Subject: ROBERTS' RULES: Bargirl
From: "Shelly Roberts" <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 26 Feb 1998 11:45:05 +0000

__________________ 

ROBERTS' RULES

by 
Shelly Roberts

THE GREENING OF THE TAVERN-KEEPER

I went to a bar this weekend.

Now for some of you this is like a very large yawn. What's the big
deal? Lesbian goes to bar, right? Film at eleven! 

But you have to understand that for this little, vanilla-lesbian white
girl (No, you Politically Correcters, I am NOT going to show you my
driver's license to prove or disprove any of the above, take my word
for it.) going to a bar is pretty much a couple-of-times-a-year event.

But this wasn't just any bar. It was THE bar. The gay bar that was
bombed in Atlanta.

It's called The OtherSide and is a nice place as far as our bars go.
There's a dance area with a bar you can belly up to, a patio, a
quieter fireside room, and the requisite pool table. All in all, a
very hospitable place. Except , of course, if you happen to be an
anti-Christ who believes that the only good queers are dead ones.
Kaboom.

And don't tell Bev McMahon or Dana Ford, the owners, any more "getting
bombed in Atlanta" jokes. Trust me, they've heard `em all.

It was a Sunday evening event, and I went because I read that they
were sponsoring a Unity Night, which I'm always for anyway. The drinks
were free, including the coca-trademark cola I've learned you have to
drink if you move here. (Pepsi is NOT the drink of choice, so close to
all those potential rainbow sponsorship dollars just up the street at
Corporate Coke(trademark).) About 400 people showed. Now this is not a
particularly good turnout for a city that delivers over half a million
to the pride grounds in summer. But it was a respectable gathering for
a rainy Sunday night when most lesbians were probably at home
recovering from sawing things in the basement, or puddling and
flouncing something in the upstairs guest room.

It's just that it was a bit of an oil-and water group.

Let me back up a bit.

I haven't known Bev long, or very well. She's the more up front of the
two owners. Most times I've seen Bev, Dana was home with their
children. We shared a pride parade last year, Bev and Dana being the
1997 Grand Marshalls, and me being Marshall Emeritus, having GM'd the
previous year, and in town on the right day. So we got to chattin, and
huggin' you know, the way lesbians do an' all.

I can't say that either one of them struck me as particularly
political. In the there's-two-kinds-of-people sense, in this case, the
activists, and the bar-folks. Given a choice, I would have to say that
the owners of The OtherSide were the latter, naturally.

But there's nothing like a good hate-crime that happens to YOU to
change your perspective.

In the aftermath of the 1996 bombing, these two women, who were
minding their own business, were confronted with ugly realities.
Insurance companies that believe their job is to save the
stockholders' money, paying out as little as possible to mere queer
enterprises. And scared customers staying away in droves. Not that the
city hasn't tried to help. Atlanta is one of the most gay-friendly
cities in America. The mayor was on the speakers list. And showed up.

The night of Unity at The OtherSide was designed to celebrate a year
of survival and determination. "We're open and we're gonna stay open."
Bev declared to the mix of about 25% politicos who don't hang out
there, and the three-quarters who may have come for the free drinks,
or who were headed there anyway. Bev was a little flustered, but
driven. She introduced a lineup of hate-crime speakers from the
activist-side, and in some cases didn't always know who they were or
exactly what they did. She introduced City Council member Cathy
Wollard, Georgia's only openly gay elected official, as a member of
Congress. 

But you know, that was just fine. For way too long now, we have taken
sides. Activists vs Barfoks. Leather vs. Prepoids. One national set of
initials vs another national set of initials. Boys against the girls.
In this place, and in this time, some folks who don't know each other
well, and should be cooperating toward mutual goals, shared the same
floorspace. Maybe heard some new things. It was an auspicious
beginning. And I hope only the first of a country's worth of
profitable coalitions.

If you're of a mind to, I bet Bev and Dana would love hearing from you
letting them know you know about them, and you care. It would go a
long way toward cementing a newly poured foundation. And I also bet
that you don't even have to know the correct address to send a note or
card. Just address it to: The Gay Bar That Got Bombed, Atlanta, GA.
Those postal persons'll figure out where to deliver it.

And Bev, Dana, I'm sorry your politization had to happen the way it
did. We have often said that the personal is political. And having
your business bombed couldn't get more personal.

 I'd like to be the first to say "Welcome. To the otherside."

________________________
(C) 1998. Shelly Roberts. All rights reserved. A one-time simultaneous
print right is hereby granted to subscribing newspapers; all other
rights, including electronic or digital reproduction are reserved.
Must be reprinted only in its entirety.

Shelly Roberts is an internationally syndicated columnist, and the
author of the best-selling Roberts' Rules of Lesbian Break Ups.
(Spinsters Ink.)