Arts & Entertainment
Laughing all the way
Westenhoefer on her divorce, Birchmere return and Jodie Foster
Suzanne Westenhoefer (Photo by Adam Bouska)
For one of her first shows this year, comedian Suzanne Westenhoefer cannot assure her audience she will stick to a certain theme or what kind of jokes she will make. She doesn’t even have a name for her current tour.
However, she does promise that straight or gay, boy or girl, attendees will laugh.
Westenhoefer comes to the Birchmere (3701 Mount Vernon Ave., Alexandria) Friday night, bringing with her personal stories that audiences can relate to and laugh about.
“Because the act I do is very truthful, very personal, my show is changing hourly,” she says. “If something changes in my life that makes the story not true, the show changes. It’s not like a written script.”
The blend of honesty and often self-deprecating humor is what brings audiences back year after year, says Michael Jaworek, Birchmere promoter, who has been booking Westenhoefer for more than 15 years.
“Her audience is very devoted and follows her,” he says. “She is funny. Her humor is insightful. A lot of her material deals with gay life, or rather lesbian life. She speaks to and for the majority of her audience.”
Suzanne Westenhoefer
February 1
The Birchmere
3701 Mount Vernon Ave.
Alexandria, Va
Tickets are $54.50
Westenhoefer does know that a bulk of her show will deal with recovering from divorce and entering the dating world for the first time in years. Through this process, she’s learned a few new things about herself.
“I suck at dating,” she says. “I don’t date, I don’t know how.”
A little less than a year ago, Westenhoefer divorced long-term partner Jennifer Houston, whom she married in 2008 before Proposition 8 was voted on in California. Through the transition, she’s learned a lot of new things about herself.
“I thought I would be fine, apparently not,” she says. “I didn’t know how to feed myself. I hadn’t cooked for myself since I moved in with my first partner when I was 21.”
But she says despite the bumps and challenges in her new life, there are so many great and new people to meet and that everyone should “go out, be nice, buy someone a cocktail and meet somebody.” She’s currently exclusively seeing a woman whom she calls “tall girl” in order to respect her privacy.
The stage to Westenhoefer is an open diary, and even when the story is tragic in nature, she always tries to make it comedic.
“I see what everybody is thinking, what needs to be said,” she says. “I’m getting everybody off the hook by saying it. I’m giving them a chance to laugh at tragedy that befalls them all.”
Growing up in the heart of Amish country in Pennsylvania, and coming out right when the AIDS crisis was starting in 1981, Westenhoefer has had plenty of stories to tell. But the act of sharing her personal narrative has its roots in something deeper and older.
“My grandfather was the same way,” she says. “He was that kind of person who goes to the store to get milk and bread, come back and have a fantastic funny story about it.”
On stage, Westenhoefer is not afraid to say whatever is on her mind.
“Once my sister told me she thinks she might be gay, but asked me not to tell anybody,” she says. “What did I do? I went right on stage and said ‘So, my sister thinks she’s gay.’”
This has not gotten her in trouble with her family so far, she claims, because they know it is “out of love.”
Westenhoefer began her stand-up career at the end of 1990, when a friend dared her to go on stage while she was working as a New York bartender. However, she did not need anyone to dare her to be honest and talk about gay life.
“My opening line was I am the only gay comedian you’re going to see tonight,” she says.
Though her first time on stage didn’t go well (by her own admission), her career took off through the ‘90s. In 1991, she became the first lesbian comic to appear on television, when she was on an episode of “Sally Jessy Raphael” called “Breaking the Lesbian Stereotype: Lesbians Who Don’t Look Like Lesbians,” and then went on to be the first openly gay comic to host an HBO Comedy Special in 1994.
Being on television created an opportunity to start a conversation, she says.
“It was a way to tell people not to panic, we aren’t killing babies,” Westenhoefer says. “This has always been and always will be.”
This is not the first time Westenhoefer has been a force for change. She says in high school she formed a group to ban dodge ball. She says activism is in her blood and that she and her family always were political
While still blunt and honest with her audience, Westenhoefer says things have certainly changed since she began. Westenhoefer no longer uses her original opening line.
“I used to do shows in straight clubs and I literally would say I was lesbian in the beginning of every show,” she says. “It’s definitely gotten to be a different show. It doesn’t have to be gay gay gay gay.”
Recent events, such as Jodie Foster’s speech at the Golden Globes and Barack Obama’s speech at his second inauguration, she says mark the change in attitudes toward the LGBT community.
When she came out at 19, Westenhoefer says it was a scarier time period. There was more violence against the community. However, most of her friends and family were supportive.
Now she finds it amazing that people like Foster can go on international television and discuss their sexuality with the world.
“I am very excited for her,” Westenhoefer, who’s met Foster three times, says. “She is a very shy, very private woman. I am very proud of her. To get up in front of an international audience and tell this, it’s amazing.”
Despite leaving the much warmer West Coast to do so, Westenhoefer says she’s always glad to return to the D.C. area.
“I love D.C. for several reasons,” she says. “First of all people will come out for a show even if there is an ice storm. They have southern hospitality, they are political and they want to be entertained. It is the perfect storm for comedy.”
Jaworek is happy to have her back because, “Suzanne is a very funny woman period.”
Even though she shares the experiences of a lesbian, Westenhoefer insists that, “the boys are welcome. It is not just for girls. It’s a show for straights, for gays, and if they wanna come, I promise they’ll laugh.”
Arts & Entertainment
Vote now! Best Of LGBTQ DC readers’ choice awards
Halloween party set for Oct. 22 to celebrate the winners
The Blade is excited to celebrate the 25th anniversary of our Best Of LGBTQ DC awards this year. We’re pulling out all the stops for our annual party with celebrity emcee Ashley Darby and acclaimed DJ Michael Navarro. The party is set for Oct. 22 at Longview Gallery with pop-up performances, cocktail and food tastings, open bar, and a Halloween costume contest with the theme, “Murder on the Dancefloor.”
But first, you have to vote. You nominated and now we have our finalists for the 2026 Best of LGBTQ DC Awards.
Vote for your favorites through Oct. 8.
We’ll honor the winners at the Best of LGBTQ DC Awards Party on Thursday, Oct. 22, and showcase them in our special issue released Friday, Oct. 23.
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.
Celebrity News
Debbie Allen shares on loss, love, and the power of speaking out
Actress directed groundbreaking ‘A Different World’ episode about HIV
For somebody like Debbie Allen, HIV advocacy lies at the heart of their life and career. In the 1980s, at a time when HIV/AIDS devastated the performing arts community, Allen witnessed friends, performers, directors, and choreographers alike disappear. This experience turned her personal grief into a decades-long commitment to advocacy. From directing a landmark “A Different World” episode about HIV at a time when even just saying the word on television could make networks sweat, to continuing her work today, Allen has continuously utilized the biggest stage available to her to ensure that the conversation stays alive.
Now the conversation has changed from four decades ago, yet Allen believes it still needs to get louder. Medical advances have transformed HIV from the crisis it was into a manageable condition for many folks. Yet stigma, social challenges, and the significant need for mental, emotional, and community support still persist. In our conversation, Allen opens up about the losses that influenced her activism, the power of media and the arts to change public perceptions, and why “whole health” means looking beyond the virus to the full human person living with it. Her message is simple and solid — no one should have to navigate HIV alone.
You have stood alongside the HIV community for four decades, and counting. When you look back to the start of that journey, what first got you involved and what has kept you connected and dedicated for all of this time?
My fight against HIV began in the ‘80s, when the epidemic devastated the performing arts community, and I lost my entire world — my friends, dancers, directors, and choreographers. That profound grief fueled my mission to use my voice for advocacy — from directing the groundbreaking HIV episode on “A Different World” to fight stigma to standing on stages today to continue to raise awareness.
This is a mission that continues to stay near and dear to my heart so that all people impacted by HIV — whether they are living with HIV or supporting someone living with HIV — have the resources and support they deserve.
How have those experiences with your own personal losses due to HIV impacted the way you understand the virus?
If we look back to 40 years ago, HIV impacted an entire generation. We experienced incredible loss and heartache that I will never forget. This experience made me realize how vulnerable we are as humans and how much support we truly need in our healthcare journeys. And while incredible progress has been made, I also understand so much more needs to be done — from combating stigma, providing additional resources, and ensuring ongoing support for people who are living with HIV today.
You’ve built an extraordinary career as a dancer, choreographer, director, producer, actor, educator, and advocate. How has each part of your career influenced the others? What have you learned about leadership from working with artists and performers?
Being a dancer, choreographer, director, producer, actor, and educator has helped shape the person I am today. Each experience has inspired another. What unifies each role is my ability to lead and learn from everyone I’m working with. It’s also these opportunities that have afforded me an incredible platform for my advocacy efforts. I strive to bring leadership approaches from my various stages — in a very literal sense — to a national stage as I support a variety of initiatives, such as HIV awareness.
The medical landscape around HIV has evolved dramatically since you first began your advocacy. What is one thing you wish younger folks understood about what the first years of the epidemic were really like?
Thanks to medical advancements, we can now look at so much more than HIV status and this is a tremendous step forward. As someone who has always believed in the power of mind, body, and spirit, I want today’s generation to understand that people living with HIV need integrated support for their mental, emotional, physical, and social well-being because all these elements are deeply connected.
We need to broaden the discussion around HIV management, and that’s why I’m proud to work with Merck on “Your Hive of Whole Health,” which addresses factors such as managing one’s mental wellness, co-occurring conditions, social drivers, and other life challenges.
Your Hive of Whole Health is built around the idea that health doesn’t happen in isolation. What does “whole health” mean to you in your own life?
Health doesn’t happen in isolation. People living with HIV need comprehensive support systems around them — whether that’s family, chosen family, neighbors, community or religious leaders, or care team members; they are a part of the whole health journey.
To me, whole health means looking beyond the virus to truly understand the unique challenges that people face so they have the full support they need. Having supported loved ones on their health journeys and managing my own well-being, I know that comprehensive support is key.
That’s the beauty of “Your Hive of Whole Health.” In fact, the idea behind the program is simple. Just as a hive depends on the strength of many bees working together, people living with HIV often rely on a network of support that includes healthcare providers, advocates, family, friends, and peers. “Your Hive of Whole Health” provides tools and resources to help individuals build and strengthen those connections.
For someone living with HIV, what kinds of support beyond medical treatment do you think can make the most significant difference in their lives?
As people are living longer with HIV and managing additional health conditions, like high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and diabetes, having the right support system in place can play an increasingly important role.
Understanding these other conditions, as well as navigating social challenges and other life challenges such as not having access to affordable or healthy food, not having support from family or friends, struggling with stable housing, or facing misconceptions about HIV is critical. It’s awareness, understanding, and a “Hive” of support that can make a difference.
People can go to HiveofWholeHealth.com to learn more, access resources, and build their own Hive.
Many folks tend to talk about the HIV epidemic as if it is something of the past. What do you think we risk losing when we stop talking about HIV and the people whose lives have been affected by it?
This journey began for all of us in a time of intense fear, isolation, and crisis. As I reflect back to the early ‘90s, it was an honor to create the first network television show on “A Different World” to address the epidemic at a time when people were afraid to even say the word. The network and advertisers were very hesitant about talking about HIV on TV in this way at that time. It really hadn’t been done before. But I stood my ground and pushed forward. As a result, we were able to bring the epidemic into living rooms, confronting fear, stigma, and misinformation. It changed the conversation, especially in Black communities, where the impact was deeply felt. It also spotlighted how HIV impacted women, which was not formally recognized by health agencies until years later.
Today, we can truly celebrate the united and unbreakable spirit of 45 years of the HIV movement and champion a new era of whole health. But there is still so much more to be done. We must continue shining a light on issues that matter most. We must spotlight these across all forms of entertainment, media, and digital storytelling to drive awareness, understanding, and support. That’s why programs like Merck’s “Your Hive of Whole Health” are so important — we keep the community and their needs at the center and provide much-needed support.
If nothing else, what is one message you’d like for our readers to take away from this interview?
I want people living with HIV and the community around them to know they are not alone. There’s a whole community of support — a Hive — that can help them on their journeys with HIV.
Go to HiveofWholeHealth.com to learn more about the emotional, physical, social, and mental aspects of living with HIV. Build that Hive around you because whole health is better together.
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