LEATHER ARCHIVES & MUSEUM: EMBRACING IDENTITY
Experience an empowering journey at Chicago's Leather Archives & Museum. Explore the rich history of leather culture, representation, and resilience celebrating identity and community.
ON A RECENT TRIP TO CHICAGO, I DECIDED TO VISIT THE LEATHER ARCHIVES & MUSEUM (LA&M), A PLACE I'VE LONG WANTED TO EXPLORE.
Nestled in an unassuming gray building off Devon Avenue in Rogers Park, with "LA&M" boldly printed over a set of gray doors, it looked almost like a school from the outside. The familiar sights of the neighborhood, like the Devon Market down the street, gave the area a comforting vibe.
To enter, I rang a small bell and was greeted warmly into a gift shop that enveloped me in the rich scent of aged leather—it was like stepping into a world that celebrated every facet of our leather culture. The aroma alone brought back a flood of memories and emotions, reminding me of the community that has been such a significant part of my life.
The museum was founded in 1991 by Chuck Renslow and Tony DeBlase, both pioneers in our community. Their mission was to make leather, kink, BDSM, and fetish accessible through research, preservation, education, and community engagement. They established the LA&M in response to the AIDS crisis, during which the leather and fetish communities' history and belongings were frequently lost or intentionally suppressed and discarded. Knowing that I was walking through halls built on such a legacy filled me with a deep sense of pride and connection. I cried, a lot during my walkthrough.
AS I EXPLORED THE TWO FLOORS OF THE MUSEUM—COMPRISING AN AUDITORIUM, LIBRARY, GIFT SHOP, ARCHIVES, AND AN EXTENSIVE DISPLAY OF ARTISTIC COLLECTIONS—I WAS STRUCK BY THE SHEER BREADTH OF MATERIAL DEDICATED TO PRESERVING THE ETHNOGRAPHIC HISTORY OF THE LEATHER COMMUNITY.
Each exhibit served as a cultural artifact, offering rich insights into the social practices, values, and evolution of a subculture often marginalized in mainstream narratives. As an anthropologist, I was in heaven.
One of the most significant artifacts I encountered was one of the three original Leather Pride flags created by Tony DeBlase in 1989. From an anthropological perspective, this flag transcends its physical form to embody the collective identity and solidarity of the leather community. Seeing it in person was a profound experience; it symbolized the historical struggles, resilience, and unity of a group that has navigated societal challenges while maintaining a distinct cultural identity. The flag stands as a powerful ethnographic symbol, encapsulating the essence of a community's journey through time.
The art collections were astounding. The museum holds the world's largest collection of original work by Dom Orejudos, also known as Etienne. In 2019, Bill Schmeling, known as "The Hun," donated his entire personal collection of artwork and notes to the museum. Walking through the galleries, I was surrounded by pieces from iconic LGBTQ artists of the twentieth century, including works by Chuck Arnett, Giacomo "Jack" Bozzi (Adam), David Grieger, Beau Lee James, Charles Kerbs (MATT), Michael Kirwan, John Klamik (Sean), Touko Valio Laaksonen (Tom of Finland), Donald Merrick (Domino), Mike Miksche (Steve Masters), Olaf Odegaard, Jacki Randall, Rex, Al Shapiro (A. Jay), Joe T, Dennis Walsh, and Bill Ward.
One of the most striking pieces was The Last Supper In a Gay Leather Bar With Judas Giving Christ the Finger by Steven Brown. The painting, inspired by the artist's struggle to reconcile faith and sexuality, was both provocative and deeply moving. Standing before it, I felt a connection to the artist's journey—a reminder of the personal battles many of us face in embracing our true selves.
The photography and videography collections were equally impressive. The museum holds photographs by Kris Studios, a male physique photography studio founded by Renslow and Orejudos, named in part to honor transgender pioneer Christine Jorgensen. There were also photographs by Kenneth Anger, George Dureau, Efrain J. Gonzalez, Adam Kozik, Lochai, and Robert Mapplethorpe. Seeing these images captured moments of our community's history, preserving memories that might have otherwise been lost.
I spent time in the library, where the shelves held complete sets of magazines like Drummer and Bound & Gagged. In 2009, the LA&M acquired the extensive collection of papers from Robert Davolt, an author and organizer of the San Francisco Pride leather contingent, and former editor of Bound & Gagged. These publications and documents offered a deep dive into the narratives that have shaped our community.
The archives included records of leather and fetish organizations such as the Chicago Hellfire Club, Conversio Virium, International Mr. Leather, Mineshaft, MIR (formerly Mr. International Rubber), National Leather Association, and the Society of Janus. There were also hundreds of oral history recordings, videos, and transcripts by leather and fetish trailblazers like Joe Laiacona (better known by his alias Jack Rinella) and Larry Townsend. Knowing that these stories were preserved for future generations felt incredibly meaningful.
One of the most fascinating areas was the collection of artifacts from LGBTQ motorcycle and leather clubs around the world, including vests, patches, and pins from groups like Centurions of Columbus, Crucible MC, Empire City MC, Rochester Rams MC, Stallions MC, and even the Philadelphians MC, my local motorcycle club. There were also ephemera from historic gay establishments, such as a glory hole from Man's Country in Chicago and a dress code sign from the Mineshaft in New York City. These tangible pieces of history brought to life the rich tapestry of our community's past.
In a section dedicated to bootblacking, the museum displayed hundreds of artifacts from competitions like International Mr. Bootblack (IMrBB), International Ms. Bootblack (IMsBB), and International Community Bootblack (ICBB). Items like IMrBB 1994 William Shields, Jr.'s bootblacking kit and IMrBB 2000 David Hawk's bootblacking chair told stories of dedication and craft. Seeing the bootblacking chair used by Harry Shattuck and "Daddy" William Shields, Jr. in gay bars across several cities during the 1990s and 2000s was a nostalgic experience.
The museum also showcased body modification artifacts, including tattooing memorabilia from Cliff Raven, stories, artwork, and stencils by Samuel Steward, publications by Fakir Musafar, and photographs belonging to Sailor Sid Diller. These collections highlighted the diverse ways our community has expressed identity and individuality.
WHAT STRUCK ME MOST WAS HOW THE MUSEUM DIDN'T SHY AWAY FROM DISPLAYING OUR CULTURE OPENLY AND UNAPOLOGETICALLY. THE ART AND ARTIFACTS CONFRONTED SOCIETAL NORMS THAT OFTEN INSIST SUCH EXPRESSIONS REMAIN HIDDEN.
By bringing these often marginalized facets of human experience into the open, the LA&M highlights the intrinsic role that sex and sexuality play in the tapestry of human culture—a core focus in anthropological studies. From an anthropological perspective, the museum challenges societal norms that have historically stigmatized or suppressed discussions of sexuality, especially those deviating from the mainstream. By facilitating open dialogue and showcasing these elements without apology, the LA&M not only preserves but also legitimizes the diverse expressions of human sexuality. It was empowering to witness our stories presented with such authenticity and respect, as it validates our community's place within the broader human narrative and emphasizes the importance of inclusivity in cultural heritage.
Reflecting on the impact of the Leather Community in fundraising and supporting the search for a cure for HIV brought tears to my eyes. The museum showcased numerous events and initiatives where our community banded together, turning pain into purpose. Renslow and DeBlase founded the museum during the AIDS crisis, recognizing the urgent need to preserve our history at a time when so much was being lost. It was a testament to our resilience and the profound difference we've made in advancing research and providing support for those affected by HIV/AIDS.
As I wandered through the exhibits, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. The representation I saw wasn't just about the past; it was about our ongoing narrative. The LA&M serves as a home for the diverse subcultures within our community, highlighting both our history and the vibrant future ahead. With a packed calendar featuring rotating shows, traveling exhibits, and events like the International Mr. Leather Weekend, the museum is alive with activity and continues to foster connections.
While taking in the museum's vast collection, my attention was drawn to an office adjacent to the library. There, I noticed the sexiest daddy type who exuded a magnetic combination of confidence and approachability. Later, I discovered that his name is Gary Wasdin, the current executive director of the LA&M. Learning this only amplified the impression he had made on me. There was something profoundly powerful about encountering someone who not only made my heart skip a beat but also embodied the very essence of what our community stands for. His leadership seemed to personify the strength, authenticity, and unity that the museum strives to preserve and celebrate.
LEAVING THE MUSEUM, I CARRIED WITH ME A RENEWED SENSE OF PRIDE. THE VISIT WAS MORE THAN JUST AN EXPLORATION OF LEATHER CULTURE—IT WAS A DEEPLY PERSONAL JOURNEY THAT HONORED OUR COLLECTIVE EXPERIENCES.
Seeing our pre-AIDS history preserved so meticulously was emotional, but it also reinforced the importance of visibility and representation. It reminded me that our stories matter, and that sharing them empowers not only ourselves but also future generations.
The LA&M isn't just a museum; it's a living, breathing celebration of who we are—a testament to our journey, our struggles, and our triumphs. Walking through its halls, I felt an overwhelming sense of connection, not just to the artifacts and stories displayed but to every individual who has been part of this vibrant tapestry. It stands as a beacon for authenticity, a sanctuary where the diverse expressions of our identities are not only accepted but celebrated with pride and joy. The museum encourages everyone to embrace their identity wholeheartedly, to find strength in who they are, and to understand that they are part of something much larger than themselves.
I'm profoundly grateful for the experience and the profound reminder of the strength and unity within our community. The visit was more than an educational journey; it was an emotional odyssey that touched the deepest parts of my soul. It reinforced the importance of preserving our stories, honoring those who came before us, and inspiring future generations to continue the legacy. The emotions stirred within me—pride, nostalgia, hope—are hard to encapsulate fully. It was a visit that not only touched my heart but also reignited a passion and appreciation that will stay with me for years to come. The LA&M reminded me that our history is alive, our community is strong, and our stories are worth telling and retelling for generations.
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