PHOTOGRAPHY Rae Tait
For the first time in recent memory, eight of London’s most vital queer nightlife collectives have stepped into the same room with a shared warning. INFERNO, Queer House Party, Riposte, RIOT, BUMPAH, Coven, Uhaul Dyke Rescue and PLASTYK gathered for a group photoshoot and to share a collective message that makes one thing clear: a once-thriving queer cultural ecosystem is now fighting for its survival. London lost 58% of its LGBTQIA+ venues between 2006 and 2017, a collapse that still defines the landscape today – just last month, iconic queer bar G-A-Y became the latest to shut its doors for good.
The collaboration is unusual in a city where promoters often operate in isolation, separated by competition, venue scarcity and the constant hustle for survival. For INFERNO’s founder, Lewis G Burton, the gesture is as political as it is personal. “This photoshoot is an important moment of solidarity between all nightlife collectives. It’s about collectivism. There’s enough of everything to go around – enough resources, enough people, enough spaces,” they say. “Once we tap into that abundance together as a collective, it’s going to allow us to thrive more.”
This photoshoot is an important moment of solidarity between all nightlife collectives. It’s about collectivism. There’s enough of everything to go around – enough resources, enough people, enough spaces. Once we tap into that abundance together as a collective, it’s going to allow us to thrive more.
Lewis G Burton
Everyone involved describes nightlife as far more than entertainment. It’s a lifeline, a social scaffold, and a system of care built by and for those who are excluded elsewhere. Burton puts it plainly: “The networks of queer nightlife – the art, the culture, the music, the fashion – all incredible. But it also provides a space for belonging where we get to meet our chosen family, our best friends, our lovers.”
Eden, a curator at Riposte, describes a kind of recognition that only happens on a queer dancefloor. “Queer nightlife is where we reclaim power in real time. It is where you walk into a room and suddenly understand yourself through the way others hold their bodies, dress, move, flirt, breathe.” For PLASTYK’s founder, Karlie Marx, the stakes land even harder. “Queer club spaces are the only spaces where I am not made to feel less than others due to my transness. The club is an escape for everyone, but for certain people it’s all we’ve got.”
For many, these spaces have been life-changing. One organiser at RIOT recalls their own coming-of-age inside the scene: “I remember growing up and feeling so isolated and different…I literally hated my life so much…then I found nightlife and found our chosen family and our community.”
But beneath the joy and liberation that these spaces create, the structure holding them up is cracking. Every collective describes a threefold crisis: the cost-of-living squeeze making nights out inaccessible, the rapid disappearance of venues, and a simmering political climate that makes queer cultural work harder than ever.
“The cost-of-living crisis means many people simply have less disposable income. It’s not that our community doesn’t want to go out – it’s that they’re choosing between a night out and paying rent,” says Queer House Party. Burton agrees: “Historically, LGBT+ people, queer and trans people have less money…People aren’t showing up and supporting us because they can’t afford to.”
Even when audiences want to support events, bar sales are down and planning has become a gamble. In Gay Times’ recent report on Supporting Queer Spaces, 81.8% of respondents said finances have impacted their ability to attend LGBTQIA+ spaces. As Eden explains, “Everything is becoming more expensive while our community often earns less or lives with more financial instability… the very people nightlife is built for are being priced out of it.” PLASTYK say organisers are absorbing the consequences: “Going out is more expensive than ever and so is running parties, with most promoters operating on a loss or unable to pay themselves a living wage.”
Going out is more expensive than ever and so is running parties, with most promoters operating on a loss or unable to pay themselves a living wage.
PLASTYK
At the same time, finding a venue has become near-impossible. “The state of venues at the moment – we have no really queer venues for the community, by the community,” says Burton. Queer House Party describe a system designed to shut out smaller collectives: “One of the biggest challenges is the lack of queer-run or queer-owned venues…mainstream clubs now charge huge upfront hire fees that keep rising.”
And then comes the hostility: from bureaucracy, neighbours, regulation and, increasingly, from transphobic and anti-sex-worker sentiment. Coven’s founder Matthew Jacob Morgan feels this deeply: “At every point, it’s felt like we’ve met resistance…from racist neighbours to noise complaints, to people who just don’t like the fact that we exist.” RIOT, who programme sex-positive work, face constant scrutiny: “These spaces are really important for connection and discovery, and it’s better that it’s in a safer regulated space rather than pushing this stuff underground.”
Riposte’s Eden notes that policing often feels targeted: “We have dark rooms, which is such an important part of queer nightlife and community…but sometimes it feels like it comes from a place of homophobia, not from a place of safety.” Karlie Marx adds that transphobia shapes the risks faced by their community: “The rising transphobia in the UK has contributed to safety concerns around trans and queer centered nights.”
Against all of this, there is a push back towards collective survival. Many describe a return to shared skills, mutual aid and rethinking competition as a trap. As BUMPAH put it, “Collectivism has to come first…When ego and capitalism feed into it, it destroys the very core of what makes it a space of liberation.” This ethos is echoed across the eight collectives. Queer House Party insist that endurance comes through solidarity: “The way that we’re going to continue is to keep going out, supporting each other.”
Collectivism has to come first…When ego and capitalism feed into it, it destroys the very core of what makes it a space of liberation.
BUMPAH
There are bigger demands too: fairer venue models, worker protections, cultural funding and the same recognition other art forms receive. Burton says it plainly: “We need queer nightlife to be taken seriously and funded properly, like any other cultural institution.” Eden agrees: “We need support from the government in the same way they protect theatres and galleries, because nightlife is cultural infrastructure.” And PLASTYK insist that the wellbeing of workers must be part of the picture: “Venues need to ensure that they are paying their workers livable wages and providing healthcare support to ensure longevity among the nightlife workforce.”
Despite everything, there is determination rather than defeat. Burton is already imagining what comes next for INFERNO: “Think about how we can exist outside of the night and outside of the dance floor – how we can connect, support each other, learn and grow together, share skills, heal together.” Eden is equally clear about the long view: “The question is not whether the scene will survive, but what version of queer nightlife we want to leave behind in ten years.” And Coven’s Morgan reminds us why the fight continues at all: “Going out and dancing, especially for queer people, has always been a way of resisting and persisting and finding joy and happiness in times of real fucking strife.”
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