Finding My Queer Light in a Mountain City Shadow
Have you ever felt like the most beautiful parts of yourself were the ones you needed to hide the most? That was me, sitting on my porch in Charleston's East End, watching the Kanawha River flow while keeping my own truth dammed up inside.
My Charleston Story
When I moved to Charleston three years ago, the Capitol dome gleamed with promise, but I worried my queerness would cast too long a shadow in West Virginia. I found myself code-switching at my job downtown, mentioning "my friend" instead of "my partner" when coworkers asked about weekend plans. The Blue Parrot became my sanctuary—the one place I could exhale fully.
The Isolation Paradox
The hardest part wasn't the occasional sideways glance or uncomfortable silence—it was the loneliness that felt heavier than the Appalachian mountains surrounding us.
- Dating apps showed the same 20 people within a 50-mile radius
- Finding queer-friendly healthcare meant driving to Huntington
- Community events existed but required being "in the know"
Building Your Chosen Family Here
What transformed my experience was stopping the search for a "scene" and starting to create connections instead. The Covenant House became my volunteer home. I found queer friends at Taylor Books poetry nights. The Rainbow Pride festival each June reminded me we've always been here.
Remember, in a small city, authenticity ripples further than you'd think. Your visibility creates space for others.
How are you making Charleston home? Share your story below—this thread is for building bridges between our islands.