NEW SPICE
ON THE BLOCK
At Spice Bar, former Queer/Bar staff look to build a nightlife hub for Seattle’s queer people of color.
WRITTEN BY JAS KEIMIG
PHOTOGRAPHY BY EDGÁR DE LA VEGA
[SUNDAY, AUGUST 9] Going out on Capitol Hill during the weekends is a game of choose-your-own-adventure that requires a shrewd discernment of vibes and ambitions.
Do you want to watch white guys who live in Ballard hit the Dougie? Go wait in line at Comet Tavern or Q Nightclub (depending on the DJ). Love pop-heavy mash-up dance nights where attendees know every single Taylor Swift song? Chop Suey and Neumos have you covered. Are you gay? Pick between Wild Rose, Pony, Union, or Diesel, depending on whom you’d like to wake up next to in the morning.
Adding a new flavor to the mix is Spice Bar & Bites on Broadway Avenue, which officially opened earlier this month. By day, the space will function as a bar and lounge serving up Indian fusion plates — think butter chicken pizza and paneer tacos — and on weekend nights, it turns into a dance club, centering Black and brown partygoers while still serving food. The spot is a sister location to Spice Bliss, an Indian takeout place owned by Jagminder and Navjit Singh located right across the street, which is famed for its delicious curry staples and late-night hours.
If the staff behind the bar look familiar, you probably recognize them from Queer/Bar. In June, CHUM News reported on behind-the-scenes turmoil at Queer/Bar. Drag performers, reckoning with the bar’s sale to Scott Walent, whose takeover of The Cuff Complex had courted much controversy, moved their shows to other venues across the city. After Pride weekend, Queer/Bar staff quit in protest of the sale; they jumped ship to Spice Bar, which is now managed by Keith J (also formerly of Queer/Bar).
In an interview, Keith told me that, over his near-decade of experience working in nightlife, he’d consistently thrown parties and events centering people of color. When he first started interviewing for the position a few months ago, he saw Spice Bar as a potential hub for queer people of color, with dance nights focused on hip-hop, rap, and Latin music. The Spice Bliss owners gave him their stamp of approval to run the space how he saw fit.
“It's been a roller coaster this year because of everything happening with Queer/Bar and everyone taking a stand against the new owners — that was really tough,” said Keith. “Then it just so happens that this space opened up for us. The first thing they allowed me to do was create my own staff, so I reached out and brought my Queer/Bar staff right over here… Everything may not happen when you want it to happen, but right when it needs to happen.”
CHUM hit the pavement on Spice Bar’s opening weekend — christened the “Grand Spicening” — to see the space and get a pulse on how Spice Bar might fit into Capitol Hill’s thriving, hot dog-fueled nightlife scene.
On Friday night, the dance floor was packed with a crowd composed of young-ish partiers, off-duty drag performers and bartenders, Meta Glasses wearers, and other curious souls who had wandered into the free party from off the street.
Bartenders were slinging drinks to thirsty dancers. A quick perusal of their menu reveals one of the best happy hours on the Hill (3 – 6pm daily, with $9 well doubles and $4 Rainier tallboys) and a list of reasonably priced cocktails hemmed to fit the Indian-fusion theme. We guzzled their Gin Bliss (double Bombay with lemon and strawberry), while a friend who accompanied CHUM on this night out snagged their Spicy Bliss marg. Her (positive) review: “This tastes like you’re going to get street food after you go out.”
DJs Toya B and Tremenda Diosa were stationed behind the decks, backlit by an illuminated menu hung in the corner, giving the space a kind of after-hours feel. Throughout the night they spun tracks like Yung Miami’s infectious “Spend Dat” and a Jersey club rework of Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles.” All were serious entreaties for partiers to cut a rug, to which everyone dutifully obliged.
Philip, 25, came up from Tacoma to attend Spice Bar’s Friday night opening party. As he gripped a vodka Red Bull, he told CHUM that he came because a former Queer/Bar bouncer had tipped him off to the new space. He said he loved how “friendly and open” everyone at the bar seemed to be. Outside, CHUM caught up with Amari, 31, who came after a friend’s request, and spent the night sipping gin and tonics. A lot of queer nightlife spaces on the Hill mostly played electronic or house music, and Spice Bar’s focus on hip-hop, Jersey club, and reggaeton was a welcome reprieve, they said.
“It made me rethink my entire outfit,” Amari said. “I needed something I could throw ass in.”
Keith told us the focus on queers of color is something that’s desperately needed in nightlife venues on Capitol Hill. R Place’s closure during the pandemic “left a huge hole in our community,” he said. There hasn’t been one spot that brings disparate parts of the community together to just hang out, leaving locals “fragmented across different bars and venues.”
Despite familiar faces, Keith emphasized that Spice Bar isn’t “the new Queer/Bar,” and isn’t looking to compete with larger spots like Massive — this new place simply isn’t big enough. However, he sees it as an opportunity to have more dance nights, and serve as a home to comedy shows, trivia nights, and drag bingo for the community. The rest of August is already fully booked with events.
“We want to be a neighborhood bar,” said Keith. “Everyone walks by, everyone feels welcome.”
Back out at Spice Bar on opening night, crews of people rotated in and out of the space throughout the evening. Some posted up on the dance floor, while others came in to take a quick look around and circle back out into the Capitol Hill fray outside.
The fallout from Queer/Bar’s abrupt shift in ownership seems to have already been a boon to queer dancers in the neighborhood. Whenever a new bar opens, it often takes a few months to know what the space will really be. But Spice Bar clearly has a lot going for it: good drinks and price points, a prime location, knowledgeable staff, and a decidedly different energy than any other spot on the Hill, with queers of color at its center.
Jas Keimig is a writer in Seattle. Their work has appeared in The Stranger, The Seattle Times, South Seattle Emerald, i-D and beyond. They also curate Unstreamable, a column and screening series featuring films you can’t find on streaming services.
Edgár De La Vega aims to capture the diversity of Seattle through colorful and detailed editorial shoots, with a focus on giving a voice to marginalized communities.