Queer Scene Report: Portland

First-time, queer visitors to Portland often ask where the gayborhood is. Locals’ response? “We don’t have one. It’s just the whole city.”

About 5 percent of Portlanders identify as LGBTQ, and together, they’ve built a queer culture that’s woven deeply into the fabric of the city. Portland was the first major city in America to elect a gay mayor (sorry, Pete Buttigieg, but Sam Adams has you beat by four years). They’ve got a street named after Harvey Milk, legally-mandated, gender-neutral bathrooms, Gus van Sant, and Darcelle XV, Guinness record holder for the world’s oldest drag queen.

So, say you’re queer. And like everyone else, you can’t afford to live in San Francisco anymore. Why should you decamp to the City of Roses? Because Portlanders have their own special word for LGBTQ culture. They call it “culture.”

A Tour of PDX in Five Gay Bars

A queer scene is definitely about more than just bars. We’ve chosen to start with inns and taverns, not because they’re the only places in town to be out and proud, but for two other reasons. First, they provide a window into the city’s multifaceted character. And second, Portland lost several of its queer bars recently—including the legendary Embers Avenue—so we wanted to shine the light on a few that are still going strong.

Portland’s queer and queer-friendly bars come in as wide a variety of flavors and moods as the city itself. In the Old Town district near the west end of the Burnside Bridge, where every building is historic, and every establishment relies on exposed bricks and low lighting, Hobo’s Bar and Grill is a throwback to the low-key, queer hangouts of the 70s and 80s. It’s even got a piano.

Meanwhile, in the upscale southwest, Sante Bar focuses on swank. It’s a woman-owned space whose proprietor is a talented mixologist. According to the Willamette Week, “It’s an intimate space, but not cramped, a bit of a squeeze around tables for a proper dance floor, but that’s not so bad if you want to get closer to someone.”

Related article: Buddy Bravo- Queer Dance Parties, Kiki Balls, and the Drag Scene

The industrial, north district of the city is represented by Eagle Portland on North Lombard Street, a hard-drinking leather bar with a weekly underwear night. It’s the queer version of a workingman’s tavern, more beer than cocktails, with karaoke, video poker, and decidedly non-vegan barbecue on Sundays.

In the northeast, the last part of Portland proper hit by the rising tide of gentrification, Escape Bar and Grill sits in a strip mall near the famous Catholic shrine locals call The Grotto. It’s a neighborhood corner bar, all about open-mindedness; they’re so good at accommodating everybody that they’ve got a second happy hour from 7 to 9 a.m.

Finally, in the artistic, socially-conscious southeast, Crush is a diner and club that regularly hosts special events—like burlesque shows, comedy open mics, and social hours—and raises money for community-supported causes. Put it all together, and no matter how you choose to identify, there’s somewhere in Portland where you can go to eat, drink, and be yourself for an evening.

What If I Don’t Drink?

Never fear. While it may seem like it’s illegal to be outside in Stumptown without a shot or a craft beer in your hand, there’s a thriving, sober queer culture as well.

First off, if there’s one thing we love more than beer, it’s coffee. Check out queer-owned Either/Or Cafe in village-y Sellwood on the southeastern bank of the Willamette River or Triumph Coffee not far to the north. At the latter, if you’re lucky, you might run into Leo Starf*cker Sunshine and the Radical Faeries, representatives of the major overlap between Portland’s LGBTQ and pagan communities.

Then there’s the fact that, in an era where queer bathhouses are on the decline all across the United States, Portland is home to not one but two of the last holdouts. Hawks and Steam each cater to different sorts. Hawks is the open, community-friendly hookup space, offering day passes, HIV testing, and bisexual visibility events (not to mention Big D*ck Night every Friday, where gentlemen more than eight inches get a free locker for the evening). Steam, meanwhile, is the exclusive spot, admitting only men and selling no memberships shorter than six months.

Inside, Steam resembles a Four Seasons, while Hawks looks a bit more like a YMCA. But they’ve both got clean facilities, passionate patrons, and private rooms. While it’s overall a good thing that queer people don’t need to hide behind closed doors anymore (at least not everywhere), there’s an intimacy about the old-school spaces that’s hard to match anywhere else.

There’s also no shortage of queer-friendly shops. Pick up working wear for ladies at Wildfang, or artisanal sex toys at SheBop, or visit our most famous landmark, the enormous reader’s paradise that is Powell’s City of Books. The beating heart of Portland’s reading culture isn’t explicitly an LGBTQ space, but it is a block-sized safe haven with at least one book about every idea worth expressing.

Portland’s favorite activity—besides drinking, reading, drinking coffee, basement concerts, and cosplay—is biking. For that, there’s Gladys Bikes, honored by Proud Queer Portland for “reaching out to transgender, non-binary, and gender-nonconforming people through a robust series of bicycle repair workshops, rides, and a bike team open to all named the Gladyators.” Opening up traditionally restricted hobbies is a hallmark of Portland’s modern queer scene, and we’re excited to see so many strong examples.

Beyond Pride

Of course, some of the most important parts of a queer scene don’t happen in fixed establishments at all. Portland’s annual Pride is far more than a parade—it’s a full-on festival that takes over the west bank of the Willamette for three days every June. Pre- and post-game events run simultaneously all throughout the city, including several black-centered spaces under the umbrella of Portland Black Pride.

Nor is June the only time to take over the streets. Portland does have a nasty habit of shutting down in the winter, but the calendar of LGBTQ festivals and events runs hot from early spring to late fall. In May, for example, there’s the Red Dress Party, where every guest of every gender needs to be wearing a red dress to enter.

Since 2001, Red Dress has grown from just a party to a major force for good: this year, they’re raising money for Q Center, a local, LGBTQ community center, and the Columbia Willamette branch of Planned Parenthood.

Speaking of Q Center, they run a two-hour hike once a month in the beautiful, natural surroundings of Hoyt Arboretum. It’s a nature lesson, queer meetup, and hangover cure all in one, and a lovely environment for those who are out but not necessarily ready to turn up at a leather bar.

Portland has a Queer Festival for just about every art under the sun, including documentaries in May, comedy in July, music in August, and movies in October. Between them, the calendar is speckled with smaller events like the multimedia chautauquas hosted by the artists of the Future Prairie collective. These meetups aim to turn live shows, which are usually pretty much one-way experiences, into places for conversation and connection.

Lastly, no report on Portland’s queer events would be complete without mentioning the Imperial Sovereign Rose Court. While it might sound like a Society for Creative Anachronism melee, it’s actually a 60-year-old tradition wherein Rose City revelers elevate an Emperor and Empress to recognize their work on events and causes for the LGBTQ community. With their regular board meetings, volunteer work, and pageants like Mr. Gay Oregon, the Rose Court looks like nothing so much as an Elks Club in drag—though with way better parties.

Photos by Breanna Quinones