The most stigmatised drug on the party scene

TW: Discussions around rape and sexual assault.

Above the entrance to KitKatClub in Berlin – next to the hulking meathead bouncer who asks, ​“What are you going to wear inside?” – is a sign. In German and English it reads: ​“GHB = House Ban”. At the entrance to Berghain there’s a similar sign: ​“GHB/​GBL” with a big red cross through it.

Even the avid club-goer, whether in the German capital, London or anywhere else, likely won’t have seen drug-specific signs about MDMA, ket or coke. That’s because no illegal drug on the party scene is more stigmatised than GHB and its stronger cousin GBL. (They’re different substances, but GBL converts into GHB once swallowed.) Both of these substances are generally referred to as ​“G”, but there’s a crucial difference: GBL hits you faster and, according to the NHS, is ​“often more potent”.

The effects of G can include a feeling of euphoria, an obliteration of inhibitions, a sudden boost of confidence and horniness so potent you feel like one of those dogs who won’t stop trying to fuck the leg of the kitchen table. But it’s not all rainbows and threesomes. G can be a perilously dangerous drug, a central nervous system depressant that can be very risky if mixed with other downers such as alcohol or benzos (eg. Valium or Xanax) or ket. That’s why you won’t see seasoned users drink alcohol at all when they’re on the sesh – not even a pint or two. It’s no exaggeration to say that taking a shot of G after a single drink could kill you.

But even if you don’t mix drugs, there’s still the very real risk of accidental overdose. The optimum dose of G someone might want to take is precipitously close to the dose that could kill them. Less than one millilitre could be the difference, which is why G users often measure out a precise dose with an oral syringe and set an alarm on their phone to make sure they don’t re-dose too soon (sometimes called ​“the G o’clock alarm”). On top of that, it’s also noted for being highly physically and psychologically addictive.

So, G’s higher-risk profile compared to other party drugs is understandable. But that doesn’t mean to say that many, many people don’t use it responsibly – they do.

Unfortunately, another thing that doesn’t do G’s PR any good is its high-profile association with date rape and sexual assault. Between 2014 and 2015 Stephen Port, dubbed The Grindr Killer by the press, raped and murdered four men at his East London flat using G as a weapon. In 2020, Reynhard Sinaga was convicted of raping 48 men, incapacitated by G, in his Manchester flat. Police think he targeted at least another 200 men over a 15-year period, also using G as a tool. More recently, in Netflix’s mega hit Baby Reindeer, allegedly a ​“true story” according to the opening titles, the main character Donny is repeatedly sexually assaulted by a media figure called Darrien. After luring his victim in with promises of fame and fortune on the comedy circuit, the predator uses G to render Donny helpless.

These ripped-from-the-headlines stories aside, the frequency of G’s use to facilitate date rape is unclear and poorly understood. A UK government policy paper – published in December last year and titled Understanding and Tackling Spiking – touched on this. “‘Date rape drugs’ (such as GHB, flunitrazepam (Rohypnol), and ketamine) have historically been associated with spiking incidents,” the study reads. ​“However, a review of the literature found that these drugs were not found as often as might be expected in suspected spiking cases. In fact, in some studies they were found very rarely.”

This could be because G is very hard to detect in toxicology tests, unless the tests are done very quickly. But in this column last year, as part of a piece on vape spiking, I spoke to a nurse who works in a busy London A&E. He said that, in his professional experience, the most popular drug used to facilitate sexual assault is in fact alcohol.

The eliding of G with terrible, high-profile stories of rape and sexual assault – often reported by tabloids with whiffs of homophobia – has resulted in stigma, shame and division. ​“I feel like people who take GHB are a bit dodgy,” I heard a friend once say. Is this fair? Alcohol is reportedly the most common ​“date rape drug” – and yet we don’t tend to judge those who enjoy a pint after work.

G has certainly been used by predators. But that is a minority; it is also used by countless people who are simply interested in its euphoric effects.

“Claiming that everyone who takes GHB/​GBL is constantly overstepping people’s boundaries is disrespectful and harmful,” says a representative from Know Drugs, an app that offers users in Berlin harm-reduction information around club drugs. It’s also counterproductive – they believe that the shame doesn’t stop people taking the drug, and nor does it encourage them to take it more responsibly. They also point out that implications relating to the stigma – like people being threatened with bans from venues or being excommunicated from friendship groups because they are considered dangerous or toxic – could lead to secrecy around G use. All of which makes people less likely to reach out to friends and family for help if they are suffering from addiction issues. More importantly, it could create a situation where people are alone during an accidental overdose.

The first time Terry*, a 29-year-old lorry driver, took G, was at a festival. He was the only person in his friendship group taking it. ​“I had a message from a friend when I got back from the festival,” he recalls. “[It said] ​‘I can’t believe you’re taking that shit. It’s dirty. What are you doing? Anything but that.’” The reaction has put him off talking about his G use with his main friendship group. Now, he relies on strangers in a G‑related Telegram group for advice and information.

But according to informed observers, being alone in your drug use helps no-one. ​“Prohibition and shaming or shunning [G users] does not work,” Berlin-based drag queen Pansy, who runs a regular harm reduction event called Let’s Talk About Sex and Drugs, wrote on Instagram earlier this year. ​“Users are not just going to disappear because you want them to.”

Charlie is a 28-year-old who has been using G since they were 17. They explain how the stigma can cause secrecy: ​“People denigrate those who use G. It is a common enemy that the [queer] scene can have, and it’s a common drug that everyone can fight against,” they say. ​“There’s an element of bringing people together in hating the same thing.”

But that’s not the whole story, because some people in the party are still taking the drug. They’re just not being open about it. ​“When you’ve got your bottle of G, people will scuttle over and whisper in your ear, ​‘Babes, can I have a shot?’” Charlie tells me. ​“And you think: ​‘That’s interesting, you hated it a few hours ago now you want to ask me for it on the sly in the cubicle?’” But they don’t judge people for their contradictory views on G. ​“I’ve been there myself, saying I’d never touch it, then becoming a regular user.”

Of course, nobody wants to see anyone overdosing, especially at a party they organised or a venue they own. This has led to venues taking firm action to keep it out, hence those stern warnings in Berlin. Reportedly, there’s little leniency if someone is caught with a bottle of G, whereas there might be more room to manoeuvre with a pill or a baggie of ket. ​“The club has changed their policy on bringing lube into the venue,” I was recently warned via email before attending a sex party in London. The reason was apparently ​“an increased usage of GHB in the nightlife scene”. In an effort to stop G being smuggled in, punters were provided lube in sachets once inside the venue.

It’s vitally important that we have less stigma and good harm reduction activity around GHB/​GBL, especially given the risks it poses. ​“The difference is that with G there are two big risks,” Ignacio Labayen de Inza, tells THE FACE. He’s a co-founder of harm reduction charity Controlling Chemsex, which provides information and advice to people struggling with G in any way. ​“One of them is that it is very easy to overdose,” he explains. ​“It’s not that easy to overdose on cocaine or ecstasy, but it’s very easy on G.”

The other big risk, Labayen says, is that G is seriously addictive and users can quickly become physically dependent, meaning your body will have physical symptoms if you stop using the drug suddenly. It’s one of the few drugs (along with alcohol and benzos) that requires medical intervention to come off from. Without expert treatment, quitting cold turkey could, in the worst case scenario, lead to life-threatening seizures.

Emily, a Berlin-based 33-year-old trans woman, became physically addicted to G after using it for six years. At her worst she was using it hourly, every day. If she didn’t, her fingers and toes would swell up. At night, a shot of G would get her to sleep, but it would only last until around three o’clock in the morning, at which point she’d have to get up and have another to help her slip back into a slumber.

She stopped hanging out with many of her friends, opting instead to spend most of her time with a new partner who was also a heavy G user. In the end, she approached their parents for help and went to rehab, where she was weaned off the drug via a range of medications. She still uses G now, eight years on, sometimes in clubs, but in a much more measured way.

Emily thinks venues should rethink their stance on the drug to make it safer. ​“They have a really explicit position on G,” she told THE FACE. ​“If you bring it, you’ll be kicked out and banned.” This draconian approach means Emily, even with her history, uses G more dangerously at club nights: measuring out doses quickly in dark corners where it’s difficult to see the markers on the syringe; taking a shot before the ​“G o’clock” alarm because a furtive opportunity presents itself.

“Loads of people do G in their venue,” Emily says. ​“They know this.” She says venue owners ​“are not stupid” – they know that the darkroom, a backroom, often in queer clubs, where people can have sex, ​“is fuelled by gay men on G. What they’re doing is basically isolating people who use it problematically, as opposed to addressing the general issue, which is: how can you use it more safely? How can we help these members of the community?”

This idea opens up a familiar but no-less-pressing question for clubs: should they move from a zero-tolerance to a zero-harm approach to G? This could mean having well-lit areas for people to dose correctly, providing oral syringes on site and having drug welfare on the premises – people armed with resources, available for a chat about safer use and the risk of addiction, and able to signpost people to relevant drug and alcohol services if needed.

Good harm reduction activity, after all, meets people where they are. And with G users, whatever the signs on the door might say, that’s very likely to be in clubs.

All names have been changed