Authored by Abby Pyette and performed at the last Queer Poetry Open Mic at Gina’s on July 24, 2026. Photo by Blair Brienza
The first time I ever walked into Gina’s, it was completely by chance.
After almost 2 years of being terrified of running into my ex-girlfriend at a local queer event, I was fed up with my own paranoia, and decided I would finally do it…I would go to my first gay bar!
I excitedly told my friend/coworker, who knew about my difficulties socializing in queer spaces, that I was going to check out a place right by our office…NUMBERS!
Now, no offense to Numbers, but my friend quickly informed me that Numbers was probably not my scene, given its primarily gay male demographic.
I was disappointed, but only briefly, before my friend mentioned a bar they really enjoyed, the one I’m writing about now.
Gina’s was smaller, cozier, more warmly lit than anything I would’ve imagined. “It’s basically a restaurant!”, my friend politely reassured me. I do not like spaces with heavy drug/alcohol use; another reason Numbers would’ve been a bad choice.
The board games and handmade art, as well as the vintage latin & queer decor, made me feel like I was in the home of my imaginary lesbian aunt instead of being a block away from East Hastings Street.
This place has taught me so much. My ex, a white trans woman, once told me she didn’t understand why the Progress pride flag had brown and black stripes. It was at Gina’s that I listened to an Iranian trans woman describe her joy at seeing a rainbow crosswalk in Canada for the first time. This was something she would never even imagine seeing in Iran. And I thought “This is why those stripes are there”.
My mother, even 9 years after my coming out, still can’t fully comprehend that I’m gay. Because, being an immigrant from Fiji, she only ever saw gay men in her village, not gay women. It was at Gina’s that I saw people who looked like me, brown people, existing as their authentic, queer selves. I had to fight the urge to ask for a group photo so I could show my mom and tell her “Look, it’s okay…It’s not just me”.
My ex cheated on me for months under the guise that we were ethically non-monogamous. All the while I cried and begged for things to be different, until I tried to end my own life. It was at Gina’s, my very first night there, that I spent the whole night sitting, drawing, and talking to a woman who was in an actually ethical, non-monogamous, open relationship at the time. She allowed me to shed the prejudice that my Borderline Personality Disorder was trying to instill in me.
It was at Gina’s that I met someone else with Borderline Personality Disorder for the first time, and I was practically speechless when I realized that I didn’t have to explain a thing about myself; they would understand with just three little letters, BPD.
My breakup with my girlfriend of six years, the woman I thought I would marry one day, was so incredibly painful. I didn’t think the gaping wound in my heart would ever heal over. It was at Gina’s where I met a 76-year old lesbian and her partner of 33 years, who told me that it was okay to be heartbroken. She had been in the same position before, and if she could find love again, so could I.
Gina’s taught me more about queer community in less than a year than I’ve learned in my entire life, and I will forever be grateful for that.
Gina’s, the first time I ever walked through your doors, I knew you would close eventually, and even though that time has come, I know the friends, family, and community that have been fostered here will last a lifetime.
I’ll miss you.
Love,
Abby
