Being Visibly Queer in West Texas: Finding Your People When You Feel Invisible
Ever felt like you're both a unicorn and a ghost at the same time? That's how my first year in Midland felt—magically rare yet somehow unseen.
From Strangers to Family: My Midland Story
When my company transferred me to the Permian Basin three years ago, I packed my pride flag with a mix of determination and dread. The first few months were exactly what I feared—sideways glances at HEB when I wore my rainbow pin, awkward silences when coworkers discussed weekend plans with their partners.
The Quiet Struggle We Share
Let's be honest about the challenges:
- Dating apps that show the same 5 profiles within a 50-mile radius
- The exhaustion of constantly coming out (or choosing not to)
- Finding safe spaces to just be yourself without explanation
- The well-meaning but clueless "You should meet my other gay friend!"
Creating Your Oasis
I won't sugarcoat it—building queer community here takes work, but it's possible:
- Basin Pride meets monthly and welcomed me with open arms
- The baristas at Ground Floor Coffee don't bat an eye at my "they/them" pronoun pin
- Virtual community through Discord and Facebook groups connected me with folks I'd never have met otherwise
Remember, resilience isn't just surviving—it's finding joy despite the challenges.
You're not alone in feeling alone. That contradiction is part of our experience here, but I promise there are others searching for you just as earnestly as you're searching for them.
Let's Connect
Drop a comment about your West Texas queer experience. What spaces have felt welcoming? What creative ways have you found your people?