Recently, the New York Times reported that thanks to a multiplicity of factors, including the spiraling cost of in-city real estate and the success of gay people integrating into society, gay neighborhoods aren't as necessary a social organizing force as they once were. The out-migration of gays from the Castro District in San Francisco, from West Hollywood in L.A. and Chelsea in New York City are featured as prime examples of this phenomenon of gay integration within the larger, straight community.
The article brought to mind Capitol Hill, our gay enclave in Seattle, and whether this same development is occurring here. More importantly, is there even a need for neighborhoods to offer certain groups a sense of identity, community and common concern?
UPON ARRIVAL
When I came to Seattle more than 20 years ago, I found Capitol Hill to be a welcoming and liberating place. After my first year living with a group of people on 29th Avenue and Cherry Street, the edge of a pretty rough neighborhood in the Central District where someone was stabbed one night across the street from where I lived, moving to 15th Avenue was like arriving at Grover's Corners.
At the time, a gay bar called The Ritz was right down the street. I remember how Dianne Schuur would play the piano there after Seattle Mens Chorus concerts during the holidays. I'd never lived in a neighborhood with an openly gay bar minutes walking distance from my home. Gay people strolled down the streets of 15th and Broadway feeling comfortable and safe, holding hands, with no reason to hide. One felt support from the community at large. Whether by their involvement in the Northwest AIDS Walk, the Gay Pride Parade or other events, you sensed that the general population supported gay rights and marched along side you.
MUCH TO OVERCOME
From my understanding of gay Seattle history, this level of comfort wasn't always the case. In the 1960s and into the '70s there were payoffs to police, much like pre-Stonewall New York, so that gay bars and their patrons were not harassed. In 1977, while Anita Bryant worked to overturn gay rights protections in Miami-Dade County, Florida, gay Seattleites waged their own battle to overcome Initiative 13, which would have repealed a 1973 city ordinance protecting employment and housing rights for gays and lesbians. Capitol Hill as a gay neighborhood provided a sense of shared identity and a place to gather during these formative years of the modern gay movement.
That identity continued into the 1980s when the AIDS epidemic struck. The Northwest AIDS Foundation, Chicken Soup Brigade and Multifaith Works all located within walking distance of Broadway and the Pike/Pine corridor near the clients they served. It continued into the '90s when ACT UP and Queer Nation became part of the fabric of Capitol Hill life.
I still equate Bill Clinton's election in 1992 as a historical turning point for our community. Despite disappointments with the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy and the Defense of Marriage Act, Clinton brought gay people into the social vernacular, introducing them into the American family. He appointed openly gay men and women to high level staff positions and tried to address our issues. At the same time, more and more people felt comfortable coming out of the closet and at younger ages. Coupled with Seattle's booming economy during the late 1990s and the escalating value of real estate, increasing social tolerance allowed us to move beyond the traditional gay ghetto and into Columbia City, Georgetown and Ballard, among other neighborhoods.
That migration has continued during the real estate boom over the last several years not just in Seattle, but also in San Francisco, New York City, Washington, D.C, and other cities where gay people populated and revived inner city neighborhoods, making them safe and fashionable for straights.
BACK AT HOME
Living on the Hill, I still find myself assuming most people I see walking the streets are gay or gay-friendly, which may or may not be true. I don't pretend to think that we own the neighborhood, but there's a sense of reassurance I feel from having come here as a refugee from the Midwest with the hope of escaping the narrow-mindedness and homophobia I experienced back there.
Like the Jewish population that made the Central District their home, and the African Americans that followed them, gay people made Capitol Hill unique and still do. There's a deep lifeline here that holds a vivid, important history for our community. How do we hold on to the core of it, while welcoming the new arrivals who may or may not share our experience and sense of place?
Jack Hilovsky's column appears in the second issue of each month. Reach him at editor@capitolhilltimes.com.[[In-content Ad]]
