A Night at Stud Country

If you’ve met me even briefly, it will come as no surprise that I was a theater kid growing up. I still remember the choreo from musicals I performed in back in high school—so whenever I walk into a bar and don’t see anyone on the floor, my heart sinks a little. Stud Country finally gave me an excuse to dust off my dance shoes. Led by best friends Sean Monaghan and Bailey Salisbury, this workshop-slash-party series offers attendees of all backgrounds and experience levels the chance to try their hand at line dancing, with an emphasis on creating a LGBT-friendly space. Imported from the East coast suburbs, I felt like I was stepping into a new world last Thursday night—but following along with Monaghan and Salisbury’s moves, surrounded by smiling dancers of all stripes, I felt welcomed and embraced.

Stud Country is now a cross-country operation, with events in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Nashville. I’m based in the City of Angels, so I found myself rolling up to Club Bahia, a Latin dance club in Echo Park, on the big night. Not sure how intense the routines would be, I sported leggings and worn-in boots with a Western-inspired tee. I had feared I would look out of place, but a cursory glance around the room proved that there was no one way to dress: sure, cowboy boots were a popular choice, but outfits ranged from rodeo chic to trendy tops and jeans to workout wear to workwear. Not only were a range of styles on display; dancers were diverse in terms of ethnicity as well as age. The presence of older attendees speaks to the decades-long legacy of gay line dancers in LA County. Although it may surprise those whose knee-jerk association with country music is MAGA hats and conservative values, a gay country Western bar called Oil Can Harry’s, founded in 1968, was a staple in LA’s line dancing scene until it shuttered in 2021. Per the Los Angeles Times, Monaghan and Salisbury were Oil Can Harry’s regulars before they started their own venture in its absence.

My pal and I had arrived just in time for the lesson portion of the evening. We made our way into the crowd and watched as the dynamic duo broke down a dance to electropop banger “Christine” by Christine and the Queens. Over the course of the evening, I would learn that, despite its name, Stud Country doesn’t just feature country music—every now and then, Monaghan and Salisbury will shake things up by introducing choreography to songs from other genres. Of course, all the classics have their moments, too.

I had skipped out on “Beginner’s Night,” assuming my familiarity with grapevines and jazz squares would tide me over. Not quite: my fellow dancers glided with ease between combinations I had yet to learn, knowing exactly what to do when Monaghan and Salisbury called out terms like “sailor step.” Even so, there was ample opportunity for me to get acquainted with the routine. Our instructors repeated the moves several times, answering audience questions and guiding us through complicated sections more slowly. I was certainly recognizable as a novice as I swayed across the floor—but whenever I managed to kick in time or turn in unison with the people on either side of me, my soul screamed, Yeehaw!

After “Christine,” attendees could dance and mingle freely. When Keith Urban’s “Texas Time” blasted throughout the speakers and everyone broke into a totally different choreographed routine, my jaw dropped. I watched as they did the same for Janet Jackson’s “Rock with U,” Rihanna’s “Shut Up and Drive,” and a host of songs I didn’t recognize. Had these dances been taught earlier in the evening? Were all the other partygoers telepathically connected?

When some of the swiftest dancers shuffled over to the sidelines for a break, I asked them how they knew exactly what to do. Excited to see a fresh face amongst the fold, they explained that Stud Country events are rife with regulars who have memorized dances from previous weeks—and, on top of that, certain line dancing standards are beloved amongst the community. There are also resources for those who want to fine-tune their fancy footwork, from Stud Country-sponsored weekend workshops to a Discord group where dancers exchange instructional videos. Those who go down the rabbit hole (or should I say rattlesnake hole?) find themselves with a tightly-knit community. This was evident to me when Monaghan and Salisbury announced a partner dance: patrons quickly paired up with friends and lovers, showing off beautifully improvised combinations for the first time all night. The kinship shared by the dancers shone through in the way they floated across the floor.

I was content to hang around and study the dancers as they twirled their way through song after song, taking mental notes on the movements of their boots—but when “Christine” played again and my new friends beckoned me onto the floor, I was more than happy to join in. In an era where so many subcultures exist solely online and apathy is the name of the game in some social spaces, it’s safe to say Stud Country has lassoed my heart. Beginner’s Night, here I come.