A wave of fuchsia, crimson, velvet, and latex spill out of the door of Metro Gallery on the Friday night of February 14. Inside, the air thrums with music as a joyful crowd decked to the nines dances, embraces, and collectively belts out the chorus of “Abracadabra” by Lady Gaga.

The occasion? The hottest spot to be on this most romantic of all evenings: Sweet Spot’s “Stupid Love,” a self-proclaimed “gay anti-Valentine’s dance party.”

“There was a time when we knew everyone on the Sweet Spot dancefloor—that’s not the case anymore,” says local creative Andre Cawley, who co-founded Sweet Spot in 2021 with his husband and creative partner, Chris Uhl. “People find out about Sweet Spot through word of mouth, flyers, and even platforms like Grindr and Reddit.”

Since its inception, Sweet Spot has become a vital and vibrant hub for the Baltimore and Mid-Atlantic queer community, hosting high-energy dance parties that prioritize inclusivity through accessible ticket prices at venues like Metro Gallery, Ottobar, and Soundstage.

Inspired by New York City’s LGBTQ+ party scene and events like Ty Sunderland’s “Heaven on Earth”—a monthly everyone-is-welcome all-nighter featuring DJs, drag, and dancing—the couple envisioned a space for free expression and connection through dance.

The COVID-19 pandemic fueled this desire for connection even further, and when restrictions were lifted, Sweet Spot was born—named after a song by trans popstar Kim Petras—with Cawley overseeing graphic design and Uhl serving as resident DJ, blending pop hits with club classics, R&B remixes, and techno beats.

And they have arrived at the perfect time. Baltimore has a rich history of queer-friendly spaces. But over the last decade, stalwarts like Club Hippo and The Gallery have closed, leaving behind a deep void, as traditional gay bars have played a crucial role in fostering community and providing safe havens throughout the last half-century. In fact, Sweet Spot’s founders met at Grand Central, once a beloved Mount Vernon nightclub that closed after three decades in 2020.

But as their own events show, the queer community has adapted to this shifting landscape through a roving scene of DIY music and DJ collectives. While permanent spaces come and go, these dancefloors fill the void as essential spaces of refuge—as they long have for marginalized communities.

“Chris was going out before he was ‘out,’ and those spaces gave him the freedom to socialize and find community—and a husband!—and dance, free from judgment,” says Cawley. “That was really important then and still is today.”

Cawley and Uhl note that while some LGBTQ+ bars do remain, including newer additions like The Club Car and Melanie’s at Griffith’s Tavern, there are a growing number of other spaces—like 1722, The Royal Blue, and Current Space—that have opened their doors to queer events.

In the city today, “There are so many queer collectives, producers, performers, and DJs working to make fresh, original, and exciting events and nights out all year long in Baltimore,” says Uhl, citing collectives like Version, Tech_METROPOLITAN, GRL PWR, and The Queers Upstairs, which each play a vital role in keeping the scene going. Along the way, Sweet Spot has also featured a wide array of artists and performers, including local rapper Dapper Dan Midas and drag performer Baby’s Not Alright.

Of course, creating DIY queer spaces outside of traditional bar settings presents unique challenges. Cawley and Uhl emphasize all the time and money that goes into booking talent and venues, not to mention promotion and setup. Yet the rewards are significant.

“Sweet Spot is a community that came together organically—we built this from nothing,” says Cawley, who’s particularly proud of the creative freedom of their events, from that anti-Valentine’s fete to their costumed Gay Halloween celebrations to New Year’s Eve parties with free Champagne toasts under a cascade of silver confetti.

Last Friday, June 6, they co-produced the massive “Full Bloom” dance party at World Pride in Washington, D.C., a testament to their increasing influence and reach. And this Friday, June 13, they’re bringing the party home, with a kickoff to the 50th anniversary of Baltimore Pride at Metro, headlined by Maryland native Miss Toto, with guest performances by DJ AAVE and Kayden Chloe.

A portion of proceeds will be donated to Baltimore Safe Haven, a local nonprofit providing a supportive community and essential resources for trans and queer individuals. There is currently a waitlist for the sold-out event.

As the city commemorates a half-century of Pride this month, the Sweet Spot duo is excited about what’s to come, but they also emphasize the ongoing need for activism and awareness, as anti-LGBTQ+ animus is once again on the rise. These collectives are vital in carrying the torch of community building for the next generations.

In the face of adversity, celebration is an act of radical resistance, and the popularity of collectives like Sweet Spot demonstrate the enduring importance of these spaces—for showcasing Pride year-round.

“The fight continues, but there is so much joy on the dance floor,” says Uhl. “Pride is an opportunity to honor our history, our community, and our creativity. A city without queer spaces and events would be a city without joy.”

Natalie Wynn is quite possibly the most famous person you’ve never heard of. She’s what you would call social media famous. Gen Z and millennial famous. And certainly LGBTQ+ famous.

Her YouTube channel, where she posts under the moniker ContraPoints, has 1.79-million subscribers. She also has more than 30,000 paid Patreon subscribers, who get additional quick hit videos, called Tangents, made just for them. She has a Reddit account devoted to her, with breathless posts that follow her every move. “Let Mother Be Tired,” one was titled, when Wynn posted on X (formerly Twitter) that she was overworked.

“Does anyone know if there are any books that Natalie has recommended?” queries another. A third gushes about Wynn’s appearance in a recent video (“such a serve”).

She has fans. She has haters. She has articles written about her (there was a profile in The New Yorker, no less, that said she was “one of the few Internet demi-celebrities who is as clever as she thinks she is”). She’s been idolized. She’s been canceled. She’s been vilified. And she lives in Baltimore.

So who exactly is Natalie Wynn?

When I suggest to her that she’s a “Millennial Trans Fran Lebowitz,” she doesn’t object. “I do think Fran would be a Youtuber if she were my generation,” she says of the famed orator, known for her sharp wit and fearless candor.

I’m interviewing Wynn, 35, in her Baltimore City brownstone, a three-story home that looks like a cross between a Gilded- Age mansion and a Victorian brothel. She decorated it all herself, which will come as no surprise to those who have seen her videos, replete with elaborate backdrops—candles, books, tapestries, claw-foot tubs, and more—that she set-designs herself.

Today she’s dressed simply, in a T-shirt and artfully paint-splattered cardigan. She has long dark blonde hair. She’s tall and slender. Pretty, by almost every Western standard, but in a slightly quirky way, like all those knock-kneed girls Tyra Banks transformed into super models on America’s Next Top Model.

Her videos have a fairly wide range of topics, but they mostly focus on gender, transphobia, cancel culture, bigots, and narrow-mindedness in general. She’s not afraid to go after high-profile figures like Ben Shapiro, Jordan Peterson, and J.K. Rowling, backlash be damned.

One video from 2018 is called “Incels,” where she discusses the scourge of the “involuntary celibate” movement and talks to a skull, a la Hamlet. In another video, made in 2020, called “Shame,” she is nearly naked, Adam-and- Eve-style, with a crown of flowers and a dense, floral backdrop. Another recent video is about her unlikely love of the Twilight series. (She argues that female sexuality, even if it involves a hot teen vampire, should be celebrated, not kink-shamed.)

For that one, she’s sitting in her study, a dark, reddish-cast room—it happens to be the same one we’re sitting in now—illuminated by candles and the soft glow of tasseled vintage lamps. In the same room, there are also important-looking brown leather chairs; a carved chessboard; cluttered bookshelves, and, thrillingly, a ladder on wheels to reach the bookcase’s highest shelves.

The videos often have a classical music score, which tracks, as Wynn went to Berklee College of Music as an undergrad. (She plays piano and, more recently, the harpsichord. Downstairs in her brownstone, a semi-grand piano sits across from a beautifully ornate harpsichord, as though prepared for a round of dueling keyboards.)

She often does costume or even set changes, mid-video. She also has conversations with herself—playing both herself and a skeptical interrogator. She does voices, accents, characters. She interjects video clips and photos, often for comedic purposes. She wears hats (so many hats).

In a world of bare bones podcasts and boring Twitch streamers, Wynn puts on a show. Which is a good thing, because the videos can be up to three hours long. Yes, three hours of just Natalie Wynn talking. (TikTok is not the medium for her. She puts the “long” in long-form video.) But the talking is captivating—funny, erudite, provocative. She’s the coolest philosophy professor you never had.

Wynn grew up in Vienna, VA, with a medical doctor mother and an academic psychologist father (they’ve since divorced). She says her childhood wasn’t all that great.

“I mean, it’s not like I was working in the salt mines or anything,” she says. “But I wasn’t happy—there was lots of psychiatry involved.”

The gender exploration came later. She rues the fact that she didn’t grow up during our current gender revolution—it might’ve helped her figure things out more quickly. But mostly, she says, she was restless, anxious, and a little depressed.

She dropped out of Berklee and eventually landed at Georgetown, where her father worked. “I got a massive tuition benefit because, you know, nepotism,” she cracks. After graduation in 2012, she got a master’s degree in philosophy from Northwestern. The philosophy degree comes through often in her videos, where she routinely quotes Spinoza, Wittgenstein, and Socrates.

After Northwestern, she moved to Baltimore in 2015 because she was dating someone who lived here. It didn’t work out. “Once you switch your long-distance relationship to a short-distance relationship, the whole dynamic changes and it falls apart,” she says.

But she had fallen in love with Baltimore—it’s unpretentiousness, the beauty of its architecture, the history, its “weirdness,” the fact that “it feels like nature might reclaim the city at any moment,” she says. And she has joined the cult of RoFo—“a KFC inside a 7-Eleven,” she marvels. So she decided to stay.

At first, she was doing the gig economy thing. She gave piano lessons. She drove an Uber. She did some copywriting for Overstock.com. (“I remember this anger at having to write five paragraphs on a pillowcase,” she says.) It was around 2014 and something called GamerGate was going on—basically, a misogynistic harassment campaign directed at women who had the temerity to enter the previously male-centric world of gaming. In a way it was a precursor to a lot of the  toxic things still happening in our culture—QAnon, the alt-right, doxxing.

That was when Wynn made her first YouTube video, about GamerGate. It didn’t do very well. But she kept making them and started gaining a following.

“I got viewers because I was making responses to bigger creators,” she explains.

She also got better at making the videos—and adopted the melodramatic, rococo style she has now become famous for.

IN A WORLD OF BARE BONES PODCASTS AND BORING TWITCH STREAMERS, WYNN PUTS ON A SHOW.

The follow-count grew and soon she was actually able to make a living at it. Ads weren’t going to be her ticket to success—YouTube monitors video content closely and Wynn was talking about some controversial topics. (She’s fairly sanguine about that fact: “If you’re, like, Squarespace or something, you’re not going to want to have your company advertising on a video about Nazis—even if your video is anti-Nazi.”) So she started a Patreon account, where fans could support her and get access to exclusive content.

All the while, she was gaining clarity about the fact that she was trans. In the videos, she began messing with gender, wearing wigs and makeup and dresses—even talking about her sexuality (she’s a lesbian). But she wasn’t quite ready to go out in public that way.

“Something about YouTube makes it easier to say things that you wouldn’t even say to your own family,” she explains. “Like, when you’re alone in your room, you can say things to a camera that would be hard to say to anyone else.”

She medically transitioned in 2017. I ask her if it was scary to do that in front of a camera. “Yes, it was, but in a way I didn’t fully understand how scary it was, which is good,” she says. “Otherwise, I might not have done it.”

And she freely admits that she became a little addicted to the online attention—the frisson of excitement she got when her view-count rose, the endorphin rush of receiving hundreds of comments (yes, she reads the comments). “It was exhilarating,” she says.

Until it wasn’t.

One of the reasons why Wynn talks a lot about cancel culture is because she was briefly canceled herself. It’s inevitable, in a way, when you’re that famous. With great success comes a great backlash. Yet it was a bit confusing at first.

“When you are someone who has gotten big online because people presumably want to know your thoughts on things and suddenly people are getting mad at you for doing just that, you’re like, ‘Why are you getting mad at me for saying my opinion? I’m a professional opinion-haver!’” she says.

It wasn’t just the right-wingers and centrists and J.K. Rowling fans who were gunning for her. She could handle that. It was members of her own tribe—the trans community, who thought Wynn was “failing her role as a spokesperson,” she says.

The worst came when Wynn made a video using a controversial trans activist named Buck Angel. (Ironically, Angel was enlisted to read a quote by John Waters.) To many in the trans community, Angel is something called a “transmedicalist,” meaning he thinks the only authentic trans people are the ones who have medically transitioned. By merely associating with him, Wynn herself was canceled by her own community. It was harsh. It was hurtful. And it made her paranoid.

“I can remember in 2019 literally walking around Baltimore with, like, a hoodie and sunglasses and earphones,” she says.

But it passed, as it always does. She’s learned a lot from it—basically that when the internet mob comes for you, the best thing to do is to say nothing or quickly apologize.

“Either way would be better than defending yourself, because you start posting a thread: ‘Part one of 26: Here’s why these people are wrong and why I’m right.’ The minute you start doing that, you’re beginning a spiral downwards into complete madness,” she says.

“…YOU CAN SAY THINGS TO A CAMERA THAT WOULD BE HARD TO SAY TO ANYONE ELSE…”

But it didn’t stop her from courting controversy, which brings us back to J.K. Rowling. Yes, that J.K. Rowling, billionaire authoress of the Harry Potter series. For some reason, Rowling has become obsessed with trans women. She’s someone who is disparagingly referred to as a TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist)—meaning she doesn’t think trans women should be in traditionally female spaces (bathrooms, locker rooms, female sports teams, etc.). Rowling has been vilified in some circles for her perspective—and cheered on in others—but she continues to double down on it.

Wynn has been one of her loudest detractors, which feels a bit like a loss to her.

“I loved Harry Potter—I used HTML to make a Harry Potter fan website when I was a kid! Harry Potter has a very widespread appeal, of course, but I think especially among people who are sort of bookish or like, quirky misfits. Because it’s such an escapist fantasy: You’re in this mundane world where you’re mistreated by your family and it actually turns out you’re really special, magical even. You get this letter and you go to this other world and another school where you’re a celebrity, and you’re the most important person in the world!”

She laughs and shakes her head. “So like a lot of her core audience is who she’s attacking here.”

Wynn was recently a guest on a hit podcast called “The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling.” Wynn acquitted herself well—she was calm and articulate and persuasive. But she immediately regretted doing the podcast, which was mostly defending Rowling. She feared a backlash—so she got in front of it, taping a video about the podcast where she explained why she shouldn’t have done it. The video was nearly two hours long and got five million views.

“I actually think that I succeeded in damage-controlling it,” she says.

She’s getting better at this stuff. Negotiating potential backlash, ignoring the haters, recognizing that the internet is not real life.

Which is a good thing. Because she will never stop speaking her mind and speaking truth to power. Bigots, liars, and hypocrites, consider yourselves warned.

It was late, and the next song would have to be the last. As Farrell Maddox cued up the tech-trance “Sandstorm” by Darude, the DJ looked across a churning sea of dancers in the heart of Mt. Vernon, some rocking shirtless on top of the giant speakers, others swaying to the rhythm on the sunken dance floor.

Rainbow disco lights scanned the crowd and a big logo sign hovered behind, its bright pink hippopotamus striking a pose. It was the final night of Baltimore’s iconic Club Hippo—Sept. 26, 2015.

Charles “Chuck” Bowers, the club’s owner of 37 years, watched from the far side of the room. Just before 2 a.m., Maddox caught Bowers’ eye and spoke into the mic.  “Chuck doesn’t have a microphone, so he can’t say anything, but if you can see him, and you see the look on his face, you know where his heart is right now.”

As “Sandstorm” wound up toward its explosive climax, Maddox remembered a favorite song that just had to be played. “Can we do one more?” he asked the crowd. Bowers held up one finger. “Get ready with the strobes,” said Maddox, turning to Norm Hillenburg, who was working lights, before slipping a beloved CD into the player.

It had been a long journey to this final party at one of Baltimore’s longest-standing LGBTQ venues. From the night it opened at the corner of Eager and North Charles streets on July 7, 1972, the Hippo was more than a discotheque. It was the beating heart of the local queer community—a welcoming party with beloved drag shows and karaoke, a place to come together during the AIDS crisis, a site to celebrate the advances in gay rights that occurred over the club’s lifetime.

Most of all, it was a safe haven, where patrons could be themselves and get lost in the disco lights until last call at 1:40 a.m., Tuesday through Sunday. And even after it closed for good, that curved building on a Mt. Vernon crossroads remains an important touchstone of Baltimore history.

Long before the Hippo was a dance hub for all walks of city life, its art deco building had many lives. Starting in 1939, 1 West Eager Street had been the home of the Chanticleer Club, hailed as “America’s Finest Supper Club,” where for almost three decades the city’s well-heeled smoked and drank and danced to live acts by everyone from once-local stars like Billie Holiday and Eubie Blake to national headliners like the June Taylor Dancers and Dean Martin.

It was constructed in the late ’30s and designed by local architect John Poe Tyler, a descendant of President John Tyler and famed poet Edgar Allan Poe, whose office at 347 North Charles Street was also located in the heart of Mt. Vernon. Two homes were demolished to make room for his streamlined corner structure with its signature sensual curves.

In the early 1960s, trombonist Lynn Summerall performed with the Mello Men, a 16-piece band of teenage musicians from a variety of Baltimore high schools. “I remember how exciting it was for these high school boys to put on our electric blue tuxedos and go down to the Chanticleer to play,” says Summerall, now 77. “I was on that dance floor under that same art deco ceiling at age 15 or 16, playing big band music. Little would I have thought that 10 years later I’d be traipsing back to the Hippo in search of young men to dance with.”

The supper club closed in 1967, with societal shifts leading to the demise of café society nationwide, and the building remained vacant for the next five years. Then, in early July 1972, Kenny Elbert and Don Endbinder brought 1 West Eager Street back to life as The Hippopotamus, with the opening weekend boasting “The Biggest and Best Gay Bar in the World!”

At the time, Mt. Vernon had already begun to emerge as the city’s “gayborhood,” with Leon’s bar in operation since 1957 and The Drinkery opening the same year as the Hippo. Named for the dancing pink hippos in Disney’s Fantasia, this new gay nightclub spun mostly disco and R&B records for large crowds on its sprawling dance floor four nights a week. Eventually, mirrors were etched with charming cartoons of the namesake animal, and as drinks were ordered, patrons saw themselves reflected amongst them in a swirl of lights.

“You never entered through the front at the corner of Charles and Eager—you entered on the side [through] the Saloon,” recalls Michal Makarovich, a long-time Hippo patron, referring to the elegant back room advertised for “quiet conversation and subtle cruising.” “But if you turned left, you went down a long hallway, the restrooms were on your right, then you went through the doorway, and there was The Palace.”

He’s talking about the main discotheque, which was sunken 18 inches and flanked by two bars. On a balmy summer opening night, “People were dressed to the hilt,” says Makarovich. “They were really flashy and there were lots of women—you know, at some bars, women would get in the way if you were trying to cruise. But it was a really comfortable place for everyone. A lot of straight people went there.”

Bowers first started as a bookkeeper for Elbert in 1976. “When I entered the Hippo, it was a new world for me,” says the Federal Hill native, who grew up attending local Catholic schools before graduating from Southern High School. “I fell in love with the bar, I fell in love with the community. Disco was knocking on the door. And I walked in at the right time.”

Two years later, with Elbert looking to other ventures, Bowers bought the business, and under his lively creative direction, the Hippo—as it was quickly nicknamed by patrons—entered its heyday. Theme nights were added, including a Sunday Tea dance, beginning at three in the afternoon. Friday was Ladies’ Night in the disco, with Gay Bingo in the Saloon on Wednesday. Men’s Night was wildly popular, recalls veteran bartender Danny Noël, who was crowned as “Mr. Gay Baltimore” at the Hippo in 1988. “The line started at the Saloon door and it would go all the way down to Gampy’s,” aka the now-shuttered Great American Melting Pot, a late-night eatery that stayed open well past last call on 904 North Charles.

Noël, a U.S. Army veteran, slung drinks at the Hippo during the ’80s and ’90s. He fondly remembers when Wednesdays were Big Band Night, featuring the Ed Williams Big Band, a holdover act from the Chanticleer days. “I was a doorman, dressed up in a tuxedo with a top hat, and I would open the door for the people coming in—elderly people, [in their] 70s, 80s, and 90s that remembered the Chanticleer,” says Noël, noting that the crowd was both queer and straight, with drag queen Stacy Maxwell running the coat check. “Oh, it was beautiful, and we had all pink linen tablecloths with beautiful chairs and candles on every table. It was like you walked into the 1930s.”

Now in his 60s, he says the Hippo had outsized importance for young gay men in its early years, calling it “the central place” for not just the city of Baltimore but the entire state. “If you were a country boy from Hagerstown or southern Maryland, you knew you made it in your gay life the moment you were able to walk into the front door of the Hippo,” says Noël. “That’s when you knew you were home.”

The Hippo opened just three years after the Stonewall riots in New York City, when a police raid of a beloved LGBTQ bar led to a violent attack on patrons. It was this historic event that sparked the gay rights movement of the 1970s. Queer people were fighting for basic equality in a resistant America, as were people of color in a quest for civil rights. And in the days of lingering racism following Baltimore’s 1968 riot, the Hippo was not only an inclusive space for the white LGBTQ community, but across color lines, too.

“I didn’t know where I would be welcome, because there are divisions in the gay community, where the Black gays may not like the white gays in their clubs, or the white gays may not want the Black gays in their clubs,” says Kevin Brown, owner of Nancy by SNAC in Station North. “But I didn’t feel that going into the Hippo—I thought it was a new era, a new time. And I met my life mate there. We’ve been together for 33 years now.”

Brown reminisces about the club’s massive Halloween parties, as well as regular Saturday nights, which tended to be the busiest. “The lines would be wrapped around the block, because everybody was welcome there all the time,” he says. “And that’s because of its leadership—Chuck Bowers was a hands-on owner. You saw him in the club. You saw him interact with the patrons. He was providing a safe haven for gays in the community, where they could come and be who they are.”

“WALKING INTO THE FRONT DOOR OF THE HIPPO…THAT’S WHEN YOU KNEW YOU WERE HOME. ”

Bowers grew up with an earnest work ethic. His father worked three jobs as a trolley car driver, undertaker, and chemist, and it wouldn’t take long for his son to take on a paternal role for his employees and customers, too. “I wanted them all to realize that it was their home,” he says. “I didn’t care who you were, what you were, what color your skin was, as long as you behaved yourself and had a good time. That’s all I cared about.”

During his 37-year reign, “where everyone is welcome” became the club’s unofficial motto. And DJ Maddox can attest to this. He first went to the Hippo as a patron in 1980, and at the time, “I was kind of that terrified person—I didn’t know what to expect, and I walked in and felt like I had walked into heaven,” he says. “Everything about it—the number of people, the variety of people, the diversity within the room. I was in awe of the music. I thought, I want to be the one playing the music here someday.”

The Hippo hosted both DJs and live performers, including a variety of stars such as The Weather Girls, Wayland Flowers and Madame, Jody Watley, and the Broadway cast of Mamma Mia! And drag shows were always a big draw.

“Baltimore had seen it all and they appreciated drag,” says Jeffery Roberson, who performed at the Hippo many times in the late ’90s and 2000s as drag queen extraordinaire Varla Jean Merman. “And at the time, the biggest drag queen in the world was from Baltimore.”

Hairspray made its cinematic debut in 1988, starring Baltimore’s beloved drag matriarch, Divine, and written and directed by its transgressive filmmaker John Waters. But even amidst their acclaim, a hostile attitude still persisted toward the local LGBTQ community, only increasing as they made strides toward social acceptance. In the preceding years, the city had launched its first-ever Pride Parade and founded its inaugural LGBTQ activism and resource organization, the Baltimore Gay Alliance, both in 1975.

“It was very dangerous for a gay man to hang out in a non-gay bar or club at the time,” says José Villarrubia, a former Hippo patron and resident of Mt. Vernon since 1984. “Gay spaces were the only space where you could act like yourself. But even so, I saw queer bashings right outside of [them]: straight guys coming out of a car and picking a random stranger to beat up.”

And on top of that, another threat was spreading across the country. In the summer of 1981, the first cases were reported of what would come to be known as the AIDS crisis, and on July 3, The New York Times published an article with the ominous headline: “Rare Cancer Seen in 41 Homosexuals.” That decade, more than 100,000 people would lose their lives.

All the while, the Hippo remained open, offering support to its patrons and hosting fundraisers while trying to maintain some semblance of optimism on the dance floor.

“Things did change with the big ‘A’,” says Bowers. “We were going to funerals quite a bit. We lost a lot of friends—a lot of friends.”

“In those days, it was like a nightmare,” says Lynda Dee, a patron of the Hippo in the 1980s, who co-founded AIDS Action Baltimore with Waters’ collaborator Pat Moran and the late Garey Lambert, projectionist at the Charles Theatre and editor at the now-defunct Baltimore Alternative. “That camaraderie and that family spirit from the clubs really held us all together.”

Over the years that followed, the Hippo continuously adapted to the changing times. At the turn of the 21st century, the club added karaoke in the Saloon’s side lounge and introduced hip-hop nights in the discotheque, providing “the kids who were gay, who really didn’t want to be out, a place they could come out unexamined,” says Brown.

As new milestones were reached—against discrimination, for civil unions, and so on—societal shifts in acceptance played a part in the demise of queer-specific venues. Many point to the internet and the growing popularity of online dating as the death knell for clubs like the Hippo, as well as increased visibility, both on television and all throughout pop culture, offering them more space to be themselves.

Eventually, by 2015, Bowers, disenchanted by the rise in technology and shifting atmosphere of nightclubs, decided to sell the neighborhood’s last true dance floor.

“One thing that older queers like myself miss the most is that secret society,” says Makarovich. “For years, Leon’s didn’t even have a sign—you just knew it was there.”

Today, no hint of the Hippo remains beyond the building itself and the section of North Charles, just south of Eager, that has been designated “Chuck Bowers Way.” When Bowers closed the doors, his iconic disco was transformed into a CVS. The original sign, with its silver hippopotamus, is now on display a few blocks away at the Maryland Center for History and Culture, which also holds a scrapbook that Bowers and Maddox assembled of autographed headshots and other ephemera from the club’s heyday.

The “gayborhood” has changed, too, though a few LGBTQ bars remain. The reimagined Central on North Howard Street. The biker bar Baltimore Eagle on North Charles. The Drinkery on West Read, opened the same year as the Hippo, and Leon’s, now in its 66th year of business.

Every March, Brown and his partner go back to that corner of Eager, to the exact spot outside of the old art deco building where they met 33 years ago. The lights are undoubtedly brighter and the music canned, but they wander the aisles of the chain pharmacy, purchase candy bars, and reminisce about the decades when this location was magic. “He likes Reese’s cups, I like Snickers,” says Brown.

At 78, Bowers still lives in Mt. Vernon and picks up his prescriptions at his former club—out of convenience, not nostalgia—though the energy of the Hippo is forever a part of him. “I used to joke, when that day comes that I’m in a box, make sure my music is with me,” he says. “Because wherever I go, I’m gonna have a party.”

On that final night at the Hippo in 2015, Darude’s “Sandstorm” slid into the last song ever. There was a cymbal crash, and then a slow rumbling: the opening thunder of “It’s Raining Men” by The Weather Girls.

Humidity’s rising
Barometer’s getting low
According to all sources
The street’s the place to go
’Cause tonight for the first time

Strobes flashed like lightning. Maddox was in Heaven—aka Bowers’ nom de plume for the DJ booth.

Just about half-past ten
For the first time in history
It’s gonna start raining men
Hallelujah, it’s raining men, amen

In that moment, Maddox thought of all of those who had danced in the club over the decades. “You couldn’t be in there that night and not feel their presence,” he says, thinking of friends lost to the AIDS crisis, too. “It was like every emotion that had ever been in that room was there at that instant.”

Hillenburg brought the disco ball down slowly from the ceiling and all the hands in the room reached up.

From New York magazine’s recent story on the most powerful drag queens in America to the cover of our June Pride Issue (featuring the one-and-only Betty O’Hellno), it seems like drag has finally gone mainstream.

It’s no secret that drag is a visually-stimulating spectacle, with its kicks, splits, and bodaciously-beat mugs. So why just look at it on magazine covers or on television? Baltimore has its own crop of crazy-talented kings and queens that are worth shelling out cash to see.

Bryan Tarka, who performs as Baby, thinks the popularization of drag from shows such as RuPaul’s Drag Race has trickled down to the local level. “We’re on the best track possible to have drag be appreciated as an actual art form, just as any other art form,” says Tarka, who hosts the show Metro/Sexual X at Metro Gallery.

In Tarka’s three years of performing in drag, he’s noticed that the local field has expanded to include more diverse performers, such as drag kings, non-binary performers, and bio queens, which has helped evolve Charm City’s drag scene.

“I feel like the scene has taken a switch from being more traditional pageant style drag,” Tarka says, “We’re really embracing what I view as Baltimore’s roots with Divine, and having more of that trashy, gender-bending, out-there, outlandish, rock and roll type of style drag, which I’m really excited about.”

With Baltimore’s vibrant drag community on the rise, there’s tons of sickening shows to sissy over to for a guaranteed good time. Don’t be one of those people who only sees Ru-Girls when they come to town on tour—spread the love to some local performers at these must-see drag events. So, get to it henny!

Bodacious Brunches

Angie’s Seafood: Keep the second Saturday of each month clear because Angie’s Seafood is offering a bottomless brunch, mimosas, and a can’t-miss show for a great deal. The ever-busy Evon Michelle hosts this gig, along with her gaggle of glamazons. $40

Drag Me to the Beach: Enjoy the sweet serenity of sand between your toes and a twirling queen before your eyes at this new addition to the Charm City drag brunch scene. Held at Sandlot in Harbor Point, this weekly show includes two drink tickets and stars the winner of two seasons of DC Drag Wars, Bombalicious Eklaver. $20

Points South Latin Kitchen: This weekly Sunday brunch features a host of affordable drink specials, so fill up on mimosas, sangria, and Bloody Marys until you’re brave enough to attempt a death drop (aka a dramatic dance move where you descent backward with one leg folded). Prepare to dance the afternoon away with local queens such as Brooklyn Heights, Iyana Deschanel, and Jasmine Blue. $35

Zen West: Every first Sunday, Venus Fastrada hosts this fabulous fete with a rotating theme. (The most recent performance was dedicated to Disney numbers.) Head to the Towson cantina to order mimosa or margarita pitchers for the table before digging in to specialty brunch plates during the show. There’s no cover charge, but be sure to bring bills to tip generously.

Drag Dinners

Drag Revival: Hosted by Baltimore’s 2019 Performer of the Year Dee Dee Derèon, this monthly dinner-and-show affair at Hotel Revival features a rotating cast of popular area queens, including Baby, Venus Frastrada, and Hazel Derèon. Treat yourself to an all-you-can-eat buffet —and don’t miss out on the bottomless Italian Bellinis. $25-40

Illusions: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have Liza Minnelli and Cardi B in the same room? If so, this is the celebrity-tribute drag dinner for you. Come see comedy and burlesque performances by local queens in the shoes of icons such as Whitney Houston, and Britney Spears. $10-750

Sassy Shows:

Grindhouse 2.0: Throw it back to the times of bump and grind burlesque. Held on the first Friday of the month at the Baltimore Eagle, you’ll get a hell of a show for a measly $10 cover. $10-150

Golden West Bingo: Only a drag performer could make a chore as mundane as calling out bingo numbers so lively and exciting. Hit up this vegan paradise every second and fourth Tuesday of the month for rounds of bingo hosted by Evon Michelle and Pariah Sinclair, as well as taco and margarita specials. $5

Metro/Sexual X: Chock full of fashion, art, rock n’roll, tease, filth, and drag, attendees can expect to be entertained when this steamy show pops up at Metro Gallery every few months. Hosted by Baby, the show has featured everything from hard rock to sultry burlesque, and occasionally features other talents from across the DMV. Did we mention this won the 2019 Baltimore Drag Award for Best Drag Show? $15

Sidebar Scandalous Saturdays: This monthly downtown show boasts an all-star line-up, hosted by Pariah Sinclair and featuring queens like Shaunda Leer and Saaphyri Wildz. Pro tip: The first ten attendees receive a specialty cocktail, so be sure to get there early. $8-10

The corner of North Charles and Eager streets just ain’t what it used to be. Sure, rainbow flags still fly outside of Grand Central Club, but it’s on borrowed time. Across the street, where Club Hippo once hosted epic bingo nights, show tunes karaoke, and hip-hop parties, is now the standard bat signal of gentrification—a CVS.

With gay bars closing in Baltimore, it brings up the inevitable questions: Can we explain this? Are these spaces still necessary? And what comes next?

“Years ago, gay bars were safe zones when gays were in fear of being beat up,” says Don Davis, who owned Grand Central for nearly 30 years until new owners took over earlier this year. “Once people started meeting online, we lost a lot of business.”

Beyond matchmaking websites and LGBTQ-friendly dating apps, the movement to legalize same-sex marriage in 2015 also played a part in curtailing gay-bar business. “Our community was able to get married and start a family, and the necessity to go out and meet people just wasn’t there,” says Chris Jennings, who runs events and marketing for the newly reopened Baltimore Eagle. “Plus, you need to move with trends. The way a space feels safe for us now is different from when I was in my 20s.”

Making sure there is a seat for everyone at the table—whether that’s the clientele or the business owners themselves—is an important part of keeping the inclusive scene alive here in Baltimore. “Most of the owners of these businesses were older, white gay men that entered into their golden years,” says Shelese Greene of the Pride Center of Maryland. “We now need investors who are also interested in supporting the black and brown LGBTQ community.”

Another theory for the closings is that bars in general have arguably become more accepting. “It’s taken a lot of years to feel more comfortable,” Davis says. “I’m not saying there’s no more gay-bashing, but certainly people are more decent now than they were.”

Even so, having a place that is 100-percent accepting is a priority for the community. “It’s a different kind of feeling when you go into a space and can vogue down the hallway and not be looked at like you’re crazy,” Greene explains. “It’s about tolerance and safety.”

“We need to make sure our spaces are not only safe, but also progressive,” adds Jennings. “When there are preconceived notions, certain segments don’t feel welcome.”

Long known to many as a strictly leather bar, the Eagle is aiming for more inclusivity in its newest iteration, with a more diverse staff and event offerings. And, for their part, the new owners of Grand Central are taking feedback from the Mt. Vernon neighborhood for what exactly could populate the renovated, mixed-use building.

Plus, throughout the city, places like Points South Latin Kitchen, El Bufalo, and Minnow are providing consistent venues for drag performers. “We are an LGBTQ safe space, and we’re heavily involved in the scene,” says Points South owner Bryson Keens. “Everything seems to be disappearing, and we want to do our part to support it.” Along with drag queen Brooklyn Heights and city council members, Keens is in the very early stages of discussing a new space in Baltimore City that could host drag performances six days a week.

“Whether it was Grindr or gentrification that killed gay bars, it’s our job to explore new options,” Keens says. “And now we have politicians coming to us trying to attract these spaces to their district. If that’s not progress, I don’t know what is.”

There’s no shortage of risk-taking theater in Baltimore, but there’s only one troupe that features sword tricks, belly dancing, and actors humping toilets. That would be the Charm City Kitty Club (CCKC), a local queer theater cabaret that will celebrate its 17th season this month with a no-holds-barred show called Claws Up, Walls Down!

Formed in 2002, CCKC started as a queer cabaret based out of the Creative Alliance in Highlandtown. “We set out to create a space where queers could come together that was organized around art rather than alcohol, and it was really effective,” says longtime member Rahne Alexander.

Since then, CCKC has evolved into a volunteer-based organization for people of all races, genders, sexualities, and performance abilities to express themselves on stage. The “Kitties” only perform one to three times per year, but once the curtain rises, they push the boundaries of sex-positive theater with poetry, stand-up comedy, and musical acts that deconstruct gender politics and identity.

After putting on 45 shows, with themes ranging from fairytales to The Golden Girls, the collectively run cabaret has created a community of queer local artists that continues to grow with each performance. Whether volunteers contribute to the show by creating publicity posters or bartending, they’re always welcomed into the group with outstretched paws. “After a while of supporting each other, you become a family,” says longtime member Abby Cocke.

But it’s not just the Kitties that get to have all the fun—CCKC is open to audience participation, too. During the 2005 show Escape to Mortville, non-binary performer Glenn Marla went onstage and, claiming to be “the fattest person you know,” stripped down to nothing and invited onlookers to paint their naked body. “There were respondents saying they really had to challenge their own internal biases in watching that performance,” says Alexander.

From June 28-29, the Kitties will return to the Baltimore Theatre Project stage to take on the much-discussed topic of walls during Claws Up, Walls Down! With four to five acts per show, audiences can expect to see the troupe’s signature weirdness applied to narratives surrounding historic barriers such as the Berlin Wall, as well as community divisions within Baltimore.

“As a black queer artivist from Baltimore, I am truly honored to lend my voice and talent to the theme for this year’s show,” says featured artist Unique Robinson. “It’s apparent that the mask of the nation is off; it’s fully up to us to weave a new cloth.”

Each year in June, The Pride Center of Maryland kicks off Pride Month in celebration of Baltimore’s vibrant LGBTQ+ community. This year’s theme, “Unity through Diversity: The ReMix,” is representative of transforming fears into empowerment and embracing community to fight for justice and dignity.

The empowering theme will be present in every part of the celebration, which takes place June 14-16. Parade day celebrations will include the annual high-heel races, a pet parade, and pre-pride extravaganza featuring a variety of local artists.

The Pride Festival on Sunday will celebrate families and children with a kid-friendly environment including music and entertainment stages, a Drag Stage, exhibitors and local food trucks. The Pride Center uses all proceeds generated from the festivities to help over 800 sexual and gender minority (SGM) individuals each month.

Establishments all over town are hosting a number of rainbow-themed events to celebrate Pride month. Here are a few to keep an eye out for:

FULL-FLEDGED FESTIVALS:

6/13: Trans Pride Festival at Charm City Meadworks
Join the Baltimore Transgender Alliance as its kicks off Pride Weekend with the “Officially Unofficial Trans Pride Festival” at Charm City Meadworks. The event includes a resource fair from 5-8 p.m., drag performances, and happy hour specials from 5-7 p.m. There is no cover fee, but donations are welcome. 400 East Biddle St. 5-10 p.m. 443-961-1072

6/13: Pre-Pride Party at Bar Vasquez
Celebrate Pride Month with a free event at a breathtaking location, featuring music from DJs Ultra Naté and Lisa Moody, drag performance, drinks, and dancing. Ticket options include general admission or VIP tickets available for $25, which includes one drink and preferred group seating. Proceeds benefit the Pride Center of Maryland, but you must be 21 or older to attend. 1425 Aliceanna Street. 7-11 p.m. 410-777-8145

6/15: Pride Parade
Baltimore Pride is celebrating its 44th year with an 11-block procession and a viewing stage on North Charles and 24th streets in the Brown Rice Parking Lot. Last year, this celebration was attended by over 30,000 high-energy attendees. N. Charles and 33rd St. 1-3 p.m. 410-777-8145

6/15: Charm City Pride Fest
It’s the end of an era as Palmisano Productions hosts the very last Pride Fest at the iconic Grand Central, so be on the lookout for its new location next year. This event will highlight performers from around the nation, as well as a DJ from Madrid. 1001 N Charles St. 5 p.m.-2 a.m. 443-371-1924

6/16: Pride Festival
After the epic parade on Saturday, join the Pride Center of Maryland for its flagship event in Druid Hill Park. The Pride Festival will celebrate families with a kid-friendly environment including music and entertainment stages, a drag stage, exhibitors, and local food trucks. Druid Hill Park. 12-6 p.m. 410-777-8145

PARTIES & PERFORMANCES

6/14: The Golden Gays NYC at Germanos
Direct from Off-Broadway, it’s The Golden Girls musical drag parody. The hip, old grannies take you on a musical journey through the characters’ favorite game shows and lucky audience members will become contestants. Guests can enjoy informal interaction with performers as they dine upstairs in the cabaret space. 300 S High St. 6 or 8:30 p.m. $25-35. 410-752-4515

6/14: Charm City Exxxtreme Glow Party
Get ready to glow at Mosaic Nightclub & Lounge inside Power Plant Live for Neon Dreams. This party hosts special guests Andrew Christian, Trophy Boys, Beuax Banks, and Nick Masc, and even Shuga Cain from Season 11 of RuPaul’s Drag Race. 4 Market Pl. 9 p.m.-2 a.m. $18-43. 443-371-1924

6/22: Pride Disco Party at Monument City
In celebration of Baltimore Pride, Monument City Brewing Company is throwing an after-hours disco party, featuring DJ Vodkatrina’s ’70s-themed disco and funk. Be sure to dress your best in your best Saturday Night Fever or Diana Ross getup. Draft lines will include a limited Pride Punch, a fruit punch gose. Tickets benefit the Pride Foundation of Maryland. 1 North Haven Street. 7:30-11:30 p.m. $10

6/7 and 6/14: Double the Drag Movie Night at R. House
During the month of June, every Friday is PrideDay at R. House and the food hall will be hosting a Double the Drag Movie Night. Pop bottles, pop the corn, and pop into The Garage for To Wong Fu and Hedwig and the Angry Inch on the big screen. Ticket includes admission, snacks, and punch. 301 W 29th St. $8-30

ART EXHIBITIONS

6/6: Walking Tour in Mt. Vernon
Baltimore Heritage and Preservation Maryland will commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Inn Uprising with a walking tour exploring Baltimore’s own LGBTQ+ milestones. The tour will be led by volunteer historians Louis Hughes, Richard Oloizia, Shirley Parry, and Kate Drabinski and it will end at bar and restaurant Flavor. You bring the conversation and they pick up the tab for appetizers. 1000 Cathedral Street. 5:30-6:30 p.m. $10. 410-685-2886

6/6: Gallery Talk at the Walters
To celebrate LGBTQ+ Pride Month, this talk highlights the work of Baltimore-based painter René Treviño. He will join Ellen Hoobler and associate curator William B. Ziff, Jr. to look at how contemporary art continues to offer new interpretations of historic collections. 600 N. Charles St. 6:30-7:15 p.m. 410-547-9000

6/14: The Short Kuts Show at the Reginald F. Lewis Museum
The Short Kuts Show live storytelling series returns with its third show of the season. The theme of the show—“I’m Coming Out”—is inspired by the classic 1981 Diana Ross song of the same name. This edition will bring together storytellers from the LGBTQ+ communities from the African-American, Afro-Diasporic, and other communities of color. 830 E. Pratt St. 6:30 – 9:30 p.m. $10. 443-263-1800

FUNDRAISERS

Through 6/30: Sock Fundraiser at Ma Petite Shoe
Who knew a pair of socks could make such a big difference? California-based company Socksmith Design has partnered with The Trevor Project—America’s leading organization in preventing youth suicide in the LGBTQ+ community—to create a cool, hip, and colorful line of Pride athletic socks. For every pair of socks sold, The Trevor Project will receive a $1 donation. Plus, Ma Petite Shoe Sock Shop in Hampden is promoting the socks with the help of Baltimore comic Michael Furr, just in time for Pride Month of June. 832 W 36th St. 410-235-3442

6/14: Twilight on the Terrace at Gertrude’s
Now in its 13th year, Twilight on the Terrace is a Baltimore Pride tradition: a night of food, fun, and community. As the largest fundraiser for The Pride Center of Maryland, this alfresco event helps support nearly 50 community programs that reach more than 800 people monthly. Must be 21 or older to attend. 10 Art Museum Drive. 7-11 p.m. $125. 410-777-8145

6/27: Pride Night at Urban Axes
Throw on your rainbow apparel and head to Urban Axes in Highlandtown to aim for the bullseye while supporting a great cause. Admission to the 2.5-hour event includes your first drink, and 30 percent of all proceeds will benefit Human Rights Campaign’s work for LGBTQ+ equality. For one night only, the spot will also be offering its new Pride shirts for sale at a special price. 1 N. Haven St. $40. 240-389-2937

FOOD & DRINK

6/7: Beers for Queers at Union
There’s no better way to celebrate Pride than with beers and dancing, so come out and enjoy music provided by DJ Kim Brannan and even limited-edition Union Pride hats will be for sale. A portion of the proceeds will be donated to the Pride Center of Maryland. 1700 West 41st Street. 7-10 p.m. 410-777-8145

6/14: Pride at Gunther & Co.
Gunther & Co. will host a patio “Get Your Glitter On” happy hour with Roca Patron, the tequila behind the Hermosa Mariposa purple glittery cocktail. 3650 Toone Street

6/1-6/30: El Tigre
Enjoy the tiki bar atmosphere while sipping on a Pride specialty cocktail. Based on the classic Chi Chi cocktail invented by Don the Beachcomber, El Tigre will use Civic Vodka, coconut cream, pineapple and lime juices, cinnamon, and nutmeg. In the spirit of Pride, 10 percent of the cocktail sales go to the Transgender Law Center. 1640 Aliceanna St

6/14-6/15: Rainbow Spaghetti at The Elephant
In honor of the LGBTQ+ community, The Elephant is serving a Pride Weekend special of Rainbow Spaghetti—with house-made spicy sausage, sauteed broccolini, garlic, lemon, white wine, butter—along with globally inspired selections from the a la carte menu. 924 N Charles St. 443-447-7878

6/14: The Charmery/Essen Room Collaboration
The Charmery will be serving a rainbow cake Pride flavor at its Union Collective location starting June 7 and the rest of the shops will serve the flavor starting June 14. Try this sweet treat made with a raspberry jam base, rainbow sprinkles, and rainbow cake chunks from Essen Room.

PRIDE OUTSIDE

6/12: Orioles Pride Night
The Orioles invite fans to celebrate LGBTQ+ Pride Month with a ticket package that includes a admission to the game and an O’s pride cap. On top of that, a portion of the proceeds benefit Moveable Feast and The Pride Center of Maryland. 333 W Camden St. 7:05 p.m. $41-75. 888-848-2473

6/28: Baltimore Bike Party Pride Ride
Enjoy biking and Pride Month? Join this mass, monthly ride for participants of all ages, backgrounds, and abilities. This month’s theme is Pride Ride so wear your colors to show some love. 600 N Paca St. 6:30-11:30 p.m. 410-777-8145