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Gays prominent at Amy Grant’s Nashville weekend

Gathering reminds how much is missing of singer’s touring history

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14 years ago

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Weekend before last, a friend and I made a road trip to Nashville to spend a weekend with Amy Grant and 550 of her nearest and dearest. It was a great weekend — $50,000 was raised for various charities Grant supports, the music performed (almost all requests) was a long-time fan’s dream come true and the Gospel Music Hall of Famer and six-time Grammy winner was as accessible and approachable as was realistically possible considering those attending were among the all-time die hards, a few of whom had vulture-like tendencies everytime Grant appeared.

That gays — and at least one lesbian couple and one trans woman — were among the group was hardly surprising. We’ve been among the most vocal in her fan circles for years. Most non-church folks remember Grant only for a few early ’90s hits (“Baby Baby,” “Every Heartbeat”). Though her catalog has aged well, she’s not deemed terribly high on the hip quotient. Even one of the charity recipients said, “Amy Grant — isn’t she Vince Gill’s wife?”

But for a generation of gay men who grew up in Baptist and Evangelical churches in the ’80s, Grant was so much more than that and, no exaggeration, a lifeline. Contemporary Christian Music had its own parallel universe divas — Sandi Patty, Twila Paris, Margaret Becker, et. al. — and Grant, who in many ways had and maintains a very non-diva-esque persona, was queen of the lot. But that’s just one of the ironies of Grant’s career — she also stumbled into the music biz without really trying, has always been upfront about her modest pipes (she’s really a better songwriter than singer) and, despite a bounty of RIAA Platinum albums, never fully fit in in either the gospel or pop establishments.

Amy Grant with fans at her farm in Franklin, Tenn., last weekend. (Blade photo by Joey DiGuglielmo)

Those of us in fan circles have discussed ad nauseum Grant’s public handling of her gay fans (or lack thereof). She’s warm, friendly, gamely poses for photos with male couples, etc., but is careful never to state her personal feelings one way or the other. One understands to a degree — she’s in a no-win situation. As was obvious from the attendees last weekend, most of Grant’s fans are Gen. X and post-Boomer soccer moms from the Bible belt. We all seem to mix pretty well. I hope they feel the same. But Grant would alienate a large part of her fan base if she were to come out one way or the other on her feelings of the Bible and homosexuality. There’s a clamoring among gay fans, of course, for her to be more unequivocal. Nobody’s expecting Lady Gaga-caliber activism, but heck, even the late Tammy Faye Bakker Messner was more openly gay accepting than Grant. Perhaps, though, having lost everything already, Tammy Faye had nothing left to lose (Tammy Faye even joined us at Capital Pride about 10 years ago …. Ahhhh, Tammy Faye, how I miss thee).

Grant does occasionally take risks — it will undoubtedly seem like a non-issue to many, but monogrammed bottles of Jack Daniels with Amy Grant nameplates were sold for $100 a pop at her farm, which she opened to guests on June 23. It all went to charity but the irony was delicious — I’m old enough to recall the outraged reactions in the ’80s when Grant said in an early interview that she occasionally imbibed. Folks at my parents’ church were apoplectic.

It’s never been a big deal to me, either the booze or the gay stuff. Some fans, so eager to glean the slightest glimmer of acceptance (are we really that desperate for validation?), latched on to an off-the-cuff remark she made during the weekend when a guest southern gospel singer, telling a story about a drag queen who’d parodied his wife, said his group had a large gay following (Grant acknowledged she did as well).

The draws for me have always been Grant’s music and personality. There’s a freshness, a buoyancy, to her music that, though it sounds stylistically dated, never really goes away. It goes back to the first album — lyrics and energetic Brown Bannister production around lines like, “The sun woke me up real early it’s a beautiful morn/so I’m goin’ down to the river to be reborn” still resonate 35 years after they were put down on wax. My parents, both products of stodgy, old school mainline and Roman Catholic versions of Christianity, had early-’70s born again experiences and for them and their fellow Boomers, there was a parallel Jesus music/born again fever sweeping the country the same time Stonewall and the modern gay rights movement was kicking off. This is no coincidence — hippie ideals weren’t sustainable, of course, but what they did bring us was a shucking off of the ’50s mindset on all kinds of issues. In terms of gay stuff, faith, and a whole lot more, this was not your parents’ (my grandparents’) America. Grant got in on sort of the tail end of that but shot off into the stratosphere in the early ’80s. By then, things had calmed down and she became the voice of a churchgoing, Bible Belt generation with songs like “El Shaddai,” “Sing Your Praise to the Lord” and “Thy Word.”

Bored eventually with straight-up gospel, she gradually started flirting with pop music and following a hit No. 1 duet with Peter Cetera in ’87 (“Next Time I Fall”), she had a full-on hit pop album of her own by 1991 (“Heart in Motion”). But she never fully went one way or the other. At the point in which an all-out pop album would have made the most sense — just following the Cetera hit — she went the other direction and made an impressionistic gospel album, “Lead Me On.” Its singles tanked on pop radio but it went onto become her critical peak and has been called (by CCM magazine, et. al.) the best gospel album of all time. Likewise, when “Heart in Motion” was going through the roof a few years later, Grant was careful to let people know she hadn’t sold out as she was so often accused of doing by the hardliners (she gets bonus points, in my opinion, for having been condemned by Jimmy Swaggart). The album closes with the all-out praise song “Hope Set High” (“if there’s anything good that happens in life, it’s from Jesus”), a song she memorably performed last weekend.

So were the young gays of the era, hopelessly stranded in the Bible Belt with no hope of escape until college, just latching on to the closest thing we could get to a lighthouse in Grant? Not really — it’s deeper than that. I and many I know were also listening to Madonna, Janet Jackson, Cyndi Lauper and Tina Turner (we all figured “Private Dancer” was her first album) back then too, even if we had to sneak their tapes into the house. It’s hard to know if Grant meant any of this intentionally or if it was her own way of sneaking in some stuff past the gatekeepers, but there are glimmers of gay hope dotted all throughout her discography from as early as 1980 when she sang the lyrics her then-husband, Gary Chapman, had written (“all I ever have to be is what you made me/any more or less would be a step out of your plan”) to her own lyrics just a year later (“being this person inside of me/unafraid of being me/no more faces to hide behind …/even if I am the only one who wants to fly”) and even much later, with the 2003 song “Out in the Open” (“there is no jury, there is no judge/ready and waiting are the steady arms of love”). If it all sounds vague or like searching for something that’s not there, keep in mind, more often than not, Grant was nearly as subtle with her Christian references. It seems laughable now, but people used to parse her lyric sheets and balk at how few references there were to Jesus and/or God anytime she had a new album out, noting how increasingly infrequent they were becoming.

I don’t particularly care what Grant’s personal views are on homosexuality. Sure, it would be great if she would at least take the Dolly Parton approach to embracing/acknowledging us. Lord knows we need all the help we can get on the LGBT rights front where each step ahead feels like pulling teeth. But conversely, what does it say about us as fans if we need some sort of acknowledgement from our favorite singers? I do get it — when you’ve invested emotionally and financially in a singer/brand who’s meant so much to you, especially during the raw, painful formative years (and let me tell you, it’s lonely being the only gay fish in an evangelical, Bible Belt pond when you’re 13), it means a lot to know those you admire are on board. But as adults, ultimately that need for validation says more about our own desperation than anything it might suggest about Grant. For the record, Sandi Patty, perhaps my other all-time favorite singer, is just as evasive. There are quietly gay people in her camp and she once told a group of gay fans who hosted a tribute post-show event for her in New York that she was “feeling the love,” but she, too, stops short of any condoning type-of statement. They’ll both talk to any small-town newspaper in which they happen to have an upcoming show, yet my Blade interview requests go curiously unacknowledged. Perhaps they feel they’ve already rocked their Christian fan bases enough having spent the last 10-15 years rebuilding after each going through controversial divorces (Sandi’s first husband, John Helvering, and Amy’s, Gary Chapman, were huge parts of their touring entourages in the ’80s; John ran sound for Sandi; Gary was Amy’s band director on several of her biggest tours).

My ultimate frustration with loving these singers falls into a whole other category entirely — to my endless chagrin, whole chapters of their touring history are missing in action. Sure, I love mainstream pop and rock too, but if you’re a Stevie Nicks fan or, merciful heavens, a Tori Amos fan, and you’re willing to look in some, ahem, unofficial places, you can find audio circulating of practically every show they’ve ever done. Same with the Stones, Bob Dylan, Springsteen — all the big dogs you’d expect. Other acts, like Pearl Jam, have recognized the insatiable appetites of their staunchest legions, and have released “official” bootlegs, manna from heaven for those who’ve worn out the studio recordings and spent many hard-earned dollars following them around. Even Cyndi Lauper, who traditionally has varied up her live show way more than, say Madonna or Janet, has a surprisingly rich bevy of fan-generated recordings out there. Different artists have different feelings on this sort of thing (the Grateful Dead famously encouraged it), but the sticking point for many is that it’s OK as long as you don’t attempt to profit off it.

Amy and Sandi both fall into that category — Sandi didn’t even bat an eye when people plunked down camcorders on mini-tripods at a Nashville event she hosted last year — and yet huge swaths of their concert-giving history are unaccounted for. And I’m not talking about obscure stuff, either — tours like Amy’s “Heart in Motion Tour” and Sandi’s “Another Time Another Place Tour” were mammoth operations playing arenas for months on end all around the country 20 years ago. On one hand, it’s not terribly shocking — these are not singers, historically, with wildly inventive bands who shook up their set lists drastically from night to night. However, when 25 years has gone by and you can’t even find a complete set list and no official live album or VHS concert tape was ever released, this brings its own level of frustration. These people have spent half their lives on the road, yet there’s precious little evidence that they’ve even left their living rooms.

Just for the record, my holy grails in this vein are — Sandi: anything pre-’83, the ’84-’85 “From the Heart Tour” (her first cross-country jaunt), the ’91-’92 “Another Time Another Place Tour” or the ’98 “Artist of My Soul”-era dates. For Amy: always wondered how complete the “Age to Age” concert video is — at 90 minutes including Gary’s set, one imagines a few numbers might have ended up on the cutting room floor. Only a handful of individual numbers have ever surfaced from the 18-month-long “Unguarded Tour” — surely somebody taped this at least one night (soundboard tapes were reportedly made each night but have never surfaced in fan circles). Also curiously missing from trading circles is her biggest tour ever — the “Heart in Motion Tour.” Audio has been known to exist, but nobody I’ve ever talked to claims to have it. I’m totally down for a no-profit swap if anybody has any of this stuff.

If there’s an upside to all this, it’s that Amy and Sandi are still out there and active. Patty records regularly and has released an album almost every year of the last decade. Grant only records here and there (she’s reportedly working on a new album), but she tours almost constantly. It’s a blessing I don’t take for granted as a few of my other favorites from the era — Paris and Becker — have, with precious few exceptions, completely stopped recording and touring.

Time to move on and get a life? Yeah, probably, but isn’t it uncanny how deep the nerve is that takes you back to the first music you ever discovered on your own? For me, it defies explanation. And so the quest/obsession continues. I’m even — don’t laugh — planning to check out a D.C. Women of Faith conference in August. Ordinarily I’d rather sit home and watch paint dry (I’ve left much of that theology long behind), but — holy of holies — Amy and Sandi are BOTH scheduled to be there!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Essential queer horror classics for Halloween

‘Bride of Frankenstein,’ Bowie in ‘The Hunger,’ and more

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7 hours ago

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October 10, 2026

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David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve in ‘The Hunger.’ (Photo courtesy MGM)

Sure, this spooky season has blessed us with a lot of new horror on TV and at the movies, but when it comes to Halloween, you can never have too much horror to watch. With that in mind, we’ve put together a list of celebrated queer chillers that queer horror fans may know about but might not have seen, especially if you’re part of a younger generation of movie buffs looking to expand your experience with the genre beyond the contemporary crop that has turned the early 2000s into a renaissance of horror cinema.

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Yes, we know subtextualized queerness in horror feels like a cop-out in this day and age, but in the early days of Hollywood, it was the only way to sneak it past the censors – and that’s exactly what English expat director James Whale did as a defining force behind the success of Universal Studios’s classic horror “franchise” of the 1930s. More-or-less openly gay with a background in theater, he put those sensibilities to good use on film, and reached his queer pinnacle with “Bride of Frankenstein,” a sequel that expanded on the original with a wicked sense of humor and a “lavender” touch that was obvious to anyone who was in the know.

Skewering “monster movie” tropes and satirizing the conventional mentality of all those angry villagers, Whale also delivered a story of two men – Doctors Frankenstein and Pretorius (Colin Clive and Ernest Thesiger, respectively) – whose clandestine efforts to create a mate for Boris Karloff’s lonely monster read like a gay couple drawn together by “unnatural” obsessions. Thesiger’s unapologetically queer persona would likely dominate the entire film if not for Elsa Lanchester’s turn as the hissing, electrified title character, but the film’s true greatness lies in transforming Karloff’s “monster” into a full-fledged tragic hero, a primal avatar for “otherness” that emerges as the most sympathetic figure on the screen; and while it might not be that “scary” by modern standards, as one of the most boldly transgressive films of the Hollywood “golden era” it still packs a wickedly savage punch.

The Haunting (1963)

Based on Shirley Jackson’s novel of the same name and helmed by veteran director Robert Wise in the wake of his Oscar-winning screen adaptation of “West Side Story,” “The Haunting” is a film that looms large in the history of queer representation in American cinema, simply for the fact that it included an openly lesbian character during a time when anything beyond a subtle implication of non-heterosexual alignment was still very much considered taboo.

The character in question is a psychic named Theodora (Claire Bloom), one of a group of individuals invited by a paranormal researcher (Richard Johnson) to investigate an old New England house, which is reputed to be haunted in the wake of a long string of tragedies that have befallen the family that owns it. Although she’s something of a thorny personality, she’s framed as neither villain not victim, but her presence provides queer overtones that impact the rest of the story, particularly through the growing psychological agitation of its painfully repressed central character (Julie Harris) and the history of the house itself.

A classic “old, dark house” ghost story that deliberately avoids depicting anything definitively supernatural, it focuses instead on psychological tension and the power of suggestion to ramp up scares, which it does quite effectively, utilizing innovative camera and sound techniques to suggest, but never reveal, the dark forces that drive the story. Audiences of the time wanted more concrete thrills, so it was not a major hit; nevertheless, it has been consistently ranked as one of the best horror films of all time – and while it might not offer the blood-curdling terror modern viewers expect, its moody sense of dread and doom is enough to keep you on edge for the duration.

The Hunger (1983)

It’s hard to think of a horror film as openly sexy as this classic from director Tony Scott, which turns Whitley Streiber’s book about an ancient vampire (Catherine Deneuve) in modern New York, who grooms a scientist (Susan Sarandon) to be her new sexual companion for the ages as the old one (David Bowie) begins to rapidly age and decline. Dripping with 1980s cool (it opens with Bauhaus singing “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” in a nightclub) and leaning hard into the open eroticism of a more sexually permissive era, it doesn’t hide its sapphic supernatural love story in the subtext; instead, it gives us one of the steamiest love scenes between two women ever put on film. Critics of the time praised it for its style and its mood, but lamented what they perceived as an ultimately shallow story – but in retrospect, its pervading air of melancholy doom despite the glamorous elegance of its presentation serves as a fitting reminder that an eternal life of meaningless beauty and pleasure might not be as great an idea as we think it is.

Stranger by the Lake (2013)

French filmmaker Alan Giraudie delivers one of the sexiest – and scariest – gay thrillers – of all time – in this tale of a young man (Pierre Deladonchamps) who frequents a lakeside nude beach, which is a popular hook-up spot despite a recent series of unsolved killings in the area. He becomes infatuated with an attractive man (Christophe Paou) he meets there and they connect; later, he witnesses an incident that makes him suspect his new flame might be the murderer – but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to pursue their relationship, despite an increasing likelihood that he might end up as the next victim. It’s an obvious essay on the power of lust to pull us into danger, but it doesn’t moralize; instead it entices us deeper with scenes of graphic un-simulated sex and sparks nostalgic fantasies of a pre-Grindr era when the threat of encountering a serial killer was never enough to keep us away from our favorite cruising spot. Transgressive? Yes, and also terrifying.

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

If you’re a horror fan in 2026, it’s likely you’ve already seen trans filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun’s critically lauded “I Saw the TV Glow,” as well as “Teenage Sex and Death and Camp Miasma,” which has emerged as one of the year’s most acclaimed movies so far. You might not, however, be familiar with their first feature film, in which a teenage girl (Anna Cobb), living an isolated life with an abusive single father, finds escape and connection on the internet; she participates in a “viral challenge” that requires her to post a video of herself performing a ritual chant, and then follow up with updates documenting the transformation she goes through as a result. Inspired by Schoenbrun’s own experience navigating the online world while struggling with gender dysphoria and other issues around their identity, it’s an unsettling and disorienting ride that keeps us wondering what will happen next – but the real horror comes from its observations about the way living our lives online can transform us all.

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Calendar

Calendar: October 9-15

LGBTQ events in the days to come

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1 day ago

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October 9, 2026

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Friday, October 9

Go Gay DC will host “Out in DC LGBTQ+ Community Social” at 7 p.m. at Hotel Zena. This is a chance to relax, new friends, and enjoy happy hour specials at this classic retro venue. Attendance is free and more details are available on Eventbrite. 

Saturday, October 10

Go Gay DC will host “LGBTQ+ Community Brunch” at 11 a.m. at Freddie’s Beach Bar & Restaurant. This fun weekly event brings the DMV area LGBTQ+ community, including allies, together for delicious food and conversation. Attendance is free and more details are available on Eventbrite.

“Nellie’s DC Drag Brunch” will be at 12 p.m. at Nellie’s Sports Bar. Come get served like a queen by a queen. Join Sapphire Blue, Deja Diamond and their team of amazing drag performers for the most fun you’ll have all weekend. Tickets cost $58.51 and are available on Eventbrite.

Sunday, October 11

Spark Coffee Club will be at 12 p.m. at Spark Social. This is a laid-back daytime hangout built entirely around making new connections. Whether you’re new to the city, new to the community, or just looking to expand your social circle, this is an easy, low-pressure way to spark up a conversation with the person next to you. Come solo or with a friend — you never know who you might meet. For more details, visit Eventbrite. 

Tuesday, October 13

Trans Discussion Group will be at 7 p.m. on Zoom. This event is intended to provide an emotionally and physically safe space for trans people and those who may be questioning their gender identity/expression to join together in community and learn from one another. For more details, email [email protected]. 

Coming Out Discussion Group will be at 7 p.m. on Zoom. This is a safe space to share experiences about coming out and discuss topics as it relates to doing so — by sharing struggles and victories the group allows those newly coming out and who have been out for a while to learn from others. For more details, visit the group’s Facebook. 

Wednesday, October 14

Job Club will be at 6 p.m. on Zoom upon request. This is a weekly job support program to help job entrants and seekers, including the long-term unemployed, improve self-confidence, motivation, resilience and productivity for effective job searches and networking — allowing participants to move away from being merely “applicants” toward being “candidates.” For more information, email [email protected] or visit www.thedccenter.org/careers.

The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host “Movement for Healing” at 3 p.m. This trauma- and yoga therapy–informed class is designed to help guests gently reconnect with their body and their breath. Through mindful movement, somatic awareness, and grounding practices, guests will explore how to release tension, increase mobility, and cultivate a deeper sense of safety and ease within. For more details, visit the DC Center’s website. 

Thursday, October 15

The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center’s Fresh Produce Program will be held all day at the Center. People will be informed on Wednesday at 5 p.m. if they are picked to receive a produce box. No proof of residency or income is required. For more information, email [email protected] or call 202-682-2245. 

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a&e features

Bar Betsie, inviting and intimate, marks one-year anniversary

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2 days ago

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October 8, 2026

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Ralph Brabham, Drew Porterfield, and JP Sabatier are owners of Bar Betsie. (Photo by Scott Suchman)

Not that a basic vodka-soda should ever dare to appear in print on the craft cocktail list at year-old Bar Betsie, but if it did, its name would be written in big black block letters, back-lit, on a marquee behind the 14-seat bar, with its ingredients – Tito’s, seltzer water – sitting visible on a shelf above.

Inviting and intimate, and with that arresting visual representation of cocktail ingredients along the wall, Bar Betsie has brought its vibes-forward approach to a dynamic corner of bustling Union Market. The sophomore effort from owners JP Sabatier, Ralph Brabham, and Drew Porterfield, the trio took a different tack at Bar Betsie than at their other, older (though not by much) 14th Street bar, Jane Jane.

Bar Betsie allowed Sabatier, Brabham, and Porterfield to expand their creativity. The three first connected several years ago, when JP was manager of Maydan and Brabham and Porterfield owned Beau Thai and BKK Cookshop. Immediately hitting it off, they dreamed of opening a bar together and in 2021, it became a reality, in the form of Jane Jane.

Featuring a short list of craft, rotating cocktails and shareable bar snacks, Bar Betsie is Jane Jane’s “grittier, edgier” sister. While Jane is named after Porterfield’s mother, Bar Betsie gets its moniker from Sabatier’s mom.

“While Jane Jane is going on a field trip, Bar Betsie feels like you’re skipping school,” says Brabham. Bar Betsie brings more of a party vibe, he says. They landed in the Union Market neighborhood after thinking through what a second bar might feel like: not a carbon copy, but an atmosphere unique to its physical space and surroundings. Union Market and its transitional nature translates to the bar’s interiors: its mood lighting regardless of time of day, the crushed-velvet booths, the blood-red curved curtains to the bathrooms and kitchen, and the air of timeless mystique contrast to the elevated, buttoned-up cocktail bar that is Jane Jane. No one would bat an eye if a cabaret broke out on top of the bar. When in Bar Betsie, they say, it’s as if the warm lighting cuts through the vibe (and the stories) of 50-year-old cigarette smoke in the air.

They decided to make the cocktail menu more concise: 12 to 15 signature drinks at a time. Tequila and mezcal lead the program (again, a nod to mom Betsie, who prefers agave-based liquors). Drinks rotate seasonally (a cocktail flip is happening this month) and are developed committee-style to ensure that the whole team has input. The Clover Cult has been especially popular, with bluecoat gin, raspberry, vermouth, and lemon, but passed through a high-speed blender that whips the drink into a frenzy: it’s a “yummy, sweet cocktail with foam with a beautiful pink color,” says Brabham.

Beers feature locally brewed options, like from DC Brau and Atlas, alongside a wine program featuring skin-contact wines. And hewing to that party-forward vibe, there’s a host of shooters like the blackberry firing squad with tequila and lime.

As for the food, Bar Betsie has a true kitchen, allowing Sabatier to stretch his cheffy wings (he attended the Culinary Institute of America). Bar snacks are plentiful, including Buffalo chicken dip, a giant pretzel with beer cheese, and chicken tinga nachos that are “fucking delicious” says Raplh. “We’re aiming for food that’s snacky, salty, crunchy, and tasty to pair with the drinks.” Guest chefs show up on Sundays for kitchen cameos.

Since opening Bar Betsie, the trio has welcomed some additional acclaim. They’ve begun to set up activations with other bars; last month, they held a pop-up at new cocktail den Frank’s Wild Years, and there’s an upcoming collaboration with Death &Co, the famed bar in Blagden.

Bar Betsie occupies a unique place in the city’s pantheon of drinking destinations. All three owners are gay, and yet this (like Jane Jane) is not a gay bar.

“We never hide who we are,” say Brabham and Porterfield. “There’s always the recognition of the community we come from, and love, and want to celebrate.” 

They want people to know who they are and what they stand for, showing that by being inclusive and open in their support of the community. They work to ensure that the staff is diverse and inclusive as well. They also dropped an exclusive Easter egg: behind the medicine-cabinet mirrors in the bathroom is a video screen playing footage of drag queens either getting ready, fixing, or removing makeup and wigs. “It’s a little IYKYK moment, something fun and true to who we are as a queer-celebrating and owned space,” they say.

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