How Many Times Have You Hidden Your True Self in a Small State Like Rhode Island?
Growing up queer in Little Rhody meant I knew everyone and everyone knew me—or at least the version I let them see. Walking through Providence's east side, I'd switch pronouns mid-sentence depending on who passed by. The ocean state might be small, but the closets felt massive.
When Rhode Island Feels Both Too Small and Too Vast
That summer at Narragansett Beach, I finally held my partner's hand publicly. An elderly couple smiled. A family looked away. A teenager gave a subtle nod. In that moment, our tiny state felt like the perfect size—big enough to breathe, small enough to find your people.
The Paradox of Queer Connection Here
- Dating apps show the same 20 people within a 50-mile radius
- Everyone seems to know your ex (or is your ex)
- Finding authentic community beyond Providence feels impossible
- The "did I see you at the only gay bar last weekend?" conversations
When winter isolation hits and Pride feels galaxies away, remember that Rhode Island's queer community exists in pockets everywhere—in bookstores, coffee shops, community gardens, and art spaces. We're hiding in plain sight.
What helped me was creating micro-communities—dinner parties where friends brought friends, starting a queer hiking group, and yes, sometimes driving to Boston when Rhode Island felt too limiting.
You're never as alone as the Atlantic waves might make you feel. Our small state advantages mean change happens faster here, connections form deeper, and our voices carry further.
How are you finding or building your queer community in Rhode Island? What spaces have felt most welcoming? Share below—your experience might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today.