Dancing Outside The Lines

Queer Country Night
Johnny Brenda's
1201 Frankford Ave.
Philadelphia
Oct. 19, 2024

“My name is Donkey, I use they/ them pronouns, and I am your host for the night,” a denim-clad cow-dude told a room full of non-conforming honky-tonkers before leading a lesson on line dancing for dummies.

Donkey Dover Jr. regularly delivers that introduction at “Baby’s First Rodeo,” the traveling “queer country night” that gets even the most leftist of left-feets “walk, walk, walk, kick — slide, slide, slide”—ing across Philly.

I checked out the scene during their latest event Saturday night at Johnny Brenda’s. I went for live country music, but stayed for the dancing. I also stayed, in part, for the kicks and giggles that come along with watching mostly gay millennials trying to straighten out their complicated relationships with America’s most-loaded musical genre.

In between performances from bands with names like Fist City and The Bootstrap Boys, Dover told us what the dance night was all about: “I wanna get started by putting us in a queer lineage,” he stated. “Nightlife spaces aren’t just about recreation. They’re about self-determination and community care.”

My dance partner for the night, a 20-something friend fresh off a two-night bender of back-to-back Bladee concerts, scoffed. Self-determination, they had determined, does not arrive in the form of babied-down buzzwords or faux-familial ties. Couldn’t we just dance, already?

Needless to say, when Dover announced, “I wanna go ahead and call out the elephant in the room — I’m wearing last night’s clothing,” that same friend was the first to boast out loud: “Same here!” Minutes later, my friend was frantically memorizing dance moves, marching in their dirtied merch accumulated from Swedish rap shows. Their Salomon shoes fit in just fine among the crowd of cowboy boots, whether they liked it or not.

After our first round of kicking to Brooks & Dunn’s "Boot Scootin’ Boogie," and before launching into the same routine to an unmemorable Kacey Musgraves’ track, Dover — who moonlights as a high school science teacher — let us in on another life lesson. When you dance in unison, they said, mirror neurons light up in your brain, which feels like “a big hug.”

That’s the reason armies march in place, Dover declared.

My friend shot me a dirty look. Time to buy them a drink.

Everybody nowadays wants to debate what counts as “country” music. And countless pop stars (Beyoncé, Post Malone, Lana Del Rey) are cashing in on the moment by exploring their own takes on twang.

I was ready to write an article critiquing the country playlists, covers and original songs staged at Baby’s First Rodeo. But it didn’t take long to realize that the people who showed up weren’t there for the music — they were there to dance where it felt safe to do so.

After throwing back a few beers, I threw off my work jacket and joined in. An hour in, everyone was moving together; the balcony and stage floor alike were shaking with straight lines of stompers unwilling to stop, sliding in time without Donkey Dover Jr. leading the way.

We didn’t need Dover to explain it any better — our mirror neurons were flashing away. The Bootstrap Boys rocked the house, but that's all I can say. I was too busy focusing on my own two feet when they came on stage.

At the end of the night, I realized I had lost my coat, and therefore my wallet, somewhere in the packed venue. I searched for it in a panic, then realized someone had kindly hung it up by the D.J. table.

“That’s one thing I like about queer people,” my friend joked. “I always feel safe leaving my stuff lying around."

Drunk on the glory of our new moves, we finished the night with some big-boy burgers served at Johnny Brenda's downstairs tavern. I marveled at the focus of line cooks flipping patties with supple flair — and felt fullness over the perfection that comes with serving certain skills straight-up, frills or no frills.