Queer and trans people have always journey – that’s obvious. But wherever we went, we tended to ask ourselves one specific question: Where can I find other people like me? And the answer has never been simple.
Five years before Stonewall, for example, San Francisco gay bar owner Bob Damron began publishing his series of Address books. It was, in essence, a riff on Victor Hugo Green Green book for black roadtrippers, highlighting places where mostly cis white gay men could connect with local scenes at a time when deviations from heterosexual norms were often criminalized. Damron’s books included a legend to help travelers make sense of the entries: Places were labeled with shorthand like “RT” = “hot guys”; “BA” = “bare ass”; and “M” = “mixed—some straights.” (“How can I escape the straight gaze?” is clearly a question that has been on the minds of many gay travelers for eons.)
But Damron’s guides weren’t aimed at queer and trans people, broadly defined. Their intended audience was narrow, as indicated by a tellingly problematic entry in the caption, which read “B” = “Black people frequent.” When a group of digital archivists put the entries online in 2020 for their project Guides for guys mappingThey noted that Damron's books “neglect large swaths of gay culture” and offer almost no “insight into the vibrant culture of trans people, for example.” This criticism of the Address books could still apply to the majority of contemporary LGBTQ+ travel literature, which tends to cater to only a few slices of our much larger rainbow.
Some things have changed. Today, many destinations and brands cater directly to LGBTQ+ travelers, a trend that began to take off in the 1970s with the launch of gay and lesbian cruises. By the 2010s, travel brands like Hilton and Delta were sponsoring major Pride events in U.S. cities and sporting rainbow-colored logos for the month of June. But despite this apparent visibility, mainstream travel media and advertising still often present a limited view of LGBTQ+ communities around the world.
We are, of course, far from a queer utopia. Every time we travel, our decisions are filled with considerations of safety and belonging. Laws targeting queer sexuality and the mere existence of trans people remain in place in dozens of countries; whether they are enforced or not, they raise concerns about our sense of safety. But even amidst the tensions and uncertainty—including in the States of America — the LGBTQ+ community continues to find innovative ways to come together, sharing spaces that may be ephemeral but resonate beautifully whenever and wherever we gather. To find these uplifting places, you need local insights.
