Finding My Rainbow in Cerritos: A Queer Journey in Suburbia
Have you ever felt like a technicolor butterfly trapped in a beige suburban box? That was me, three years ago, when I first moved to Cerritos with nothing but two suitcases and a desperate need to find my people.
My Cerritos Beginning
The palm-lined streets of Cerritos welcomed me with their pristine sidewalks and carefully manicured lawns. But as a newly out nonbinary person, I wondered if there was space for someone like me between the Cerritos Auto Square and the shadows of the San Gabriel Mountains. My first breakthrough came at the Cerritos Library—that architectural marvel where I spotted a tiny pride pin on the backpack of a librarian who later became my first local friend.
When You're the "Only One"
The hardest part wasn't the occasional sideways glance at the mall or being misgendered at the Town Center—it was the crushing loneliness of feeling like perhaps I was the only queer person for miles. Dating apps showed matches 25+ miles away in Long Beach or West Hollywood, and I started to wonder: was commuting the only way to have a queer social life?
Building Your Suburban Queer Oasis
- Seek out the subtle signals: Little Free Libraries with LGBTQ+ books, pride flags in windows, and inclusive businesses
- Create what you can't find: I started a monthly queer board game meetup at Grind Coffee that now has 15 regular attendees
- Expand your radius strategically: Connect with folks in Artesia, Norwalk, and La Palma
- Embrace digital community when needed: Virtual queer spaces can sustain you while building local connections
Remember, your visibility is revolutionary in spaces like Cerritos. Your existence creates possibility for others like you, even when it feels impossibly lonely.
What's your suburban queer experience been like? Drop a comment—maybe we're neighbors and don't even know it yet!