Is just being fabulous enough? A passerby looks at a sign at #WeAreTheBlackCap protest outside the Black Cap on Camden High St, April 18 2015 (Image by paulgrace-eventphotos.co.uk)
The protest against the shock closure of the Black Cap yesterday (April 18 2015) was galvanising and important in several ways.
As I wrote earlier today, it very visibly demonstrated the strength of feeling around the closure from the LGBTQ community and beyond, and reinforced constructive links between the Cap’s defenders and Camden council and police force.
But it didn’t set out a roadmap for the longterm goals or strategy of the #WeAreTheBlackCap, as the campaign has become known.
That’s perfectly reasonable. Shock, grief and anger naturally come before forward planning and it’s important to express them – especially when it’s done as passionately and peacefully as was the case yesterday.
All the same, many are now asking themselves how the campaign can move on – or even whether it should move on. Is the Black Cap a lost cause or a cause to fight for?
Was yesterday’s protest a wake or an awakening?
I think it should be the latter. Mostly because I think there’s a strong chance of retaining the Black Cap site as a space of LGBTQ socialising, performance and community – not necessarily the Cap as we’ve known it, but a space with those qualities all the same.
But I also believe that, even if the fight to preserve the Black Cap site as such as space is ultimately in vain, it’s a terrific opportunity to build the ideas, skills and solidarity that are needed for any such struggle to defend a space of independent or alternative culture or community.
Whatever the fate of the Black Cap, it won’t be the last such struggle.
So here are nine ideas for how to take the campaign forward. But before I do that, a few provisos.
• My knowledge of planning law, council regulations and so on is very much a work in progress. I might have misunderstood the fine detail of one bit of law or another but can only argue in good faith from my understanding to date. There are also still many unanswered questions about the status of the property that might render these ideas irrelevant.
• I don’t suggest that any of these ideas are unprecedented, I don’t claim any ownership over them, and I don’t propose to take personal responsibility for their enactment. Ideas like them have worked for other campaigns. They might work here too. They might not. Some will apply to everyone, some will require special knowledge or abilities. They’re intended as food for thought and conversation starters. If you like the sound of them, go for it.
• At yesterday’s protest, some suggested trying to occupy the Black Cap. I’m inclined against that idea – not because I think such action is always wrong but because, in this particular case, the campaign has good relations with police and local authorities, which could be a huge asset as the situation develops. I’d be wary of jeopardising those relations without very good cause.
So, let’s get to it.
Titti La Camp at #WeAreTheBlackCap protest outside the Black Cap on Camden High St, April 18 2015 (Image by paulgrace-eventphotos.co.uk)
1. Sign the petition
A nice easy one to start with. Camden LGBT Forum director Nigel Harris and local Labour councillor Danny Beales have started a change.org petition to reopen the Black Cap. At the time of writing, it’s attracted nearly 3000 supporters. Let’s get those numbers right up in the name of making the Black Cap’s plight as visible as possible. Sign it and share it. Simples.
2. Unify the #WeAreTheBlackCap campaign
Yesterday’s protest made it clear that rather than a single Black Cap community, there are lots of group who care passionately about the venue but don’t necessarily know each other very well. That’s not surprising given the Cap has been there for half a century. All the same, it should change.
I don’t mean everyone should expect to be bosom buddies or even have the same ideas about the goals and strategy of the movement at this early stage. But all the groups who care about the Cap should be in conversation with each other.
Spike Rhodes has already decided for that reason to fold the Facebook group that he started four years ago, Save Our LGBT Community – Save Our Black Cap, into the Facebook group that sprang up after last week’s closure and was the springboard for Saturday’s protest, #WeAreTheBlackCap, which everyone who’s able to should join and contribute to as an initial place to share information and ideas.
Getting to know each other could be as simple as a YouTube search. If you’re a Fongette who doesn’t know the Familyyy Fierce, why not look them up? Here’s a good one to start, an introductory video by QUEAM. If you’re a Familyyy fanatic who doesn’t know Regina Fong, give her a Google. Here she is giving a drag masterclass on Channel 4’s Club X back in the day.
3. Get your arguments straight – whatever they are
Whatever disagreements we might have – and I don’t expect you to agree with all the ideas or arguments in this post – we all believe one thing that profit-oriented developers don’t: our spaces matter.
Obviously we all need to explore thoughts and opinions without knowing whether they really stand up. We have to take ideas for a walk to see how well they work. And we all change our minds about things.
But ultimately it’s really valuable to make the effort to thrash out where you stand on the situation and boil it down to a few key lines you can articulate quickly and clearly.
If that sounds like being a politician, well, it sort of is. Every one of us is an advocate for the Cap and we need to be able to convince people who don’t see its value why they’re wrong – whatever our particular angle on that might be.
For instance, here are two arguments I happen to believe:
• It’s a red herring to say that LGBTQ venues like the Cap have to be commercially viable to survive and the best thing we can do to support them is use them as consumers.
Yes, it’s true our venues have to stay afloat economically. And we should absolutely use them as much as we can. But the Cap was bringing in plenty of money and that didn’t save it.
When it comes to situations like the Cap’s, it’s not really about commercial viability – the capacity to run at a profit rather than a loss – at all. It’s about what will make the greatest possible amount of money. And in central London today, that’s not likely to be a gay pub, however well managed and well supported. Unless you happen to be on Old Compton St (and even that’s not certain), investors are simply bound to get a better return on the site from commercial retail and high-end flats.
The best way to defend a space you love isn’t just to treat it like a consumer. It’s to take responsibility for finding out who owns it, what their plans are and what can be done to protect the space if those plans suck.
• In the absence of other LGBTQ community services, there’s a good economic argument for subsidising spaces like the Black Cap.
As human beings, we all need spaces where we can feel safe, relaxed and able to express ourselves freely, and we need contact with people who understand and empathise with us. Those things are as important to our mental health as exercise and a good diet are to our physical health.
The loss of the Black Cap means many LGBTQ people – who we know are at higher risk of depression and suicide – will lose access to those vital things. They will face a higher risk of isolation, alienation, depression and anger, possibly resulting in acute mental-health problems, drug use or violence against themselves and others. We also know reports of homophobic and transphobic hate crime are on the rise, and the absence of safe spaces exacerbates this situation.
Closing places like the Cap ends up costing far more in health, social-services and law-enforcement spending than the cost of keeping them running.
As I say, you might disagree with these arguments but they can’t just be dismissed – they have to be argued against. And winning arguments helps things go your way in, for instance, council planning departments.
Arguments matter. So get yours straight.
4. Convince the Black Cap’s new owners that reopening it as an LGBTQ performance pub is in their best interests
From what I can gather, the new owners of the Black Cap site haven’t done their homework.
They don’t seem to have realised that, as of this Easter, a pub’s owner can’t just turn it into retail space at will. Nor do they seem to have anticipated the Cap getting asset of community value status, recognising its importance as an LGBTQ community and performance venue. Overcoming either of those obstacles needs the council’s approval. But they don’t seem to have realised the council are big fans of the Cap.
Nor do the new owners seem to have understood how angry so many people across London would be at the Black Cap’s closure.
So basically they’re going to have an uphill struggle to get permission to reopen the venue as anything other than an LGBTQ pub and performance space – and a massive PR headache if they even try. (There’s always the option of peaceful protests outside the offices of companies apparently involved in the sale, such as Faucet Inn, Common Ground Finance or Camden Securities LLP.)
Given that the Cap was making plenty of money before it got shut down, perhaps some #WeAreTheBlackCap supporters who know about such things could put together a sample business plan to show the new owners why business as usual – or something like it – just might be their best bet.
5. Meet Me At The Black Cap! Let’s keep the site alive
Just because the doors have closed, doesn’t mean the Black Cap can’t continue to be a site of LGBTQ community and culture.
Yesterday’s event showed how interested – and often deeply sympathetic – many Camden locals are to the fate of a pub that is a prominently located local landmark but whose inside they’ve never actually seen. A large number of people of all walks of life asked what was happening and were almost all aghast to find out.
Why not keep that conversation going? Why not have a regular presence on the street outside the venue, perhaps every Saturday afternoon? Not big events like yesterday’s – though they might still be good once in a while – just a regular feature of the high street.
We could call it Meet Me At The Black Cap and it could combine information about the campaign with pop-up performances, artworks, displays of objects and photographs, guest speakers – and most of all chats with passersby. We could even collect their stories about what the Cap means to them, to demonstrate how broad its influence really is.
As long as they’re informed, I don’t see why the police and council should object to, say, a regular stall managed by two or three glamorously attired volunteers. There could be a weekly rota for such volunteers, who might sign up for a few dates over the course of the coming year – get them locked in now while the motivation is strong. The police LGBT liaison could be on speed dial in the event of trouble.
As well as explaining and building support for the campaign, a regular presence like that would show the new owners the Cap’s supporters aren’t going away. It would provide a friendly way to build connections between the LGBTQ community and the wider community. And it would demonstrate the site’s continued relevance, which could be crucial if the owner tries to leave the site dormant and let the clock run out on ACV status, which lasts until 2020.
Plus the time is right for an outdoor idea – summer’s coming!
6. Let’s put on a show
As I’ve mentioned, different groups who love the Black Cap could do with getting to know each other better. And there’s plenty of curiosity in the wider community about what the culture of the Cap is actually like.
At the same time, we want to keep the pub’s situation in the public eye (speaking of which, keep getting those public endorsements from prominent names). And if we’re in this for the long haul, there’ll need to be some cash in the campaign kitty.
So how about a big show?
It should be somewhere local – perhaps Koko if they can be persuaded to waive commercial rates? – and could build on the successful model of the Regina Fong Galas, using the iconic performer’s work as a springboard to celebrate the Cap’s history as the Palladium of Drag both within the Cap community itself and to London as a whole. It could involve performances from veteran acts, the new generation and maybe some big names too.
Anyone got Paul O’Grady’s number? Does Ian McKellen still have that Widow Twanky costume…?
7. Connect #WeAreTheBlackCap with other groups that believe our spaces matter
The issues affecting the Black Cap are basically the same as those affecting other threatened LGBTQ venues, other local pubs, other spaces of independent and alternative culture and community – anywhere, really, that sees money as a means to an end, not an end in itself.
The Cap campaign should continue to foster links with groups that believe our spaces matter – campaigns around other threatened Faucet Inn pubs like the Sir Richard Steele and the Dartmouth Arms, other LGBTQ venues like RVT Future and The Joiners Lives On, Save Soho, the campaigns to defend Camden Market, Brixton Arches, the New Era estate group and so on and so on.
Sadly, there’s no shortage.
Linking with such groups can help in practical ways, by sharing knowledge and expertise; in emotional ways, by providing moral support; and in strategic ways. The bigger the overall movement gets, the stronger each part of it becomes.
8. Get yourself to campaigning boot camp
No, it’s not an actual place (though maybe it should be…? UPDATE: it is! Check it out here). But a bit of digging can reap dividends.
We can learn from researching the experiences of successful campaigns like the one to save the Ivy House in Nunhead.
We can read around ideas related to the corporate takeover of urban space, or about strategies of peaceful and even funny resistance and change that have worked in the past. On my reading list at the moment are US academic Sarah Schulman’s The Gentrification of the Mind, about how the AIDS crisis indirectly led to the demise of queer rebellion; and Non-Violent Struggle: 50 Crucial Points by CANVAS, a group that helped bring down Serbian dictator Slobodan Milosevic through laughter.
And we can learn from other performer-activists with track records of getting shit done. Top of the list is the hilarious, magnetic and effective Reverend Billy, who works with his Stop Shopping Choir to push back against consumerism, climate change and injustice. They’ve crashed Disney World, performed an exorcism of BP from Tate Modern and been to jail a bunch of times.
Check out their website, book now for their show at Wilton’s Music Hall on May 2, and watch out for Reverend Billy’s Five Ways Performers Can Become Activists here at Not Television tomorrow.
9. Think long and think big
What should #WeAreTheBlackCap’s ultimate goals be? And the ultimate goals of all those who believe our spaces matter?
In terms of the Black Cap campaign, there are probably too many unknown factors to answer that now, but it’s a question we all need to be thinking about. (Community ownership of the Cap comes to my mind – but that would be a mission, to say the least, and beyond the scope of this blog post!)
And the bigger picture? I wonder if we need a concerted city-wide strategy to try to get the law changed before it’s too late and there’s literally nowhere interesting left.
It can’t go on like this. If we want London to remain a place of innovation, culture and community, then one way or another – and no, I don’t pretend to know how – rent must be brought down and spaces vital to people’s happiness and wellbeing have to be better protected.
Those, or something like them, have to be the ultimate goals, whatever happens in the case of individual spaces.
That’s why I believe that, even if the worst has happened and we have lost the Black Cap forever, campaigning on its behalf would still be worthwhile.
It would help us learn skills and build connections that will be vital for defending other venues we love. And it would allow us to reach more people across our society and convince them why our spaces matter.
The more often things like the closure of the Cap happen, the more the idea spreads that something is deeply wrong.
The more the evidence piles up that profit-driven developers and those who enable them simply don’t believe our spaces matter, the more powerful our case becomes.
Eventually – and I think we have to believe this or sink into despair – the day must come when our society really starts to ask why the onus has to be on us.
Why do we have to move heaven and earth again and again trying to prove that our spaces – the spaces that are vital to the existence of happy, healthy communities – can work on the market’s terms, and otherwise lose them forever?
Why shouldn’t the onus be on the market to prove that it can function without destroying thriving local spaces and tearing the heart out of our communities?
To my mind, that’s the ultimate goal. That’s where our eyes must be fixed. That’s the fuel in the engine of #WeAreTheBlackCap – whatever shape that fierce and fabulous vehicle is going to take.
