By: Kelly Chia, Peak Associate and Maya Barillas Mohan, Staff Writer
As we approach Pride here in “Vancouver,” members of diverse queer communities in Davie Village and Chinatown are still advocating for one another. Many queer walking tours are made to platform queer people’s struggles and joys. To learn more, I read an article from Xtra Magazine where author Robin Perelle and her interviewees reflect on queer spaces. Today, Davie Village is “the heart of gay Vancouver,” but before the ‘80s, queer businesses were scattered throughout Vancouver. Archivist Ron Dutton said, “Gay people could get away with being gay” in places like Chinatown and Gastown.
More visibility meant more harassment. Perelle wrote that in 1974, police “raided at least a dozen more gay bars.” It also meant the community was invigorated to hold one another. Another interviewee, Don Hann, said, “We were asserting our sexuality and claiming space that had never before been available to us.”
I would also like to acknowledge Glenn Tkach’s Really Gay History Tour, which runs once a week. Tkach told The Tyee he wanted to create a tour that was “inclusive of all queer history” that goes beyond the dominance of gay, white men. It shows sites like the Quadra, Vancouver’s first lesbian bar, where some of the city’s first acts to call themselves drag kings performed, and other histories of transgender and Two-Spirit communities.
With so much history before me to reference, I wanted to highlight the community that exists today. I started in Chinatown. Historically a place where Black, Chinese, and Indigenous people experienced rampant discrimination, Chinatown is also built on treasuring community among immigrants and other marginalized groups. Kimberley Wong, program manager at Hua Foundation, embraced their Chinese queer identity while “heaving crying” watching local drag queen, Maiden China, in Chinatown.
Gina’s
My first stop was Gina’s, a sapphic “for queers, by queers” event space which holds karaoke nights. It is only open on Sundays from 6:00 p.m.–11:00 p.m., but as I drew up to the glass, I saw Gina’s was closed.
“No oppression, No violence, No hate speech,” the sign instructs patrons. “Allies are welcome but should be mindful of the fact that they are in a queer establishment meant to centre and be safe for queer people of marginalized genders.”
When I contacted owner Valeria Velazquez to ask her about Gina’s, she told me she opened the spot because “there needed to be a space that was a little bit more chill than the alternative,” something with less of a “party scene.” It’s a space designed with talking in mind; Gina’s is a close-knit community knit together by Velasquez and her girlfriend.
In 2025, Velazquez told Daily Hive, “From my immigration process, to burnout, to this city’s red tape, capacity limits, event restrictions, and the expectations and pressures that come with holding a space like this, it’s been hard to sustain the dream we had for this place.”
“Queer spaces aren’t just about walls or locations; they go beyond that. Even if physical spaces close, our queerness and our community persist.”
— Valeria Velazquez, owner of Gina’s
Gina’s operating hours had slimmed, and now the doors have shuttered. On July 22, Velazquez announced that Gina’s would be closing. In face of this, Velazquez says, “Queer spaces aren’t just about walls or locations; they go beyond that. Even if physical spaces close, our queerness and our community persist.”
After a short bus out of Chinatown, I arrived on Davie Street. The whole area is decked out in pride flags. Hardware stores and drug stores stock prosaic merchandise like screws and nails, but the windows boast a vibrant display. Rainbows drip from white paint cans, with pride flag crêpe paper curling down from the ceiling to graze nylon plastic flowers bloomed across the scene.
Little Sisters
Little Sister’s bookstore is the first queer bookstore in Western Canada. It was where 2SLGBTQIA+ community members “discussed the happenings during the AIDS epidemic.” In 1987, it was bombed in a hate crime that thankfully didn’t kill anyone. Little Sister’s was also at the helm of an important landmark case. The late original storeowners Jim Deva and Bruce Smythe noticed their shipments from the US would sometimes arrive damaged or missing. They challenged the Canada Border Services Agency for violating their freedom of expression and won in 2000. The Supreme Court of Canada agreed Little Sister’s had been discriminated against.
Still, through legal and physical threats, the bookstore has survived as an important space for the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. “I think it will be here long term,” current owner and longtime friend of Deva and Smythe Don Wilson told CBC.
When I visited the store I was amazed by the bright displays of colourful packaging. I spoke with cashier Aurora Jones, who explained that as e-commerce took centre stage, many bookstores were forced to pivot their business models.
Compared to the primarily literature-based stock in the past, they now “have clothing, adult novelty, sex toys,” Jones said. “We still have a pretty diverse collection of fiction, non-fiction, and used books.” Looking through the magazines and used books from different time periods, the store has an archive suffused into its contemporary collection. “People bring collections from back when they were shopping in the ‘80s, so more generations can enjoy stuff from that time.”
“Little Sister’s has been able to survive this long because of the community and because people just keep coming back to support this smaller business.”
— Aurora Jones, cashier, Little Sisters
Aware of the space’s legacy and how it serves the community, Jones focuses on the current responsibilities of the shop. “Little Sister’s has been able to survive this long because of the community and because people just keep coming back to support this smaller business.” This includes “parents looking for information about their kids who have come out to them,” he added. Davie is “definitely a community that’s not ashamed to be who they are,” but many other places “could stand to be a little more open and honest with themselves.”
The Junction
The Junction is a bar with a dance floor that runs a variety of events. A drag show was happening that night (they happen every night!), but the patio by the host stand was open to non-ticketholders. It was my first visit. We sipped our drinks there as we watched attendees filter in, many wearing extravagant outfits themed around video game characters.
I spoke to Imelda Mae Santos, a performer about to go on stage that night, over the roar of the crowd audible from inside. “I’ve been here for a long time.” She gestured at me: with a chuckle and said I was “not even born.” I asked her what her favourite part about performing is, and she enthusiastically responded, “It’s just a rush. I love being a performer, I really do!”
I asked for a photo of Santos before she went off to perform. “My hair’s not done!” she said, but I thought her blue iridescent makeup was immaculate.
I also spoke to a bartender, name tag reading Mikheel, wondering what it’s like to work somewhere so alive. He recounted a broad audience, too; young people, seniors, families with babies visit in the daytime. “Everyone’s here, everyone’s welcome.”
But around 10:00 p.m., it becomes an adult-only space. “Nightclub mode,” Mikheel said. “We have drag shows every night. This is like the drag show central.” The Junction also has other events: queer improv, bingo, trivia shows, and more. Mikheel told me with a smile that “most of the community events happen here.” The Junction has been renamed over the years, but the space has been a hub for queer people for a long time.
Numbers
Numbers has a cool multi-story build because it was once a residential building. You can still see traces of this, like the stained glass windows on the walls, details the about page explains were “from the late 1800s and early 1990s.” My visit was brief but enjoyable. I suspect it teems later into the night. According to their website, Numbers hosts frequent themed drag shows and nostalgia nights, “welcoming generations of guests who come to dance, connect, and celebrate freely.”
Walking along Davie, I was pleased to see the assortment of queer businesses old and new. I learned a lot about how important pride is for resistance. Everyone I spoke to or interacted with was deeply enthusiastic about their work and role in building a welcoming community, proud of the scene that exists today.
