Bars & Parties
Easing back-to-school jitters
LGBT parents offer advice to those enrolling kids for first time

‘All gay parents should be part of some kind of support system with other gay parents so that children can look around and say, 'gee I'm not the only one with this kind of family,’’ said local attorney and parent Susan Silber. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)
Although students often experience anxiety and stress at the beginning of a new school year, the same can hold true for parents, particularly for LGBT parents unsure of how a new school and its teachers and administrators will accept their families.
Richard Gervase, a board member at Rainbow Families D.C., a nonprofit organization for LGBT families and their allies, has a son entering fourth grade and another starting kindergarten at a private school.
Visiting your child’s school and speaking to the teacher and principal about your family is the best advice Gervase said he has for LGBT parents sending their kids to school for the first time.
“We started this whole process of working with the schools when they were in preschool,” said Gervase. “Get in as early as possible to meet with the teacher … even before school and just start the conversation about your family. You can’t control the random things that another child might say or if another family has issues about our family, but to have the teacher be kind of primed and kind of on your side is really important.”
Susan Silber, an attorney in Takoma Park, has two adult children, a daughter, 27, and son, 21. She agrees that getting to the teachers and administrators early helps, but she emphasized it’s important to describe your family to school officials in a way that is familiar to the child.
“The most important thing is that people describe the family to the teacher or the school administrators in the way the child knows the family,” said Silber. “The child should get support reflected back of their real family rather than having to distort their own image based on some sense of what a family should be.”
Gervase echoed those sentiments.
“We go by Daddy and Papa to the kids,” said Gervase. “We have experienced on the playground before, I’m Papa, where some other parent would call me Daddy. It’s kind of like calling someone named Jane, Susan or Bob. It’s a completely different person in the child’s life.”
John Parkhurst has twin boys who started fourth grade in public school this week and he adds talking to other gay parents really helps.
“Choosing a school, and one where you know there are other gay families and you know the environment is favorable and highly diverse.” said Parkhurst. “I talked to other gay parents and went to a school several of my friends had chosen.”
Silber agreed that finding other LGBT parents is important.
“All gay parents should be part of some kind of support system with other gay parents so that children can look around and say, ‘gee I’m not the only one with this kind of family,’” said Silber. “It should be something people think about, making sure that their kids know other kids with gay families.”
There are other issues that may surface that do not have directly to do with the parent’s sexual orientation. Gervase and his partner adopted both of their children from abroad. That aspect of their family needs to be discussed as well. Teachers need to know how open the family is about the child being adopted.
“We got to know what kinds of assignments and projects they did that might touch on family issues,” said Gervase. “A lot of schools are avoiding [Mother’s Day and Father’s Day] assignments. There are other things to be on the lookout for, a lot of younger classes asked the kids to bring in a baby picture or family picture.”
“The teachers, every single year, have been just fine to say, ‘well you can just do you dad instead,” said Parkhurst when asked abut Mother’s Day projects in the classroom. “So every year they’ve brought me home something on Mother’s Day.”
These kinds of assignments need to be discussed because a child who is adopted may not have any baby pictures because they may have been adopted when they were older. Some classes have students create family trees that could raise the same issues and questions.
“As part of the initial conversation with the teacher, we’ve asked to think through any assignments, to give them some ideas about the kinds of things we might be concerned about,” said Gervase.
When meeting with your child’s teacher, Gervase suggests not only offering to be a resource, but bringing some resources, such as books or articles on LGBT families.
“We always tried to see ourselves as partners in educating the teacher or teachers and administration and, in general, I think that is really appreciated,” said Gervase. “There may be a little bit of nervousness, on the school’s end, if you’re the first, or they are concerned about saying something wrong. I think you really can disarm that by coming in and being really comfortable and asking if they have any questions.
Gervase and Silber suggest offering yourself as a resource for when issues arise in the classroom.
“You can sort of make this alliance where you’re not critical of the teacher but you want to be a resource so that if something happens, she might even turn to you and talk about how to respond,” said Gervase. “For example, a question of gay marriage came up in the classroom, and the teacher called on us to talk about it.”
“I think every parent should act as a mentor, almost diplomat, to try to raise issues,” said Silber. “Figure out how to sensitize the co-parents or co-teachers to these realities we have.”
Gervase suggested bringing in a copy of the Welcoming School guide, produced by the Human Rights Campaign.
“[It] has been super helpful to us,” said Gervase. “When [the kids] were in preschool, we actually wrote some stuff like that.”
“Give it to every principal, because there is so much good information,” Gervase. “First, [parents should] read it themselves if they don’t already know about it.”
The guide includes a list of resources where teachers can learn more.
“There is a tremendous bibliography, so one of the things our school did was take that bibliography and every teacher read one of the books that had a family diversity theme,” said Gervase. “They each used it in the classroom for discussion then met and compared notes to figure out which ones worked well at which age.”
“There are also legal issues around actual legal authority to do things,” said Silber.
She said it’s important to ensure the school knows that the parent who may not have adopted the child has the authority to do things like pick the child up from school or be called when something goes wrong and the other parent is not home.
“The ideal thing is to use the school experience as a way of reminding yourself that both parents should have legal authority,” said Silber. “In the absence of [adoption] at least have some legal documents that give authority from the legal parent to the other parent.”
Parkhurst admits that one of the toughest aspects of back-to-school season has nothing to do with being a gay parent — but rather just being a parent in general.
“Looking at their little faces when they’re trying to be brave. They do what they’re supposed to do and be where they are supposed to be, and the parents just sort of stand there and let them go,” said Parkhurst. “The first … one of my boys was really good and strong about it, but … when he saw me at 3:15, his little lip started to quiver, but it wasn’t anything compared to me. Teachers were pulling me aside and giving me a box of Kleenex.”
Bars & Parties
Lesbian Bar Project co-founder: purity politics could destroy our remaining spaces
Last Ditch’s decision to lift its mask requirement for one night a week has sparked intra-queer controversy
Uncloseted Media published this story on Sept. 29
By ERICA ROSE and THE LESBIAN BAR PROJECT | As a professional lesbian and Massachusetts native, I’ve recently been asked by a lot of folks what I think about the saga unfolding at Last Ditch. The now-viral story, first reported by the Boston Globe, centers on a Western Massachusetts lesbian bar that lifted its mask requirement for one night a week to help drum up business.
The decision ignited an intra-queer controversy that has been feasted on by media outlets across the political spectrum — from the New York Post to LGBTQ Nation — and is even reportedly being eyed for a Hollywood adaptation. Apparently nothing is more entertaining than a bunch of lesbians and queers fighting with each other over KN-95s.
What has been lost in all of the chatter and media coverage is the very real possibility that Last Ditch, which just opened in April 2025, will have to close its doors. The venue’s one remaining founder, Jackie Matellian, revealed in a community Zoom meeting that she’s working four jobs, is now solely responsible for the bar’s $50,000 business loan and is struggling to keep up with the bills. So as we laugh about the controversy’s similarity to a “Portlandia” skit and how one of the bar’s founders left to enroll in clown school, we forget that yet another lesbian bar is facing an existential crisis — and this time the call is coming from inside the house.
In 2020, my friend Elina Street and I created The Lesbian Bar Project, an Emmy-, Webby- and GLAAD Media Award-winning docuseries and initiative that tells the stories of lesbian queer bars around the world. We were moved to act because at the time there were only an estimated 16 lesbian bars in the United States, and the pandemic threatened to bring that number down even further.
There are now more sapphic bars than there were just before the pandemic — about 36 of them in total — but this is down from approximately 200 in 1980. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but for the millions of sapphics living in the U.S., this number is calamitous.
As the world laughs at lesbians and sapphics, I want to take a second and tell you what I feel when I walk into one of these bars, which are all unique and irreplaceable in their own way: I feel seen.
Sometimes I think Cubbyhole in New York City’s West Village neighborhood knew I was gay before I did. When I walked in there for the first time, before I was even out, I was transfixed by the colorful array of tchotchkes hanging from the ceiling and how the women standing next to me were completely unafraid to express their desire for one another. I knew the minute I was ready to come out, I had a home. I also felt the joy of a new couple falling in love at Seattle’s Wildrose, the quiet confidence of a short king lining up her shot at the pool table at Ginger’s in Brooklyn and the kick of cayenne pepper in Julie Mabry’s crawfish at Houston’s Pearl Bar.
Lesbian bars don’t just serve lesbians; they serve queer folks across the spectrum, including bisexual, pansexual and trans people. As Elina and I traveled across the U.S. and Europe and to parts of Latin America to document the bar owners, staff and patrons that make up the ecosystems of these spaces, we also became uniquely acquainted with the factors that threaten their existence: gentrification, wage gaps, sexism, environmental disasters, gun violence, rising insurance premiums and political administrations working to annihilate queer people and their families.
Lesbian bar owners, like all leaders and entrepreneurs, are imperfect. There have been significant issues over the years at lesbian bars: employee harassment, racism, lack of accessibility, sexual assault and transphobia. All bar owners should be held accountable and should listen to their communities to evolve into safer and more equitable spaces. I also acknowledge my privilege: I am able-bodied, white, cis and from a family system that loves me for who I am. Not everyone has that.
Queer people, especially trans and bisexual people, are suffering from disproportionately high levels of depression, and our mental health system isn’t equipped to support them. Immunocompromised people and long COVID are real, and many of my friends are suffering to this day. The people with the least safety net are often the ones for whom a bar closing costs the most. And yet, as we’re seeing with Last Ditch, the queer community often lashes out at each other. It’s also the mainstream media taking the internal conflict and making a mockery out of it, distracting from the real possibility that this bar could close due to financial pressures. A bar that many people loved and needed is facing extinction. Perhaps it’s safer to dissent with one another than with the larger forces trying to eradicate us, but in doing so, we risk destroying the few spaces we have left.
Due to the constraints of purity politics — some in good faith, some not so much — lesbian bar owners, almost all of whom are queer women themselves, are forced to be everything for everyone, similarly to how women are forced to be everything for everyone. By asking these bars to uphold impossible standards — standards very few other third spaces are asked to consider — we all end up losing.
I want to move as a community toward dialogue, compassionate dissent and collaboration to make our spaces better with the goal of keeping them OPEN and thriving, rather than destroying them from the inside with expectations that are arguably unattainable.
While I have your attention — for this fleeting second of the news cycle — may I urge us to spearhead a way to keep these small businesses afloat without attacking our own community along the way? Bar owners are left with an impasse: They want to be community-centered, but they also have to make money to keep their doors open. Sometimes they might make business decisions that don’t work for everyone — and that’s partly because different patrons have different priorities and want different things — but these owners deserve the opportunity for productive dialogue. We have to work with them and with each other to keep our spaces open, to keep them growing.
Lesbian bars raised me into the queer woman I am today. One thing I think about as I reflect on the six years of work we’ve done to document these spaces is that shared, unspoken language I have with a stranger the moment we both walk into one of these bars: the nod, the ease, the not having to explain ourselves. I don’t want to lose that, and neither should you.
Celebrate the start of Pride month at the Queer Magic Dance Party at the Black Cat on Saturday, June 6. Doors open at 9 p.m.
There will be pole performances and demonstrations, a free photo booth with glitter bar, a queer vendor market, tarot readings by Skye Marinda Tarot, a drag performance by Sapphica, and dancing to a blend of smooth R&B, Afrobeats, hip-hop and pop by Slammer & Saba. Tickets are $20 at the door or $15 (plus fees) in advance, purchased here.
Bars & Parties
Here’s where to watch ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ with fellow fans
Entertainers TrevHER and Grey host event with live performance
Spark Social Events will host “Ru Paul’s Drag Race S18 Watch Party Hosted by Local Drag Queens” on Friday, Jan. 23 at 8 p.m.
Drag entertainers TrevHER and Grey will provide commentary and make live predictions on who’s staying and who’s going home. Stick around after the show for a live drag performance. The watch party will take place on a heated outdoor patio and cozy indoor space.
This event is free and more details are available on Eventbrite.
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