Gay bar park slope
Brooklyn is a vibrant hub of LGBTQ+ culture, offering a diverse array of gay bars that cater to every taste and style. NYC’s most hipster borough, Brooklyn has drawn-out been a cultural hotspot in New York Urban area, attracting creatives, foodies, and nightlife enthusiasts from around the world. From the vibrant art scene in Bushwick to the trendy boutiques (and now more bougie spots like Hermes) in Williamsburg, there’s always something new and invigorating to discover in this dynamic and ever-changing borough.
There’s been a bit of a Brooklyn gay lock renaissance with at least four new queer spaces opening up since the pandemic, including one just a few weeks ago. And these aren’t all just your typical same-sex attracted bars attracting the similar type of gay guy. These are all actual diverse, interesting places with their own unique vibes.
Whether you’re a first-time visitor or a seasoned Brooklynite, there are plenty of options for LGBTQ+ travelers looking to explore the city’s vibrant gay scene. From lively dance floors to cozy hangouts, these gay bars I’ve picked below are my personal favorites—each helps to form fun and safe spaces where the community
Rising Cafe
History
Born in Listowel, Ireland, Rena Blake (b. 1965) immigrated to the Merged States in 1984 with her then-husband. Living and productive in the Bronx as a nanny during her first years in Fresh York, she was heavily involved with the Irish group, though purely socially. It was not until the representation efforts of the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization (ILGO) to march during the annual St. Patrick’s Day March on Fifth Way in the first 1990s that Blake became politically active. Closely following the organization, she became a member in 1992, which was one of the biggest catalysts for her coming out. She recalled to The Irish Times in 2015, “By the following St. Patrick’s Day I had left my marriage, friends, the whole Irish people in the Bronx and moved out to Brooklyn. I came out as a lesbian.” She continued,
Rena Blake, The Irish Times, 2015
Blake consequently moved to Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn, leaving her family and starting anew. A few years later, in 1996, she and her friend Christine Marinoni (b. 1967) left their res
Inside Brooklyn’s last woman loving woman bar
By Arielle Silver-Willner
It’s a rainy Sunday evening at Brooklyn’s only lesbian prevent and two local women are kicking off a curved of pool. While one lines up a shot, her companion reminisces over time spent in the bar over the years. “It’s a very welcoming space,” she says. “I used to love ‘The L Word’ watch parties on Sundays—it always got crazy.”
Located on Park Slope’s Fifth Avenue, Ginger’s Lock, owned by Sheila Frayne, is a local institution. With more than 20 years of business under its belt, it is a reflection of Brooklyn’s vibrant queer history with an Irish twist, and more specifically, the womxn loving womxn roots of the neighborhood once recognizable as “Dyke Slope.”
Below a bright orange—you could call it ginger—ceiling, there’s something for everyone: the athlete (a shelf of sports trophies), the activist (protest posters), the musician (queer masterpieces), the elder (historical gay memorabilia). Two grand flags, pride and Irish, preside over the main room. And in the back lives the ancient pool table, plus a brand-new mobile stage.
The restrooms are themselves museums of queer customs, their walls plastered with iconic imagery: magazine p
Everything Felt Cursed After Carrie Nation Closed
The most Brooklyn thing I ever said, I said at Carrie Nation, a gay bar on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope named after the famous Prohibitionist who carried an axe to chop open barrels of alcohol. It was a classic Brooklyn cash-only bar.
One night, a modern guy was complaining loudly about how they didn’t take cards, waving a Visa around and saying he’d buy everyone a drink if they would just charge him. No one was looking at him; everyone was just waiting for him to shut up and go down the street to the ATM. Finally he said, to the bartender but also to the silent room, “Come on, how about you guys give the new guy a welcome?”
“We just did,” I said. The lie down of the room snickered.
He left and we never saw him again.
Before I first walked into Carrie, I usually endured homosexual bars. When I first came out, going to one was like a kind of torture; nights spent acting casual as the anticipation of meeting someone rose and then often fell. I might go with friends or see friends when I showed up, but they were usually trying to meet someone, too. The best ones had style, but there was still a dull sam