1
Space and Identity:
Comparing the Production of Queer Spaces in
Amsterdam and Hong Kong
Katie Poltz
Thesis Article for Research Masters Urban Studies University of Amsterdam
Student ID: 11820152 August 2020
Word count (excluding references and appendix): 10,073
Abstract:
Queer (LGBTQI+) subjectivities and their relationship to the production of urban space are well understood in the American context. However, there exist many cases worldwide where queer communities did not follow this American road map. Contemporary research has focused on how and why queer spaces have been produced. This paper investigates cases where spaces have not been produced. Henri Lefebvre, in his seminal work on the production of space, argued that, “groups, classes or fractions of classes cannot constitute themselves, or recognize one
another, as ‘subject’ unless they generate (or produce) a space” (Lefebvre,1991: 416). Without physical and spatial representations in a city, therefore, it is nearly impossible for a group to consider itself as such. The implications of a lack of space for minorities is far reaching, including the potential loss of identity and loss of city diversity in the push towards assimilation. This paper puts forth a conceptual
framework for analyzing the production of space by minority groups, created through comparison of the existing literature on queer spaces with two cases diverging from the typical American case, Amsterdam, Netherlands and Hong Kong, SAR China.
Key Words:
queer, Amsterdam, Hong Kong, production of space, minorities
Queer (LGBTQI+)1 subjectivities and their relationship to the production of urban space are well understood in the American context. However, there exist many cases worldwide where queer communities did not follow this American road map. Contemporary research has focused on how and why queer spaces have been produced. This paper investigates cases where spaces have not been produced. Henri Lefebvre, in his seminal work on the production of space, argued that, “groups, classes or fractions of classes cannot constitute themselves, or recognize one
another, as ‘subject’ unless they generate (or produce) a space” (Lefebvre,1991: 416). Without physical and spatial representations in a city therefore, it is nearly impossible for a group to consider itself as such. The implications of a lack of space for minorities is far reaching, including the potential loss of identity and loss of city diversity in the push towards assimilation. This paper puts forth a conceptual
framework for analyzing the production of space by minority groups, created through comparison of the existing literature on queer spaces with two cases diverging from the typical American case, Amsterdam, Netherlands and Hong Kong, SAR China.
As noted, much of the research cannon concerning queer communities has come from the Western, American-centric sociological tradition, focusing on the cultural, sexual and institutional aspects of queer communities (see Hubbard 2012, Collins 2004, Brenner 1999) in addition to urban-focused research on clustering or “gay ghettos” (see Binnie 2004, Sibalis 1999, Rubin 1998,Martin 2000, Brown 2014). As Bell and Binnie (2004) suggest “What we now need to do is to link together the literature on governance and regeneration with the material on queer space; the neo-liberalisation of urban politics and sexual politics has rewritten the terms by which urban sexual citizenship operates.” In American cities, the changes in queer spatiality are indeed reflective of the evolution of sexual politics alongside rampant gentrification which has radically altered sexual citizenship. However, this research goes a step further to examine cases outside the typical, creating a framework of analysis to empirically investigate the relationship between the geographic (spatial), social, economic, political (governance) and subjectivity (identity) through a path-dependent lens. In particular, this paper will examine the production of space by queer communities in cities where residential clustering did not develop and directly contribute to gentrification, to the extent it did in many of the typical cases of queer communities in the Global North/West (West Hollywood, Greenwich Village, the Castro, and Le Marais for example).
In comparing the two divergent cases of Amsterdam and Hong Kong, this paper begins by asking Why have queer spaces not been produced? in order to answer What broader forces assist or prevent the production of queer space? and finally to address How do these forces interact with each other in the process? Answering these questions sheds light on how minorities groups can lose their unique community identities in cities where they are unable to produce space.
The extended case method as understood by Burawoy (1998) and Small (2009) is employed to uncover the broader forces behind the production of space by queer people. Comparing Amsterdam and Hong Kong not as islands or pure products of globalization but as individual, path dependent cases embedded within a global context presents the opportunity for truly emergent comparative research uncovering globalization’s influence on queer communities’ production of space as well as taking
1 Queer in this paper is used as short hand for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex and other
3 into account the unique cultural, political, economic and spatial influences of
individual cities (Peck 2015).
This paper will begin with an analysis of the current literature on queer spaces, heavily skewed towards the American context. After a discussion of methodology and case selection, I move on to propose a new conceptual framework for analyzing the production of queer space. This is followed by case studies of Amsterdam and Hong Kong to illustrate how this framework can be applied in case comparisons. Finally, I will make recommendations for the application of this framework in future research.
Researching Queer Space
Research on the production of space stems from the theoretical work of French Marxist philosopher Henri Lefebvre, most notably in his books The Survival of Capitalism (1973, 1976 English translation) and The Production of Space (1974, 1991 English translation). He saw space as a social product, produced by social relations, and argued that this process of producing space is as important as the space itself. He conceptualized the process of producing the abstract space of capitalism as a tripartite dialectical tension between practice (patterns and places of everyday social activity), representations (maps and plans) and representational space (spatial imaginary), which is dominated by the other modes of spatial production. He suggests a fourth type of ideal space could be created through the destruction of capitalism, that of a differential space which would reimagine social relations in the production of abstract space and lead to new types of heterogeneous relations accentuating differences.
Drawing on Foucault’s assertion that “homosexuality threatens people as a ‘way of life’ rather than as a way of having sex (Foucault in Lotringer 1996: 310), Halberstam contends that the queer use of time and space “develop, at least in part, in
opposition to the institutions of family, heterosexuality, and reproduction (Halberstam 2005: 1).” This suggests that queer people experience time and space differently to heterosexuals; their lifepath does not revolve around the typical timelines of
reproduction and marriage and place-making practices are inherently different.
Within the field of human geography, the study of gender, sexuality and space has expanded since the 1970’s, particularly in regard to considerations of the effects of hetero- and homo- normativity. Rooted in sociology, this cannon draws on post-structural work by Foucault, Derrida, Deleuze and Irigaray through foundational feminist and queer research by Rubin, Butler (1990) and Rich. Rubin’s (1993) notion of the sex hierarchy and sex/gender system and Rich’s (1980) concept of
compulsory heterosexuality established early conceptualizations of
heteronormativity. Heteronormativity is characterized as the dominant belief system relying on fixed binaries of gender and gender roles with heterosexuality as the natural or default sexual orientation. The constant pressure exerted on the urban by the dialectical force of heteronormativity creates an othering of all who do not submit to the mainstream (Podmore 2013).
Theorists utilizing this concept focused almost exclusively on cases in the Global North (United States in particular), looking primarily at gay ghettos (Adler 1992,
Knopp 1990, Bell and Valentine, 1995), adding feminist perspectives that considered both sexuality and gender in space (Bell and Valentine 1995, Domash 1999), and further conceptualizing heteronormativity in the urban (Binnie 1997, Blum 1996, Spain 2015). Much of this work focused on the dialectic of queer versus straight and male versus female (Colomina 1996, Forsyth 2001).
The conceptualization of heteronormativity was fully formed in the 2000s and work turned towards the reterritorialization of heterosexual space (Blidon 2011, Ferreira and Salvador 2015, Simpson 2012) and the right to the city for queer people (Brown 2007). The conflict between the gay rights movement’s assimilationist (fitting in) and liberationist (freedom to be different) factions began to become clear, with
researchers identifying the possibility of liberationists moving beyond the simplistic categories of heteronormativity (Hubbard 2008 and Junxi 2017) and the concept of homonormativity beginning to form in response to the global trend of assimilation (Brown 2012, 2015 and Mattson 2015).
Homonormativity refers to the acceptance of certain (mostly gay) identities, normalizing them within society and recognizing the privilege of a section of the queer community over others leading to the further marginalization of lesbians, transgender people and queer people of color. Duggan sees the homonormative identity as one which produces a “demobilized gay constituency and a privatized, depoliticized gay culture anchored in domesticity and consumption (2002: 179).” More recent explorations into deconstructing queer space (Oswin 2008), sexual citizenship (Richardson 2017), the use of homo-entrepreneurialism in world cities (Kanai 2014) and the introduction of the concept of homonationalism (Puar 2007) have pushed forward research in queer geography. Sexuality in the urban is no longer seen as a dichotomous issue but as a dynamic and multilayered subject with far reaching implications for the urban. The move from mere mapping has occurred and the challenge ahead is quite clear: to consider how sexuality and gender is performed and practiced spatially in its myriad forms.
Research Design and Methodology:
To answer such how and why questions, the case study is an appropriate method to employ (Yin, 2009:27). This comparative case study is designed to be, “theoretically embedded” in order, “to illuminate more than empirical contrasts… Developing a rigorous understanding of the positionality of cities, including within an evolving inter-urban/interstate system and within shifting regimes of (neo)imperial power relations, necessarily calls for some (theoretically informed) appreciation of the world that cities inhabit; otherwise, singular cases will tend to float in a barely charted ocean of
difference” (Peck, 2015:172). The goal is not just comparison of empirics; I aim to take current urban theories on the production of space, urban sexual citizenship, neoliberalism, and queer theory and test them across these two cases, recognizing their individual path dependencies and unique set of circumstances while positioning each case within a shared world to find the commonalities and differences. While taking the extended case method as my primary approached, I worked with my data inductively at the outset, letting it guide me to possible theories to test and resulting in the creation of a conceptual framework to aid in analysis of these and future cases.
5 Primary source research (participant observation and semi-structured interviews with policy makers, activists, community members and business owners) took place in Amsterdam between December 2018 and May 2019 and in Hong Kong from September to December 2019. As Small (2009) suggests, the aim of the extended case method is for theoretical saturation through continued interviews until no new information is gained. I am admittedly very close to this subject as a queer person myself. However, the network I have developed through my personal involvement in queer activism over the past 15 years in China, the USA and the Netherlands gave me easy access to respondents, particularly those who could be considered experts such as activists, academics and volunteers. Interviews were obtained through personal connections, snowballing and using my reputation to obtain access to unconnected respondents through cold email introductions. In addition, the dating apps Tinder and HER were utilized in Hong Kong to identify respondents who were community members outside of activist or government work. The focus on expert interviews was decided early on; while I collected data from the general queer community to get an idea of sentiment, this research is more concerned with
identifying the systemic barriers to producing queer space, rather than feelings about these spaces.
In Amsterdam, I collected data through eight semi-structured interviews and
observations at four public queer events.2 In addition, much of this data is informed by participant observation over the course of two and a half years of living in
Amsterdam as an activist in the LGBTQI+ community.
In Hong Kong, I conducted thirteen semi-structured interviews, four of which were formally recorded, and observed five events. Beginning in June 2019, Hong Kong experienced a difficult period that affected daily life for its 7.5 million residents due to the anti-extradition law amendment bill (anti-ELAB) and pro-democracy protests. This coincided with my fieldwork at the University of Hong Kong in Fall 2019 and presented some inconveniences to research. Disruption to public transit due to protests meant difficulties getting to meetings with respondents and events. Many queer events were cancelled due to reluctance of the government to issue letters of no objection or out of an abundance of caution. A quieting of the activist wing of the queer community occurred as focus was shifted to pro-democracy issues and fears of government repression rose. However, making contact prior to arrival paid off in securing the formally recorded interviews early in my fieldwork.
Case Selection
Amsterdam
Amsterdam was chosen as an extreme case of liberalism, social acceptance and LGBTQI+ protections, where 93% of Dutch people believe homosexuals should live life as they please (2012 FRA LGBT Survey). Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1811; 1973 brought open LGBT military service; 1985 introduced the right to change legal gender (2014 without surgery); the world’s first Homomonument was unveiled in 1987; in 1994 anti-discrimination laws in employment and other areas including gender identity were passed; and in 2001, the Netherlands was the first country to legalize same-sex marriage, with the very first ceremony being performed by the mayor of Amsterdam (Tremblay et. al., 2011: 103). A 2016 report from the
Netherlands Institute for Social Research found only 7% viewed homosexuality and bisexuality negatively and 10 % viewed transgender people negatively.
In taking Amsterdam as the extreme liberal case, I seek to explore the tipping point, where cities become institutionally tolerant and assimilation appears successful. I see potential to extend these findings to other cities attempting to emulate the perceived success of Amsterdam, due to the global trends of assimilation and legal protections for LGBTQI+ people and the mythology of attaining global city status through the attraction of the “pink dollar.”3
A large body of work related to queer communities and geography in Amsterdam and the Netherlands exists, in particular by Gert Hekma and Jan Willem Duyvendak from the University of Amsterdam. Duyyendak has written extensively on the
depoliticization of queer identities in the Netherlands (1996) as well as on the normalization of queer people after marriage equality in the Netherlands (2016). Along with Hekma, Duyyendak has also produced work on the depoliticization of homosexuality (2011) and gay men and lesbians in the Netherlands (2011) as well as general work on the Dutch queer case (2011). The Homomonument has been studied as a queer micropublic by Zebracki (2017), exploring the concept of sexual citizenship. However, there exists a gap in Amsterdam specific queer geographic literature connecting the production of queer spaces to causal forces, one which this research intends to fill.
Hong Kong
Hong Kong, with its British colonial heritage and current Chinese
1-country-2-systems rule, is a complicated conglomeration of East and West, acting as a bridge to understanding the larger forces at play in the attempt to achieve global city status. With a population of 7.5 million on only 25% of total land, Hong Kong stands out as an extreme example of urban density. While public support for queer people is
increasing, discrimination protections and equal rights have been slow to materialize. Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1991 but it was not until 2019 that the age of consent was equalized from 21 to 16 for both homosexual and heterosexual
relations (Judgement, 2019). Though no discrimination protections exist as of 2020, a survey in 2016 showed over 55% of the population in support of such protections (Lau and Lam, 2019).
Hong Kong is thus chosen as a unique case reflecting a post-colonial struggle between Western and Eastern political, economic and cultural values embedded in an extreme spatiality. With this case study, there is an opportunity for insight into the regional influence of China and the contradictions that lie in this transition of
influences. The nascent queer community also provides insight into younger movements who may turn towards global examples of success for inspiration but may also create their own unique road map.
While queer issues in neighbors Taiwan (Martin, 2000) and Singapore have been studied extensively, Hong Kong is often left out of analysis. Denise Tang’s (2011) exploration of conditional lesbian spaces in Hong Kong provides a great starting point for future research on queer spaces in the city. Travis Kong has produced a larger body of work on queer issues in Hong Kong, including an investigation into the use of space by older gay men (2012). In addition, some comparative work, albeit
7 within the Global East context, does exist such as Yue and Leung’s (2017) work comparing Singapore and Hong Kong as queer cities.
Conceptual Framework
While the framework presented draws heavily on the work of Lefebvre (1991) and Harvey (2008), the Marxist critique of capitalism central to their work is not featured as prominently here. True, capitalism plays a role in this framework and one with clear impact on the process. However, I argue that Lefebvre and Harvey’s focus on capitalism as the enemy obfuscates the importance of other variables in the
production of space. The materialist analysis of time and space that Harvey (2008) presents is dedicated to uncovering the processes of capitalism but lacks an effort to uncover the processes of heteronormativity, racism, and sexism (Halberstam 2005: 7).
This framework was built inductively through analysis of the data collected in
Amsterdam and Hong Kong while taking into account the well-researched American example. In the tradition of Lefebvre and Harvey, it illustrates the processes as dialectical, born out of the intricacies of social relations in the urban. Of course, this can be reduced to how the social interacts with the spatial but I argue moving away from American-centric thought requires more nuance and a closer look at
intersectionality. Postmodern geographers such as Harvey and Soja place an emphasis on the global over the local that neglects path dependency. This framework attempts to formalize both the concepts and their relationship to each other in order to return agency to dimensions in the context of an individual case. Variation in dimensions can impact the outcomes of a system in profound ways.
Common themes that emerged through the coding of my data were simplified into five dimensions critical to understanding the production of (queer) space: identity, spatial, social, economic and governance. Figure 1 illustrates the proposed framework for analysis considering these variables and the interactions between them. In the next section, I will employ this framework to analyze the cases of Amsterdam and Hong Kong.
Social
Political
Identity
Queer Space
Identity
Considers how a community defines itself and how it is identified by mainstream society. This dimension is most strongly influenced by the social and governance and has a dialectical relationship with the spatial. It is within this relationship with the spatial that (queer) space is formed.
Spatial
Looks at the physical form of the city. This identifies both the spatial realities as well as the spatial imaginary, which “can represent ‘otherings’ of different places,
demarcating a boundary denoting a difference between what is ‘inside’ vs. ‘outside’” (Watkins, 2015: 511). This dimension is most strongly influenced by the economic and social and has a dialectical relationship with identity.
Social
Identifies the society and culture that a case operates in, including issues of class, race and gender. This dimension has a dialectical relationship with governance and most strongly influences identity and spatiality.
Economic
Considers the economic system of the case as well as recognizing the broader global economy it is embedded in. In particular, examining property markets give insight into the spatial dimension. This dimension has a dialectical relationship with governance, with some influence on the social in the form of class, and most strongly influences the spatial.
Governance
Fig. 1
Diagram of the relationships between dimensions that produce (queer) space.
9 Looks not only at how the city (and state) is governed through the political system and law making process, but also how these institutions influence community
organizing strategies (identity). This dimension has a dialectical relationship with the economic and the social and most strongly influences identity (through impacting organizing strategies) and the spatial (through regulations).
Case Studies
Queer Space
Queers space is subjective; a physical location where queer people feel safe and welcome. To be queer is to deviate from mainstream society in regards to sexuality and gender. While I refer to this as a “space,” what is implied is the creation of a “place,” imbued with meaning beyond the location and material form of the space itself (Gieryn 2000). Generally run by queer people for queer people, this is not a requirement but an ideal. Queer space manifest itself in many different forms from bars and clubs to nonprofit offices open to the public, more temporally in events such as Pride, private gatherings and online dating as well as, in the Lefebvrian sense, other sites of queer capitalist consumption. Halberstam refers to truly queer space as one that not only includes queer people but with “nonnormative logics and
organizations of community” (Halberstam 2005: 6). “Queer is by definition whatever is at odds with the normal, the legitimate, the dominant… 'Queer' then, demarcates not a positivity but a positionality vis-à-vis the normative” (Halperin; 1997:62).
Amsterdam
Amsterdam respondents, in particular RA1 and RA3, commented on the intangible qualities of queer space, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but you understand immediately upon entering a space filled with “people like you” (RA1). Respondents say the driving factor of queer spaces was once safety but is today less a concern as non-discrimination laws have made queer people feel physically safe in non-queer spaces.
Respondents overwhelmingly remarked on the declining number of queer spaces, especially since the 1990s4. RA1, RA3, RA4, RA5, RA6 and RA7 expressed a nostalgic view of Amsterdam’s past grandeur as a queer capital. A count of existing spaces as of December 2018 tend to skew gay (27 out of the 31 plus the only four shops and remaining sauna) and be less welcoming to the broader community but more acceptable to straight people. The majority advertise themselves as mixed or straight friendly while only one club has a regular restrictive door policy (gay and trans* men only) on most nights.
The presence of straight people in queer spaces is tolerated and even welcomed in theory by my respondents, but there is a tipping point when the space goes from queer to mainstream. RA2, RA6 and RA8 pointed out that for those surviving queer
4 See the following post for a brief overview of historical queer spaces in Amsterdam, though it does not include
spaces, there is an impression that they are disproportionately patronized by straight people. White, cisgender, gay men who fit the model of homonormativity and straight people mix comfortably while more minor or deviant expressions of gender and sexuality are excluded. This impacts trans* and bicultural5 parts of the community
the most. As of January 2020, only two lesbian bars, one black-owned bar and no trans spaces exist.
Besides one trans* healthcare center that provides services monthly, two trans* events take place each month6, but both are too small to sustain a permanent space.
RA5 and RA4 discussed this lack of trans* spaces and cited a recent project put forth by the Gemeente Amsterdam to open a trans* center in Amsterdam. This plan includes city funding to acquire and maintain a building in which all trans* groups would be able to organize events and provide services. However, as RA5 lamented, with a trans* community fractionalized across racial and gender lines into many small organizations often at odds with each other, the realization of this project is
uncertain.
Respondents believed no black queer owned or dedicated spaces exist7. However,
the Black Queer Archives was recently founded, providing a space to learn about and preserve black queer history.8 As a black event producer, RA2 said she chooses
to work with spaces that are not explicitly queer but to her are more authentically queer “down to the threads” in their operation, service approach, programming and intentions. In her mind, too much racial violence has occurred in mainstream queer spaces and thus they are fraught spaces for bicultural queer people.
Hong Kong
The concept of queer space in Hong Kong was often presented as a binary. However, it became quickly clear through interviews with non-activists (RHK5, RHK6, RHK7 and RHK8) there existed a number of grey spaces that were
temporally created in the moment, much as RHK4 describes in her seminal work on lesbian space in Hong Kong, Conditional Spaces (Tang, 2011). What makes a queer space in Hong Kong seems to be conditional upon those occupying the space, regardless of intention. As RHK4 explains, the spaces she examines in her book are now almost all closed. What she thought was a dire situation for queer space in Hong Kong then seems today to be all the worse. She commented that these spaces simply could not compete with the desire to meet in more private spaces nor survive the advent of online dating. At the end of the day, the economics of these public queer spaces was not sustainable.
Many of my respondents admitted to rarely visiting queer spaces (RHK1, RHK2, RHK3, RHK4 and RHK8). These spaces did not seem to be for them, especially for lesbians and trans* people. The spaces that do exist are reserved for the gay male of high socioeconomic status and/or those who identify with the expat community. A count of currently open and operating queer identified spaces in Hong Kong (as of
5 Bicultural is a term generally used in Amsterdam to refer to people of color or minority racial backgrounds 6 TransAmsterdam and TransUnited
7 One bar owned by a black Surinamese gay man does exisit, Reality Bar. 8 http://www.theblackarchives.nl
11 October 2019) identified 11 bars and clubs in addition to 10 gay male-only saunas, with only one bar still open for lesbians. A number of queer meet-up and professional networking groups sponsored by international corporations exist and hold periodic events at non-queer spaces.
I met RHK6 on Tinder and she offered to meet at an unofficial lesbian bar,
commenting on arrival, “While most of us who come here are lesbians, we don’t dare call it a lesbian bar! If we do, we’re afraid it will quickly close.” This fear seemed to be shared by the bar, advertising itself as an “inclusive” dive bar despite a rumored lesbian owner. Besides a small rainbow flag and a bartender who could possibly be a lesbian, there was no indication this bar was anything but an American style, rock’n’roll drinking establishment.
To enjoy this venue as a queer establishment, you had to be in-the-know. When asked to name queer spaces they frequented, most respondents indicated similar spaces or meet with friends in mainstream spaces. The fear that spaces for and by queer people would not survive was frequently mentioned by respondents. RHK5, RHK10 and RHK12 went into detail explaining how lesbians in particular preferred private gatherings in karaoke rooms and homes over publicly advertised queer spaces. This was due to feeling unwelcome in the more numerous gay spaces, because of socioeconomic status as well as gender.
Spatial
Both Amsterdam and Hong Kong have some of the highest population densities in the world, with over 4,900 people per square kilometer in Amsterdam and 6,300 people per square kilometer in Hong Kong (World Population Review). This extreme density is caused in part by the influence of economics: strong neoliberal forces on property markets, limited space and strong job markets. With global architectural merit, these are walkable cities with excellent public transportation infrastructure. However, Amsterdam is embedded within the larger Randstad region, the
Netherlands and the EU, allowing for accessible suburbanization and migration. Hong Kong however is a city-state and thus only offers the opportunity for mobility within city bounds and, since 1997, migration to Mainland China. In both cases, queer people have tended to spread out and not cluster residentially, while small areas of queer bars have formed here and there. This spatial diversity arguably makes public meeting spaces all the more important for forming communities, as there is no residential area bringing queer people together spontaneously as in many American cities. Due to social housing projects (and in Amsterdam social welfare programs), homelessness does not play a large role in queer spatiality, unlike American cases. Gentrification in both cities did not run concurrent to the queer movement as it did in the typical American case. Instead, the entire city gentrified somewhat uniformly with relatively few extremely rich and poor neighborhoods. However, this process was somewhat different as this section will show.
Amsterdam
Though contested due to the neoliberalization of the housing market in the 1980s (Uitermark, 2012), Fainstein’s Just City (2010) presents Amsterdam as a prime example of a just city with relatively even socio-economic spatial distribution, the
echoes of which remain today. Amsterdam’s government dealt with the urgent need to house a growing population post-WWII by enacting property regulations and creating successful social housing policies. Queer people did not need to cluster residentially as affordable housing was available throughout the city. This certainly contributed to the lack of a queer center, according to RA1 and RA3.
By the early 1980’s, a major shift in queer spatiality occurred. Due to the rise of the COC9, further explained in the governance section, the area around
Reguliersdwarsstraat became the hub of queer Amsterdam life, with the first openly gay business appearing on the street in 1970. Queer venues have also intermittently clustered around Kerkstraat, Zeedijk, Amstel and Warmoesstraat (which remains the center of the leather scene). However, once the city adopted neoliberal policies in the early 2000s, rapid growth in property prices and city-wide gentrification resulted in the decline of these areas.
RA1 and RA3, spoke of the wildly popular Friday night mixed and Saturday night women-only parties held at the historic COC Amsterdam building (1978-1996) in the 1980s and 90s, attracting people from all over the Netherlands. However, developers converted the building into a hotel, displacing COC Amsterdam. After many years of negotiation, a promising recent development is the return of a portion of this space to the COC Amsterdam for use at no cost to the organization as an office. The hotel sees this as an opportunity to turn the space into a “straight-friendly” place, with regular queer events hosted by COC Amsterdam.10 There are no other drop-in
community spaces for a general queer public, outside of a commercial information point and a handful of nonprofits geared towards specific medical needs.
Hong Kong
Hong Kong is tied with Singapore and Osaka as most expensive city in the world (Economist Intelligence Unit, 2020). In no way could it be described as a “just city.” Its spatial distribution echoes that of Amsterdam: less gentrified neighborhoods prove difficult to locate. There is, however, a historically uneven distribution of “expat” and local space, a relic of colonial influence. As a geographically and
economically important link between China and the rest of the world, Hong Kong has attracted major global industries (including finance) that have brought with them many foreign workers (both expats and guest workers in construction and domestic work). Class is thus complicated by origin and race and its social influence on identity. In these neighborhoods the difference is in the passport, not always the paycheck (RHK6, RHK7, RHK8 and RHK9).
There has never been a residential queer neighborhood, though three main areas where queer spaces have clustered were identified, in addition to a few scattered spaces in Kowloon: Lan Kwai Fong (Central), Tung Lo Wan (Causeway Bay) and Sheung Wan (RHK4). What is striking here is that these areas are in “expat”
neighborhoods. Early in Hong Kong’s colonial history, parts of town were off limit to locals, such as the Peak and Central. Kowloon and the New Territories were once for locals and are still less desirable than an address on Hong Kong Island. With
9 COC – the primary Dutch LGBT organization and the oldest in the world, founded in 1946
13 mountains and 70% of the land designated as open space, very little is left for
development. Because clustering never occurred, transportation is key –
accessibility has a big impact on the success of queer spaces. The mobility of queer people is limited given that housing options, both rented and owned, give preferential treatment to married couples and thus queer people tend to live at home longer, distributed throughout the city widely (RHK3, RHK4, RHK7 and RHK10).
I went out to two local-oriented queer spaces in Kowloon with RHK10, who runs queer walking tours of Hong Kong.11 She introduce me to RHK11 and RHK12, a gay bar owner and a lesbian waitress at a lesbian bar. RHK11 explained that he had started the bar with five friends who felt spaces like this were lacking when he was looking for a new job. Though moderately successful, he reflected on how the
protests had hurt business due to currently unreliable public transportation. With only two other patrons on a Saturday night, RHK12 confirmed it was hurting her business as well. Reliant on local customers who did not feel safe to come out or now couldn’t get there, these establishments were stalling. Bars in the expat areas, however, were less effected.
Social
One of the more interesting dimensions for comparison between Amsterdam and Hong Kong lies in the social. Though culturally very different at first glance, a deeper dig reveals a number of commonalities that result in a similar social force being exerted upon identity.
Religious influence plays a minor role in both cities: over 50% of Amsterdam residents have no religious affiliation and an estimated 80% of the population of Hong Kong has none either (World Population Review). However, a cultural legacy of Christianity remains in both cities.
In her critique of Harvey’s The Condition of Postmodernity (2008), Halberstam argues that normativity (as theorized within queer studies) is “the big word missing from almost all the discussions of postmodern geography within a Marxist tradition. Since most of these discussions are dependent on the work of Foucault and since normativity was Foucault's primary understanding of the function of modern power, this is a huge oversight, and one with consequences for the discussion of sexuality in relation to time and space (Halberstam 2005: 7).” Certainly, heteronormative ideas of family still play a predominant role in Amsterdam and Hong Kong. Homonormativity was developed through the passage of equal rights legislation in Amsterdam
whereas the power of the global city ideal, via economics, has pushed the normalization of “acceptable” queerness in Hong Kong.
Social inequality is high in Hong Kong while relatively low in Amsterdam. Yet, both cultures have a strong general social construct of normativity – fitting in is much more important than in the individualistic USA. Tolerance and pragmatism in Amsterdam indicates a valuing of personal freedoms (in the privacy of your own home) without interference from the government. Social norms regulate Dutch society while familial piety regulates Hong Kong society.
Amsterdam
Despite institutional protections and a general normalization of queer people, there appears to be a lingering reluctance to truly accept LGBTQI+ people in public space. A 2017 report from the Netherlands Institute for Social Research found that 32% of respondents would take offense seeing two men kiss and 23% seeing two women kiss while only 12% would be offended seeing two people of opposite sexes kiss. This disdain for public displays of affection illustrates the common Dutch saying, “doe maar gewoon, dan doe je al gek genoeg,” translated as, “just act normal, that’s already crazy enough.”
While the Dutch have a reputation of tolerance and pragmatism, certainly a driver of the city’s historical success in trade, its Protestant history kept ideas on sexuality and gender conservative and heteronormative (see van Lisdonk, Nencel & Keuzenkamp 2018). The queer movement coincided with changing attitudes post-WWII about people’s personal freedoms and the value of diversity. The pillarization of society also began to diminish in the 1960s, with far reaching implications for governance and social attitudes towards individuality and difference as protected. I will return to issues of governance, de-pillarization and growing corporatism in the later section on governance.
Recent political rhetoric uses the tolerant Dutch view of homosexuality as a way to “other” Muslims in debates over multiculturalism and who belongs in the Netherlands (Hekma 2011), echoing North American work on homonationalism (Puar, 2007). RA8 described his experience as a sexual refugee from an Islamic country, facing racism from within the queer community but also sexual discrimination from Muslim
immigrants in the refugee camp.
Hong Kong
While Amsterdam was a colonizer, Hong Kong was the colonized. Its culture still bears the scars of British colonialism and many social issues can be traced back to this heritage. Utilizing classic techniques of colonial social manipulation, the British overruled any influence of tolerant Chinese attitudes towards homosexuality and emphasized Confucian ideas of filiality towards family (Kong, 2012:900). Paired with the Chinese concept of “face,” the negative or positive behaviors of individuals reflecting on the whole family, social order was easily maintained. “This ‘boundary politics’ (Lau, 1982: 163–172) was carefully played up by both government and populace, serving to differentiate the public space of the British/colonial polity from the private space of Chinese society” (Kong, 2012:901). The current SAR
government has adopted similar techniques, promoting in policy addresses the nuclear family as a part of Chinese culture and setting up a Family Council in 2007 (HKSAR, 2011 in Kong, 2012).
All of my respondents commented to some extent that while heteronormativity is pervasive, homonormativity had been marginally adopted as Hong Kong became a global city. Parents still want their children, especially males, to marry and raise a family. However, attitudes towards competition and financial success result in an
15 easing of the pressure; as long as their children have good jobs and an apartment, their sexuality is of little concern. This was particularly the experience of those respondents who engaged in activist or visibility work, such as RHK1, RHK2, RHK3 and RHK10. These four respondents commented that though they are “out” to the general public and their parents surely know the nature of their work, they do not discuss sexuality or gender directly with the family.
Society is hierarchical and produces high socio-economic inequalities, divided by race and gender. Caucasian expat men are at the top with wealthy transnational Chinese men, followed by women of the same ilk, local men and women, Mainland Chinese immigrants and finally migrants such as construction workers and domestic helpers. To illustrate, I was invited to a queer banking industry networking event (EHK1), held at a pricey expat bar. There I met RHK13, an early 30-something ethnically Chinese lesbian banker. Her accent being non-descript, I asked where she was from. She replied, “I’m an expat. I went to school in the USA.” Unsatisfied, I asked again. To which she answered, “well, I was born in Hong Kong, but I’m
definitely an expat.” I ran into RHK13 again at the very first queer comedy night held in Hong Kong during the Pink Season series of queer events (EHK2), where the comedy was performed in English for a mostly expat audience in a non-queer venue and the only Chinese comedian was actually from Singapore.
Governance
The governance systems in Amsterdam and Hong Kong differ in many ways. However, the force exerted by governance on identity, in particular the influence on community organizing strategies, is quite similar. In this dimension, we see the clearest example of deviance from the American case. Amsterdam and Hong Kong exhibit elements of corporatist governance, where representatives from industries are chosen to participate directly in law-making. Hong Kong is semi-democratic and takes corporatism to the extreme, appointing industry representatives directly to the law-making legislative council, all under the watchful eye of Mainland China. The Netherlands has extended corporatist relationships to social groups but relegates them to advisory status.
Amsterdam
After decades of social progress and groundbreaking legislation, the official approach of the Netherlands towards LGBTQI+ policy today is one of
“mainstreaming.” That is, “the consideration of sexual orientation and gender identity (SOGI) issues in all aspects of policy, at all levels, as well as actively promoting greater social acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex
(LGBTI) persons” (The Netherlands Institute for Social Research, 2017). This policy, according to respondents RA1, RA2 and RA3, is reflective of the homonormativity present in Dutch society and in turn governance, where white, gay, monogamous men enjoy enormous privilege over the rest of the community. The government has embraced the promotion of diversity, but it appears to be with the ultimate goal of controlling the nature of diversity (Tissot 2014).
One of the factors that put Amsterdam on the map was property investment by bar tycoon, Sjoerd Kooistra, beginning in 1984. RA7 illuminated this fraught piece of
Amsterdam history.12 Kooistra acquired most of the queer spaces on
Reguilersdwarsstraat, in addition to numerous others across the Netherlands, both queer and mainstream, leading him to become the biggest bar owner and the richest gay man in the Netherlands. He constructed a complicated business structure which involved renting buildings to the Heineken Brewery who in turn rented the bars back, insuring only Heineken was served. However, in 2003, 18 of his Amsterdam bars went bankrupt. By 2009, relations with the Heineken Brewery broke down, claiming unpaid rent and leading to a court case which he lost. Many of the street’s most popular bars were closed and a second court case ensued. Before the second ruling could be released, Kooistra committed suicide. This left his remaining businesses in disarray with no one ready or willing to take over operations, devastating
Amsterdam’s queer nightlife.
The city government saw the loss of these venues as a threat to the economy as well as its image and quickly put together a business association (which RA7 was a part of). This advisory group was tasked with salvaging some of the bars and
identified new owners to reopen three of these shuttered venues, with city support and funding. Unfortunately, this experiment was a failure, with all three closing within the year. The already questionable economics of running these businesses was exacerbated by rising rents and narrowing profit margins while Amsterdam’s Canal Ring had achieved UNESCO World Heritage Status in August 2010, effectively shifting city focus to a more mainstream tourist demographic. While Amsterdam as a brand has retained its queer-friendly identity, this is no longer a major selling point, especially as the rest of the world caught up to Amsterdam in queer rights.
City employee, RA4, corroborated the Amsterdam approach. He claims the “gay capital” label came from external sources, beginning in the 1950’s and cemented in the 1990’s. With some of the biggest and most popular queer clubs in Europe, queer tourism to Amsterdam flourished and the pink dollar exploded. However, this label was not fully embraced by the city, which sought to attract a broader tourist market. Queer nightlife was downplayed in RA4’s city marketing campaigns, as it not only declined since the 90s but the city wished to move away from the party city image towards a more wholesome, homonormative brand identity.
As Davidson (2015) so thoroughly outlines, the weak queer identity in Amsterdam can be traced to the rise of the COC with the end of pillarization and transition to Dutch Corporatism, just as the queer movement in the Netherlands gained momentum in the 1960s. My data affirms Davidson’s thesis that extension of corporatism to the queer movement, learning from the successes of the feminist movement, has played a large role in the growing prominence of the COC and focusing of the queer movement on legislative and judicial gains. Unlike the American model in which campaigns to win social acceptance occurred prior to legislative and judicial wins (riots, protests, visibility campaigns before the right to marry, for example), work in the Netherlands on community building and social acceptance was sidelined for legislation, depoliticizing queer issues and thus further harming the community identity needed to produce queer space.
12 For a detailed history of Sjoerd Kooistra and his impact on Amsterdam’s queer spaces, refer to RA7’s
17 RA1, RA2 and RA3 commented extensively on the dominance of the COC in queer organizing. There exists an implicit trust between the government and the COC, built over years of this corporatist relationship. Most funding at the local and national level is allocated through the COC, then distributed to smaller organizations conducting more grassroots work. By funding these small diversity promoting projects, the government essentially fetishizes diversity. While some members of the COC recognize this arrangement as a potential barrier to the continuation, in the social dimension, of the emancipation project (Dutch term used to refer to queer rights and acceptance), it has become somewhat trapped by its own success. To refocus would be to endanger their coveted position, which the Dutch government also values as it uses corporatism to simplify public relations and streamline policy making.
Therefore, the COC chooses to further the emancipation project through the funding of these small groups, which all but ensures none are able to grow large enough to produce their own spaces. The traditionally gay, white male-oriented COC remains dominate as the lobby group representing queer interests but has no enforceable responsibility to include the more marginal elements of the community, further fueling homonormativity.
Hong Kong
Prominent in the majority of my conversations with respondents was the overarching strategy of the queer community: the winning of queer rights through judicial means. Court cases have become the primary mechanism for queer activism, with
organizations such as Pink Alliance focused on identifying and pushing through appropriate cases. As RHK2, Directory of Policy at Pink Alliance, explained, this focus was strategically chosen instead of pursuing legislative methods to achieve rights. The legislative route presents a number of issues, including the majority of legislators being appointed by Beijing. As previously mentioned, the corporatist nature of the government, unlike that in the Netherlands, locks out social groups while extending seats in the legislature to representatives from selected industries referred to as Functional Constituencies (Yeung, 2017). The courts, on the other hand, are the legacy of Hong Kong’s colonial British history and, under the Basic Law of the 1997 handover to China, are to remain free and independent until 2047.
However, the Extradition Legislation Amendment Bill proposed in 2019 brought to light the possibility that Hong Kong’s highly respected, free and independent judicial system would become unreliable (RHK4). Not only did the extradition bill expose the fragility of this system but it also highlighted the impending full transition to Chinese rule and what that might mean for Hong Kongers, now a mere 28 years away. While Beijing has decriminalized homosexuality, it is generally suspicious of social
movements that attempt to challenge the supremacy of the current party line. With close ties between queer activists and the pro-democracy movement in Hong Kong (RHK1 and RHK4, for example), the passage of the National Security Law in 2020 could spell future trouble for this organizing strategy.
Economic
While this framework attempts to move away from the dominance of capitalism in previous conceptualizations of the production of space, economics do play a large role in both the cases. The free market, neoliberalized economies of Amsterdam and
Hong Kong have indeed made it financially difficult for queer space to be produced. Leasehold systems and neoliberalized property markets have ensured astronomical property prices in both cities.
However, my data suggests that there is merely a strong perception that queer spaces are not economically viable, rather than a hard reality. It would be neglectful to ignore the economic alternatives that some in Amsterdam have explored in order to open and maintain queer spaces and the ability of Hong Kongers to temporally create space with little to no money. Additionally, homonormative queer spaces have continued to find marginal financial success in both cities. Gay men were and still are, for a variety of reasons, the drivers of queer movements. Neoliberalism
privileges those who benefit most from it, and in this case that is gay men. This does, however, give perhaps a false impression that queer equality has been achieved in the social when these normalized spaces succeed.
Amsterdam
It is too simplistic to say that neoliberalization is only to blame for the lack of queer spaces in Amsterdam. The high property prices caused by neoliberalized property markets was a prime reason respondents cited that queer spaces are not being produced. In particular, RA1, RA3, RA4, RA5 and RA6 discussed this issue at length. The cost of opening any business in Amsterdam, RA6 explains, can seem insurmountable. She mentioned her many gay friends who are in the bar and club industry who have chosen to open mainstream venues, though they complain about the lack of queer spaces. She has asked them why and the answer is always: queer spaces are not profitable. But, given the large numbers of tourists who come to Amsterdam precisely to enjoy these businesses (RA4) and a desire for them by Amsterdammers, it seems there should be a plethora of profitable of spaces for queers. So there must be more at play.
Through my interviews, in particular with RA4, RA6 and RA7, I pieced together an economic picture of the situation for queer spaces in Amsterdam. RA6 was
saddened by the closure of famed lesbian club Viva La Vie, leaving only one lesbian space left in Amsterdam. The owner, part of the generation of queer activists from the 1960s, wanted to retire but rising rent and low profit margins meant she could find no one to take over, a scenario repeated by many successful queer spaces of the 80s and 90s (RA7). Though the staff tried to take over, they lost the lease to a mainstream business before they could raise the necessary funds and vowed to reopen elsewhere. After waiting three years, RA6 became impatient and decided to open her own lesbian space. I asked her if she approached the city and indeed she had. Their response was, “it sounds like a great idea and we fully support it.
However, if we help you, then we have to help everyone.” Could this be because of the city’s previous negative experience getting involved with Reguiliersdwarsstraat (see Goverance)?
RA6 found another way: crowdfunding. With so many other queer women in
Amsterdam desperate to see a space for them, enough donations rolled in to make it happen. RA6 found a relatively affordable property easily with the help of a real estate agent, the owner of which happily chose her over other bars, given her
19 discussion of Kooistra in Governance). Adding her own modest funds to what she raised through crowdfunding, she was easily able to secure a business loan from a major bank, finding much less resistance than with the government. Open for over a year as of writing, the bar has been a huge success, enough so to weather closure due to COVID-19 and emerge profitable. Perhaps RA6 is just lucky or is an
exceptional business person. Or perhaps the perception is simply too strong.
RA7, however, attributes the closure of queer clubs in Amsterdam to a more general trend effecting non-queer businesses as well. His research suggests that live music venues and dance clubs across all genres are closing in the city center and being replaced by more profitable restaurants geared towards capitalizing on the new Amsterdam tourist (as promoted by the city, see RA4’s discussion of city marketing and UNESCO World Heritage Status).
Hong Kong
All land in Hong Kong, with very few exceptions, is owned by the government and leased for limited periods to leaseholders. While Amsterdam also has a leasehold system, its reach is far more limited. This system is a remnant of British colonialism; lacking exploitable resources, the strict management of land ensured high land prices, extracting maximum wealth from the colony as it grew. This strategy has been maintained post-handover, perpetuating high property prices which make opening and maintaining any business an expensive affair. Paired with the Hong Kong government’s indifference towards the pink dollar, viable queer spaces are difficult to create (Yue, 2017:758).
As previously discussed, queer Hong Kongers have engaged in the temporal creation of queer space, outside of the formal economic system. Research such as Tang (2011) and Kong (2012) suggest that the majority of queer people are still socioeconomically disadvantaged in Hong Kong and generally not out at work due to fear of discrimination (which is not protected by law). As RHK4 explains, the
importance of home and private spaces for queer people is huge in the absence of public queer spaces. However, some of the highest property prices in the world ensure that people are forced to live at home longer in cramped quarters. Indeed, many of my respondents remained in the familial home well into their adult years including RHK7, RHK8 and RHK12. This arrangement poses a barrier to queer social or sexual relationships performed in the home (see social for discussion on family relations).
Identity
As previously described, the relationship between governance and identity is strong in both Amsterdam and Hong Kong. The corporatist relationship between COC and the government has greatly affected the organizing strategies of queers in
Amsterdam – the focus on legislation and not community building in combination with funding funneled to small groups through the COC has left the community fractionalized with a weak sense of collective identity. In Hong Kong, a similar effect of weak identity formation has occurred as the focus on achieving rights through the courts does not require a significant community building effort. Nonprofit structures in Amsterdam and Hong Kong rely on volunteers, meaning there are few if any paid
employees (RA1 and RHK1). Activists cannot focus their time on community building when they also have to work. In many ways, queer identities in these cities have been privatized in an economic, political and spatial sense.
Amsterdam
Due to the focus on legislation, in “doing” their respective intersectional identities, Amsterdam’s queers have experienced a disconnection from the broader LGBTQI+ community thus creating a conflict between what being queer means and what a “real” queer space is for them (Valentine 2007). All queer nonprofits in Amsterdam rely on volunteers, according to RA1 and RA2, meaning that bandwidth for
organizing is low, even if desired. This has to do with the social view of nonprofits: citizens trust the government to handle social issues and see nonprofits as
supplementary or advisory. This work should thus not be paid and should instead be done out of the conviction of your belief in the cause (RA1). With little funds and no paid staff, how can these queer organizations hope to do the difficult work of building community?
Much as it has in the USA, even a community building event such as, “Pride has become an asexual and apolitical concept as gay pride is pushed to be associated with civic pride as the ultimate show of acceptance for queers by the neoliberal city” (Bell and Binnie, 2004). Many of my respondents say this event has become so homonormative, it is no longer for them (RA2 and RA5). While it (re)produces the image of Amsterdam as a queer city, it does little for the queer identity of
Amsterdammers. In an attempt to rectify what many of my respondents see as a missed opportunity to build community, RA2 has taken to organizing a competing Black Pride.
Hong Kong
My respondents revealed that very few in the community would consider themselves activists and that the vast majority of queer people are uninvolved in queer
organizations, which are almost all volunteer run. RHK1 reflected on her position as an activist as very rare, even amongst board members of LGBTQ+ organizations. Because organizations are focused on winning court cases, they provide very few concrete services (outside of HIV/AIDS orgs) and do not focus on community building.
Pink Alliance does engage in community engagement and public education, through IDAHOT (International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Intersexphobia &
Transphobia) and Pink Season. Again, however, it is volunteer run and does not provide direct services but does engage in political work especially around marriage equality as well as community building events such as networking events, mostly geared towards gay men. They partner with many smaller organizations somewhat similar to the COC (RHK2).
RHK3 on the other hand, while involved in a few community organizations, has become a celebrity and uses their status to educate the public on queer issues.
21 Formerly a lesbian who began transition to male and identified as trans, they have since decided to remain gender queer and is one of the few public figures in Hong Kong openly discussing issues around gender. They are currently a professional body builder who competes as a woman but lives day to day as a man. They frequently participate in community building events and public discourse through tv and publications. However, this work is mostly done as an individual.
RHK3 is also on the board of a private library with a queer focus. This private library, was likely the queerest space I visit while in Hong Kong, founded by RHK3’s mentor and former professor. Of course, as a private space, it’s reach was limited, but it did illustrate another side of the community which privileges private spaces over public ones. Access to these spaces is strictly controlled by gatekeepers and it would be difficult to find out about them without a personal connection.
Promising developments include the winning bid for Hong Kong to host the 2022 Gay Games. This not only required cooperation with the government in securing the necessary permits but also a community effort to put forth the bid. RHK3 was part of this team and hopes the event will have a positive impact on social perceptions of queer people as well as bringing together the queer community, particularly in the world of sports.
Surprisingly, unlike Amsterdam Pride and those in most other global cities, Hong Kong Pride (EHK3) is a decidedly activist event consisting of a march and a small gathering with speeches and drag performances at the conclusion. Due to the
protests however, the Pride march as well as a family and expat-oriented community event called Pink Dot did not receive letters of no objection and were cancelled. Here I witnessed a convergence of the queer community and the pro-democracy
movement as attendees turned away from the stage to join a group of masked, black-clad protesters in singing the pro-democracy national anthem, Glory to Hong Kong.
Conclusion
Amsterdam may have built the world city ideal for queer people, but it’s flawed to say this has resulted in a truly queer city built around ideals of embracing difference. Diversity is indeed a part of the Amsterdam narrative, but is used by the city to cash in on this image for neoliberal growth. The corporatist relationship between
governance and identity (through community organizing) appears to have the strongest effect on the production of queer spaces in Amsterdam today. True, the changing neoliberal property market pushed queer spaces out as they became less relevant to the movement, but this is because the movement did not create a
community to continue their (re)production. Spatially, neoliberal property markets and density prevented these spaces from clustering as they did in American cities, further detrimental to creating a community identity.
Hong Kong on the other hand has bought into the world city concept and thus has made marginal room for queer issues in governance where otherwise unlikely. However, these neoliberal world city ambitions cut two ways: 1. Creating
homonormativity, which allows room for “acceptable” parts of the community to have minor influence through the courts and through allowing events and nonprofits
geared towards queer people operate and 2. Continually pushing up property prices and creating a culture which prioritizes financial success over all else. For a
community to reproduce itself with physical spaces in this environment, they would need a certain socioeconomic status. In turn, it has only successfully produced a certain type of queer space that fits this homonormative ideal. Other spaces must be conditional, such as the Pontiac (if they find out it’s lesbian, it will close), or practiced in private, such as in karaoke private rooms.
COVID-19 has raised questions as to the importance of physical social contact. The global health crisis has adversely impacted “the public,” from small businesses to large gathering places, but already marginalized spaces, such as queer spaces, have been hit even harder. However, from the perspective of minority communities and queer communities in particular, it is both a crisis and an opportunity to
reimagine the urban fabric of our cities. As Richard Florida (Florida, 2020) suggests “The crisis may provide a short window for our unaffordable, hypergentrified cities to reset and to reenergize their creative scenes.”
We must understand what was happening in our cities to minority populations before the pandemic in order to forge a way forward that will benefit us all. Using this
framework can identify the dimensions where changes can be made to build our ideal cities of the future. Do we want diverse, equitable cities? Or are we content with the homogenization of society, identity and the spatiality of our cities?Applying this framework to analysis of additional cases could refine the understanding of the
process of producing space. In particular, I call for more work on cases outside of the United States to fill the gap in the literature.
23
Appendix 1
Respondents Amsterdam
RA1: Former COC13 Amsterdam Chairperson, self-identified white, cisgender male,
bisexual, late 40’s
RA2: Current COC Amsterdam Boardmember and founder of Black Queer and Trans Resistance, self-identified black, cisgender female, lesbian, mid-20’s RA3: Director of IHLIA, self-identified white, cisgender female, lesbian, mid-50’s RA4: Gemeente Amsterdam marketing, formerly Director of Gemeente Amsterdam’s LGBTQI+ marketing strategy from 2011-2016, self-identified white, cisgender male, gay, mid-30’s
RA5: Gemeente Amsterdam Diversity Department – Trans Policy manager, self-identified white, transgender/gender queer, masculine, mid-50’s
RA6: Lesbian Bar Owner, self-identified Indonesian-Dutch, cisgender female, lesbian, late 30’s
RA7: Founder and manager of www.reguliers.net and amateur historian, self-identified white, cisgender male, 50’s
RA8: Iranian Sexual Refugee, self-identified Iranian, cisgender male, gay, early 30’s Participant Observations:
EA1: Pride Amsterdam 2019, various locations EA2: Shakespeare Club 2019, museum location
EA3: Pon di Pride Summer 2019, mainstream club location
13 COC: Cultuur en Ontspanningscentrum (Center for Culture and Leisure), the oldest continuous LGBT
EA4: With Pride Exhibition, IHLIA Respondents Hong Kong
RHK1: Director of Hong Kong Pride and board member of the Civil Human Rights Front14, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, mid-40s
RHK2: Director of Policy, Co-chair and CEO of Pink Alliance, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender male, gay, late 40s
RHK3: Genderqueer Activist, Professional Bodybuilder and Poet, self-identified Hong Konger, genderqueer, mid-30s
RHK4: Sociology Professor at Lingnan University, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, mid-40s
RHK5: Masters of Fine Art student, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, late 40s
RHK6: Writer/Editor, Comedian and Pink Alliance Volunteer, self-identified white American, cisgender female, lesbian, mid-30s
RHK7: Undergraduate Illustration Student, self-identified Irish-Filipina Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, early 20s
RHK8: Interior Design Student and Family Business Manager, self-identified Hong Konger of Fujian heritage (second generation), cisgender female, newly out lesbian, mid-30s
RHK9: Photographer (covering protests) and Jewelry Maker, self-identified Dutch Vietnamese living in Singapore, cisgender female, lesbian, early 40s
RHK10: Queer Activist, Queer Walking Tour Guide, Diversity Consultant, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, early 40s
RHK11: Gay Bar Owner, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender male, gay, early 50s
RHK12: Lesbian Bar Waitress and Hairdresser, self-identified Hong Konger, cisgender female, lesbian, early 30s
RHK13: Banker at International Bank, self-identified expat but born in Hong Kong and studied abroad, cisgender female, lesbian, early 30s
Participant Observations:
EHK1: Queer Banker Networking, mainstream bar location
EHK2: Pink Season Comedy Night, mainstream bar location
25 EHK3: Hong Kong Pride, outdoor fixed location (parade cancelled due to protests)
EHK4: Investment Bank End of Year LGBT Holiday Event, held in-office
EHK5: Fruits in Suits Christmas Networking Event, popular gay club location
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