On most nights, game night at Hummel’s is lowkey and familiar. You see all the tables joined together, the Uno cards worn soft at the edges, and someone inevitably accusing a friend of cheating. Hummel’s might be a dive bar, but for some of us it is so much more than that. For our community, these spaces aren’t just casual hangouts. They are constructed, protected, and earned. They are the few places where queer people, especially queer women, can be themselves without fear.
Last night, that reality unfolded in a way that was both subtle and defiant. It was the first warm night of the year and it was hot and sticky. As the night settled in, a few of the men took off their shirts without hesitation. They are used to living in a world where they are free to do this without a second thought. When I saw them, I admired the fact that it felt bold. And then I realized, I could do it too. I threw off my cardinals Jersey and proudly made my rounds on the patio in my stark white Victoria’s secret bra. Slowly, the other women caught on to the movement and one by one the shirts came off.
We weren’t making fun of the men, in fact the men there supported it (but not creepily). Last night was a protest. It was a quiet, collective realization that we had as much right to the air on our skin as anyone else. That night, we played Uno in our underwear and we laughed. What I found in these women is a family. Some of them get on my nerves like only a sister could. Some of them have picked me up off the ground when I was broken, and I call them my moms.
In most public spaces, a moment like that would be dangerous. Women are routinely sexualized and harassed. The statistics back up that fear: LGBTQ+ women are nearly three times as likely to experience sexual harassment in public spaces compared to their straight peers. Furthermore, data shows that roughly 44% of lesbians and 61% of bisexual women experience rape, physical violence, or stalking by an intimate partner, rates that significantly outpace those of heterosexual women. These are facts that all of us knew last night, but we had the courage to be shirtless anyways. And I think this is an example of how powerful women can be when they stick together with one another. So often, women are picked apart and are in constant competition with one another. But it didn’t feel that way.
At game night, the nice thing is you can come as you are. I’ve been there in my underwear, my sweats, and even an evening gown when we celebrated my win as Mrs. Missouri Regency. But everyone is welcome to be. We have people who come who just lost their jobs and don’t know where else to go. We celebrate first dates. We console each other through breakups. We make weird inside jokes. We listen to Liz Bingaman shout “O 69! O 69!” as the best part of bingo.
At game night, we aren’t there to intentionally be profound. But if you sit down and take a look at the community that we have and the bonds that we’ve built, you’d understand how amazing it is to be surrounded by women of all shapes and sizes and gender expressions.
It is easy to underestimate these moments because they look small. A shirt removed, a game continued. But in a country where our rights and safety remain contested, these moments are massive. They are evidence of what becomes possible when we prioritize community over the hate we receive simply for trying to live our lives.
We will be there every Thursday, wearing underwear whether you see it or not. I want you to know there is a group of women who will love and cherish you just as you are every Thursday night. And don’t worry, taking your clothes off is optional. However, last night proved that it is at least an option that we have.
