Guerrilla Queer Bar.

Turns San Francisco nightlife on its head. As gays and lesbians invade straight bars, they create both a new form of activism and a great way to have fun

On the evening of March 2, tourists in San Francisco's Union Square found themselves surrounded by hundreds of fabulous people on parade. Pretty boys, drag queens, butch lesbians, bi raver girls, leathermen, and bears took up two city blocks of sidewalk, spilling out onto the street and blocking traffic.

"St. Patrick's Day isn't for another two weeks. Is this a party or a protest?" one onlooker asked.

A young lesbian responded, "It's St. Patricia's Day. We're Guerrilla Queer Bar," and kept moving. The tourists looked confused. They weren't alone.

In the past year, what began with a handful of friends trying to spice up San Francisco's gay nightlife has become somewhat of an international phenomenon. Bored by what they describe as the "same scene with the same music and the same faces" in bars of the gay-oriented Castro and South of Market neighborhoods, the organizers started throwing informal parties all over the city. Now on a monthly basis, Guerrilla Queer Bar, with its slogan "Don't Clone, Colonize," descends unannounced upon unsuspecting straight-identified venues. Partygoers collectively bring with them campy, edgy, and sexy queer sensibilities they might not individually exhibit, especially in nongay spaces.

News about the parties comes on short notice--often the day before--through an E-mail list and Web site. "San Francisco is the epicenter of a revolution in personal communication, and the Internet has ushered in new ways of connecting with people, but it has made people less likely to go out," says organizer Michael. "We're using technology to coordinate new spaces for face-to-face interaction."

GQB organizers use only their first names or assumed names when talking with the media. "By being anonymous, the focus isn't on us but on the people who show up--they are both the audience and the entertainment," organizer "Barney Schlockum" says. "That makes it a lot more social than the formula gay venues where you pay a cover, stand in a corner, listen to a DJ, and, if you work out four times a week, take your shirt off and dance. It's amazing--all kinds of gay people, and everyone's talking and mixing."

Rebecca Pezzollo, a lesbian GQB regular, says the diversity and sociability of attendees is part of what draws her. "Everyone's out of their environment, so everyone's friendly. Plus, it's cacophony--absurdness for its own sake, and there are a lot of these places I'd never go otherwise."

On May 31, 2000, a modest 50 people crowded into a small karaoke bar for the group's first event. The March 2001 parade-pub crawl attracted more than 300. That event was sparked by two Irish tourists who typed the words San Francisco and gay into a search engine and discovered GQB. One of them, Tony McAleer, asked Schlockum to throw a party for them when they arrived. Thus St. Patricia's Day (named, organizers explain, after "the patron saint of drunken sex mistakes") was born. McAleer and his boyfriend, Alan, were dubbed grand marshals, and McAleer enjoyed his "first open-mouthed kiss with a girl in 16 years." He adds, "The march was possibly the most surreal experience ever--it sure beat any official parade!"

Still, for all the clamorous visibility, it is not exactly clear what GQB is. Is it a kind of underground party for those in the know or a radical action, like the Queer Nation kiss-ins at malls and straight bars in the early 1990s? Organizers explicitly downplay the political element. "It's a queer party," says organizer Hunter. "It's not `We're here, we're going to kiss and take over your space.' It's about doing what you want, where you want to do it. If other people choose to be uncomfortable, that's their problem." He adds, "The most radical thing about it is that we're not making any money off of it."

When pushed, organizers recognize the activism in both exposing and transgressing the unwritten boundaries around what "types of people" belong in different neighborhoods and venues. "It announces that we're bored with the spaces that we're supposed to stay in. We're fully inhabiting the city in which we live," Schlockum says.

Conflict has thus far been minimal. At Lefty O'Doul's, the first location of the St. Patricia's event, "there was this one guy near the piano who confronted me and said, `Why are you here?'" Pezzollo says. "But then these two fags started talking to me, and we just ignored him." During an event last October, at which more than 150 GQB people flocked in full drag and fetish regalia to heterosexual singles clubs in the city's Marina district, one bar arbitrarily raised the cover charge for people in costume. Several people on the street shouted things like, "Get out of the neighborhood," organizers say.

"You're impervious because there are so many of you," says organizer Daniel. "When we were going through North Beach on St. Patricia's Day, some guys yelled, `Fucking freaks,' and I had the megaphone. I said, `Do you really want to fuck with 250 faggots?' It was such a good feeling."

Overall, bartenders and owners are enthusiastic when GQB shows up. The Lefty O'Doul's general manager, Frank Tognotti, reports that the normally busy bar saw a 25% spike in revenue. Asked if he felt that the GQB crowd turned away the tourist clientele, he says, "This is San Francisco; these novelties are part of our dynamic. People come to the city to have a cosmopolitan experience and expect this sort of thing."

Like so many other grassroots movements, GQB may eventually fade away, but organizers see a promising future. The mailing list grows daily, currently boasting more than 1,700 subscribers, and traffic on the Web site is heavy. Attendance continues to expand, presenting a host of new opportunities and logistical challenges.

"If people take one thing away from Guerrilla Queer Bar, it should be that it doesn't take a lot to put some really cool ideas into action," Michael says. "If you don't like what your world looks like, you can change it. We make outsiders insiders and have a lot of fun doing it."

Romesburg also writes for the Bay Area Reporter and Q San Francisco.

Find more information on Guerrilla Queer Bar and links to the group's Web site at www.advocate.com