Here in Baltimore, The Hippo’s demise follows news about the losing battle to save the currently dormant Baltimore Eagle, and the front half of Leon’s Leather Lounge has turned into a steampunk bar. Consider how frequently stories about disappearing gay bars (and their cousins, the gay bookstore) pop up. Though the data is blurry nationally, the downward trend seems apparent. Perhaps that is why gay and lesbian bars are disappearing across the nation. Even hookups have found a home outside of gay bars and cruising spots, in location-based apps such as Grindr or Scruff (and OkCupid, according to the lesbians I’ve asked). Every major university in the area has an LGBTQ student group, and Tumblr and Red Emma’s bookstore have become the go-to spots for sharing queer ideas. Queer arts and ideas have left Baltimore’s gay ghetto too-The Charm City LGBT Film Festival and our regular visits from drag a cappella quartet Kinsey Sicks take place at the Creative Alliance, nowhere near the gayborhood. (The Nightlife section of the LGBT Visitors’ Guide includes the Station North pizza spot Joe Squared and Locust Point wine bar Silo.5%.) Other 2012 marriage-equality fundraisers were organized and often held in Canton and Fells Point too, and there are plenty of places around town where one is welcome to dance with someone of their same gender without so much as a raised eyebrow. Many gay and lesbian bars continue to fill these roles for our communities, but in 2015, they’re no longer the only act in town. The Hippo operated in this tradition throughout its history, acting as an organizing and fundraising hub for groups such as the HIV/AIDS support organization Moveable Feast and the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender Community Center, and for the 2012 fight for marriage equality. On the other side of the nation, San Francisco’s Black Cat Bar took the fight for queer people to assemble to the Supreme Court back in the 1950s. The Stonewall Inn famously hosted the night of anti-police protests that many recognize as the cataclysm that fueled the mainstream LGBT movement, which began, in part, as a stand for the right to have a place to assemble (and cruise) without harassment. Many of these bars also became places to organize. When mainstream society was more closet-shaped-before “Orange is the New Black,” before Tammy Baldwin, even before “Ellen”-these spots were the few places in a city that LGBTQ folks could let their hair down, where we could meet, dance, and flirt untroubled. History indicates that the genre has played a number of roles for our communities: We needed places to meet each other, for social reasons, for political reasons, and, of course, for sex. I’m as sad as anyone else about the loss of a locally owned business, but I can’t help but ask: In 2015, in a city like Baltimore, what’s the point of a gay bar? To be honest though, I was more surprised by the widespread mourning than the news itself.
In the last few days, my queer family has called, texted, and tweeted to share the news with each other, insisting on drinks before The Hippo disappears. Like any lost icon, we’re already mourning the death of The Hippo, in both LGBTQ and traditional media-the obituary’s inclusion in the latter is itself a sign of changing times.
The 43-year-old Baltimore gay club and Mount Vernon institution announced this month that it would soon shutter its doors and lease the space to a CVS Health location. Wide Stance: The Hippo is closing, but in a city like Baltimore, what’s the point of a gay bar?īy now you have likely heard the news: The Hippo is dying. This was the second installment of my LGBTQ blog for City Paper, Wide Stance.