![]() I was obsessed with Leslie Feinberg’s Stone Butch Blues and Pat Califia’s Macho Sluts and the pulp fiction of Ann Bannon. Eventually, I would find my way to Audre Lorde. ![]() ![]() My earliest queer years were spent in the Cornhusker State. There was a gay community, which always surprises people who have strange ideas about the Midwest and who actually lives in the “flyover” states. There was a bar called The Omaha Mining Company and there was a bar within a bar called The Mineshaft which, I think, is self-explanatory. I lived an hour away in Lincoln, the state capital. It was a much smaller town, which is saying something because Omaha isn’t all that big. And still, there was a gay bar, The Q, and Panic Bar, where the lesbians hung out. The Panic was just a notch above a dive bar. It was dark and dank but there was a nice patio, and a pool table. Butch women used it in really elaborate ways to express their butchness and demonstrate their swagger. They helped femmes hold pool cues while standing behind them, legs pressed together. I awkwardly imitated them while playing pool very, very badly. I did not know any queer people in Nebraska until I started going to the Panic.
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