For months, the Internet’s been discussing whether women would rather encounter a bear or unknown man in the woods. The real answer, though: A lesbian. They’re often handy, and most are only scary because they’re so pretty. If you agree, you might want to know about Lezapalooza, a three-night camping retreat for queer women, unfolding in New Jersey September 26-29. There you’ll find not one lesbian in the woods, but hundreds.
Lezapalooza CEO Liz Klakowicz told Tagg Magazine the idea for the event struck her one day in 2021, when she was sitting with friends on the porch of her house on the five-acre property she’d bought the previous year.
“I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if this was just covered in lesbians camping?’” Klakowicz remembers. At the time, she was upset about the pandemic hindering queer community interaction. “That’s really what it came from… it was just a need to be with our people.”
So, Klakowicz convinced three friends—Jessica Orso, Melissa “P-Dog” Puleo, and Carina Jamison—to help organize a camping event (hosted in her own backyard). They named it, advertised it on social media, and to Klakowicz’s surprise, about 80 people signed up.
The group had to deal with town pushback, when some neighbors saw the Lezapalooza sign and complained, presumably out of homophobia. But the group fended the town off, and the event was otherwise a success. For the second iteration, though, the organizers found an actual campground—200 acres, privately owned, elsewhere in Jersey—and that’s where the retreat has occurred ever since.
Lezapalooza has only grown each year. Attendance has skyrocketed, and organizers implemented a number of initiatives to make the event more demographically inclusive–e.g., expanding outreach efforts, introducing a $25 BIPOC discount, and offering scholarships to attend.
As the website explains, the retreat is intended for anyone who identifies as woman-loving-woman, including non-binary folks who feel at home in women-centered spaces and trans women “of a sapphic nature.” The website explicitly emphasizes that the retreat is NOT for men. That’s partly because Klakowicz is passionate about creating space for people who experience struggles associated with womanhood in society.
However, acknowledging recent inclusivity controversies surrounding similar events and spaces, Klakowicz is mindful of not turning anyone away without good reason. She hopes the site’s very specific language will ensure all attendees know what they’re getting into and thus, feel comfortable at the event, and that everyone who comes embraces all fellow campers.
That intentionally welcoming atmosphere also pertains to all types of queer women/non-binary folks—from butches to femmes, and seriously outdoorsy folks to first-time campers. Klakowicz said Lezapalooza is appropriate for all types because it’s relatively easy camping, with features such as real toilets and showers. Everyone tends to be very helpful and supportive of one another—lending a hand for tent set-ups, grilling, etc.—and the organizers host a chat for nervous campers to seek support.
“I try to set the vibe… of family, community, helping one another, sharing resources,” said Klakowicz. “It’s like small town vibes.”
At the heart of this “small town” weekend is the event itinerary. Every year features different main events. This year, that’s daytime dodgeball, Jell-O wrestling, body painting, meditation sessions, drag brunch, a dance party and simultaneous (alternative) movie screening one night, and an icebreaker activity another night. At any given time, people can also do lake activities, hikes, and other adventures of their choosing.
What’s more, Klakowicz said one of the best parts of Lezapalooza is what campers create for themselves—their own activities, like the spanking lesson someone spontaneously organized one year (but don’t let that make you think Lezapalooza is X-rated—its baseline is wholesome fun; anything else is by campers’ agency).
Another thing Klakowicz loves about Lezapalooza is what happens after—the connections a camper makes, and how a camper might grow internally (e.g., becoming more comfortable with their sexuality, gender identity, or place on the femme vs. butch spectrum).
“I love seeing people just…get into who exactly they are,” said Klakowicz. “I like seeing them learn about themselves, and then [take] that out into the real world.”
Whether or not that exact thing happens for every attendee, one thing is clear: Lezapalooza aims to provide a weekend of fun through the merging of queer community and camping—with no men, and (hopefully) no (menacing) bears, either.
Tickets can be purchased on the Lezapalooza website.