The Night I Accidentally Partied With Lesbian Juke Fans
I didn’t mean to be here. Well, I did and I didn’t. I did mean to head south on Stony Island, and I did mean to barge into the karate studio at midnight, but I didn’t mean to go on the wrong day.
I was meant to show up and photograph a Ball. This karate studio was supposed to be like Paris is Burning come to Chicago's South Side for the night, full of vogueing men in drag, an hysterical compere and some judges. Instead it was full of thuggy ladies grinding each other.
“What are you doing here buddy?” says one of these ladies as she approaches me across the room.
“Aren’t there supposed to be men here?" I say. "Men in drag?”
“That’s tomorrow night. It’s ladies' night tonight.”
“Ladies' night?” I reply.
“Yeah. For lesbians.”
“Oh. Are only lesbians allowed?”
“No, niggas can come too!”
I pull my Ball Scene flyer out of my pocket and am not particularly surprised to find out that I am a fucking idiot. I have indeed turned up to the right karate gym, but at the wrong time.
”What were you going to do here?” another of one the ladies asks me.
“I was going to take pictures.”
“Honey, this could be a blessing in disguise. I am DJ Niema. Come with me.”
DJ Niema introduces me to the people running the party. They are called Swagg Bro'z and as far as I can tell, they have their own DJs and throw events like this all the time: Five dollars to enter, drinks available, but you can bring your own if you prefer. Sort of like a house party, but with more juke-, ghettotech- and Detroit-techno-loving lesbians than any house party I'd ever been to before.
Towards the end, they started reaching under each other's tops and gripping each other's tits. Some of the girls aren't as keen on getting groped in public as others.
Anyway, that's the story of how I did an accidental blog about lesbian juke fans.