Not Overdramatic, We Know What We Want: Lesbian Spaces and Pink Pony

Once again, Oxford Street twinks have shamed the wider Sydney queer community by making international headlines in queer media, complaining that the once-gay Golden Mile no longer feels welcoming to them.

In an interview with Gay Sydney News, the owner of the new but yet-to-be-renamed Oxford Street club, Pink Pony, Kevin Du-Val, said that the club would be “unashamedly … targeted” towards gay men aged 18 to 35.

“Of course the girls will be welcome, but it would certainly be our desire that it predominantly gay boys,” he said. “And when I say predominantly, I’m sort of talking 90 per cent plus.

“Obviously we’ve got legal hurdles … in terms of how much we can vet the crowd while still complying with the law … but it is our intention for it to be predominantly gay.”

A few days later, and the apology has been issued, meaningful change has been committed to, and aren’t we all better off for having navigated this conflict as a community, broadening our perspectives and coming out stronger for it?

Quite frankly, fuck that.

Their apology blatantly lacks accountability- just look at the number of comments on Instagram posts discussing the saga that ask if they’ll be unblocked after pointing out to Du Val and CEO, Michael Lewis, just why they were so wrong- but it’s the half-hearted attempt at rallying the community together in times of discontent that really pisses me off: “Everyone is just looking to find their tribe and a place to belong.” 

Certainly interesting use of the word “tribe” from white gays- invoking racist stereotypes in an effort to bring us all together under the same umbrella. 

What’s astounding is their complete lack of ability to even type out the word “lesbian”, referring to Chappell in their apology as having a “well deserved reverence with queer Women”, rather than explicitly acknowledging that their favourite pop princess is a dyke. It was only International Lesbian Day last week, fellas. Did you not see the ACON posts on your Instagram feed? Apparently lesbian culture is good enough to appropriate for their events, but lord forbid you say the L word. 

When was the last time you felt comfortable on Oxford Street?

If Du-Val had never specified the particular ideals of his demographics, I’m sure the Pink Pony team would have been able to meet these requirements effortlessly. Oxford Street already feels like it’s 90 per cent gay men, the remaining 10 per cent a scrap between the queer and trans women who made a hopeful, yet ultimately misguided decision to tackle the once-Golden mile.

I’m not sure that Oxford Street has ever really been a place for queer women. Some of my earliest memories going out in Sydney include being sexually harassed and indecently assaulted by gay men on the streets and dance floors that I thought were meant for me, experiences I would later learn were shared with most of, if not all of, my peers. 

I don’t tell you this in an attempt to shock you into sympathy, but to paint a realistic picture of modern day Oxford Street; gay men feel as though they are entitled to women’s bodies, whether it be violently or mindlessly misogynistic. For many of them, it’s probably one of the only places they’ve existed in where they are at the top of the food chain. They may be gay, but they’re still men. They perpetrate misogyny without even realising it. 

It’s not breaking news that there aren’t dedicated places for lesbians and sapphically inclined queers, and it’s even harder for queer people of colour to carve out spaces where they feel comfortable. Hell, I’m sure this won’t be the first time I write a piece about it, but the more you pick at a pimple, the more inflamed it gets, and as we’re staring down long summer nights without The Bearded Tit or The Ladies League, we’re starting to feel a bit antsy. My other mid-to-late-twenties friends and I are attempting to reclaim Birdcage from the teenagers this summer, but there’s only so much you can dedicate to the cause when you’ve got to get up for your 9-5 on Thursday morning. 

The idea that lesbians partner up, settle down, and stop going out is bullshit- gay male propaganda to excuse their taking up all the space. We know what we want, and we’ve been asking for it for decades. 

We’ve got monthly nights- Dykadellic, Junipero, Club Worship Kings, and Girlthing to name a few- but these events, while valuable and important spaces, tend to serve a more outgoing and extroverted sector of the community, something we’re not always up for. 

“Erin Barnes, the programmer of Junipero, intentionally moved the event to Oxford Street at the Burdekin Hotel back in 2022,” performance artist and artist manager for Junipero, Cleo Rapture, told Star Observer. “This was a direct response to the glaring lack of dedicated spaces for lesbians, queer women, trans and non-binary people she saw.

“This mirrors my own experience of feeling lost a decade ago; when I first started attending queer parties, I was unable to find any lesbian events. When I would visit the gay club, it always felt like I was begrudgingly being allowed entry. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve been physically assaulted by white gay men on Oxford Street and in gay clubs, because they had no hesitation letting a woman know she is not welcome in “their” spaces.”

Rapture says that in order for these events to grow and become more regular, people need to put their money where their mouth is, not only to support the events themselves, but to show venues that there is financial potential in creating lesbian spaces. 

“Events like Junipero and Dykadellic have drawn in mammoth crowds for many years now, and both are continually expanding their reach,” she said. “Other events like The Pyramid prioritise attendees and artists who identify as sex workers, BIPOC and/or LGBTQIA+, and this sells out night after night.

“While hosting Junipero, I see what magic a safe, welcome space enables: I see regulars who have attended for years now, reuniting with their friends every single month. I have middle-aged people telling me they have come out later in life, and this is the first space they feel safe to party in. I see queer love of all kinds, left right and centre. A packed dance floor with a diverse crowd, and all hips and hearts connected; why would you want anything else?”

If we’re leaving this debacle with anything helpful, let it be with the knowledge that we deserve space, and we shouldn’t feel ashamed about it. Support lesbian spaces when they appear, whether it be a monthly party, or a new venue, and keep asking for more. 

But in the meantime, look to the community around you and create your own little spaces in the world. More and more people are making dedicated efforts to curate a group of like-minded sapphics to have movie nights with, or go on bush walks together. Then, when it’s time to show up when lesbian spaces need us, we can do it together. 

We might not have a dedicated brick and mortar home for lesbians in Sydney quite yet, but in the meantime, we can huddle together to keep each other warm.