Are We Swiping Left on Community?
Once upon a time, queer bars, bookstores, and clubs were more than just places to grab a drink or pick up a book. They were lifelines—sacred spaces where LGBTQ+ folks could gather, be themselves, and find their people. But as the world shifts increasingly online, and as gentrification reshapes the cities where these spaces once thrived, we have to ask: Are we losing more than just real estate?
The Swipe-Centered Queer Experience
For many LGBTQ+ people—especially Gen Z—the path to connection is now paved with apps like Grindr, HER, and Tinder. Finding love, friendship, or even just a casual hook-up has never been easier. But here’s the problem: while swiping may offer convenience, it strips away something vital. A queer bar isn’t just a place to meet someone. It’s where you find your people. It’s where you can finally stop scanning the room for judgment or danger and breathe easy.
Apps can’t replicate the feeling of walking into a space where everyone gets you without having to explain a thing. They can’t recreate the history-laden atmosphere of a dive bar where activists once organized protests, or where countless young queers had their first taste of belonging. The ease of digital connection is nice—but is it enough?
Gentrification: The Silent Killer of Queer Spaces
It’s not just the digital shift that’s erasing these havens. Gentrification is the silent killer behind the closure of queer spaces across the country. Neighborhoods that once nurtured underground queer culture—think San Francisco’s Castro or New York’s West Village—are now playgrounds for the wealthy. Rent skyrockets, beloved LGBTQ+ landmarks close, and in their place: a high-end coffee shop or luxury condo tower. It’s ironic that queer communities helped make these neighborhoods desirable in the first place, only to be priced out of them.
Yes, a few iconic spots like the Stonewall Inn remain, but they’re more like museums than community hubs these days. And it’s the smaller, lesser-known spaces that we’re losing the fastest. Queer visibility may be at an all-time high, but that visibility often comes with a hefty price tag. And the question becomes: who in our community can afford to stay?
So, where do we go from here? The younger generation is already stepping up, redefining what queer space can be. Pop-up parties, queer art fairs, DIY drag shows in rented galleries—these events are taking the place of permanent establishments. The idea is that community isn’t tied to a building; it’s something we create wherever we gather.
But can a pop-up replace the magic of a dedicated queer bar or club? Will digital meetups ever have the same power as a night in a space that exists solely to celebrate queer identity? While these new formats are exciting and necessary, there’s still something uniquely powerful about a brick-and-mortar queer space. It says, “We’re here, we belong, and this is our place.”
Beyond the Bar: Queer Spaces Must Evolve
It’s also worth acknowledging that not every queer person felt fully welcome in those old-school spaces. Bars and clubs—often centered around white, cisgender gay men—sometimes excluded others, like trans folks, people with disabilities, or those from rural communities. In some ways, digital platforms are more inclusive. They give people who might not have access to physical spaces a way to connect and find community on their own terms. The internet has leveled the playing field in many ways—transcending geography, income level, and gatekeeping.
Queer history was written in bars, clubs, and community centers—places where activists organized, love bloomed, and revolutions began. If we let these spaces disappear, we’re not just losing nightlife—we’re losing the physical heartbeat and tangible history of queer culture.”
Maybe, then, the decline of the traditional gay bar isn’t an end but an evolution. Queer spaces, like queer identities, are meant to be fluid, ever-changing, and resistant to boundaries. But even so, we need to be careful that in embracing the digital world, we don’t lose the depth and connection that physical spaces created.
Don’t Swipe Left on Queer History
We need both. We need the places that hold our history, where we can gather, celebrate, and fight for our rights. And we need the technology that allows us to connect in new ways. But we also need to be mindful of what we’re losing in the name of convenience. Queer history was written in bars, clubs, and community centers—places where activists organized, where love bloomed, where revolutions began.
If we let these spaces disappear entirely, we’re not just losing nightlife—we’re losing the physical heartbeat and tangible history of queer culture. And while swiping right on an app might lead to a good time, let’s not swipe left on the spaces that gave us the freedom to be here in the first place.
Our bottom line: We’re at a crossroads. Queer spaces are evolving, but the need for real-world sanctuaries remains. If we don’t fight for them, we risk swiping away a vital part of our history—and our future.