I was at the Bongo Club ringing in the first hours of 2023 when, at around 2am, the music abruptly stopped, the lights came on and we were all told we had to leave. For a nightclub on New Year’s Eve, at that point technically New Year’s Day, the response was surprisingly calm and quite orderly.
However, pushing everyone out was still a squeeze. Crowds make me anxious, so I grabbed my friend and headed to the back so we could be among the last to leave. I can understand how it might have looked like two drunk girls obnoxiously standing their ground; “we paid for a 5am close, we are staying until 5am!” Despite this very much not being the case, this was exactly what the bouncer thought he saw. Before you could say drum and bass he was grabbing me by my shoulders and shoving me into the crowd.
I repeatedly asked him to let go of me but that only made him tighten his grip with every plea. He didn’t let go until he gave me one final push out the main door. The buzz of a happy new year had left me and I felt soured and sobered. I ended my night there.
I’ve since tried to figuratively put myself in that bouncer’s black shoes and oversized jacket: what did he see in me that warranted that kind of reaction? Maybe he truly saw himself as the great protector and his roughness with me was an act of paternalism. It was meant in a you-resent-me-now-but-will-appreciate-this-when-you’re-older kind of way.
Bouncers are people in a very particular position of power and their role is literally designed to protect. Despite this, many clearly slip on their all black outfit and get overcome by a twisted sense of power that comes with a security badge. As much as I had angered the bouncer at Bongo, I got the sense that he was loving it. He now had someone to physically intimidate and control. Like he was hungry for me to challenge him. In the words of Henry Kissinger, who was probably an Edinburgh nightclub bouncer in another life, “Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac”.
Those who were at university during the horrifying spiking epidemic of autumn 2021 will remember how much bouncers contributed to the problem. Confusing the paralyzed with the paralytic, bouncers would throw out victims, most of whom were female, leaving them exposed, helpless and even more vulnerable than they were inside. Additionally, a recent report carried out by the CRER highlighted reports of racism from bouncers in Glasgow. I’m not the one to comment on if this is the case in Edinburgh too, but I imagine so. What was that about the role of a bouncer being to protect?
I got a bit of a perspective from the other side looking at an Edinburgh Bouncer AMA on Reddit. Bouncers often feel threatened and even get assaulted by the drunk people they deal with all night. I completely acknowledge that Edinburgh nightlife is made a lot safer with them in many ways. I just think if you take a tall(ish), medium-build man who was bullied and has a complicated relationship with his mother and give him an all black outfit, too often their job becomes a power-trip. Regardless of long hours and tough work, I don’t think that excuses the fury-filled egos of a lot of Edinburgh bouncers.
Photo by Barthelemy de Mazenod on Unsplash