Pop culture and queer historical references are important to owner Scott Justus, who serves on the board of the Lower Columbia Q Center and as membership director of the Astoria-Warrenton Area Chamber of Commerce. “[H]aving that conversation with younger people is important and fun. It’s a fun way to make [education] happen. We don’t make people feel bad for not knowing,” Justus says. “ at’s how you learn. at’s why we’re asking for LGBTQ+ education in classes, because if no one teaches it, how would you know?” Justus said that visitors have quickly warmed to Xanadu. It o ers something for people settling into the coastal town, and for younger patrons who need a safe space to have fun and gure themselves out. Gay bars have served as crucial meeting spaces for decades. e reason most Pride celebrations take place in June, after all, is to honor the anniversary of the Stonewall riots, which were precipitated by the police raid of the Stonewall Inn in New York City. And while queer life has long been associated with large, urban centers, including Portland — where more than a dozen bars service the metro area’s LGBTQ+ community full-time, and at least twice as many bars give at least once a month to queer programs like drag shows and dance parties — LGBTQ+ nightlife, businesses and activism thrive across Oregon, from the state capital to wilderness retreats. Oregon Business spoke to owners of queer bars — and other businesses — about how they thrive year-round, how they support their customers and communities, and how they’ve responded to a backlash that has their businesses and events in the crosshairs of a culture war. T rapdoor Bar and Grill opened in in the heart of Ashland, near Lithia Park. It’s situated at the site of the Vinyl Club, which hosted queer-focused events but also had a reputation for violence, including a incident where a bouncer inflicted serious injuries on a patron and ultimately cost the former venue its liquor license. e new space is an upscale cocktail bar; the new owners have continued to host queer-friendly events while working to make sure Trapdoor is a space where everyone feels welcome and safe. “We wanted to eventually be a tradition where more or less everyone feels included or we are more of an all-inclusive location. We thought that it was extremely important to keep that Pride event going on because it was such a big part of the venue, and what Ashland is as a town,” says co-owner Todd Morairty. Trapdoor hosts drag and burlesque shows as well as standup comedy and live music, with the goal of creating a space where members of the LGBTQ+ community and straight people can feel comfortable every night of the week. Morairty says he doesn’t have any direct connection to the LGBTQ+ community. But he views Ashland — where he has lived for most of the last years, save a stint in the military — as a place uniquely positioned for the kind of inclusive environment he has been working to create. “Ashland is kind of this weird bubble that isn’t like the rest of the towns around it and isn’t like the rest of Southern Oregon in general,” Morairty says. “It’s a big mixing pot of a bunch of di erent ways of thinking, cultures, mindsets and ways of life. In my opinion, that’s what we want in America: a giant melting pot of mixed ideas, action and thought that creates this wonderful location where everyone feels included, as if it’s a place that you’ve been before or wanted to be, and you couldn’t nd it.” He says Trapdoor’s sta are trained to lead with respect, and on how to assist if queer patrons feel uncomfortable or worse. “ ankfully, we’ve never had to use our [safety] procedures, and I hope that day never comes,” Morairty says. e safety of customers and sta isn’t a new issue for bars in general, nor for queer bars in particular. In the s, groups of skinheads in Portland and elsewhere reportedly lurked outside gay bars, attacking patrons as they left. But in , LGBTQ+ people — as well as events and businesses that a rm them — are at targets in an intensifying culture war. is year alone, the big-box retailer Target pulled some Pride Month merchandise in response to harassment of staff, and conservatives announced plans to boycott Budweiser after the company made a sponsored-content deal with a transgender in uencer. And events like drag queen story hours — the rst of which was organized in the Bay Area in as a way to include more queer parents — are increasingly the focus of protests and violent threats, as well as legislation to ban such events, or ban drag altogether. While more Oregon communities are holding Pride events and host queer spaces than ever before, the state is not immune to the rising backlash. As this issue went into production, for example, two people were arrested after a sidewalk fight broke out between two groups protesting Oregon City’s rst-ever Pride festival. Jason Wood is a voice coach in Florence, a town on Oregon’s Central Coast with a population of , . He also performs in drag as Fanny Rugburn, regularly hosting all-ages events like storytime readings since . Wood says neo-Nazis heckled and harassed his show at the Florence Golf Links on April , during his second campaign for Siuslaw County’s school board. “Many of the people who came to protest my show had out-of-state license plates on their cars,” Wood says. “I’m not naive enough to think there were zero community members involved, but many of them were not from our community, so it points to something being organized on a larger scale. I have way more support — and Fanny Rugburn has way more support — in the community than there are people speaking out against her.” Wood says he told his fans online not to engage with the harassers in any way. Police kept the neo-Nazis and their counterprotesters separated, and the event ended with no physical violence. It was also a great show, Wood says; he describes that performance as Fanny Rugburn’s best production to date, entirely unrelated to his harassment, but that he still has mixed feelings about the day. “ e re is a lot hotter, and someone turned it up, and the fact that I [was] also running for school board probably also added to the heat, especially since the banner at the bottom of the hill said, ‘Keep pedophiles out of our schools,’” Wood says. “And let’s not [dance] around it: at is the worst thing you can say to someone. at’s the worst thing you can call someone. I’m not bothered personally, because I know I’m not a pedophile or a groomer, but it’s upsetting that people have the audacity to say that about someone they’ve had very little, if any, contact or experience with,” Wood says. Wood is not alone. In October about protesters — some of them armed — showed up to protest a Drag Queen Storytime event at Old Nick’s Pub in Eugene. ey were outnumbered by counterprotesters, about of whom showed up to circle the pub during the event, which took place early on a Sunday. Pub sta told Oregon Public Broadcasting that the pub has hosted drag story hours for years — with organizer Jammie Roberts saying they also help organize similar events Jason Wood 35
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