Dyke Nightlife Diaries: The Trick Lesbian Bar In Bogotá’s Gay Superclub

Dyke Nightlife Diaries: The Trick Lesbian Bar In Bogotá’s Gay Superclub


Clare Give
is actually a self-described flaming London lesbian. She’s spent the past season authoring
queer ladies lifestyle
inside her city. She documents the atmosphere, songs, styles, vibe (will you get laid or generate brand-new mates?), and the ones behind the evenings.


Clare
determined so it won’t be straight to just document dyke night life in one city, thus she packed the woman bags and hit the roadway. She’s written about the thriving views in
Ny
,
San Francisco
, Bogota, São Paulo, Berlin, and Dublin to date; this record could keep increasing. Monitor the woman
Dyke Nightlife Diaries
here.



Night One

To begin with i really do as I can a area is actually Bing my personal method to my peeps—”Queer taverns in…,” “Lesbian taverns in…,” “Gay bars in… .” Bogotá’s results were encouraging, with a lesbian club also known as Moza and a number of gay bars—mainly from inside the town’s brand-new bustling social hub, Chapinero.

On Friday evening, my gf and that I whizzed anywhere in slightly yellow taxi to Moza. We pulled up, strode out, and discovered that Moza was no longer. It closed down not long ago, demonstrated the safety guard during the (hetero) club that appears within the wake. El Mozo (Moza’s homosexual uncle club) was just around the corner, therefore we nipped over indeed there to find this had vanished also.

We made a decision to recover in a non-gay club; the location was actually live with Latin rhythms and passionately Salsa dance (right) lovers. Lone guys, their breaths sweet with aguardiente (Colombia’s national liquor; just what tequila would be to Mexico), was available in mosquito-like droves, each on a mission to access the unclaimed dames. They certainly were all very courteous and recognized that a no suggested no, nevertheless heteronormative fat in this club had been alot, especially when we might psyched ourselves up for per night of partying with countless Latin-lesbians.

We eventually remaining and moved old-school. Flipping on the queer-dar, we mooched across streets seeking all of our colleagues. It failed to take very long before we found (that which we determined had been) three other lezzas. We approached and tentatively enquired about Moza and “bar homosexual,” while eying within the length of their particular fingernails, hoping to possibly find a secret lesbian bar or something of this sort.

These were extremely interested in the convo and spoke with us for some time regarding the lackluster lesbian scene inside their town. Eventually, the dykiest-seeming of our brand new team (who would also been the absolute most singing on the subject) left to visit a residence party. We were kept because of the some other two that hasn’t engaged in the gay chat therefore adamantly but happened to be keen to hold away with our team.

‘You wish women?” she questioned eagerly.

We stated we performed, presuming we had been on a gay-level. Off we hopped in a cab, which whisked united states out for an effective few obstructs before winding up at an inconspicuous doorway in the center of nowhere. The 2 security protections (whom realized the chaperones) considered united states with total bemusement. “Qué?” they said over and over to the tips guide, like she had been trying to get a couple of wildebeest in to the bar.

We ascended the mirror-covered staircase assuming we had been proceeding as much as a key queer mecca but quickly realized that we’d been taken fully to a brothel. Naturally you’ll find nothing wrong with brothels—i am all for secure spaces for sex staff members to-do their own job—however, the ambiance in this destination was bad; some ideal males, egos throbbing because they surveyed the bedroom of scantily clad women. Everyone gave all of us fascinated appearance. They presented the expectation we happened to be both planning get or promote gender whenever all we really desired would be to sip a cerveza and dance to Sylvester. We remaining pretty rapidly, wandered home and mulled throughout the unbelievable problem of our own big gay date.



Night Two

Why don’t we try once more. Theatron, Bogotá’s fourteen-room superclub, is actually open to all, but it’s a gay nightclub (become exact, the biggest gay club for the Western Hemisphere) at heart. At 10 p.m., we got inside the 200-people queue, which wrapped around the site’s belowground carpark like an anaconda. A techno bass thumped through the roof, and everybody jittered with excitement.

Once around, we paid 55,000 pesos ($17) and received a little synthetic mug for endless drinks all night long. That is a common part of Colombian organizations, and possesses a truly good effect on the atmosphere in; money and trade are taken off the room, and no one risks being plunged into an existential crisis whenever examining their unique bank balance the next day.

We roamed all over place bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and concluded that this is not truly a place. It’s a village which provides refuge to several thousand pleasure-seeking men and women each week. Personnel orchestrate the room meticulously; herding flocks men and women, keeping stairways free of charge and churning out mixer-after-mixer.

You’d probably need weekly inside location to really will grips along with it. Home songs played for the central open-air area. Its developed like a town hub, with increased DJ decks in the centre and cocktail bars, meals shops, and pubs on their outskirts. There were at least ten DJs every night. They blended numerous genres in a variety of unique spaces. Reggaeton played in a chapel, pop in a large amphitheater. Donna Summers played inside the psychedelic disco place, Celia Cruz is found on during the salsa collection, and a DJ travelled in from Berlin to take-over the techno chamber.

From my personal observations that night, it appears that various types attract different amounts of heteronormativity. Salsa and reggaeton had been everything about the heteros dry-humping in chapel’s tarnished glass house windows. The pop music space ended up being mostly youthful, jubilant homosexual men flailing their own hands while they drunkenly serenaded their particular pals. Techno did actually attract the most alternate lewks (piercings, died-hair, some fetish equipment). It was the quintessential queer space, though controlled by tanked homosexual guys just who jumped products and de-clothed because the night changed.

People happened to be Latin-American; there are several gringos from regional hostels and only a number of Black folks. In general, there are maybe three other queer femme lovers going swimming the site. One duo had matching yellow and blue-dyed bobs. Another had been a Mexican pair I’d sat close to on the airplane to Bogotá— we obviously move around in tiny circles.

We gravitated with the queerness associated with techno roo but remaining around midnight to visit (what we should thought was) the women’s toilets: a green doorway, a protection protect out front side, and term “Eve” composed above the doorway.

We figured it was a very glam entrance to a lavatory as we climbed the glittery-pink staircase. When we strike the very top, we realized that was actually no bathroom and we had inadvertently discovered a secret lesbian club. Indeed, Bogotá’s only lesbian bar—period.

The space was actually kitschy: fuchsia pleather couches, a hot green bar, pop-art paintings of dykons like Ellen, Gwen, Gaga, and Ginger lined the wall space. There was clearly a pole dance stage (that was positively getting utilised), a huge dance-floor, therefore the just female DJ when you look at the building.

There are around thirty folks in there. At first everyone danced in a huge kumbaya asexual circle, since it ended up being cool and uncertain who was queer and who was only experiencing the femme power (in an effective way).

Because evening advanced and the DJ began pouring more passionate Latin (Reggaeton and dancehall) rhythms during the audience, lovers started building remaining, correct, and centre. The room eventually turned into exactly what can just be described as a clothed live-demo of this A-to-Z of one night stand lesbian gender opportunities. Couples new and old had been definitely opting for it. It actually was natural, hedonistic, Sapphic miracle.

Though we had been effectively encased in a massive gay club, the possible lack of door plan, less dangerous area policy, or effective prioritization during the place’s main access intended that the designated place showed a blessing for people lezzas. This secret lesbian bar was actually really the only devote the site in which a lady could kiss a lady without the fear of opening a watch to a sniveling intoxicated guy baring their teeth with glee. We embraced the freedom of Eve, associated with the secret lesbian bar.

At the front end of this bar (we’d arrive the side home) stood a big material door, 2 yards by 2 meters (6.5 legs by 6.5 feet), with three door females claiming “solamente por chicas” on repeat. Most started using it and managed to move on, but little batches of dudes lurked beyond your door, lingering for 5 or ten full minutes, sitting on their own tip-toes like sexy meerkats, wanting to sneak-a-peak within the forbidden area.

Just like the clock struck 3 a.m., we pried our selves from the Eve so we could enjoy a lot of place. While carrying out the rounds within beautiful, sprawling village of hedonism, we found Lotus, a “unicamente hombres” region (apparently designed to create a safer area for gay men to understand more about away from the mixed group). Truly secure to express, there were no groups of ladies clambering having a peek inside truth be told there.

We went right down to the techno area and spent the rest of the few hours acquiring sweaty with the men and women. We left at 5 a.m., happy to own located this certainly unique venue, plus more happy for revealed Bogotá’s key lesbian club.


Theatron Calle 58 #10-32, Bogotá, practice
@theatronbogota
.