In 2021, Oil Can Harry’s, the iconic Los Angeles LGBTQ+ country-western bar had its last dance. A casualty of the Covid pandemic, the trailblazing venue shut its doors after 52 years, having opened in Studio City in 1968. With its closure, patrons were left without a dancefloor. In (two)stepped Sean Monaghan and Bailey Salisbury, who opened Stud Country that same year. Taking place every Monday and Sunday evening on the corner of Bellevue and Sunset in LA, Stud Country is a queer country western line dancing and two-stepping social community that starts where Oil Can Harry’s left off, celebrating western country dancing through a modern, inclusive ethos.

Rooted in a community that began in the boys bars of the 1980s and that Eve Babitz was captivated by and wrote about in her book Two by Two, Angelenos have long been seduced by Western country dancing. It’s this rich cultural history that attracted New Zealand-born, London-based photographer Rebecca Zephyr Thomas to Stud Country. Over a couple of days, she met and documented the community gathering to boot-stomp night after night. Below, we speak to Rebecca and Stud Country co-founder Sean Monaghan.

Alex James Taylor: How did you first discover Stud County and what attracted you to want to document it?
Rebecca Zephyr Thomas: I’ve been shooting subcultures and queer nightlife since the mid-2000s but I’ve not photographed country and western fans before Stud Country. I really like seeing how the queer community puts their own twist on different elements of mainstream culture, it could be the resurgence of nu-Metal or, in this case, Western style. There’s a lot to unpack around ‘cowboy’ style and tropes, with its links to colonialism, the treatment of animals, and how we tend to grow up with these ideas from childhood without questioning what they are promoting. The symbolism around the American cowboy tradition is quite dark, but there’s no reason why we can’t take the iconography of country and western style and turn it into something more positive. As a vegan, cow wrestling isn’t something I’m on board with, but line dancing is!

AJT: What can you tell us about the atmosphere and community?
RZT: Stud Country is such an uplifting, warm and inclusive event, I absolutely loved my time there. It’s extremely friendly and welcoming, plus it’s just so entertaining watching the dancing even if you’re a wallflower like me. The LA nights are held in this awesome night club Club Bahia in Echo Park, which feels untouched since the 70s or 80s, so the space itself is super cool. The format of the nights I went to started with couples dancing, then the group line dancing, with parts of the evening when everyone sits down on the floor and learns the steps before trying out new moves.

AJT: What did people tell you about Stud County and what it meant to them?
RZT: People really love this night, it means a lot to the regulars and there are plenty of people who are coming twice a week. There are older Western dance experts there, people who have been a part of this culture for decades and then new arrivals who respond to the music and the joy of collective dancing. There’s something really special about seeing a large group of people dancing in harmony – it brings a lot of joy to many people, it’s pretty awesome to watch.

“There’s something really special about seeing a large group of people dancing in harmony.”

AJT: Country music has historically been associated with traditional American values, however in recent years it has become a symbol of liberation and diversity – how do you see country music evolving towards this? What does it symbolise to you personally?
RZT: I grew up listening to Atlantic R’n’B from the 40s (yes I was a weird teenager, full of angst!) and country music is so related to traditional blues music in America. I like the raw emotion in the lyrics and the down-to-earth relatability. Country music and style have working-class roots and I think it’s really important to celebrate culture that’s not about the glorification of wealth and status. Country music is often about resilience under hard circumstances and that’s relatable to a lot of people at the moment.

AJT: Did you have a dance?
RZT: No I didn’t. I’m more of a watcher than a participant, that sounds really creepy! [laughs] I love how photography allows me into different spaces to appreciate many different cultures without being tied to them myself. I love capturing people who are passionate about their chosen communities. I had an amazing time at the nights I went to and the organisers have done an extraordinary job creating this warm and inclusive space to get sweaty in while wearing cut-off denim and cowboy boots.

“Personally, nothing compares to the freedom and connection you feel while moving in unison with others on the dance floor.”

Alex James Taylor: Can you take me through the opening of Stud Country?
Sean Monaghan: We started Stud Country in 2021 after the closing of Oil Can Harry’s, LA’s oldest gay bar at the time. We brought it to our friend group, and a younger crowd quickly learned that line dancing and two-stepping can be fun and sexy. It’s important to us that we still foster an intergenerational community that includes some of our queer elders that have been dancing since the 1980s.

AJT: Can you tell me more about the community there?
SM: At Stud Country you dance with people ages 21 to 91 and up. Though it tends to skew younger. Stud Country has roots in a community that started in the boys bars in the 1980s, but today it is a very gender-fluid and open queer community. Gay guys and girls, lesbians, trans folk and allies all come together to dance. Some people are new to country music and have learned to appreciate the culture through dance. For many others who grew up in the South or in rural places where they felt out of place at honkytonks because of their sexuality, coming to Stud Country has been healing. 

AJT: Why are spaces like this so vital today, especially in today’s America?
SM: We say that Stud Country is an explicitly queer party, not an exclusively queer party. Which to me, means that while we ensure that this space is made for queers of all kinds to get together, we aren’t kicking anyone out, as long as you’re nice and are willing to dance alongside a bunch of gay people. And in general, Americans are overwrought demonising political parties, and in-fighting within their own communities. What would happen if we just decided to share some space and dance? Personally, nothing compares to the freedom and connection you feel while moving in unison with others on the dance floor.