meet me at the club? run club that is.

Nightlife has long held a central place in queer and trans history, with the club representing a space for escapism and hedonism, consciousness-raising and solidarity. Even the Stonewall uprising, where queer and trans folks fought back against a police raid and sparked the contemporary LGBTQIA+ movement, began in a Manhattan queer bar.

However, at least here in the UK, preserving the legacy of queer nightlife spaces seems like an uphill battle. Bars and clubs – whether for the community, or a broader mainstream public – are shutting at an alarming rate. Stats from the Night Time Industries Association report that 13,800 nightlife businesses shuttered between 2020 and December 2023. Years of pandemic-era restrictions, spiralling living costs and the thousands of cultural deaths inflicted by gentrification has led a concerning number of venues to shut. Add to this the fact that younger generations are increasingly going sober leading to plummeting bar sales, and you can see that nightlife might soon be going dark.

For queer folks, who’ve traditionally turned to LGBTQIA+ clubs and bars as spaces for community and connection, this isn’t just about partying – it’s about losing opportunities to come together. As Ryan Camphino-Valadas, a queer-affirming Integrative Therapist at Self-Space, explains, there’s a legacy there that we’re going to start missing out on. “Historically, queer nightlife represents so much more than just going out clubbing. For many decades, it has represented a haven of safety, freedom, pleasure, fun, connection, and belonging,” says the therapist, who specialises in sex, relationships and LGBTQIA+ wellbeing.

With a dwindling number of options for a night out, however, queer and trans folks have been forced to find new ways to connect – something which Camphino-Valadas is positive about. “There is an exciting growth in diversity of spaces, whether that’s in community centres, bookshops, art centres and collectives, gyms, sports teams,” the therapist explains. “There is also a growing trend in both general and queer populations in alcohol-free spaces and activities which contributes to newer perspectives around personal growth and mental health. This also mirrors the rise in people seeking and accessing therapy sessions, or engaging with therapeutic content online, which allows for an expansion of self-reflection, relational boundaries, and (un)learning of values and behaviours.”

It’s nice to hear that more individuals are seeking out healthier sources of fun rather than opting to dance until the wee hours – after all, their bodies will thank them. What’s more, with the blaring club beats used to soundtrack fitness sessions and spin classes designed to feel like a cross between an evening in Ibiza and a cult initiation, it’s clear that the world of wellness is rebranding to ditch its holier-than-thou image and appeal to us former dirty stop-outs. But those of us who have lived the club rat lifestyle know that it offers highs which a green juice and a queer five-a-side football league can’t match – or does it?

Well, perhaps it can. Endorphins generated by exercise generate physiological feelings of euphoria – the kind of experience that many of us seek out on the dancefloor. What’s more, increasingly exercise spaces seem to be modelling themselves on the club: utilising mood and effect lighting to create a heightened atmosphere, or adding strobes or laser lights to add drama to a high-intensity workout. Then there’s the music, which harnesses the same bass and rhythm as club tunes in order to stimulate your sensory system and brain.

Culturally, there has been a major shift towards wellness as a way of life. It’s estimated that the global wellness industry will be worth up to $8.5 trillion by 2027 and major celebrities are getting in on this and consolidating wellbeing as a status symbol – with Dua Lipa partnering with fitness brand Barry’s Bootcamp and the likes of Tom Brady, Miranda Kerr and Kourtney Kardashian launching their own supplement brands. The lockdown trend of Couch to 5k has metabolised into a sustained interest in running, particularly when documented on social media – the RunTok tag now has billions of views on TikTok.

Speaking to the queer community, it seems like they are also getting in on this wellness wave and exploring how fitness can embody a form of self-love. As Ryan, a 29-year-old gay guy from London explains, it’s about finding what activities work for you – and weighing up the positives it can give you. “I've definitely found in recent years that hiking or walking gives me the same level of joy and excitement as a night out does – and while I still might have sore legs the morning after, I don't have day-destroying hangxiety that usually follows a night out, so in that aspect I've realised it's a bit better for me than staying out until the early hours,” he says.

For Ryan, groups based around physical exercise can also offer a different, deeper kind of opportunity for connection than the escapism you might find in bars. “Hiking in groups has been really cathartic and you can properly chat without shouting at each other. It's hard to talk about your personal issues and properly connect in a bar when Charli XCX is bellowing from the speakers,” he says. “I also feel that so much connection happens in smoking areas, but I don't smoke!”

It’s also worth keeping in mind that certain identities under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella might have different, far more negative, experiences of nightlife to begin with. Such is the case of Nora, a 28-year-old femme lesbian who notes that clubs aimed at her community aren’t closing, per se, they historically haven’t been there at all. “I haven’t noticed queer venues closing because I never noticed them open,” she explains.

Dissatisfied with the nightlife options available to sapphics, she’s begun to take steps towards exploring wellness culture as an antidote to the booze-soaked queer scene. “I started going to the sauna,” she says. “Life changer! The sauna I go to is all genders, and I always end up having good conversations with strangers there.” When queer, female-focussed fitness spaces don’t present themselves, Nora invites members of her circle to turn up and find strength in numbers – all while bonding with friends also raising a sweat. “I’ve been getting into reformer Pilates and got a little gay group of us going,” she says. “It’s so good to feel strong together and also have a moan about how hard it is.” 

So could wellness really plug the gap that nightlife is leaving behind? There’s only one way to find out – lace up your running shoes and give it a try…