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Salon Roi entrepreneur Roi Barnard reflects on five decades in business

Stylist recalls AIDS epidemic — and Marilyn’s calming presence

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Roi Barnard, gay news, Washington Blade
Roi Barnard on the roof of his business Salon Roi. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

For some — perhaps gay men disproportionately — the draw of a grand staircase is irresistible. Especially if one has logged much time in square-footage-starved city quarters. 

Roi Barnard looks proudly around his eponymous salon at the staircase and wall beside it decorated in images of Marilyn Monroe. 

“Fifty years I’ve been walking that staircase like Carol Burnett,” he says. “The staircase first sold me on this location. The shop can be whatever you want it to be. It can be elegant because of the staircase. It’s unique and they’re disappearing.”

Roi Barnard (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Barnard still works at Salon Roi, though he sold it 12 years ago and has recently cut back his hours since a heart attack. It celebrated its 50th anniversary in business at the same location this month (Aug. 9). Ten years in, the Marilyn mural was created. Now an official D.C. landmark, she’s about to be refurbished. Barnard is celebrating the milestone with the publication of his book “Mister, are you a Lady?” A documentary is also being planned. 

Still, it’s Marilyn’s face just as much as his clients who continue to inspire him. 

“I first saw her in ‘The Asphalt Jungle’ when I was 10,” he says after having his picture taken in front of her mural painted on his roof. “I remember thinking how sad she looked despite her smile. Like me back then. After she died, I wanted to bring her with me. Now she lives on here.” 

For Barnard, the movie legend is more than a mere decorative element. He sometimes speaks of her as if she’s still around. 

“We’re going out on the roof for a picture with Marilyn,” Barnard says as he’s halfway out the bathroom window. “Come join us.”

It’s hard to believe this nimble 81-year-old survived not only ’70s excesses, the ’80s AIDS crisis and various waves of conservatism, but also a recent heart attack. He says he did it with his salon and a little help from his friends. 

Roi Barnard (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

“They’re my family,” Barnard says of his clients and staff. “And those who have been with me from the beginning, we’ve survived a lot. You can see it in their eyes.”

“I would say one part of the attraction of working here for me is not only the beauty of the building but also the family aspect,” says Zakiya St. Rose, a bisexual 28-year-old aesthetician at Salon Roi. “Everyone in my book (of clients) feels loved and cared for, and that’s a part of Roi’s legacy.”

Salon Roi, an upscale salon inside a cozy Woodley Park townhouse, began its life in 1969 as Charles the First, the unisex brainchild of Barnard and his former partner, Charles Stinson. 

“We were co-owners and lovers,” Barnard says. “The late ’60s and early ’70s were so incredibly wild. Be glad you weren’t there then because you probably wouldn’t be here now. Times were that wild.”

While Barnard was in a stable relationship and didn’t do drugs, he did enjoy diamond earrings, long fur coats and driving a gold Rolls Royce to Studio 54 on weekends with Stinson. At discos, they would go out on the dance floor and throw up cards in the air granting one free haircut like cost-effective wishes.

“That’s how we got them in,” he says. “We had a big house off 16th street with a big Marilyn Monroe swimming pool. Charles and I were so public and so out there. I was just coming off a fashion modeling career and we were not afraid.”

Still, he remembered challenges, even from gay folks.

“Gay people were afraid of us back then. We had a better time in the straight community,” Barnard says, frowning. “The gay community liked us but were afraid of us because we were out and they could get fired back then, especially if they worked for the federal government.”

Barnard remembers those pre-Stonewall times when, ”We had to hide everything.”

He remembers paying to go to a private party to meet other gay men and a half-hour after he left, it was raided by police. Some of the men he knew had their names printed in the paper and “they were told not to come back to work. They lost everything.”

He and Stinson each married lesbians because, “that was what you did at the time.” But times changed and a taste of freedom led to men wanting more, both gay and straight. 

“Half my clientele are straight men,” Barnard says. “They love being pampered. Before the ’60s and ’70s, men didn’t have much choice when they went to the barber. Then suddenly they had a lot more freedom in how to wear their hair. And one cookie leads to a whole box.”

This new desire for freedom led Barnard and Stinson to open a unisex salon. One goal was to spread the love to government workers. Their client lists grew from federal workers to senior officials. 

“Why couldn’t we help both men and women?” Barnard says. “Hair is hair. But it caused quite a media frenzy at the time. You see, women went to beauty parlors and men went to barber shops and the twain shall not meet.”

So Barnard and Stinson bucked convention and opened their shop to everyone, but not without controversy.

Barnard recalls being a guest of Maury Povich on D.C.’s “Panorama” and being asked to name-drop his more exclusive clients. He refused. Later, the secretary of defense stopped by his salon to thank him personally. Barnard’s stylists took care of the secretary’s entire family and to this day he is proud to serve the grandchildren of the first children he styled. 

“The children saved us,” he says, memories of the AIDS crisis giving him a haunted look.

The repression of the ’50s gave way to the freedom of the ’60s and the flamboyance of the ’70s, but the crisis of the ’80s threatened to take that all away.

“Everybody was scared,” Barnard says. “In those early days people were getting sick, a lot of people, and we didn’t know what was going on. People were losing their shops.”

He seemed unable to shake the fear of the time. 

“We still have the same eyes. I can see the ravages of war in the eyes of the girls who survived it with me. I lost five gay male hairdressers — major hairdressers,” Barnard says. “They were up-and-comers. Rising stars. I was mentoring them to open their own shops one day because that is what you do. But then suddenly they got sick and were gone. All of them. Gone.”

He says what happened in his shop happened in many shops in many other cities all over the country. Barnard jokes that before the crisis the term “gay hairdresser” was redundant but afterward, women took control of the industry because they had to. 

“We were hit hard in those days,” he says. “Robin Weir, who used to do Nancy Reagan’s hair, had a big salon on P Street. Maybe 25 or 30 hairdressers. He came to say goodbye. So many salons were closing and the owners coming to say goodbye to me.”

He describes how the crisis worsened and how salons started to look like hospital wards as sick stylists kept working despite losing their eyesight, getting tired and having to conceal blotches on their skin. 

“No one knew they were dying back then,” Barnard says. “No one knew what was going on. They were just desperately trying to get through their day. You know when you get sick you think you’ll get better and that there is a better day coming, but it didn’t come. For some it never came.”

To help his business survive, Barnard had to make two tough decisions. One was to get an instructor’s license and train all the female assistants “to the once-pompous boys” to do hair. 

“Not a single girl got sick,” Barnard says. “It was do that or lose the shop.”
The other was to leave Stinson and buy out his stake in the shop. 

“I thought drugs were changing Charles,” Barnard says. “Not a brain tumor caused by AIDS.”

Stinson, Barnard says, was becoming increasingly unstable toward his staff, his clients and his partner. Barnard had to take action, though now older and post-heart surgery he looks back with regret. 

“I should have taken him in,” he says looking around the nail room. “I could have let him work here while we watched over him and took care of him. We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

In those early days of the crisis, before Stinson knew he was sick, both he and Barnard were invited to Georgetown University to explain what they knew about gay life. The goal was to learn what about their “lifestyle” was filling the hospital wards with men who should be in the prime of their lives. 

“Our secrets were killing us,” Barnard says. “So I told them. I told what I knew.”

Barnard and Stinson took straight but intellectually curious doctors to gay bars around town and told of back rooms where sketchy sex could be had easily “in pitch dark with five, 10 men.” 

“At one bar a homeless man walked in off the street,” Barnard says, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “And right into that back room. Even if they couldn’t see him, which was a blessing, they had to be able to smell him, right?”

Barnard’s squeamishness may have saved his life.

He and Stinson introduced the doctors to Jim Graham, the director of a little walk-up clinic on 18th street called Whitman-Walker. Gay men frequented the clinic to treat “VD” or venereal diseases, now called STIs or sexually transmitted infections. 

“Jim didn’t like me telling them our secrets,” Barnard says, shaking his head. “But they had to know. We were dying.”

Back rooms began to close, but Barnard felt he needed to do more so he took his styling scissors on the road. He started doing hair for sick young men to help them feel beautiful again. He also joined DIFA, the Designing Industry Fighting AIDS. 

But like war nurses who suffer their own forms of PTSD, seeing the constant death began to take its toll. 

“One of my beautiful young friends got sick,” Barnard says. “He had these purple spots all over his face. His flesh just hung from him. His skin …”

Barnard was there to cut his friend’s hair but, “I just couldn’t do it.”

“I excused myself to sit alone on his front porch and check in with myself asking, ‘Can I do this? God, please help me.’ I finally told him, ‘I think I’m OK now. I just need some water.’ He asked me, ‘I look that bad?’ And I said, ‘Oh buddy, yeah. Yeah, you do.’”

Barnard styled his hair and warned his friend to take a picture and send it to his family before inviting them out to see him. 

Stinson’s condition deteriorated to the point where he wouldn’t last long. Barnard sent him to a friend connected with the Salk Institute for Biological Studies in California. Once known for developing a safe polio vaccine, the institute was now battling AIDS. Though well treated, Stinson would be experimented on before succumbing to the disease. 

“Over 300 people came to his funeral,” Bernard says. “Kindness came through.”

As the public learned more about the disease and the death toll eased, business slowly recovered at Salon Roi. 

“The fact that we were child-friendly saved us,” he says. “Our children in the ’80s didn’t know about AIDS. They were babies. They are still coming today with their babies.”

The business has now expanded with a spa and other services. Most of the staff still consists of women, but Barnard notes young gay men are returning to the field. Some of the old flair from the ’70s is starting to return as well. 

“Now, there is a boy who works here and is extremely flamboyant,” Barnard says. “But he has no idea what we went through before. The lifestyle had to come way down because of the backlash due to the AIDS crisis. But we came through. We survived.”

Roi Barnard says the undulations he and his business have been through in five decades would be unfathomable to Millennial or Gen Z gays. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)
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Summer in D.C. brings sports, Restaurant Week, festivals, and more

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Washington Spirit CEO Kim Stone hosts Pride Night OUT on Sunday, Aug. 23. (Photo courtesy of Washington Spirit)

Summer in D.C. just hits different. Congress is out, school is out, the sun is out, thighs are out. With the skies clearing from Canadian smoke, here are a few ways to stay entertained.

Dining

Summer restaurant week: The Restaurant Association of Metropolitan Washington (RAMW) is once again hosting Summer Restaurant Week, Aug. 18-24. This weeklong dining experience showcases the dynamic dining scene of the DMV, including 2026 RAMMY Award-winning favorites (the annual D.C. food awards show that took place June 29). Participating restaurants will offer three-course brunch and lunch selections for $25 or $35 per person, and three-course dinners for $40, $55 and $65 per person.

New Restaurants: A handful of new spots have opened, so the summer is a great time to check them out:

  • Oribu: A new Mediterranean-Japanese restaurant in the Grand Hyatt hotel, which just underwent a remodeling effort. The sleek restaurant brings upscale charm, with dishes like Wagyu beef tartare with potato pavé and caviar.
  • The Oak Room: A snazzy old-school American grill has just opened in Georgetown, alongside its sister upstairs supper club (Bernadette’s) restaurant, in the old El Centro space.
  • Uchi: This showy Japanese sushi-forward chain has landed in Dupont with a chef’s tasting menu of favorites like fatty tuna.
  • Kathmandu: Recalling the capital of Nepal, this warm, buzzy subterranean restaurant right in the heart of U Street brings spice, flair, and rare ingredients to its dishes (see: buffalo burgers) and drinks.

Sports

  • Washington Spirit Pride Night OUT: On Sunday, Aug. 23, head to Audi Field for a massive, high-energy game following the exciting month of World Cup. The designated Pride Night OUT game promises boisterous crowds plus pre- and post-game community engagements. 
  • Washington Tennis Open – Now called the Mubadala DC Open, this annual tournament is only combined mens’ and womens’ 500-level tennis tournament in the world. The open is one of D.C.’s longest-standing sports traditions, and will take place at the Rock Creek Park Tennis Center July 25-Aug. 2. Naomi Osaka, Venus Williams, Ben Shelton, Frances Tiafoe, and others are expected to play.

Festivals

  • Afro Plus Fest: This huge, three-day Afro-Caribbean Hip-Hop Festival brings together headliners Davido, Alkaline, and Wizkid, plus Tems and Ayra Starr. The event moves from RFK to the Northwest Stadium Complex for three days, Sept. 4-6.
  • Capital Fringe Festival: Running from July 11-21, this massive celebration features dozens of live theater, comedy, dance, and boundary-pushing nighttime performances across multiple DC neighborhoods. 
  • The National Book Festival returns, with headliners like Cynthia Erivo, and Martin Scorsese. The one-day festival, Saturday, Aug. 22, brings together bookworms and word nerds under the theme “America 250: It’s Your Story.” There are talks, workshops, musical sessions and more.
  • All Things Go: A three-day festival Sept. 25-27 at Merriweather Post Pavilion featuring Mitski, Hayley Williams, Brandi Carlile, MUNA, Zara Larsson, Ethel Cain, and many, many more artists. There are single-day and three-day tickets. Featuring and highlighting female artists, the festival has turned into a must-see for many LGBTQ audience members.
  • Fuchsia Fest: The inaugural Fuchsia Fest is a new multi-day celebration created to celebrate LGBTQ community and expression, bringing together a mix of community gatherings, entertainment, and nightlife. The event takes place Sept. 18-20 and is hosted by Capital Pride.

Art and Music

  • United We Dance: A high-energy rave with house, techno, bass, and festival music, on Aug. 1 at the 9:30 Club. 
  • The Fray. On Aug. 14, this American rock band famous for How To Save A Life is at Merriweather Post Pavilion.
  • Kesha: Kesha’s high-energy The Freedom Tour comes to the D.C. area on Aug. 14 at Jiffy Lube Live.
  • ALOK: On Sept. 3 at Lincoln Theater, ALOK (they/them) performs. The poet, comedian, and actor is putting on a new comedy show.
  • 2charm, the emerging Australian electronic club-pop duo popular with the queer community, which blends hyperpop and dance music, comes to the Atlantis.
  • Sapphic Dance Party: a vibrant, inclusive nightlife and social event designed specifically for queer women, lesbians, bisexuals, trans individuals, and nonbinary folks, at Atlantis on Aug. 21.
  • Jazz in the Garden: The most quintessential of D.C. activities returns Friday evenings through Aug. 14. This season’s theme, “American Sounds,” is a nod to the nation’s 250th anniversary. Tunes themes range from Appalachian and Americana to Creole jazz, Hill Country blues, contemporary jazz, and more. Tickets are available through a lottery system a week before each event.
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Tickets on sale for chef Patrick O’Connell’s book launch event

Sept. 18 kickoff to feature José Andrés, Tom Sietsema

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Acclaimed chef Patrick O’Connell is preparing to publish his new memoir, “Main, Middle & Gay” in September and he’s launching the book with an event on Sept. 18 at 6 p.m. at Lisner Auditorium featuring Chef José Andrés and former Washington Post food critic Tom Sietsema.

Tickets for the event go on sale Tuesday, July 21 at Ticketmaster; prices start at $55.

 O’Connell, who’s gay, is the pioneering Michelin-starred chef and longtime proprietor of the Inn at Little Washington. He spoke with the Blade about the September event and the launch of his first memoir.

 “I’ve known [Andrés and Sietsema] for more than 25 years and I have great respect for them,” O’Connell said. “I felt that it would allow us to add a different dimension rather than just have an interviewer. The chemistry will be fun and lively and unpredictable and exciting. I think we’re all different personalities and we’ll compliment each other.”

O’Connell has published cookbooks but this is his first memoir. The event will feature a short film that will highlight his work and the Inn.

“What I hope to do with the event is bring the book to life visually,” he said. “So we’re producing a short film that will be part of it. Most of the audience will not have read the book so it’ll give them a visual flavor of the book. It parallels the evolution of American cuisine over 50 years. It’s a rare perspective to be in the trenches for that long.”

The book’s title refers to the location of the garage on the corner of Main, Middle, and Gay streets in Washington, Va., where he launched his restaurant that became an international culinary destination. 

The Blade will publish the rest of its wide-ranging interview with O’Connell in September in conjunction with the book’s release.

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The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.

Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives

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Alex Kim performs at the Pride Comedy Special in Washington, D.C., on June 18, 2026. (Photo by Christina Lee/VOICES)

Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward. 

“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.

Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives. 

From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together. 

“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”

Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.

According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said. 

When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”

“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”

But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center. 

Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.

“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said. 

Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires. 

Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down. 

“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”

Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form. 

“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’” 

Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church. 

“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said. 

Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.

Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet. 

“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said. 

Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training. 

“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked. 

Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.

To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said. 

Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition. 

“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”

Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.

Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.

“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.

This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).

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