Arts & Entertainment
How queer Baltimore artists are building strong community spaces
Fruit Camp is home to tattoo artists, musicians, herbalist, and more
Fruit Camp, a tattoo and art studio in the Remington neighborhood of Baltimore, opened with a bang in February of 2020. “We had a big opening party. It was really fun. Everybody came,” says Geo Mccandlish, one of the co-founders. “It was the last rager I went to,” they said.
The pandemic shut down their shop—alongside the world—for months, but the shop survived. “We just put our stimulus checks into keeping the rent paid,” says Emi Lynn Holler, the other co-founder.
They had built the space without loans, on a low-budget, do-it-yourself ethos with hands-on help from their community. “The deeply punk shoestring budget background worked really to our advantage,” says Mccandlish.
While it wasn’t ideal, it was fitting. Mccandlish and Holler’s artistic partnership has almost always lived at the crossroads of community, DIY, and extraordinary circumstances. A decade ago they met as residents of the Bell Foundry, an arts co-op and co-living space, where sharing knowledge, making community, and living cheaply were key to getting by.
It was there that Holler gifted Mccandlish their first tattooing machine and taught them how to use it. And it was where the two of them—who also do printmaking, fiber arts, and other creative activities—started imagining co-founding a space of their own. That dream felt more urgent in 2016 when Baltimore condemned the Bell Foundry and evicted the residents, including Mccandlish, during a nationwide crackdown on artist co-ops after the Ghost Ship fire in Oakland.
Holler had by then moved to Massachusetts to pursue formal tattoo education and certifications.
“Living inside that level of precarity,” Mccandlish explains, “made us want to figure out a hybrid,” between the unique, collaborative Bell Foundry and a licensed, commercial space. “We wanted to find a way to create more safety,” says Holler.
But they didn’t just want to create safety for the two of them. When looking at spaces, they opted to lease a bigger studio—a two-story, double-row house with room for tattooing on the first floor and small studios on the second. Mccandlish said the prospect of a larger project felt “tantalizing and precious” because they felt “if you have access to something, you try to make sure that every resource that is a part of it is also shared.”
Today, in addition to tattoos, Fruit Camp holds studios for musicians, fiber artists, an herbalist, a massage therapist, and a doula. “We’re able to incubate and hold nontraditional pathways to different kinds of creative practices,” says Mccandlish.
You can consider Fruit Camp a queer business by several definitions. For one, every member of the studio identifies as queer, in some way. It also looks queer. “It’s campy and it’s pink, and we have a lot of gay art hanging around,” explains Mccandlish.
Holler says sometimes they get asked about losing potential patrons by being openly queer, but that isn’t a worry. “I think it only strengthens us,” they say. “It brings people to us who also want to find each other in that world.” They pause, “I feel like it boils down to we keep us safe and we take care of ourselves.”
Mccandlish emphasizes that “queer is the political meaning” and the “orientation to” which they do their work as a community space and business. Their shop practices are explicitly queer and trans-friendly—in addition to being “anti-racist, anti-sexist, liberation-oriented, and accessible.” For example, the shop requires masking and has consent-forward and trauma-informed practices in place. They also use cost-sharing instead of a traditional profit model with those who work in their space. “The point is not to make as much money as everybody can, the point is to work enough with a low enough cost overhead that everyone can survive without overworking.”
That is a continued goal, not a static place, they explain. “Some of our goals, we haven’t reached yet, like turning into a true worker co-op.”
But they are already making big strides in the community. For example, some patrons tell them that they are the only tattoo studio they feel safe using, due to the universal masking policies. To their knowledge, they are the only shop in Baltimore that has the policy.
Fruit Camp also has a big community name. One day Mccandlish logged onto a community Facebook group and saw an anonymous post asking about queer-friendly tattooers or tattooers who would tattoo someone who has HIV. The post said, “I’ve been turned away from five different shops.”
Immediately Mccandlish went to the comments to write that Fruit Camp would be happy to tattoo them, but instead, they found the comment section full of that recommendation already. It warmed their heart. “That feels like a very minor way that [our work] is so important.”
(This story is part of the Digital Equity Local Voices Fellowship lab through News is Out. The lab initiative is made possible with support from Comcast NBCUniversal.)
Nightlife
In D.C. comedy, be sure to shop local
A thriving patchwork of queer-friendly stages in Washington, Baltimore
Most people know stand-up comedy from Netflix specials or late-night sets on Comedy Central. The reality is far different for local working comics like me. A few times a month, I might get paid $50 for a 10-minute set and my photo on a bar flyer to show off to the ladies in my scrapbooking club.
Still, it’s a joy sharing laughs about my well-worn Washington career arc — from conservative reporter to openly trans organic grocery store worker and nightclub comedian. Or, as I like to say onstage, from Fox to foxy.
Stand-up is hard. Offstage, it’s even harder. It took more than a year and nearly 80 open mics to land my first paid set. Since then, I’ve performed in coffee shops, bars, restaurants and even on a city sidewalk. I once performed in the Catskills, which felt like a big deal — even if it was a bigger deal in the 1950s.
As an older trans comic in Washington, I’ve found it nearly impossible to get stage time — or even the courtesy of a returned email — at the big, corporate-owned comedy clubs. Fortunately, there’s a thriving patchwork of queer-friendly producers in Washington and Baltimore creating shows that reflect the diversity of our communities, instead of straight male-dominated lineups that look like the cast of “Ice Road Truckers.”
“There are so many kinds of funny people, but a lot of barriers exist for women and queer people because it’s a very masculine culture,” said Dana Fleitman, who runs the Just Kidding Comedy Collective and is helping produce the Woke Mob Comedy Festival in April, featuring many women and queer comics.
Full disclosure: I’m not performing in the festival. But I am proud to be one of more than 50 women and nonbinary comics Fleitman and her colleagues have helped “train up” through an incubator program she first ran through Grassroots Comedy and now through Just Kidding Comedy Collective.
Another trans comic, Charlie Girard, who splits time between New York and Washington, runs an incubator program called Queers Can’t Take a Joke. He has trained more than 100 comics in Washington.
Girard has one rule: no punching down.
“The best comics speak truth to power,” Girard said. “Making fun of marginalized communities is simple lazy writing based on tired, old stereotypes.”
Ultimately, Girard wants to prepare students not just for queer rooms, but to find their voice and expand into all kinds of spaces.
Comics trained by Girard and Fleitman have gone on to produce or help run shows like Clocked Comedy, Backbone Comedy, the Crackin’ Up open mic and Funny Side Up. Several have found a home on Barracks Row at As You Are — one of my favorite places to perform. In Washington, comic Jenny Cavallero’s show Seltzer is a sober comedy night frequently featuring local queer comics.
In Washington, performer and producer Arzoo Malhotra, who runs Zoo Animal Productions, said it’s a critical moment to support community-based comedy producers, often the first hit by worsening economic conditions.
“We’re losing spaces faster than we’re creating them,” Malhotra said. “We are in the use-it-or-lose-it stage. If there’s a restaurant you like or a performer you want to keep seeing, patronize them now — because they’re going away.”
I’m also grateful for producers in Baltimore, which has a thriving queer comedy scene. Comic Hannah Alden Jeffrey’s monthly “The Really Cool Open Mic,” created for women and trans performers but open to all, regularly draws up to 100 people.
Hannah’s mic and Kenny Rooster’s “Dramedy” open stage have provided safety and opportunity when other stages felt out of reach. Comedians Michael Furr and Jake Leizear also produce shows regularly featuring queer comics.
“We started the REALLY COOL Open Mic because every other mic in town catered toward straight dudes that dominated the Baltimore scene,” Alden Jeffrey said. “Contrary to the lineups of many shows today, people don’t want to see a show of eight guys being bigots. Go figure.”
One of the most important moments for me came when I attended a free showcase at a well-known Adams Morgan club. Like other big venues, it hadn’t responded to emails from a new comic looking for a shot. I sat in the back row thinking maybe these comics were just way funnier than I am.
Then a straight male comedian — with hair even more gorgeous than mine — launched into a long joke comparing eating pizza to performing oral sex on a woman.
At that moment, I walked out feeling better about myself. I remember thinking: nope. I absolutely deserve to be on that stage, too.
Lots of us do.
Jamie Mack is a stand up comedian, speaker and writer. Follow them on Instagram at @jamiemack_blt or email [email protected].
Celebrity News
Liza Minnelli makes surprise appearance at GLAAD Media Awards
Laverne Cox’s fiery speech earned standing ovation
Last night’s GLAAD Media Awards had a few pleasant surprises in store.
Throughout the evening, which was hosted by “Mean Girls” star Jonathan Bennett on Thursday at the Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles, the audience was clued into the fact that a mystery guest would make an appearance. By the end of the night, it was revealed to be none other than “Cabaret” star and queer icon Liza Minnelli, who was in attendance to accept the newly-created Liza Minnelli Storyteller Award.
An emotional Minnelli told the crowd of queer attendees and creatives, “You make me so proud because you’re so strong, and you stand up for what you believe in. You really do, and it’s so nice to be here. I feel like a five-year-old!” Everyone then joined in a happy birthday celebration for Minnelli’s upcoming birthday on March 12, and the release of her upcoming memoir, “Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!”
Another moment that got the audience standing and cheering was when “Orange Is the New Black” star Laverne Cox took to the stage to call out how “what is going on right now in the United States of America is not right.”
She said, “Identify, I said this earlier, and I’m going to say it again, what dehumanizing language and images are. Call it out and don’t buy into it! So much of my struggle over the past several years [has been] trying to figure out how to combat this assault on my community, rhetorically. I do not want to have the conversation about my life and my humanity on the oppressor’s terms.”
That message was echoed by Bowen Yang and Matt Rogers when accepting the Stephen F. Kolzak Award for their “Las Culturistas” podcast and pledging to donate $10,000 to Equality Kansas after the state revoked transgender people’s driver’s licenses. “We cannot accept this award without condemning the rampant active transphobia from this administration,” Rogers said. “We are also here to let them know in advance that they are fighting a losing battle. When we gather in rooms like this, we are always going to have each other’s backs.”
Among the big winners last night were “Heated Rivalry” for outstanding new TV series, “The Traitors” for outstanding reality competition program, “Stranger Things” for outstanding drama series, “Palm Royale” (which was just cancelled after two seasons) for outstanding comedy series, “Come See Me in the Good Light” for outstanding documentary, “Kiss of the Spider Woman” for outstanding wide theatrical release film and a tie between “A Nice Indian Boy” and “Plainclothes” for outstanding limited theatrical release film.
Quinta Brunson received the Vanguard Award for her hit TV series “Abbott Elementary,” which features Jacob, an openly queer character played by Chris Perfetti. Brunson said, “Queer people have been a part of my life since birth. I have to shout out my uncle … who was the first example of representation in my life of queer people, who allowed me to be free. There are so many people in the room who changed my life.”
On the music side, Young Miko won for outstanding music artist, and KATSEYE won for outstanding breakthrough music artist. Demi Lovato even opened the show with a steamy performance of her single “Kiss.”
The GLAAD Media Awards will officially air Saturday, March 21 on Hulu.
Photos
PHOTOS: Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade
48th annual LGBTQ event held in Australian city
The 48th annual Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade was held on Feb. 28.
(Photos by Cori Mitchell)




















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