Through bustling streets with techno music blasting, women hold onto their friends amid the franticly drunk crowd on one of Melbourne’s busiest hubs: Chapel St.

A girl pulls me by the hand along the sidewalk, our arms hooked in each other’s. We’re not too dissimilar to the girls surrounding us – while something about them is distinctly straight, they make us feel safe as queer women in a hubbub of drunk people.

Inevitably, a group of men holler from their car, “Lesbians! Ewww!” with animated expressions of disgust, their fingers a direct arrow to our joined hands.

If one of Melbourne’s most popular streets isn’t safe to walk down as a lesbian, then where is?

All images are photographed and edited by Jessÿ R Brown.

Jessÿ Brown is the organiser of Third Rodeo­­­­, a lesbian/queer social event hosted in various hired-out bars in so-called Australia. Their vision is to change things up: to bring us queerness, to bring us lesbianism in public spaces.

Following their 2024 ‘Homoween’ event, Brown reflected that they wanted to show the community “a night to dress, to undress, to dance, to be surrounded by good company, to fall in love again and again.”

Before our weekly lesbian soccer game, I chatted to Brown about Third Rodeo’s “little bit luxe, little bit sophisticated, little bit sexy” vibes. They jokingly calling Third Rodeo “a planet”, referencing the iconic lesbian venue from The L Word.

Brown holds an ambitious dream for their budding lesbian community, which celebrated its first birthday in late 2024 – they see it evolving into “a cafe in the morning, [with] yoga and study sessions [during the day], and then bar at night to meet new people.”

At my first Third Rodeo event, I meekly approached Brown and gushed over my appreciation for this community. I told them how I’d never had a space like this before, and how safe and loved I felt just being in the room. I thanked them for creating the type of inclusive lesbian space I had always dreamt of.

Third Rodeo is more than just an event to me – it’s a space to be myself, and to be surrounded by people I love, whether I just met them or have known them for years. It’s a community of growth, understanding and connection. It’s more than a business; it’s a beautiful family. I believe I can safely assume other patrons feel the same, and I have no doubt it’ll grow beyond the beauty it is now.

Third Rodeo was born from “a silly TikTok” – a proposal to Melbourne queers pondering the question: what is stopping us from creating more queer spaces? Moreover, it served as their introduction to Melbourne’s lesbian scene, as Brown had recently moved here from Sydney.

Never did they expect the exponential growth of Third Rodeo.

“I mean, the first ever meetup I had was this coffee meetup, and I thought there was going to be like 10 people, but there was like 65 people that came, and that’s when I was like, holy shit.”

The need for lesbian spaces isn’t something new. These spaces have existed in Melbourne throughout history. But, as I see it, we seem to have lost the art of what Brown is recreating – the “street corner, [the] grand den, mysterious yet delightful … air perfumed of citrus and smoke … sounds of clinking glasses of sweet lipstick stains”, as laid out in another one of their sensual event invitations.

Historically, lesbian spaces have also been plagued by ‘gold star’ gatekeeping and transphobic rhetoric, especially with TERFs seeking to exclude trans, non-binary and intersex lesbians. As a non-binary-led, gender-affirming space, Third Rodeo forges a brighter path in creating inclusive spaces that welcome all lesbians.

As someone who has been judged for not being a ‘gold star’ lesbian, I find Brown’s commitment to inclusion very refreshing.

“I would never, ever, ever circulate that kind of limiting language,” says Brown. “[Being a ‘gold star’] doesn’t make you more lesbian.”

Soren Smith, patron of Third Rodeo, has never doubted Third Rodeo’s inclusivity either: “Even in the early days, I never felt like I wasn’t welcome as a trans-masc lesbian.”

At Third Rodeo’s Homoween event, they had a costume competition with three categories: masculine, feminine and gender non-conforming. “I was dressed fem but identify masc, so having that option alleviated any anxiety.”

Comparatively, Smith discusses how other spaces often use “‘male’ and ‘female’ categories, or even ‘masc’ and ‘fem’ [only], in an attempt to be more inclusive.” Even in the details, Third Rodeo’s mission for inclusivity persists.

“It’s such an insignificant thing for a lot of people, but for me, it meant the world,” Smith says.

From 1980 to 1986, the Kingston Hotel, Richmond, “had all lesbians behind the counter”. It was full of “bar dykes” and “lesbian feminists”, as Jean Taylor, contributor to the 1991 Melbourne play ‘Dykes of our Restless Daze’, recalls in her 2022 3CR interview.

The Kingston Hotel was one of many lesbian spaces thriving in Melbourne’s history.

Her Majesty’s Hotel in South Yarra was home to a thriving butch/femme culture in the ’50s and ’60s, as was The Imperial Hotel on Chapel St in the ’60s and ’70s. History lecturer Ruth Ford details all this, and more, in the University of Melbourne’s encyclopedias.

Thirty years later, I could only list two Melbourne lesbian bars for you – Flippy’s Queer Bar and Beans Bar – one of which is closing a year after opening.

Unfortunately, due to health issues, Beca, owner of Beans, has decided to shut the bar she poured her heart into. Instead of letting this be another lost part of queer history, Beca has stated, “I would love for Beans to continue as a safe place for our community,” in the hopes for someone to keep lesbian spaces alive.

Brown is keeping lesbian spaces alive – not just general queer spaces, lesbian ones.

“There’s definitely other queer spaces … but you don’t feel comfortable just walking up to anybody … whereas that’s not the case [with Third Rodeo],” says Maïa Mattïsse, fellow ‘soccer lesbian’ – a self-defined label in wait of a better name.

Mattïsse mentions being “surrounded by so many queer people” in the music scene, but realising they didn’t “actually know a single other lesbian in [their] life” until they found Third Rodeo.

From attending their first Third Rodeo event in 2023 to now emceeing these events, Mattïsse has found an “incredible community of people” with whom they “connect with on such a deeper level than [they] ever thought possible.”

Although I love other queer spaces too, lesbian-centred spaces are particularly meaningful to me. After all, being a lesbian can feel ostracising at times.

I’ve frequented gay bars, and still do, but for me, none of them have the beating heart of community that Third Rodeo does. In a patriarchal society, it’s an effort just to de-centre cis men in your mind, regardless of your sexuality. Even broader queer spaces tend to cater more to men – particularly cis gay men.

While many beautiful, welcoming queer spaces exist, being around lesbians – from all walks of life – often comes with a shared understanding that to be a lesbian is to reject this status quo.

One day I looked around and realised the people I keep closest to me are all lesbians. This didn’t happen through a sexuality screening process or anything of the sort, we just happened to gravitate toward each other.

The only ex-coworker I’ve stayed in touch with, my best friend who I met on Hinge, the people I’ve grown closest to through Third Rodeo – they’re all lesbians.

For me, understanding among lesbians beats all other connection. I love the entire queer community, but being a lesbian is more than an identity: it’s my entire life.

When I sat down to write this article, I expected to find a plethora of information, lists, and images of Melbourne’s lesbian history. Safe to say, I was a little too optimistic.

The only other sources I could find were Wicked Women – a 1980s Australian dyke zine that inspired the creation of Archer Magazine – and a Facebook page called ‘Lost Gay Melbourne’, which was equally heartwarming and bittersweet to come across. It felt like I stepped into a private room, in which I felt equal parts belonging and intrusion.

I feel such a connection to queer history and our older generations. Seeing this community post memorial tributes, grainy bar photos, and 20th century queer memorabilia felt intimate and special.

I felt like I was peeking into a beautiful queer bubble away from the truth of why this Facebook group exists – away from the truth of why Melbourne’s queer history was ever lost in the first place: homophobia. Alive and thriving today, unlike the lesbian queer scene our community yearns for.

Brown holds plans to turn Third Rodeo into a bar someday. They would like to see day events to open up to the community more, as we have experienced with our soccer team, and to see a rise in segmented events: “40 plus, 50 plus, even 17 plus for youth”. They’re also interested in opening Third Rodeo to the possibility of peer mentors, mental health support, and other social projects.

Third Rodeo is more than a social event. It’s more than a bar, even. It is the queer community. It is lesbians connecting with each other in a safe environment. If we can’t save our lost gay Melbourne, we can create a new one.

So, Brown invites you, me, us, to come along. To join us for “connections that are true and deep and meaningful, a space where you don’t have to explain yourself to people, somewhere you can just be and not perform.”

“Could you spend the night? Meet me in the hallway? Reserve me a seat at every next table? Sweet chatter, delicate tobacco flowers perfuming the air and unforgettable memories made here on this ordinary, delightful Monday evening. I’m so glad you came along.”

Brown artfully invites the lesbian, sapphic and queer community to the next event, one in the line of many passed and many to come.