Ya’ll, I have a confession: I’ve had the Big Sads.
I doubt this is a huge surprise to anyone who knows me, even just a little. My dad died a few months ago. I’ve cancelled all of my social obligations that I organize. I’ve withdrawn into my house, withdrawn into my phone, scrolling myself into numbness. I am self aware enough to recognize what is happening: I’ve gone back on anti-depressants. I’m back to therapy.
(An aside: My therapy costs $250 per session and does not take insurance. I’ve been seeing her for six years and her price slowly went up from $150. I find so much value in what I get from our sessions. I trust her and secretly wish we could be friends.
But. But $250 is a lot of money. Every time I schedule therapy, I think about it. It is quantified: I am $500 of sad. That is $500 less towards house projects that need to be done, $500 less towards credit cards that I’m working to pay off.)
And it was with this frame of mind where I was prior to this Friday: I was dreading my side gig. I was kind of an asshole to my stepmom when she asked if I was looking forward to it, saying something about it being fun and easy money. I get to dance around, talk to people, and come home.
It actually is more than that. I am the St. Louis Ambassador for the Early Birds Club Dance Party. It is a cool job, but that does not mean I am a cool person. I am too earnest to be cool, I talk too much to be cool, and I can’t always tell when people are joking.
I was scrolling Reddit maybe 18 months ago and I came across a clip: a packed, dim, dance floor full of women, all singing at the top of their lungs and dancing their hearts out. I had a Tina Fey moment:
So, I Googled the organization to see if there were any in St. Louis. It was founded in Chicago and it had made it ways to both coasts, but not yet St. Louis. I emailed the general info email and told them that if they ever come to St. Louis, please email me and I’d love to part of it. I promptly forgot all about it until around six months later, saying they were going to start parties in St. Louis and would I like to apply to be an Ambassador?
Yes. Absolutely yes.
A little background about these parties, as you may have seen or heard of similar concepts: this is a dance party aimed at women and gender-expansive folks (“gender expansive” — what a great term. It can mean anything you want it to mean, which is the beauty of it.) It ends at 10 pm because we got sh*t to do in the morning. It was founded by two women, Laura and Susie, after reconnecting on the dancefloor of their high school reunion— they wanted a dance party to encapsule safety and freedom “without the late-night drama, judgment, or creeps.” Susie passed away in 2025. 10% of all ticket sales go towards nonprofits that support women and gender expansive folks.
If you see similar things come across your algorithms because you have learned about this, please note: those are corporate posers. They are corporations that churn out dance parties based on whatever is popular at the moment, whatever fresh idea someone else has. They give nothing back to nonprofits.
This was my first solo party. Laura had trained me at the two prior. Despite feeling sad, I felt prepared and ready. I got there an hour early and checked in with both the amazing DJ (AgileOne) and the staff of Delmar Hall. Everything looked great.
I greeted people as they came in, complimenting outfits, taking photos for anyone doing selfies. I love doing this. I love the freedom to just be nice, to not have it perceived as wanting something or having an agenda.
And when the DJ started playing Dolly’s “9 to 5” and almost every person simultaneously hit the dance floor at once, that is when my energy shifted, and the energy of the evening took over.
It’s magical.
Early Birds Club at Delmar Hall, 10/23/26
For the first half of the evening, I think people perceive me as a kind and helpful civilian: not quite putting together the Early Birds Club shirt that I wear. I get up at the midway point in the night and talk for a few minutes, giving the DJ time to use the bathroom (I hope the glamour isn’t ruined too much with divulging this secret) as well as sharing about the organization.
I also give out the bubble guns to use. People love bubble guns.
During this half time speech, I talked about:
How special the group is (which I honestly believe)
How hard 2026 has been, how sad and angry I’ve been
How important it is to have a safe space for women and gender expansive people
And I hope you have fun tonight, find joy and community, and remember who the fuck you are
The second half of the show, I am hugged. In a constant and lovely way, as women and other people walk by me and express their joy and happiness for the evening.
Before I get into that, I have other nonbinary people sometimes ask me about the whole “women and gender expansive” thing. Do I police that? Am I looking for men to kick to kick out? The answer is absolutely no. First off, you can’t tell gender by just looking at someone. Anyone who attends, I assume that they are there because they fit into one of those categories. And there are people who attend who look traditionally masculine, who dance their hearts out and have fun and are welcomed there with everyone else.
Here are a few stories from the evening:
There was a former university dance team there, a group of women who couldn’t make their college reunion the week prior and decided to meet there instead. All of them heaped praises on the party, and one of them shared that she has never felt so safe in any social situation before. She’s been a bartender for over 20 years, and she never feels this safe.
Another woman was more blunt. “It’s amazing to dance without having to worry about someone pressing a penis into my ass!”
The staff told me they enjoy this evening as well. Everyone is nice to them. “Usually, the crowd stinks. It doesn’t stink in here tonight.”
Dove pointed out to me that people left their drinks unattended, something you really shouldn’t do no matter where you are, but it reflects the level of perceived safety.
Here is what I’ve been trying to parse: is it possible to have an event like this, a dance party with the same vibe and level of comfort and level of safety, and include men?
It feels misogynistic to say no off the bat. (“I like men! Some of my best friends are men! I’m related to men!”) So what has to shift for it to be possible?
I think, at the heart of it, men and women go dancing for different reasons. You never hear of a group of straight men who all want to go dancing - but with each other, for the joy of dancing and being present with music.
This isn’t a new challenge. It’s the reason why straight women have historically encroached on gay dance spaces— it’s safer without the cis straight men.
And this, this is where the patriarchy fucks everyone over. It is sad that men can’t dance with their friends without people making gay jokes. It is sad that they can’t enjoy dancing without it being sexualized, without something inherently predatory being read into it. Hey men, want to be a good feminist? You should go dancing with your homies.
Because ya’ll are missing out. I don’t think every single man has to love dancing, just as I don’t think every single gender expansive or woman should love dancing. But I think it should be an option for you. I think you should know the joy of singing along to every song, of moving your body without being judged, of feeling like a part of something bigger.
At the end of the night, one woman pulled me close, talking too close to my ear to be heard above the music. “This is the most fun I’ve had since my mom died,” she shares, and I hug her. I didn’t say it back in the moment, but I felt it just the same: This is the most fun I’ve had since my dad died.
