And Still We Rise

In this specially commissioned article, Valerie Mason John describes the social conditions that led to the early clubbing movements before those featured in the exhibition

Author: Valerie (Vimalasara) Mason-John.

The social and political landscape of 1970s and 80s Britain was not merely a backdrop for Afro-Caribbean and African communities; it was an active, oppressive force. The state weaponised the now-infamous SUS laws—"Suspect Under Suspicion"—granting police the power to stop and search us at will, invade our homes, and raid our gathering places. This systemic harassment was so pervasive that "SUS" entered our lexicon as a verb, a sharp, knowing code for calling out injustice within our own circles.

In response, Black culture cultivated its own underground. We partied and socialized in dark and dingy Shabeens and Blues Parties—illegal but vital sanctuaries. These were our safe houses, where the air vibrated with the raw social commentary of Toasters (now called MCs) who narrated the realities of London’s streets, the policing, the racism, the injustices.

Within this, Black queer existence faced a dual oppression. We battled not only 

state racism but also the homophobia entrenched in our communities by colonialism, white supremacy, and Christian dogma. Yet, we persisted. Some of us found refuge in illicit clubs like the Hideaway, the Bronx, the Cemetery, while others navigated mainstream Black spaces like the Four Aces, People’s Club,  and or the Q Club, often in the closet and masking our full selves.

Inevitably, we created our own exclusive havens. Pioneers like Denis Carney hosted legendary parties for Black men, while Linda Bellos curated essential spaces for Black women. The late-70s explosion of Soul, Funk, and Jazz began to shift the scene, drawing a new generation into clubs that reluctantly opened their doors to Black clientele. This evolving landscape was captured poignantly in Isaac Julien’s Young Soul Rebels, set in 1977, a film that mirrored the lives of many of us who populated spaces like Global Village, Crackers and Room at the Top.

It is a rich irony that Global Village, that famed Funk and Soul crucible, later transformed into Heaven, London’s most iconic gay club—a space many of us frequented. Yet, we must remember that mainstream lesbian and gay venues of the 80s and 90s were often exclusionary and racist. I know this first hand; I stood picketing outside those very doors that denied entry to Black lesbians, my own body a protest against their hypocrisy.

This resistance blossomed into a golden age from the late 90s to around 2005. It was an era of glorious self-determination. Black gay men and lesbians seized the means of our own nightlife. We had Shugs, run by the formidable Big Pat, and Sauda, founded by African American dancers and Promoters Richelle Donnigan and Pamela Maragh. Promoters like Elaine created the Glass Bar; the legendary DJ Ritu founded Club Kali, a vital cross-cultural hub; and I, myself, held famous gatherings on Nursery Road. Women like Yvonne Taylor, Eddie, and Lorna built the Sistermatic sound at parties and the South London Women’s Centre.

Meanwhile, Black gay men founded seminal spaces: Bootylicious, 1995 - Present, one of the longest-running black gay clubs in London, with Coconut at the Gardening Club a competitor, and the raw energy of B*BE at the Eagle, even as we also navigated wider clubland like Trade.

Beyond dedicated Black gay nights, Black lesbian and queer women found community in a diverse range of spaces, including The Fridge, Eve’s Revenge, Venus Rising, Heds, The Angel, Rackets, and The Bell. Similarly, Black gay men carved out space for themselves within many mainstream—and predominantly white-run—gay venues, such as The Vauxhall Tavern, Fist, Turnmills, Heaven, and The Black Cap. Attendance, however, did not always equate to acceptance; these were often acts of claiming space within a scene that could be exclusionary.

This period was not just about partying; it was the tangible manifestation of our claim to space, joy, and community on our own terms—a hard-won sanctuary forged between the cracks of a society that too often sought to erase us.

Bio:

Valerie (Vimalasara) Mason-John (formerly known as Queenie) Once celebrated as one of Britain’s Black Gay Icons, their legacy includes serving as Artistic Director for the Pride Arts Festival and London Mardi Gras Arts Festival, co-hosting the iconic National Lesbian Beauty Contest and Drag King and Queen Contest, and promoting Europe’s largest women’s club night, Queenie’s at the Fridge in Brixton. Having retired from the party scene, they now work as a trauma and addiction specialist. An acclaimed author and editor of 11 books, they have been hailed by Dr. Ken Hardy as "one of the premier social, cultural, and psychological healers of our time."