Durango’s queer community feeling anchorless since closure of popular LGBTQ hangout

The February closure of the Starlight Lounge has been one acute example of a wider loss of safe spaces for Durango’s queer and drag community. Aria Pettyone, one of the city’s most well-known drag queens, said the closure of the Starlight has been a “huge hit” for the queer community. “Now, I just feel like there really is no nightlife, and no space for us to gather, and it’s very rare that people host events or have places and spaces (for queer events),” Pettyone said. “Not gonna lie: This year’s been a little discouraging for me as a drag queen, and as a queer person living in Durango.” The Starlight, which previously hosted a weekly Drag Trivia night hosted by Pettyone, among other frequent queer community events, became a staple of safety and acceptance on Main Avenue, Pettyone said. Staff were welcoming and bouncers were vigilant, removing anyone who was being hateful or posed a risk to patrons, she said. “There’s just not a lot of places our community feels safe going and hanging out (at) on Main,” she said. “Even just a couple weeks ago, one of our friends was assaulted (downtown) for being gay – pretty openly queer – so it just sucks.” She was referring to an incident on May 2 in the 900 block of Main Avenue in which a man allegedly wanted to fight someone based on the person’s sexual orientation. A police spokeswoman said the man exited a local bar and said he “wanted to fight a queer.” Durango Police Department said it was investigating the incident as a possible hate crime. Some queer community and drag events are still on the schedule around town, Pettyone said – but the energy isn’t quite the same. “The few (nightlife) places that are on Main, it’s just not the vibe,” she said. “Even on the nights when I wasn’t hosting drag events, people felt comfortable going to Starlight, and felt like they were safe there. And now, a lot of people just aren’t going out, and I run into people all the time who used to come to trivia, or come to an event, or go to Starlight on a regular basis, and they’re just kind of in the same boat as me: just kind of sad, and wanting and needing spaces.” Shandra McClanahan, a queer Durangoan who has been performing around town as her drag alter-ego Bravo for about four years, said she’s feeling a similar lack of safe spaces, both because of the Starlight closure and because she feels Durango has moved toward accommodating tourists more in recent years – some of whom visit from states with reigning political ideologies that sometimes oppose queer rights. “We’re in a tourist town, and we're catering almost exclusively to Texans, and it feels like you can’t have the queer people in your bar if you want the Texans to spend money there,” she said. “It just feels weird.” Employees and owners at many local venues are welcoming and make space for queer events, she said. But patrons aren’t always so kind. “They’ll tolerate us, you know?” she said. “I mean, the staff is always amazing at these places … but you get the tourists in there, and they give you a lot of side eye, and it feels very, very unwelcoming in general.” Pettyone said the lack of acceptance at local businesses is baffling to her from a business perspective. “We were the biggest night of the week (at the Starlight),” she said. “Even in a small space like Starlight, we were filling that spot with 70 to 80 people on a Thursday night. Any venue that’s willing to step up and be like, 'Hey, we’ll take on queer events,' ... there’s money there, and as a business owner, I just don’t understand.” Pettyone hosts a monthly trivia night in Pagosa Springs, and said the small, under 3,000-person town has proved in some ways to be more queer-event friendly than Durango. “The fact that I have a Tuesday monthly event (in) Pagosa that is packed, and we can’t even really do that in Durango right now is insane,” she said. Many in the Durango queer community have turned to house parties, barbecues and private gatherings to foster connection, McClanahan said. The shift has been a “bummer,” she said, because the community had grown used to being out and proud publicly in past years – but it’s also fostered tighter community bonds and reminded the community why activism is still necessary. “It draws us closer together as a community, and we learn why the fight has to keep happening, you know?” she said. “I think that there’s net positives to that.” McClanahan has seen less visible support for Pride Month around town this year – like flags on walls and stickers in windows – than in past Junes. She attributes that to a shifting political landscape in the area and businesses aligning with what they think their customers – many of them conservative tourists – want to see. Still, she said this year’s Pride doesn’t feel like any less of a celebration – more so, it feels like a moment to frame queer joy as an act of resistance. “It’s (a) more important celebration – it’s like we’re fighting harder,” she said. “The joy has to be there. We have to show everyone that the joy is still there, even if we’re battling.” McClanahan is optimistic that new venues will replace the Starlight, and that Durango will eventually find its way back to feeling like an accepting place for queer people to go out, party, and spend time together in public. “I think we’re in a moment right now in this country where … everyone’s locking down, just waiting for things to change, and it will,” she said. “It will change again, but we’re here right now.” epond@durangoherald.com About this series This is the first in a three-part series examining LGBTQ issues in and around Durango during Pride Month. Today: How the closure of Starlight Lounge, a popular bar for the LGBTQ community, has impacted the social fabric of the queer community. Friday: The Indigenous queer community is working to change attitudes about the queer community on the reservation. June 24: The towns of Bayfield and Ignacio jointly celebrate Pride Month.