“But the kid is not my son. No, no, no!”

It’s a Saturday night in East Atlanta Village, and a straight guy is singing Michael Jackson from a karaoke mic at the gay bar, Mary’s.

He worked up his nerve because he’s singing a “Thriller” -era  Michael Jackson tune, but not, it would seem, because of stage fright. His mostly gay audience is amused, if a bit nonplussed. But hey, that’s showbiz, right?

It’s also East Atlanta Village, the neighborhood lynchpin of a now 10-year old effort to revitalize — though some would say gentrify — the once ailing neighborhoods south of Interstate 20 along Moreland Avenue.

Without knowing it, the straight guy — or hundreds just like him —  who fit in so easily among the racial, ethnic, and sexual orientation diversity at Mary’s, helped a lesbian bar owner choose to move her business out of Decatur and into East Atlanta Village.

“I would just kind of drive to my favorite places and look around, and I found that space,” says Susan Musselwhite of 1271 Glenwood Ave., the new home of the former Decatur lesbian bar My Sister’s Room, which is scheduled to open between the end of April and June this year.

Musselwhite says that the lesbian nightspot will add a complementary flavor to the melting pot neighborhood. 

“It’s so diverse, and it’s so welcoming to just about anyone," she says. "The neighborhood association has been very welcoming to us, and I love that.”

Revitalization in East Atlanta over the last decade was an uphill climb, with gay and lesbian pioneers leading the way as well as bringing up the rear.

Most say that their biggest challenge was not resistance from the established longtime residents, many of whom were, and remain, working class black families and retirees. Getting friends, family, and customers to acknowledge that the Atlanta city limits do not stop at Ponce de Leon was much more difficult, they say.

“It was like nobody was coming to East Atlanta then," says Glen Paul Freedman, a gay man who moved to East Atlanta Village in 1995. "People told us, ‘Oh why would you move to East Atlanta? It’s not gay like Midtown.’”

Freedman says he longed for diversity that just couldn’t be found in Midtown's gay ghetto back then. But his new neighborhood was in stark contrast with his old haunts when it came to overt gay acceptance.

“I didn’t know any gay people living down here, and there were very few rainbow flags flying up and down the streets when we looked," he says. "So one day, I put out a rainbow flag. I just thought, ‘What the hell?’”

As Freedman and other gay residents helped change the face of the neighborhood, gradually, East Atlanta began to develop a new reputation.

In 2006, Allen Thornell, who moved into the neighborhood with Freedman in 1995, narrowly lost his bid to represent the area in General Assembly District 56. Thornell, an openly gay and HIV positive man, went head to head in a run-off election with attorney Robin Shipp, who eventually won the seat.

Jeff Fastner, a gay man who just bought a house in East Atlanta last year, says a lot has changed in the neighborhood that made him OK with living there.

“Five years ago, I would have laughed at the thought of moving down here,” Fastner says.

Gay men and lesbians who ventured to East Atlanta in the 1990s would soon be joined by other gay pioneers — some of whom would put the neighborhood on the map.

“When we bought our first house down there, nothing on the east side of Moreland had ever sold over $100,000,” says Shawn Ergle, who, along with partner Michael Knight, moved to East Atlanta in 1996.

Both worked day jobs elsewhere at the time, but decided to try their hand at retail and opened Traders Neighborhood store, an interiors and gift boutique, in 1997. The store hosts its 10th anniversary "East Atlanta Reunion Party" on April 21, and features special prices if you bring in Traders receipts marked from 1997 to 2004.

By 1998, the Hungry Rush-In, a restaurant just a few doors down from Trader’s, was revamped by it’s owner’s into what is now Mary’s.

Knight and Ergle say they struggled for years to ensure the success of their shop against skeptical customers from within and outside of the neighborhood. But they were firm that the business would remain in East Atlanta Village.

“It wasn’t 'Where are we going to put this business?'" Knight says. "It was 'What kind of business can we put down in East Atlanta and make it?'"

Ergle and Knight's resolve represents an apparent quality among East Atlanta residents new and old. If they live there, they’re proud of it. And if living there requires a little patience, diplomacy or extra work, so be it.

“I think that by the very nature of moving to a side of town where you might have a junk car parked next to your yard for a while, I think you just naturally get a little less attitude and a little more cooperation,” figures Randy Addison, who, in 2005, extended Helmet Hairworx, his popular Midtown-based hair salon chain, to a reworked shopping center on the corner Moreland and Ormewood Avenues.

“The thing that I don’t think I really knew at the time was how supportive the population would be," Addison says. "It didn’t take much once I got here. There simply aren’t as many choices and [the residents] will support it if you bring it here.”

Like Midtown before it, the gay revitalization of East Atlanta tinkered with real estate values, which are either leveling off or soaring, depending upon who you ask. Still, spaces for homes and businesses remain cheaper than in Midtown, which, above all else, draws most of the new gay homeowners and entrepreneurs to the area. 

“I looked in Decatur just to see what was available, and there wasn’t anything that I could afford,” says Musselwhite of the seemingly more lesbian-centric former 'hood of My Sister’s Room.

“Price,” agrees Fastner definitively about why he chose the village over other neighborhoods, before adding convenience to his short list.

“I was looking for a house, and to be honest, Midtown was just too expensive," echoes Freedman. "The real estate people said 'You need to look at East Atlanta.'”

And, it’s been a good investment for some.

“The equity from gentrification afforded us a down payment on a new house,” Ergle says.