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Scene: Chicago

“Scene” is AfterEllen.com’s monthly (usually) series of articles focusing on the lesbian happenings in a town near you. For previous installments, go here.

When most East or West Coasters think of the Midwest, they imagine a cluster of homophobic rednecks sheltered from society. But right in the middle of the United States is Chicago, with its skyscrapers, Lake Michigan and a surplus of gay women all over the city.

Scene 1: Formerly Known As …

Big Chicks, Aug. 2

Chicago has several regular dance parties for the city’s queer crowd, but one that aims to be the most inclusive is Formerly Known As. The monthly themed get-together started out as Trans-mission, a celebration of trans men and women in the community. It was hosted at Andersonville’s only self-proclaimed lesbian bar, Stargaze, until there were issues with the bar’s anti-trans sponsors. The party then moved to Uptown’s Big Chicks, and it has only grown bigger and better with guest DJs and imaginative themes (librarians, the future and alter egos, to name a few).

Lesbians and queer gals attend FKA in droves to show their support. There’s always the promise of a good time, whereas other dance parties in the city (Chances Dances, Outdanced) can be hit or miss.

Despite the name, Big Chicks is much more of a gay men’s hangout on regular nights. It’s connected to Tweet, a hot brunch spot. The actual bar is long and crowded, with smokers put off by the “No Smoking” signs on the dance floor (myself included). Lesbian and feminist art hangs on the walls, and an ironic movie plays on the television.

A few tables and stools are scattered about, but the room is usually so packed for FKA that it’s easier to maneuver if you move with the crowd or squeeze yourself against the bar.

Big Chicks’ bartender, Brown, is a hot butch who’s serving up $2 Rolling Rocks, but getting her attention can be difficult. But once you do, you can head out to the patio (weather permitting) if it’s before 11 p.m. Otherwise, you’ll have much better luck with breathing room on the dance floor, a more spacious area with a stage that everyone should occupy at least once (I do every time).

This month’s theme at FKA: jocks vs. geeks. Most attendees went with sporty attire (perhaps it’s already part of their wardrobes, or maybe just plentiful in the city’s thrift stores), but everyone was able to party in unison.

Not a huge fan of dressing for themes myself, I always do my best to throw something together before I head to FKA. This time around, I wore a sweater vest and a pair of my girlfriend’s glasses. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only slacker, and no one else cared.

FKA’s co-organizer Nako Okubu is always taking the theme to the extreme. She wore a bright blue football jersey complete with shoulder pads and yellow player’s pants. Popping around to take everyone’s photos as usual, she also made time to jump onto the stage and physically show her appreciation for the music that DJ Reganomix and guest DJs spin.

“We’ve been thrilled that our crowd has expanded to include so many representations,” Nako said. “FKA exists because there was a need for more support and visibility for the trans community. The overwhelming support we have for FKA emphasizes that most are ready and eager for a more cohesive Chicago.”

A passionate promoter, Nako is also a bubbly, single queer whom girls ogle as she passes. She’s also a drag performer and dancer, and her positive energy is infectious.

I asked about Chicago’s community in general, as it tends to be separated. Those who frequent Girlbar and Circuit (house music fans looking for ladies dancing in bras and not much else) vary greatly from those who attend Sunday’s Stargaze karaoke (older butches playing pool and young baby dykes singing along to Salt-N-Pepa), and they would most likely never venture to something like FKA.

“Chicago does its best,” Nako said. “As with many things, there is a lot to work out. Sadly, it’s common to have disconnect and conflict, even within the communities that are intended to be in it together.”

Nonetheless, FKA is the only regular party in Chicago where you can find representation from every letter in LGBTQ, plus some of their straight friends in tow.

Scene 2: Tegan and Sara

Lakeshore Theater, Aug. 7

After the success of Tegan and Sara’s 2005 album, So Jealous, it’s a rare occasion to see them in a venue that holds less than 1,000. So when the duo announced they would be touring parts of the United States and playing clubs with capacities of 300 to 400, tickets sold out in a nanosecond.

Having not been one of those lucky ticket holders, I tried my hardest to get on the press list but, as one of the publicists told me, “there were like four press passes given out,” and I was not one of those lucky few. I thought I was destined to miss the show and tried to convince myself it would be less than amazing.

But some higher power smiled down upon me and blessed me with my dear friend Jessica and her connections at the Lakeshore Theater. An hour before the show began, she called me and asked, “Where are you?” Then she told me to grab a cab and jet across town because she could get me in. Never has a cab been grabbed faster.

My girlfriend and I showed up at the theater to be pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere. The Lakeshore is on the edge of Boystown and just recently started booking concerts, but it has a heavy focus on comedy. (Upcoming events there include Margaret Cho’s The Sensuous Woman.)

Every seat was filled in the auditorium, despite the humidity. The crowd was comprised of ladies (and a handful of guys) who seemed to fall in the 17-to-28 age range and who sang along and cheered mightily for anything Tegan and Sara did. We were in for a rare treat as the twins played two sets: the entire new album, The Con, plus a set of old favorites.

I spotted tattooed up members of the Chi-Town Sirens roller derby team, a couple of friends who found tickets outside, and every kind of hardcore Tegan and Sara fan in the Chicagoland area.

The girls sounded better than ever, and Chicago fans are pretty respectful — except for a select few. One eager fan kept standing up to shout to Tegan and Sara in between songs: “I’ve seen you at Metro, I’ve seen you at the Double Door, I’ve seen you at Virgin — thank you for playing at such an intimate venue!” Tegan and Sara nodded politely the first time around, but a few beers and songs later, when she was at it again, the girls weren’t afraid to cut her off.

“More than annoyed, I am just embarrassed to be part of the crowd when people do things like that,” my girlfriend said in my ear when there was a lull in between songs as the hoots and hollers died down. “I don’t want artists to think that we’re all like that here.” I nodded and wiped the sweat off my brow for the hundredth time, happy to be in the sweltering room nonetheless.

Despite the shouter, the best part of Tegan and Sara shows are surely their sisterly banter, and the relatively intimate venue lent itself well to their 10-minute interludes of song explanations and their ideas about America, including baseball (Sara prefers hockey, as all Canadians do) and new merchandise (sleeping bags À la New Kids on the Block).

Despite the heat and a problem in which the stage lighting would turn off at random times in the middle of a song, Chicago’s lesbian fans proved their loyalty to their favorite twins. After the show, a crowd gathered to wait by the bus, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see if they were successful in shaking the identical hands of Tegan and Sara.

Scene 3: Women on Wednesdays

Center on Halsted, Aug. 15

The new Center on Halsted in Boystown is an LGBT community meeting space where lap-toppers utilize the free wi-fi and gay girls gather on Wednesdays. For $20, single ladies can participate in speed dating, a couple of drinks (alcoholic or non) and a food buffet before the Dyke Mic portion of the night begins. (If you’re not into the speed dating fad and more into board games, then I suggest attending the monthly Queer Nerds at Heart at Guthries Tavern).

A happily partnered woman, I arrived as the speed dating was winding up and the participants — of all ages and all ethnicities — were mingling, hoping find their chosen one. During the summer, the weekly Women on Wednesdays hosts roof parties, and the organizers, Nikki Patin and J.T. Newman, book performers from punk bands to poets who reflect the individuality of everyone who comes.

This week, the performers were burlesque duo the Honey Buns and soul singer Mekole Wells. Newman introduced the Honey Buns as “always warm and moist in the center,” and their first performance of “Goldfinger” began, complete with gold gun, leopard-print coat and eventual revealing of the pasties.

I had a quiet laugh at the irony of the sexuality oozing out of the room, which features a sign designating it as the Senior Center. The next Honey Bun performed an even more provocative number to a Bryan Adams song, “I Want To Be Your Underwear,” which involved not much else besides two large pink feathers.

The room is kind of an awkward space; it lacks a stage, and a group of chairs are simply pushed to the right side of one wall. On the opposite wall, huge windows stretch from floor to ceiling, giving Dyke Mic attendees a perfect view of Halsted Ave. However, it didn’t give me a perfect view of each performer, especially as the Honey Buns danced from left to right.

After the burlesque Buns, Mekole Wells sang a couple of songs (including a cover of The Carpenters’ “Superstar”), and co-host J.T. got the open mic underway. Because the speed dating had run long, the performances were cut shorter than usual, but everyone was still able to get a word or song in.

From nervous first-time readers receiving encouraging applause, to a powerful poem that had an amazing extended metaphor about music and being loved, the performances were both entertaining and inspiring. As someone who doesn’t write poetry or music, I couldn’t imagine being as open with a group of strangers as some of the readers were, but watching a room full of gay women (and one gay man) feel comfortable enough to do so was a great way to do something out of the ordinary, at least for myself.

“It’s refreshing!” said first-time attendee Megan McCormack. “I sometimes get sad thinking that the most efficient way to meet other Chicagoan queers is at queer bars. Loud music and darkened rooms make it hard to talk to people — new people, especially. Having events [like this] that focus on hobbies and passions is wonderful. It automatically makes complete strangers compatible and have something worthy to talk about. For example, ‘Who are some of your favorite poets?’ versus ‘How’s that light beer taste?'”

Also different from bar nights, Women on Wednesdays ended promptly at 10 p.m. It was certainly a change of pace.

Scene 4: Role Play

Holiday Club, Aug. 21

A new queer dance party, Role Play is held in the backroom of a mostly straight, Rat Pack-themed bar that has a great jukebox and photo booth. What’s special about this night in particular is that the proceeds benefit local filmmaker Ky Dickens and her documentary on homosexuality and religion, Fish Out of Water.

For $5, attendees were treated to drink specials (like massive $3 schooners of PBR), music from DJ Alena and, of course, a theme. The very first Role Play theme was Down on the Farm, and popular ensembles included cowboy hats and boots, as well as overalls and bandannas. Old westerns played on the televisions strewn about the room, and the only thing that could have made it better was some actual country western music.

Ky, normally decked out in jeans and a ribbed tank, was switching up roles tonight and wore a cut-off jean skirt, tied-up flannel top and makeup. Next to her, it was certainly apparent that I was, once again, not into theme dress. But I did, eventually, steal my friend’s cowboy hat so I could be in the spirit for a photo op.

“Role Play is a double entendre dealing with costume dress-up as well as gender bending and gender playing,” Ky explained. “Especially in the queer community, people often get forced into an assumed role or take on a certain role. This party will hopefully give people a forum to bend their normal identity, dress in costume and have fun.”

It certainly seemed like Ky was having fun, and as she counted the money she’d made toward the end of the night, I joked that we were just paying her bar tab. A good sport, she told me it was actually going toward a plane ticket to Los Angeles.

Ky also said that Role Play will continue at the Holiday Club every third Tuesday of the month, and proceeds will “consistently go to a queer-oriented cause.”

“Currently the cause is my film, but in the future it will be something different,” she said.

Though similar to FKA, this fundraising party had more of a conversation vibe, and attendees preferred to mingle rather than hop on the dance floor. That is, except for myself and a few other brave dancers — evidence of the strength of a $3 PBR schooner.

Scene 5: Queer Fest Midwest

Pulaski Park Fieldhouse, Aug. 25

As one of the founders and organizers of Queer Fest Midwest, I feared that the day of the festival would be crazy and stressful and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself. Fortunately, my worrying was for naught — somehow the entire day of music and art went smoothly.

The festival was held in a fieldhouse owned by the Chicago Park District, making it an all-ages, alcohol-free space. The huge main gymnasium, where the stage was located, echoed with excitement. Local sex shop Tulip hung art on the walls, and clothing retailer Dykes in the City had a table next to the bands’ merch set-up.

Pink tape on the floor led through the hall and up the stairs to the art room, which was air-conditioned and calm, as opposed to the concert space, which was both raucous and hot. Upstairs, visitors found work from artists such as Sadie Benning and Bruce la Bruce, ranging from video installations and photography to a sculpture of an anus.

The day kicked off with Chicago trio Stiletto Attack. The drummer is also known as DJ K.T., a popular, out DJ who spins at dyke nights in the city at places like DéjÀ Vu and Spot 6. Other local bands who played throughout the day were Office, a major label-signed ensemble; Actor Slash Model, a pair of FTM guys who play bluegrass and inspired a roomful of couples to waltz; and 8 Inch Betsy, a punk-rock trio that aims to “rock your pants off.”

During Seattle-based hip-hop duo Team Gina’s memorable performance, lesbians crowded to the stage to dance and laugh at their honest tunes about lesbians dating each other and their exes. Gina Bling and Gina Genius came together under the shared experience of their names both being Gina — plus, they wanted to mix some hot lyrics and beats to be socially conscious and hilarious at the same time.

I cornered the girls after their performance and asked them about their influences, which include “Shane McCutcheon, J.D. Samson, k.d. lang, My Little Pony and Ellen,” among many others, most of whom are women performers. With their matching outfits and quirky choreography, they said they aren’t afraid of not being taken seriously, and their writing process for songs such as “Butch/Femme” is more about having fun than anything else.

“It’s funny! We try to top each other with lyrics,” Gina Bling said as we sat in the fieldhouse’s outdoor corridor. “We sit around and giggle!”

The Ginas were still wearing their matching striped shirts and green hot pants from their set, and they finished each other’s sentences as I spoke to them. They both said it’s important to them to play events like Queer Fest because they want to check out other queer performers and see what they have going on themselves. Since they’re from the very queer Pacific Northwest, the Ginas are used to being part of a queer arts community, which they said is totally supportive.

“We play with straight bands, and we play with other gay bands,” Gina Genius said, listing off reasons why their location is ideal for queer artists. “One of the reasons I moved away from New York is that it wasn’t supportive. Seattle has a great, supportive community.”

One of the day’s co-hosts, Kristen Kaza, said that Chicago has a similar energy, which is why a festival like QFM is needed. “Chicago has a thriving queer scene, and that’s why we need to bring people here and show them that there’s a space for queer art and music in the Midwest,” she said.

Kaza — a friend of mine and a wonderful hostess, I might add — shared the stage with local out comedienne Cameron Esposito. The lovely lesbians chided the all-ages audience and each other between acts, many commenting on Kristen’s vintage 1970s Gap overalls that she wore especially for the occasion.

“When you told me you had a collection of overalls, I said, ‘No one has a collection of overalls,'” Cameron said. “But now that I see you wearing them, I don’t object.”

It was a great way to end August and summer in the Windy City, which isn’t as barren as some might believe. It’s an ideal place for lesbians, but even more ideal for queers not looking for labels.

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