A Place of Our Own: Six Spaces That Shaped Queer Women's Culture

by June Thomas

A deeply researched and highly readable cultural history of queer women’s lives in the second half of the twentieth century, told through six iconic spaces.

For as long as queer women have existed, they’ve created gathering grounds where they can be themselves. From the intimate darkness of the lesbian bar to the sweaty camaraderie of the softball field, these spaces aren’t a luxury—they’re a necessity for queer women defining their identities. In A Place of Our Own, journalist June Thomas invites readers into six iconic lesbian spaces over the course of the last sixty years, including the rural commune, the sex toy boutique, the vacation spot, and the feminist bookstore.

Thomas blends her own experiences with archival research and rare interviews with pioneering figures like Elaine Romagnoli, Susie Bright, and Jacqueline Woodson. She richly illustrates the lives of the business owners, entrepreneurs, activists, and dreamers who shaped the long struggle for queer liberation. Thomas illuminates what is gained and lost in the shift from the exclusive, tight-knit women’s spaces of the ’70s toward today’s more inclusive yet more diffuse LGBTQ+ communities.

At once a love letter, a time capsule, and a bridge between generations of queer women, A Place of Our Own brings the history—and timeless present—of the lesbian community to vivid life.

Genres: Nonfiction, Queer, LGBT, History, Feminism, Lesbian, Audiobook

304 pages, Hardcover

First published May 28, 2024

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Journalist June Thomas combines personal experience with social and cultural history, exploring the spaces that were formative for lesbians and lesbian communities from the 1950s onwards, shaping aspects of queer culture today. Thomas picks out six key spaces – mostly American but Thomas grew up in England so there are overlaps with similar places there – these are lesbian bars, feminist bookshops, feminist sex-toy boutiques, holiday destinations, rural separatist communities and softball diamond – have to admit had to look that last one up! She pays tribute to the people who founded these spaces, fostering a sense of belonging and safety, often during eras when lesbian life could only be lived out in secret. She examines the ways in which such spaces operated as support networks, activist hubs, meeting places, where queer people could encounter others like them – sometimes for the first time. There’s an inevitably elegiac air to Thomas’s study now that so many of these places are closed or closing down: gentrification, property prices, competition with online services all contributing to their loss. But this is also a celebration, a rich reclaiming of hidden or scattered histories drawn from a range of sources including interviews with key figures; equally Thomas doesn’t try to airbrush anything here, some of these spaces were, for example, exclusively white, others catered only to the comparatively wealthy. Thomas is a fluid, thoughtful writer, although this is meticulously researched and factual, it’s far from dry. Overall, it’s a labour of love, a lively, highly informative, often compelling read.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Virago for an ARC

[laurel [the suspected bibliophile] · Rating 5 out of 5]

Making solitude a choice rather than an unavoidable fate has been the greatest achievement of the gay civil rights movement.

I LOVED this history of queer women's spaces—particularly, queer women's spaces that are third places—as in, a gathering space that is not home or work.

Some chapters were definitely stronger than others (my favorites being the chapters on the lesbian-land movement and softball and feminist bookstores), but even the not-as-strong chapters were still mindblowing.

The stretch of I-5 between Eugene and the California border was home to so many lesbian-land projects that it came to be known as the Amazon trail.

I grew up in southern Oregon in the 90s (in a tiny town well off I-5, but definitely in this stretch of Oregon), and I had no fucking clue that that area was known as an epicenter for separationist lesbian movements! Looking back, it makes a whole lot of sense. There were a lot of old hippie enclaves in that area (mostly nearer to Eugene though), and I liked that Thomas did mention a little of the racial history of Oregon in why queer women of color didn't go to these queer lady areas (they be a lot TERFy and really white).

I also didn't know that Gainesville, Florida, was home to a lot of lesbian-land projects and had (has?) a thriving women's art festival scene.

Lesbian separatists focused their energies on gender-based expression, leaving racism and to a lesser extent classism as afterthoughts. To them, the "oppressors" were men, and only men. As a result, many Black and Brown feminists disengaged from the separatist movement, unwilling to contribute to a vision of feminism built around the needs of white women.

In addition to race and gender, class divides are also mentioned and discussed, and how class in American society showed up in lesbian organizations and meeting spaces as women's places moved from being private and in the home to taking up space in the public.

Can an inherently diverse group create a truly equitable community, or is it doomed to replicate the exclusionary dynamics of the larger society?

Anywho, this book was fantastic. It focuses on the lesbian gathering spaces of the 70s, 80s and 90s, homing in on spaces built during and out of the gay rights movement and the women's rights movement. While it doesn't focus as much on spaces where Black and other BIPOC queers gathered, Thomas has multiple attempts at inclusion and constantly acknowledges that spaces open to lesbians often meant open to white lesbians.

And there are EXTENSIVE and informative footnotes throughout. Some of the books I'd already read or were on my tbr, but I added so many other books and longer works to my list of queer history and things to find.

Books aren't coffee or clothes or furniture; when we can only buy books at chain stores controlled by huge corporations that means we can only buy the ideas that they ultimately approve.

Coming off the recent news that B&N removed "erotica" from their online stores (after attempting to quietly remove BIPOC books from shelves in 2022 and then complaining later that no one bought BIPOC stories), which falls amid the increased in book banning and censorship across school and public libraries throughout the US (with multiple states instituting laws banning "sexually explicit" [read: queer] books for minors), the importance of independent bookstores has never been more important than it is right now.

One way to keep a group down is to keep them from gaining the knowledge and expertise necessary to run things themselves

[Danika at The Lesbrary · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked the idea of this book, and it’s written in an accessible, easy-to-read style, so don’t be worried if you don’t read a ton of nonfiction or history books. There are plenty of interesting facts packed in.

At the same time, I think this book had a lot more potential. It felt a bit scattered, jumping around in time within chapters. It also sometimes went on tangents—like talking about Harvey Milk starting a camera store—that don’t really fit into the theme and would have been better left to a footnote. Also, a few times the book skims over what seem like the most interesting stories, like offhandedly mentioning a lesbian bar being firebombed in one sentence but going into depth about the history of another bar instead.

I’m glad I read this, but it’s not one I can whole-heartedly recommend because of that scattered feeling. It can also at times feel overly apologetic of the transphobia and racism of these spaces in different decades—but then later calls it out explicitly. In some ways, I think it’s an impossible task to try to cover all of these different histories in one book. I think I prefer reading about just one of these categories in greater depth. Still, if this looks interesting to you, it’s worth picking up. Just be prepared to fall down a few rabbit holes along the way.

Full review at the Lesbrary.

[maya · Rating 2 out of 5]

rating this low does have a bit of an ironic twist to it as this author points out several times how lesbians tend to be harsher on their spaces than we would hetero ones. fair point june and sorry to do it to you... but!

this was interesting but organized extremely weird to me. there would be brief mentions of things i wish were expanded upon and then tangents that made no sense to me structurally (why did we spend the last 3-4 pages of the lesbian bookstore section talking about harvey milk??). i liked some of the historical aspects i learned about lesbian bars/restaurants and sex toy shops, but didn't find the rest of the sections that interesting - i think a baby gay might though. i appreciate her transparency in how racist and segregated a lot of lesbian spaces were - a lot of white gays really mythologize the lesbian spaces in nyc in the 70s so it was nice to see a white author put that perspective in. however. i feel like this book is also in some ways complicit of the same thing - we have interviews and info about white bar owners, and then one line thrown away about the black lesbian bar owner in ALABAMA?? there's a much more interesting story you're teasing us with and not giving to us! i felt similarly with the lesbian bookstore section, which felt very defeatist in only highlighting bookstores that have since shuttered. they specifically mention a room of one's own in madison, a bookstore i've been to a few times, who is still lesbian-owned and hosts queer events constantly. later in the book, madison is also brought up as the current home for the women's music festival - so why are we not discussing success stories here? what did a room of own's one do that allowed them to stay open as a queer (lesbian) bookstore this whole time? maybe i'm just mad this book isn't what it was in my head - idk!

i'm also rating this low because i'm deeply sensitive about the topic of transphobia in lesbian spaces and i do not think this book took the right attitude towards that. when discussing racist or segregated lesbian bars or softball teams, it's done with an attitude that is clearly not giving leeway on these women's racist actions. it is presented matter-of-fact. in fact, june doesn't interview with or give any pull quotes from the racist organizers, giving attention instead to those who challenged party promoters in court or created their own teams for women of color. that's why it's so upsetting to me that the lesbian land section in particular gave so much credence to TERFs. maybe it's june thomas' own guilt at having been a frequent attender of past events such as the women's music festival, who knows. TERFs are given a voice in this, june thomas coddles them by giving reasoning behind why they think the way they do and saying she "understands" it to some degree. she expresses that she disagrees with them but believes they deserve "credit" for the work they've done - which is a little nuts, because most of the lesbian land section highlighted the separatist movement as massive failures that were miserable to be a part of. the lesbian land section ends with a plea to TERFs to re-consider and understand that they are echoing rhetoric that conservatives once used against them. and like... what the fuck? are we pleading with racists to stop being racist? why are we holding their hand about this so much?

i think the transphobic section of the lesbian community is very minor, and i've only really encountered it online - i think it's a generational thing, but i hate that for some reason the greater community as a large is stereotyped as being TERF-y but this kind of "gentle parenting" of transphobes is exactly what gets us to that point.

[Nev · Rating 5 out of 5]

I absolutely love reading books about queer history. It’s so enlightening to learn about queer pioneers, communities, and places from the past. In A Place of Our Own June Thomas writes about six spaces that have had a significant impact on queer women’s history. The spaces are the lesbian bar, feminist bookstore, softball field, rural communes, feminist sex toy stores, and queer vacation spots. The author writes about the history and importance of these places, how they evolved through the decades, and what modern examples are still around.

It was so interesting reading about how feminist bookstores ended up becoming basically like community centers where people came to get information about childcare, jobs, concerts, places to live, and so much more. Or how the women running the sex toy stores didn’t care as much about making a profit as they did about providing education and a comfortable place for women to buy products. It was so sad to read about all these different queer businesses that had operated for decades, but once online retailers took over couldn’t compete and stay afloat.

The book isn’t a memoir, but June Thomas does include bits and pieces of her own experiences. I enjoyed reading about her times visiting some of the bookstores, vacation spots, and her learning about softball’s place in US lesbian culture. Outside of her experiences, there were so many interviews that she conducted with people involved in running the different spaces as well as research from archives, publications, and other sources.

While there is so much love in this book and pointing out the amazing aspects of these spaces, Thomas is also critical of certain facets of some of the businesses, collectives, and teams. She doesn’t shy away from mentioning what spaces were transphobic, racist, or were only interested in catering to well-off white lesbians. I appreciated that the book wasn’t trying to gloss over negative parts of the history.

Definitely check out this book if you’re interested in learning about the history of lesbian spaces, the ways that communities of queer women have evolved over the years, and what spaces by and for queer women still exist today!

Thank you to the publisher for providing an advance copy via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Haylee Perry · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m soooo ahead in book club. I learned a lot! I liked the softball chapter the most!

[Taylor (Virginia Woolf’s Actual Wife)]

Reading the last chapter about gaycation destinations while wearing a Ptown sweatshirt did actually make me feel called out thank you. Excellent work. I love such robust endnotes

[Frieda · Rating 4 out of 5]

an overall charming read that does (i think) a good job of balancing veneration and critique of historic lesbian spaces, including frank discussions of racism and transphobia within them. the author weaves together detailed research along with her own experiences into a book that is both informative and delightfully, unapologetically queer.

[fulcrum · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 ⭐️

[Isabelle Barse · Rating 4 out of 5]

by no means was this the most all-encompassing, inclusive, deep dive into lesbian history but for what it promised I think it really delivered!

[Demi · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Bring back sapphic spaces <3

[Cristina · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Place of Our Own is a great cultural history that dives into prominent queer spaces across the nation that shaped the lesbian community, mainly in the 70s and 80s. While I already knew some of the general information in this book, I was still surprised by a lot of the new information I learned. This book relies a lot on personal accounts which I think gave it an interesting perspective. It touches a lot on the struggle of creating community spaces in a capitalistic society. I also thought it was fun how it (inadvertently?) gives insight into the origins behind some of the stereotypes of the community.

June Thomas pulls from a slew of reference materials, as well as from personal conversations she has had with prominent queer women in these spaces. While this is a cultural history, it does have elements of a memoir as Thomas integrates some of her own experiences and opinions into the chapters. As well as offers up some questions to the readers for contemplation. I liked the narrative style as it really kept my attention.

Going in I was afraid this was going to be a very whitewashed perspective of the lesbian experience. I was glad to see how much consideration was given to how hostile a lot of queer spaces have been towards women of color. However, I do think that lesbians of color were still pushed to the side slightly in the organization of this book. Everything we learn about the black and brown experience came as secondary to the white experience. The chapters start out detailing these spaces, and then will have a paragraph of two to explain how WOC had to form their own version of these spaces. Since they were barred or intimidated out of the most popular areas. It would have been nice if more focus had been given to BIPOC spaces as their own thing rather than as a response.

I did appreciate how June Thomas made sure to include trans and nonbinary identities within the contents of this book, and vocally pushed back against TERF rhetoric within sapphic spaces. A lot of consideration is also given to class differences. I learned a lot and I would definitely recommend this to people trying to learn more about queer history.

[Gabriella · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Place of Our Own is the place to be!!! As the weather is getting warmer and cuffing season is coming to a close, June Thomas’ book is a great reminder of all the “third places” that make being outside worthwhile. I originally found out about this book from an Autostraddle list (I knowww), and was drawn to the historical component. Earlier in 2025, I had a great experience with Krista Burton’s Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America. While Moby Dyke is primarily focused on lesbian bars as they stand today, A Place of Our Own expands the scope of lesbian institutions, and goes further back in time to study these varied places. Thomas identifies six core sites of lesbian placemaking: lesbian bars (and diners/coffeehouses), feminist bookstores, softball leagues, lesbian land projects, feminist sex toy shops, and vacation destinations. Each chapter following the introduction focuses on one of these places—so let’s get into it!

Lesbian Bars (and diners/coffeehouses)
This is perhaps the most expected location to start with, and the one that has the most overlap with Moby Dyke. Fortunately, both Burton and Thomas aren’t too precious about the lost stores, instead choosing to celebrate the ones that are still around. Thomas goes a step further, by celebrating the stores that have now closed for what they meant at the time. Thomas also resists a revisionist history of these bars. She doesn’t shy away from noting certain bars’ exclusionary practices and mistreatment of Black patrons (one such fiasco prompts an interview with Jacqueline Woodson!) She also points to the general challenges of expecting a single bar to serve patrons of different ages, cultures, and social patterns all because they share a sexual identity.

One new piece of the history for me: the prevalence of lesbian diners and coffeehouses around the 1980s. These are the sorts of places I would’ve really enjoyed myself, but again, it makes sense that it was hard for them to succeed for many reasons. In addition to the general mismatch of trying to preserve community centers through for-profit business models, Thomas finds other causes of the closures: gentrification, growing tolerance of lesbians in “straight” bars/diners, and the gradual shift away from lesbian separatism.

Feminist bookstores
Ughhh, what I wouldn’t give to have one of these right by me in Durham!! A few years ago, I thought I was going to break up with my girlfriend and move to Atlanta. A huge motivating factor in that decision was the existence of places like Charis Books & More, which is mentioned by Thomas in this chapter, and Yes, Please, a bookhouse and carespace created for a newer generation. Yes, Please’s founder, Lauren M. Jones, describes the project as “a manifestation of our reverence for black women and gender expansive writers and readers who continue to show us the way forward.” The very idea that people are creating places like Yes, Please and preserving places like Charis immediately told me that I might be able to find kindred spirits in a new city.

For many reasons, I’m glad my move to Atlanta never materialized. However, in this chapter, Thomas proves just how many other lesbians have found a home in feminist bookstores. Especially before the age of the internet, these places were information centers, where people went to learn about political events and new artists. These feminist booksellers were also particularly supportive of indie presses, something I want to get better at. I rarely think about who is publishing the books I read, despite having lots of annoyances with the novels about Black women typically selected by major publishing houses. There is an alternative option, but it will require me being a bit more like these people of the past!

Softball leagues
This was my favorite chapter of the entire book!!! Sadly, my recent (2023-2024) exploits as a sporty dyke came to a screeching halt after an ACL tear. As I continue to walk through the valley of the shadow of delayed recovery, reading about people who are still able to find excitement through recreational sports is so endearing.

Thomas particularly focuses on the association of softball with lesbians, which hasn’t changed, but is just one piece of the puzzle. Basketball is the most lesbian-adjacent sport in most Black circles, and I’ve heard Latine friends say that soccer players face similar rumors of being gay in their communities. Even outside of the racial dynamics, Thomas’ focus on softball just felt a bit dated. Like today, we have people who refuse to watch the WNBA because of all the studs, and the 2015 USWNT roster was literally known as “Alex Morgan and 10 lesbians.” Every single point about lesbianism and softball that Thomas mentioned (ESPECIALLY teammates sleeping with each other) could apply to a plethora of different sports, so I wondered why she didn’t widen the tent.

I don’t want to be too critical though, because I did love Thomas’ thoughts about the importance of rec leagues as non-commercial institutions. Queer sports are one of the few options that don’t require participants to spend money and business owners to stay in the black. You also don’t have to be drunk like at a bar, or super serious like at a bookstore. Compared to other social settings, sports also have clearer rules and strong opportunities for bonding, which I’ve found to be particularly helpful as an autistic person. Thomas also shows how leaving room for fun, levity, and physical movement can help more people enter political movements. This is certainly true of my experience in Durham Queer Sports—I’ve learned about mutual aid campaigns through our group chat, tagged along with other players to protests after a game, and seen many people from soccer at unrelated volunteer events.

These sorts of groups aren’t without their faults, as Thomas mentions. Many of the leagues she profiled had tense arguments about the balance of play and politics, just how much competition was healthy, and how to keep from alienating Black and Brown softball players. However, these challenges are ones that we encounter in nearly every setting in the world. Rather than weakening the importance of these groups, it felt like an honest way to talk about the challenges that made them imperfect for all, but still important for many.

Lesbian land projects
No book of this sort would be complete without talking about the separatist communes!!! While people my age who feign interest in this sort of thing, Thomas rightly notes that the “landdyke” movement peaked in the 1970s-1990s. She does a great job rescuing the baby from the bath water: noting the bigotry of TERF separatists that kept many people from continuing these projects, while also appreciating the “good” that existed in these attempts at communal living. (There also could have been more criticism of the settler colonial influences of these projects, I think.) I enjoyed Thomas’ profile of the founding landdykes as a generation of women who came of age in the postwar period, when many strove to attain suburban homeownership within the idyllic, cishet, nuclear family. It’s inspiring to read about this subset of Baby Boomers who decided to do something very different: to build a place where they could live communally and share resources more equitably.

I also appreciated how this chapter didn’t solely focus on land projects in rural Oregon. There’s lots on those sorts of places, but Thomas also discusses how lesbians practiced communal living in urban contexts. There’s a particular focus on the Furies Collective, who established a group home in Capitol Hill, DC. With the inclusion of some of these more familiar coliving projects, I was able to see how modern practices many friends and I have adopted (like splitting rent/bills proportional to income) are actually aligned with historical projects we didn’t even fully know about. It’s really nice to see these echoes of the past, even in a less separatist time.

Final thoughts
I think the end of this book drags a bit. The final two places, feminist sex toy shops and lesbian vacation destinations, seemed like boxes Thomas had to check, but they just didn’t keep my energy as much as the more inspired coverage of the first four places. To be fair, this could be due to my own biases—I am an asexual homebody who thus hates traveling and avoids most (but not all) sexual interactions with other humans.

Even with the slower penultimate chapters, I think Thomas wraps up the book rather nicely. She pokes fun at lesbians’ proclivity for never letting go of anything, noting that “no other set of human beings spends as much time socializing with exes as lesbian and bisexual women. People who go on vacation with an ex, the exes’ current girlfriend, and that girlfriend’s former partner, not to mention all their dogs, do not let business closures go unnoticed.” Of course, then, it makes sense that we hold onto spaces that accepted us, and bemoan their closures, even when said closures are fairly standard occurrences. After all, Thomas notes, most of the straight bars from 50 years ago are also closed—that is the unfortunate nature of the capitalist beast. The promise of lesbian placemaking, Thomas then argues, is that we can always make new places—ones that better serve our needs, and speak to the changing realities of our communities. That’s encouraging to me, and I hope it will be to others!

P.S. I would recommend the audiobook format! Thomas is a slower-than-average narrator, so you’ll want to speed it up a bit. However, she is a charming vocalist, and will be familiar to many who’ve listened to Slate podcasts in the past.

[Erica · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a really excellent novel about third spaces for Queer women and how vital they have been throughout history and how they continue to evolve and grow. I especially appreciated the acknowledgment of how some lesbians exclude trans folks from these spaces. Overall I loved this and definitely consider it an essential read.

[Leila · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5
This book was super interesting, and the topic was cool to learn about.
I feel like this does not go into as much depth as I would like, it is very much an overview. The author talks a lot about her own experiences, which isn't bad necessarily but I wish more of that time had been dedicated to the history.
Good, good book.

[grace! · Rating 5 out of 5]

i love lesbians i love being a lesbian i love lesbian spaces in chicago i loooooooooove u lesbiaaaaaans!!!!!

[bailey · Rating 5 out of 5]

this book was soooo good. i love all the history of lesbianism and how we got to where we are today. lesbians are awful business owners but also because we are also awful clients/customers. i wish i lived in the bookstore era, i think i singlehandedly couldve kept them alive and open

[cat · Rating 5 out of 5]

So this was wonderful and so enlightening on how lesbians have always carved out their place in a world that has always made it hard for us to exist. I will definitely be supporting some of the incredible businesses that were mentioned in this book.

And maybe join a soft ball league and commune ;)

[Lüdi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Particularly interesting telling of the appeal and issues of 70s lesbian separatism

[Emilie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can’t say how much I loved this! June Thomas moves with dexterity between six historically important sapphic spaces and, with incredible wit and compassion, reveals the women who both shaped and inhabited them.

I love how the spaces she chooses, from rural communes to bars, bookshops, and sex-toy boutiques, all depict a cultural footprint which is specific to queer women. Though bars are often the first queer spaces to spring to mind, Thomas emphasises the factors which have historically pushed women away from finding refuge there. Compounding their restricted economic autonomy, women have also risked their jobs and custody of their children by going to lesbian bars. Not only this but, as the nightlife promoter Maggie Collier said: “Women tend to go out seeking a partner. When they find one, I don’t see them for two years. Then all of a sudden, they break up. You see them at every single party until they find the next [girlfriend], and then they disappear, and the pattern continues.”

Of course, we are all aware that our spaces are continually being shuttered - I’ve only been to a lesbian bar once and experienced it as though it was already gone – but what I love about Thomas’ account is that it is not the usual lament for their decline but a clear reasoning which allows us to understand our history and imagine new spaces.

But who should be included in these spaces? If we insist on separatism, how can we resist fuelling a transphobic culture war? There’s an example in the book which I like a lot and has informed the way I think about this.

In the 1970s, the New York based bar ‘Bonnie & Clyde’ was continually invaded by a frat house across the street and, as it was illegal to refuse entry to someone who was both sober and of age, bar owner Elaine Romagnoli, had to resort to alternate ways of keeping the boys out. Her first attempt, a strict dress-code of a shirt and tie for men, was only a minor deterrent so, instead, she decided to make the bar look as unappealing as possible, allowing rubbish to pile up outside. On their 1978 Christmas card, the bar acknowledged its unconventional appearance with a picture of a smiling server outside a trash-strewn shopfront, reading “Thank you for not judging us by our cover.” Rather than hiding the bar or barring entrance, Romagnoli had managed to advertise only to her intended clientele simply by insisting on a scruffy appearance.

I hope we can now do away with the rubbish while we continue to build new, wonderful places of our own.

[Jillian · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 rounded up

Not really one of my favorite queer women non-fiction, but I think mostly because there is quite literally none of what is described where I live at all. The closest thing we have is actually a d*ke night at a normally for gay men bar this Friday night. (literally, on April 4, 2025).

So I guess I'm admitting that I'm heavily biased and honestly pretty disappointed in the state of my home. The writing was excellent, and I learned a shocking amount - I am still astonished by the "lesbian land" section and the fact that capitalism lead to a feminist sex toy store being bought by a man.

And this isn't a narrative that leaves out trans-women and nonbinary people, in fact Thomas highlights the transparent transphobia from the lesbian land movement in the 1970s/1980s, and comments on how hopeful she is after seeing the new generation despite the disappearing queer women's spaces. At least that's how I read it.

I think this is definitely something that every queer woman could get something out of. I mean there's a whole section on softball (I will never understand this - as I click "notify me" on the next PVF livestream on youtube - Indy Ignite vs Columbus Fury - if its unclear, this is professional volleyball). I definitely now want to try to find anything for queer women in my city, much less my state, as at first glance there are none. I'm hoping that they're just kinda hidden for whatever reason.

I don't think I'll ever tire of reading nonfiction about queer women, whether memoirs or essay collections like this one, or comedic essays like Girls Can Kiss Now: Essays, or a book diving into the history of sapphic couples (Lesbian Love Story). Also I'm just gonna say it now, we get all the pretty covers, and I love it.

If anyone wants to recommend me any queer women or plainly lesbian women nonfiction for me to read please feel free. I make no promises but I would love to look at some more!

[Hunter Green · Rating 5 out of 5]

honestly feeling so inspired & empowered by this one. i think it can be easy w/ current events rn to feel disempowered by the hate in the world, so it was really beautiful to read a history of my community finding each other & developing our own spaces when society actively made it harder to do so. i kind of wish i could go back in time & experience 1980s lesbian culture firsthand, but so much of that still lives on in our spaces today (i’d love to get muddy at a dyke music festival though). but this book served as a great reminder that queer people have always existed & will always exist, & if dykes in the 70s & 80s could create this culture from the foundation up, we can continue to find & create our spaces that already have the foundation laid for us. i love lesbians!!!

[Zoe · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars really ! I really enjoyed learning the history of these lesbian spaces. It was something I didn’t study in college so I feel very grateful to be able to read about them now and understand the history behind my own life experiences. Very well written and certainly captivating. I think that non fiction books are more often than not too dense for my liking, but this one was so jam packed with different information that each chapter felt like its own podcast.

[A · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a fascinating read! I learned a lot about different queer and feminist spaces: bars, bookstores, softball teams, Lesbian Land (rural separatist spaces), feminist sex toy stores, and vacation destinations.

4 stars because I would have loved for the author to go more in depth about BIPOC spaces.

[Lydia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was exactly what I wanted it to be. Thomas manages to provide detailed historical examples throughout its entirety without it ever feeling too dense or like a history textbook. Perhaps the subject matter is partially to blame (given that I cannot recall learning literally any LGBTQ history in school), but I also believe this was due in part to Thomas’ pleasant writing style and tone. She also inserts brief personal stories and opinions when appropriate, adding a level of credibility to her claims. I was especially interested whenever Minneapolis was mentioned; it is hard for me to even imagine these people and places existing in the same streets I frequent today. Overall, it just felt really nice to learn some history for the first time in years.

[Oriel · Rating 4 out of 5]

i wish i was introduced to queer history earlier in my life. also don’t be surprised if i join a softball league one day haha

[Beau · Rating 4 out of 5]

Super good very informative I really learned a lot . This was a good overview of queer women’s history and community spaces that once existed .

[Catherine · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked that Thomas writes the material as if it's a casual conversation, and it's always interesting to learn more about queer women's history

[Kiera LeBlanc · Rating 5 out of 5]

So interesting, informative and readable! I highly recommend.

[Sharon · Rating 4 out of 5]

While the first half was stronger than the second in my opinion, the book is an entertaining and informative guide to queer spaces I will be sure to return to!