Queer Joy: Heated Rivalry Night at the Cla-zel

March 21st, 2026, the historic Cla-zel (former cinema, now venue for themed events and concerts) hosted a Heated Rivalry Dance Party with the tagline “Meet us at the cottage.” With a group of friends (and having recently written an article about the show), I attended and had one of my best nights out in Bowling Green. 

The Cla-zel promised fan edits, queer pop anthems, photo ops, and themed drinks inspired by the hit show. But who really delivered was the community: my wonderful friends who had me laughing and smiling the entire time. The group behind me who screamed during the best parts of the edits projected onto the back wall of the stage. The girls I talked to in the bathroom, who looked so cute and told me to have a fun and safe night. And a special shout-out in particular to the trio of girls who were living it up on stage, dancing and engaging with the crowd so much, and looking great doing it. If you read this I hope I know who you are and that I love you. 

The songs were a bop (does anyone say that still??), and I’m no dancer but I certainly gave it my best shot! Days later, I’m still sore from the non-stop jumping up and down. However, when it came time for “I’ll Believe in Anything”, Scott and Kip’s coming out scene was projected onto the screen, and the crowd stood still to watch it. As they kissed, I started crying, like I did when I first watched the show. Times are dark in America. Obergefell v. Hodges is still at significant risk from political opposition, and trans rights are under attack in numerous states across the country. It’s always been scary to be queer, but after growing up in a time of relative progress, it’s terrifying to not know what the future holds, to know what you want your future to be, and not know if you’ll be allowed to have it. And still, in a small town in rural Ohio, I was able to dance at a bar with my friends, celebrating a record-breaking TV show about a gay couple and their deep love for each other. We were able to watch them kiss on a screen and cheer. Later in the night, when “Pink Pony Club” played, a song written by a lesbian who grew up in the Midwest— a lesbian who gets it—a compilation of queer dances was projected on the screen. Scenes from The Owl House, Life Is Strange: Before The Storm, The Last of Us, and more cycled as I sobbed and held my friend, and sang about finding a place in the world against all odds. 

The ability to immerse myself in queer community is something new to me, and last night at the best thing Bowling Green could produce next to a gay bar, I realized why clubbing is such an important cornerstone of queer culture. I’m reminded of a quote from Dan Savage, an AIDs activist: During the darkest days of the AIDs crisis, we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night.” There’s another anecdote from the AIDs epidemic that I hold close to my heart. A reporter asked a gay man why he and his friends are continuing to go out to bars at night if they were grieving so much, and he answered: “We have to keep living.” And yeah. We have to keep on living. I go to class and learn about queer activism and queer theory. I go home, and I watch queer shows, I read queer books. I laugh with my friends and then go to No King’s protests downtown. For resilience, we need balance, and we need joy. Go to a bar with your friends, ask them to play Chappell Roan, Lady Gaga, or your favorite queer artist. Enjoy it, and fight for the future that we deserve.