In a jagged spirit of rawness and redemption, Paul Raushenbush remembers the nightclubs where he found community and transcendence and joy. Despite its scarcity, he calls us to answer the mandate of love rather than anger as a redemptive force… because he has no other option.
“The hookah breaks the ice,” said the man behind the bar.
A collection of old, silver-painted water pipes styled as light fixtures hang above his head, bathing in gold a crowd of men as they puff away on flavored tobacco below. The pulsating beat of Arabic music wafts onto the outdoor patio from inside the bar, where throngs of gay men dance together, and scantily clad male go-go dancers gyrate on stages.