Curve Publisher Franco Stevens reflects on the importance of the lesbian “party” in building
community for queer women.
Curve has been so much more than a publication to me, and I hope to you, too. We set out to create something simple but essential: a place where lesbians could finally see themselves reflected, a place to connect and know we weren’t alone.
That was before social media and before the internet, and reaching our community then was quite the challenge. But we were young and scrappy and realized that parties, events, and all kinds of gatherings were our ticket to connecting and introducing the magazine to potential readers. I remember our cross-country road trips, meeting women in their own hometowns, hearing their stories. We welcomed thousands of women, whether in celebration at the Gay Games or in protest at the March on Washington. We sponsored The Dinah year after year. I’ll never forget the energy when we organized parties to roll out a new season of The L Word together with cast members—every single one of those moments mattered. Women met their best friends at those events. Their future business partners. Their wives. The ripple effects of those connections are still shaping our community today.
Looking back now, I can see how much Curve magazine and those events made possible. Through our editorial and printed personal ads, yes, but also through the gatherings we created ourselves. We helped women across the globe find their people. I still get chills thinking about the electric sense of belonging I felt at every event we produced. Dancing, sweating, and building community through in-person events. I love the feeling of being together in community, feeling understood, and celebrated. That feeling has never left me. And here’s the thing: those gatherings weren’t just a good time (though they absolutely were). They were transformative. Friendships turned into movements. Quiet conversations became collaborations that changed lives. We created spaces where queer women could share their truth, lift each other up, and claim visibility in a world that spent so much energy trying to tear us down and erase us. Curve didn’t just cover our culture. We helped create it.
CLOCKWISE FROM UPPER LEFT:
1. FRANCO BOOT SHOPPING IN GEORGIA. DENEUVE, AUGUST 1995, PHOTO BY DEBRA ST. JOHN
2. CURVE, APRIL 2000, 3. DENEUVE, JUNE 1994
4. L-R: ZELIE POLLON, FRANCO, DEBRA ST. JOHN IN NEW ORLEANS AT CHARLENE’S. DENEUVE, AUGUST 1995
5. DINAH ARTICLE, CURVE MARCH 1999
The joy that queer women’s events bring us is one of the reasons why this issue’s cover story featuring Mariah Hanson, the founder of The Dinah, feels so personal to me. The other reason? One of my first jobs where I could truly be myself was working for Mariah. She was absolutely slaying it as a lesbian club promoter in San Francisco during the 1980s and ‘90s, and she brought me into the fold as a “Vogue Dancer” and promotions girl for her “Club Skirts” and “The G Spot” parties. Picture me: a wide-eyed baby dyke, dancing in the clubs, running around the streets with stacks of flyers, completely drunk on my newly-found lesbian identity.
For decades, The Dinah has been a magical place for queer women to come together and feel seen. As Mariah prepares to pass the torch after this year’s celebration, I’m feeling so much gratitude and hope. The Dinah will keep evolving, just like we always have, and Curve will be right there celebrating every step.
That’s exactly what we’re doing at The Curve Foundation, too. Whether it’s through online conversations, in-person gatherings, or the new programming we’re planning for 2026, the
mission stays the same: keep creating spaces
where queer women can connect, share,
and thrive.
Curve has never been just a magazine. It’s a
living, breathing community, one I’m deeply
grateful to be part of and honored to help
shape.
In solidarity!