safe space environment, while also “bringing out the freak in people,” as Israel puts it. Located a few miles north of town on Brighton Blvd, events have a hard time attracting bodies when the temperature drops – especially since many get to Damn Gurl on bicycle.

Lauren and Israel have been looking at more central locations to host Damn Gurl, though apprehensions are high. “Most of the queer dance nights that have been tried in the past have been tried at straight bars,” says Israel. “Places like Benders: all rockabilly, bro, tattooed D-bags. If you’re going to a queer night at a bar, at the very least, do it at a gay bar.”

Despite the previous comments about divisions between the queer community and modern gay culture, the organizers of Damn Gurl have been considering a variety of gay clubs (such as XBar) to host their dance parties. But will a commercial venue be able to accommodate to the queer/safe space ideal that Damn Gurl has garnered its reputation from?

“That’s something we’ll find out,” said Lauren.

For now, Damn Gurl will be hosting their next night of safe mayhem at Glob at 9 p.m. January 13. All ages are welcomed with a suggested donation of $5.