RAWdance & Litquake’s Elder Project Exhibit

In the US, in the 20th century, if you were Black, Jewish, or held hands with someone of the same sex, you were often unwelcome at the pool or the hotel. 

In response, queer, Black, and Jewish folks created their own vacation enclaves: the Jewish Catskills (aka the Borscht Belt); the Black resorts of Southern California; Provincetown and Fire Island on the East Coast and Russian River in Northern California. Similar enclaves were frequented by other marginalized groups. We celebrate the resilience and creativity of all these communities in forging spaces of joy and kinship in the face of adversity.

In these places, we were free—to hold hands, to stretch out on a beach towel without being bothered, to speak Yiddish.

Elsewhere, restrictions applied: In 1955, the Anti-Defamation League of B’nai B’rith reported that “73 out of 88 Fort Lauderdale hotels displayed outdoor signs reading ‘Gentiles Only,’ ‘Restricted Clientele,’ or ‘Selected Clientele.’ ” 

Black Californians could take it easy at Bruce’s Beach from 1912 until 1924, when the Bruces, the African American family that owned that stretch of shoreline, were forced to turn it over to Manhattan Beach for an insignificant payment. Zoning rules, segregation, and even the Ku Klux Klan discouraged Black beachgoers from the SoCal shore.

In 1954, an editorial in the San Francisco Examiner read, “[T]here must be sustained action by the police and the district attorney to stop the influx of homosexuals. Too many taverns cater to them openly. Only police action can drive them out of the city” (noted by Donna Graves and Shayne Watson in their LGBTQ Historic Context Statement for San Francisco).
In the 21st century, things aren’t necessarily better for everyone. In 2005, a Muslim girl wearing a modest bathing outfit was prevented from swimming in a public water park in Ypsilanti, Michigan.
For some of us ostracized from “mainstream” vacation lands, the Borscht Belt, the Black SoCal resorts, and the Russian River gave us refuge. We swam, we ate, we flirted. We found our people.

When we shifted RAWdance to a bicoastal model in 2019, we moved to a small hamlet, High Falls, in New York’s Hudson Valley. It didn’t take us long to realize that we were in the thick of the former Borscht Belt, a wide swath of the Catskill Mountains dotted by bungalow colonies and resorts that invited Jewish New Yorkers, many of whom lived in cramped tenements, to escape the summer heat through much of the 1900s. Wendy had heard vague mentions of her grandfather’s having worked at one of the resorts as both an electrician and a Big Band-era musician, and that her dad worked as a bellhop in the summer. Suddenly these former vacation havens were in our proverbial backyard, inspiring us to learn more about what they meant to thousands who were excluded from other mainstream spaces. 

Over time, we discovered that similar leisure spots and hotels for other immigrant and marginalized communities were nearby, such as the Peg-Leg Bates Hotel — at one time the largest Black-owned-and-operated resort in the country. And we started to reflect on the queer vacation meccas still serving the community such as Fire Island, the Russian River, and Provincetown, which has ties in Ryan’s personal history.
We didn’t set out to create a dance piece, but as we thought more and more about these spaces, their origins, and importance in our cultural history, the seeds for our new work, Escape, started forming. This exhibit serves as a companion piece to the work, with its photos, memorabilia, and, most importantly, its personal stories offering a glimpse into many of these culturally rooted holiday spaces, honoring them while acknowledging some of their inherent complexity.

Family photo of Co-Artistic Director Wendy Rein. Her great-aunt Pearl "Bobby" Cohen, third from left. Scaroon Manor, north of the Catskills.

Family photo of Co-Artistic Director Wendy Rein. Pearl "Bobby" Cohen is at right. Scaroon Manor, New York.