Babe’s of Carytown, the second oldest lesbian bar in the country, is a spot for everyone. However, when it opened as a steakhouse in 1987, it was not originally intended to be an LGBTQ+-centric establishment. The current owner, Vicky Hester, says that Babe’s became a predominantly lesbian bar in the late 1980s and has maintained that identity ever since. Hester speculated that this shift came about simply because the lesbian community needed a safe space, and Babe’s just happened to fill the role. That space grew and solidified through the following decades. Hester noted that throughout the 1990s, Babe’s was consistently packed at happy hour and weekends “for those who needed acceptance and [to] find others like us.” Now, she says, Babe’s has adapted to serve as a safe space for all members of the LGBTQ+ community, stepping away from its more singular lesbian origins.
On April 3rd, to celebrate its 47th year of operation, Babe’s held a Hoedown Throwdown, inviting line dancers between the ages of twenty-one and seventy-one to take over the dance floor for the night. I stationed myself at the bar with a cider in one hand and my pen in the other, eager to see who came to celebrate and what I could learn from them about Babe’s role in Richmond’s queer community.
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
Throughout its lifespan, Babe’s has faced several close calls with closure—part of the harsh reality for many LGBTQ+-serving institutions in Virginia during the 1980s and 1990s. Many of the women I spoke with at the 47th anniversary party were reluctant to share their full names. Only Carol Anderson and her wife Del McWhorter, who run the weekly line-dancing sessions, were willing to be named. When I asked them about their reluctance to share more openly, McWhorter pointed to Virginia’s anti-gay ABC legislation of the 1990s, which could revoke a bar’s license if it was deemed a gathering place for ‘homosexuals’. She shared memories of police cruising around Babe’s in the early 1990s. Both she and Anderson emphasized how monumental it is that Babe’s not only survived these conditions but continues to thrive today. McWhorter said that within RVA’s LGBTQ+ community, there have been many “brave people—Vicky Hester’s one of ‘em.”
Hester echoed this sentiment when she spoke about facing discrimination as a restaurant owner and queer business owner; she said that many people described her as a “tough person.” She argued that survival—hers and Babe’s—was about toughness and resilience, a necessity when fighting for something so deeply personal.
HOEDOWN THROWDOWN
On the anniversary night, women dominated the dance floor—and not just the typical early twenties crowd, but women in their forties, fifties, sixties, and seventies. This multigenerational turnout reflected Babe’s roots, as many women attending had been frequenting the bar since its early days. The older women danced, laughed, and took over the few seats lining the dance floor. The DJ played everything from classics like “My Maria” by B.W. Stevenson to new country hits like “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” by Shaboozey. Amid the stomping boots and whirling bodies, I made it my goal to speak to women from the older crowd, hoping to piece together a picture of Babe’s from the 1980s through the early 2010s. After waiting for a break in the dancing, I got a chance to sit down with one woman who preferred to remain anonymous. She’d been coming to Babe’s since the early 2000s. According to her, the bartenders during that time were radical, leather-wearing lesbians. While Babe’s had always been a safe space for her, she confessed that she had stayed quietly at the bar until the last few years. Now, on this anniversary night, she was surrounded by friends.
Earlier that evening, I spoke with another woman who used to travel from Charlottesville to celebrate at Babe’s after rugby matches with her team, the still-operational Blue Ridge Bears Rugby Club. This was about fifteen years ago, and she recalled that the crowds then were mostly women—including the bartenders.
This connection with LGBTQ+ sports leagues was echoed later in the evening by a gay male couple who approached me, eager to share their thoughts on Babe’s. Brandon Stumpf, along with his partner Kyle Patterson, immediately launched into their defense of Babe’s. Stumpf, in his mid-thirties, pitched it to me as the “friendly dive bar that spans the entire LGBTQ community.” Patterson agreed, adding that Babe’s is a true community space—open to allies as well. Stumpf mentioned that Babe’s deserves recognition for its ongoing collaboration with Stonewall Sports, a local LGBTQ+ sports organization. According to them, Babe’s has done more for Richmond’s LGBTQ+ community than just serve rainbow-colored drinks.
A COMMUNITY-CENTRIC SPACE
Babe’s’ role in Richmond’s LGBTQ+ community and beyond was continually praised, not just during the anniversary night but at other times as well. Carol Anderson and Del McWhorter had been coming to Babe’s the longest of anyone willing to speak about their experience. Anderson started teaching line dancing at Babe’s after learning that other women in her church choir group were interested. Originally from Texas, Anderson found a home at Richmond’s Metropolitan Community Church when she moved to the area in the late 1980s. Owner Vicky Hester was already attending MCC, and she offered Babe’s as a space for her friends to dance under Anderson’s instruction. Hester made the night a cover-free event as a donation to MCC’s food pantry. “If I can say I’m proud of anything, I’m proud of that,” Anderson said of the connection between line dancing at Babe’s and her faith community.
In response to a question I asked about Babe’s role in Richmond’s queer community, Hester explained, “It’s always been about pride, and community, and a place to not only come together but struggle together.” She emphasized that, while Babe’s is often thought of as a lesbian bar, it is ultimately a safe space for all LGBTQ+ people. To her, Babe’s has fostered “a crowd that wants to celebrate diversity, show love and gratitude, and enjoy a fun place to dance.”
KEEP SHOWING UP
Babe’s has gone through many phases over its 47 years of operation—from its initial transition to a lesbian-centric bar in the late 1980s to its current status as an LGBTQ+ gathering place. Even when the bar is at its busiest, on nights like the anniversary celebration, it remains unmistakably queer—a refuge and a dance floor for all who need it.
When I asked Vicky Hester about her vision for Babe’s, both at the start and today, she shared her desire for it to remain a safe space for everyone. She also suggested that Babe’s serves as a political space, as it would not exist without the LGBTQ+ folks who fought for it. More than that, she passionately expressed that Babe’s’ very existence is an ongoing fight. “Imagine being my age and in this struggle for fifty-plus years and finally earning the right to marry the person you love. Isn’t that what life is all about? Loving people… And we’ve finally made it… But oftentimes we’re reminded the fight is still here, and we have to keep showing up.” She concluded, “Keep showing up.”
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