Last Ditch, a lesbian bar in Western Massachusetts, wrongly became the center of a global media firestorm when it proposed changing its Covid masking policy from required to optional on Saturdays. The Instagram announcement of its decision ignited an intense backlash from many patrons and self-reported disability activists, one of whom commented, “I hope your venue gets firebombed for robbing my fellow immunocompromised people of their Saturday plans just to scrape extra revenue from ablists [sic].”
A Sept. 22 Boston Globe article about the furor quickly went viral and spawned headlines around the world and even led to Hollywood inquiries for possible documentary and scripted adaptations. By Saturday, journalists from all across the country were waiting outside the bar in the sleepy town of Greenfield. (Naturally, this debacle was delicious fodder for the internet and gave birth to a plethora of viral memes and tweets, too.)
I hope your venue gets firebombed for robbing my fellow immunocompromised people of their Saturday plans just to scrape extra revenue from ablists [sic].”
A COMMENT LEFT ON LAST DITCH’S INSTAGRAM ANNOUNCEMENT
The Instagram comment above wasn’t the only one that was over the top. As reported by the Globe, one person wrote that people like those who manage the bar “kill disabled people in the name of your own leisure and convenience.” Another argued, “Just say you’re being complicit in a mass disabling event and get it over with.”
As an immunocompromised queer person — who happens to live in Massachusetts — I know we have a long way to go when it comes to disability justice and our collective commitment to protecting immunocompromised and other disabled communities. But at the same time, I find such fierce opposition to the Last Ditch’s announcement to be completely outsized and often entitled, and I believe it actually undermines the disability movement.
Our collective relationship to masking as a mitigation effort against Covid needs more thoughtfulness, reflection and awareness. But it’s a big leap from there to accusing Last Ditch of potentially creating “a mass disabling event.”
Yes, creating accessible spaces is important. But there are other constraints and lived experiences to consider, including the near-extinction of lesbian bars as a thing and the reality that immunocompromised people have the option to either mask or not attend on the one night a week the policy change applies. Crucially, Last Ditch’s operators proposed the policy because the owner is $50,000 in debt and has spent stints living in their truck to keep the bar going: They need to expand their offering and attract more clientele in order to stay afloat.
There were hundreds of lesbian bars in the 1980s, but a 2019 study published by the American Sociological Association found that there were only 15 lesbian bars left in the country that year. I identified as a lesbian for the majority of my adult life (I now identify as a trans man and have since transitioned), and lesbian bars then were critical sites of queer safety, exploration and becoming for me and many of my peers. These are institutions and arenas that deserve protecting. So, yes, we should work to make spaces as accessible as possible. But taking such a hard-line approach to so-called disability activism — when it affects whether a business can stay open — can actually eliminate the existence of safe spaces for queer people and other minoritized communities and ultimately undermine the sense of community and belonging that opponents to the proposed policy say they are defending.
A 2019 study published by the American Sociological Association found that there were only 15 lesbian bars left in the country that year.
Furthermore, the way some detractors have engaged in this debate is a perfect example of the left pulverizing itself, holding itself hostage rather than meaningfully working toward community building. The politics of moral purity and moral litmus tests have consistently led to disastrous outcomes, as they foreclose opportunities for generative tension and collaboration. In the process, it corrodes solidarity through social sanctions.
One of the most disappointing things about the fierce backlash is that it prioritizes one marginalized experience at the expense of all others. Real, meaningful work on community and belonging requires dialogue and compromise, not vitriol and threats of violence. To wish firebombing on the bar, as one person did, is to say that they’d rather not have a lesbian bar unless it required masks during its every open hour. As an immunocompromised queer person who has, time and again, found a home and belonging in such places, I strongly disagree.
The post I’m queer and immunocompromised — and can’t believe the anger at this lesbian bar’s relaxed mask policy appeared first on MS NOW.
