This is how it feels to wake up daily as a transgender, queer, disabled, and neurodivergent human in Appalachia –
Where fellow LGBTQ+ folks and allies act like we should not live, as though areas of our world shouldn’t be accessible for us;
As though we should abandon our homes, our communities, our favorite places for safety;
As if everyone has the privilege to ‘escape’ or move to San Fran or NYC.
Discrimination and oppression are everywhere. You cannot expect that we should abandon our homes to head for areas where white abled queers are safe – especially when doing so would easily open the door for fewer people to speak up and fight for human rights.
What am I fighting for?
This land, from our home and community to the countryside around us, is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. To see a sunset in the Ohio countryside, set against tree-covered hills, is truly awe-inspiring. Knowing that this land was once a part of the Central Pangean Mountains, that our mountain range extends to Scotland where I have ancestry, is mind-blowing. It feels like I get pieces of ‘home’ everywhere I go.
My turn-of-the-century home, with all its history and character, withstood and endured decades of change, floods, and leaks to be a part of my story. Our neighbor has known my partner for over a decade, having worked construction together back in the day. The joy I feel when we work on projects together is unparalleled, especially with him being the staunchest ally I’ve ever met.
My partner’s mom invited me to live with them until our home was ready. I’ve never had that, never had a ‘mom’ who cared enough to try and find new recipes that I can eat and new ways to love on me. When we spend time together, it’s like the outside world gets put on pause and all that matters is our three-person, four-dog family.
My local friends counted down the days until we moved in, excited to spend time in person after nearly a year of hanging out online. We chat about everything at our weekly game nights, from fighting anti-trans bills to mutual aid to just existing together.
The other LGBTQIA+ folks that I’ve met here are the sweetest people. Some are in our friend group and others I’ve met running errands or at protests. We find each other in the most amazing ways, and there’s always this recognition that feels somehow ancient – head nods, compliments about representation-filled clothing and accessories. You don’t get that everywhere.
Having these sweet dogs in my life has been so precious, so healing. Neither of them have gone through any kind of training to be emotional support or service animals… and, yet, they fulfill those roles and more. They are my constant companions, the source of immense joy and laughter, and two of my favorite snuggle buddies in the entire world.
And my partner… I’ve never felt as safe in my entire life as I do with them. We could be camping in the middle of nowhere or in the busiest crowds, and I would feel just as safe as long as I’m with them. They are my rock, my home.
How could anyone ask folks to abandon this?
- This connection to land that feels so ancient and yet so present
- This group of people who are undoubtedly the most kind, courageous, and supportive
- This way of living that is both free and rooted in community and mutual aid
Where I come from, these aren’t things that are givens. They are things we find and have to fight to hold on to.
We don’t run when we are threatened. We find ways to persist.