Picture this: it’s 2024 and you’re walking down a busy street when you spot a rainbow-coloured flag fluttering from the windows of a crowded pub, where Kylie’s ‘Padam Padam’ plays in the background. No longer hidden behind a secret code, this is clearly advertised as a queer bar.

Without realising it, the atmosphere pulls you into the jammed pub, and suddenly, you’re having the time of your life.

However, it has not always been this way. From the 1950s through the late 1970s and beyond in some cases, any form of non-normative sexuality faced strict persecution, often with severe, even deadly, repercussions.

For this reason, coded messages and subtle symbols became the only safe way for queer people and bars to identify themselves. LGBTQ+ people would still gather in bars and meet their equals, however, more discretely. 

But what were the coded messages that helped queer businesses and consumers identify among themselves? What exactly happened inside clandestine queer bars? 

Imagine a queer person in the past, strolling down the streets of London in search of a suitable local bar. If a jukebox was playing tunes from Judy Garland or Marlene Dietrich, they would identify that as a good sign.

As they get closer to the bar, on the left corner of the window they notice a small pink triangle. They had just hit the nail on the head. 

Only those in certain circles would know the origin of symbols like the inverted pink triangle, which was initially used by the Nazis to identify gay, bisexual, and transgender people in concentration camps. The symbol was revived in the ‘70s as a protest emblem against homophobia.

What other kind of decorations could they be looking for? As they take a closer look inside through the window, they identify a peacock feather, highly associated with extravagance, displayed on the wall next to the bar. 

Say no more. They step inside to explore the surroundings. The decor is full of references. If it had been the early ‘90s, a couple of Oscar Wilde’s plays would adorn the ornamental furniture in the back, next to a vase filled with violets. An art piece by Carl Van Vetchen, with its floral compositions, could also have been easily identifiable at some point in history as another coded message. 

They start thinking about how Oscar Wilde queer-coded himself, famously wearing a green carnation as a signifier of his identity, just like the person sitting by the bar counter. There was a time when a special shop in London sold these green carnations, dyed and unnatural looking. The fact that they were a vibrant green instead of white was not unintended, as they accentuated queerness. 

Over time, many more symbols emerged. For instance, the lavender rhinoceros with a red heart, which symbolised strength and resilience against adversity, first appeared in Boston around the 1970s.

The pair in the bar make eye contact and decide to sit next to each other. If they needed a little more information ahead of their pursuit, they could see if the other had handkerchiefs hanging from their pockets. These denoted more specific sexual interests, such as their preferred practices, positions, fetishes, or kinks. 

In the ‘50s, the conversation may have gone something like this: one of them would make the first move and ask the other if they would like a ‘bevvy’ – a Polari word for ‘drink’. Polari is a Lavender language from the UK, invented to help members of the community identify themselves while avoiding detection and, therefore danger. 

As they take the first sip of beer and say how ‘bono’ (good) it is, they look over and see a young New Yorker, wearing a long sleeve dress that demurely covers their wrists. However, if you pay close attention, you might catch a glimpse of a nautical star tattoo engraved on their skin, a motto associated with the lesbian community.

They can’t help but imagine how many of their equals throughout history have been through the same situation, developing extraordinary codes to avoid attracting attention. They prepare for the fight that will take place over the next decades, which will eventually allow us to live the lives we do today – out and proud as our true selves.