Clare Hand
is a self-described flaming London lesbian. She actually is spent the past 12 months writing about
queer women’s night life
within her area. She files the environment, music, fashions, vibe (are you going to get set or generate brand new friends?), and those behind the evenings.

Clare
made the decision that it won’t end up being directly to merely record dyke lifestyle in one town, thus she packed her bags and hit the path. She actually is written about the thriving moments in
Nyc
,
San Francisco Bay Area
, Bogota, São Paulo, Berlin, and Dublin up to now; this record will keep broadening. Monitor her
Dyke Nightlife Diaries
here.

Night One

The first thing i actually do once I will a town is Bing my personal option to my personal peeps—”Queer taverns in…,” “Lesbian pubs in…,” “Gay bars in… .” Bogotá’s effects were encouraging, with a lesbian club labeled as Moza and a few homosexual bars—mainly inside area’s brand new active cultural hub, Chapinero.

On monday night, my personal girlfriend and that I whizzed across town in just a little yellowish cab to Moza. We pulled upwards, strode out, and found that Moza was actually no. It sealed down a while ago, revealed the protection protect on (hetero) club that appears in its aftermath. El Mozo (Moza’s homosexual sibling club) had been just around the corner, so we nipped over truth be told there to obtain so it had vanished as well.

We decided to recoup in a non-gay club; the site was actually lively with Latin rhythms and passionately Salsa dancing (right) couples. Lone men, their own breaths sweet with aguardiente (Colombia’s nationwide alcohol; exactly what tequila is to Mexico), came in mosquito-like droves, each on a mission to retrieve the unclaimed dames. They certainly were all really courteous and recognized that a no implied no, nevertheless the heteronormative body weight in this club was lots, especially when we might psyched ourselves up for every night of partying with a huge selection of Latin-lesbians.

We soon remaining and moved old school. Turning on all of our queer-dar, we mooched around the roads in search of our colleagues. It did not take very long before we found (everything we chose were) three fellow lezzas. We contacted and tentatively enquired about Moza and “bar homosexual,” while eying within the duration of their particular nails, hoping to possibly discover a secret lesbian club or something like that associated with the type.

These people were really thinking about the convo and spoke around for a while in regards to the lackluster lesbian world inside their area. Eventually, the dykiest-seeming in our new crew (who would been probably the most vocal on the subject) left to go to a home celebration. We were remaining using other two who’dn’t involved with the gay talk thus adamantly but happened to be eager to hang on with us.

‘You want women?” she questioned enthusiastically.

We mentioned we performed, assuming we had been on a gay-level. Off we hopped in a taxi, which whisked us away for good few blocks before winding up at an inconspicuous doorway in the middle of nowhere. The two protection guards (just who realized our very own chaperones) checked united states with utter bemusement. “Qué?” they stated continuously to the manual, like she was attempting to take multiple wildebeest in to the club.

We ascended the mirror-covered stairway presuming we had been proceeding doing a secret queer mecca but soon realized that we’d been taken up to a brothel. Needless to say you’ll find nothing completely wrong with brothels—I’m all for secure rooms for gender workers doing their job—however, the ambiance in this place was actually bad; a few suited guys, egos pulsating because they surveyed the space of scantily clad ladies. Everyone else offered united states inquisitive looks. They presented the hope that we happened to be possibly gonna buy or offer sex whenever all we actually wished would be to sip a cerveza and party to Sylvester. We left quite rapidly, moved residence and mulled within the epic problem of our large gay particular date.

Night Two

Why don’t we attempt again. Theatron, Bogotá’s fourteen-room superclub, is actually prepared for all, but it’s a homosexual nightclub (become accurate, the greatest homosexual pub during the american Hemisphere) in your mind. At 10 p.m., we got inside the 200-people queue, which wrapped round the place’s underground carpark like an anaconda. A techno bass thumped from ceiling, and everybody jittered with pleasure.

Once in, we settled 55,000 pesos ($17) and got just a little plastic mug for endless products all night long. This is certainly a common thing in Colombian organizations, and possesses a truly positive impact on the environment inside the house; money and trade tend to be taken off the room, no any risks becoming plunged into an existential situation when examining their lender balance another morning.

We roamed all over location bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and determined that this is not truly a venue. It is a village which provides refuge to many pleasure-seeking men and women every week. Personnel orchestrate the space meticulously; herding flocks of men and women, maintaining stairways no-cost and churning out mixer-after-mixer.

You would need per week in the venue to actually can grips with it. Residence songs played into the main open-air place. It’s created like an urban area heart, with elevated DJ decks in the centre and cocktail pubs, meals stores, and bars on its borders. There are no less than ten DJs every night. They blended countless genres in various distinctive spaces. Reggaeton played in a chapel, pop in a large amphitheater. Donna Summers played into the psychedelic disco area, Celia Cruz is found on within the salsa suite, and a DJ travelled in from Berlin to take control of the techno chamber.

From my personal observations that evening, it would appear that different genres draw in various degrees of heteronormativity. Salsa and reggaeton happened to be all about the heteros dry-humping beneath the church’s tarnished cup windows. The pop music room was primarily younger, jubilant gay dudes flailing their hands because they drunkenly serenaded their particular friends. Techno seemed to bring in more renewable lewks (piercings, died-hair, some fetish gear). It absolutely was probably the most queer room, though dominated by tanked gay guys just who jumped tablets and de-clothed because the evening developed.

We were Latin American; there were multiple gringos from neighborhood hostels and just some dark folks. In general, there had been possibly three additional queer femme couples boating the location. One duo had corresponding red and blue-dyed bobs. Another had been a Mexican pair I would sat close to in the plane to Bogotá— we demonstrably move around in tiny sectors.

We gravitated for the queerness in the techno roo but remaining around midnight to visit (that which we believed ended up being) the ladies’s commodes: a pink entrance, a protection guard out front, and also the word “Eve” composed over the home.

We realized this is a rather glam entrance to a lavatory as we mounted the glittery-pink stairway. Whenever we hit the top, we realized this particular was no toilet and now we had unintentionally uncovered a secret lesbian club. Actually, Bogotá’s just lesbian bar—period.

The area ended up being kitschy: fuchsia pleather sofas, a hot pink club, pop-art paintings of dykons like Ellen, Gwen, Gaga, and Ginger covered the walls. There was a pole dancing level (that has been undoubtedly being used), a large dance-floor, as well as the only feminine DJ during the building.

There have been about thirty of us in there. Initially we-all danced in a huge kumbaya asexual circle, as it was cool and uncertain who was simply queer and who was just experiencing the femme fuel (in a good way).

Since night evolved while the DJ started pouring more passionate Latin (Reggaeton and dancehall) rhythms throughout the crowd, couples began building left, correct, and center. The space eventually turned into exactly what can simply be called a clothed live-demo of this A-to-Z of waiting lesbian sex opportunities. Couples brand new and old had been completely choosing it. It actually was raw, hedonistic, Sapphic secret.

Though we were efficiently encased in an enormous homosexual nightclub, the deficiency of door policy, less dangerous area policy, or active prioritization within place’s primary entry required that this specified location showed a godsend for us lezzas. This secret lesbian club had been the only set in the place where a girl could hug a female without the concern with starting an eye fixed to a sniveling inebriated man baring their teeth with glee. We embraced the freedom of Eve, for the key lesbian club.

At the front of this club (we would come in along side it door) endured a large steel gate, 2 meters by 2 meters (6.5 foot by 6.5 legs), with three doorway ladies stating “solamente por chicas” on recurring. Many first got it and managed to move on, but tiny batches of dudes lurked outside the door, ongoing for five or 10 minutes, looking at their unique tip-toes like slutty meerkats, trying to sneak-a-peak within the restricted region.

Since the time clock struck 3 a.m., we pried ourselves far from Eve therefore we could enjoy a lot of location. While performing the rounds within breathtaking, sprawling town of hedonism, we found Lotus, a “unicamente hombres” location (presumably designed to produce a safer area for homosexual guys to understand more about out of the combined audience). Its secure to say, there are no groups of ladies clambering having a look inside there.

We oriented as a result of the techno area and spent the rest of the handful of hours getting wet with our men and women. We left at 5 a.m., delighted to have located this genuinely unique venue, and even more happy getting revealed Bogotá’s key lesbian club.

Theatron Calle 58 #10-32, Bogotá, follow
@theatronbogota
.