How to Build a Queer Community
By Genevieve Balivet (She/Her/Hers)
Pride Month is easily my favorite time of year. I love the bright colors, shouting “GAY,” at every turn, and most of all, seeing the queer community come together. People all across the rainbow come out of the woodwork to protest, celebrate, and remind each other we are not alone. Being surrounded by physical bodies, seeing the faces, hearing the voices, learning the names gives me a special sense of interconnectedness and solidarity. Despite our differences, we share a history, struggles, and victories. We understand each other, and we are safe with each other. It makes the hostile world feel much easier to bear.
The hard part comes when Pride Month ends.
Suddenly, everyone vanishes, leaving behind deserted venues, rainbow glitter, and silence. Gone is the connection, the safety, and the empathy. Once again, I’m alone in a world that doesn’t want me. And I wonder: where did everyone go?
My struggles with isolation are not unique. Research from Mark Hughes and Meaghan Vosz suggests queer people experience more loneliness than non-queer folks. Factors like discrimination, exclusion, and minority stress compound with problems like low income, living alone, and being closeted. Add to that the growing disconnection in our society: an epidemic of loneliness, according to NPR. Even recently, I’ve seen discussions on social media groups like Queer GR where people say they’re lonely. The same question keeps resurfacing: Where is the queer community when I need it?
What is Community, Really?
One issue is that community works differently than we think. We tend to see “community” as a noun, something that simply is. Since there’s a lot of queer people in the same area, there’s a queer community. Right?
Unfortunately, it’s not that straightforward. We can share spaces—neighborhoods, workplaces, schools, and public areas—and not have a community. Even though I’m surrounded by people every day, I don’t interact with them. It’s easy to ignore others, to avoid eye contact and dodge conversation. Noise-cancelling earbuds and an endless stream of entertainment from my phone makes it even easier. And ever since the pandemic, which made social distancing mandatory, we have collectively fallen into a pattern of avoiding. While existing in the same space can be a helpful start, community is more than that.
So then, how does a community work? Think of it as a web of relationships, made from consistent, ordinary interactions. By getting to know the people around us, we build trust and a sense of connection with each other. Together, these bonds form a safety net of people who see and care about us. This shows us community is a verb, not a noun: an ongoing process that truly thrives when it has effort put into it. It means that if we want a queer community, we have to put in active work. In the words of an article from NPR, to build a village, we have to be villagers.
Unfortunately, building a community from scratch can be tricky. It’s like the difference between buying a live plant and growing one from a seed: the second one takes a lot more effort. Starting to build a community requires pushing through not only the inertia of non-interacting habits, but the awkwardness of meeting new people. It means sitting in rooms full of strangers, stumbling through icebreakers and first impressions, attending second and third and fourth times, and giving space and grace for each other while we let those connections grow.
What Gets in the Way
When I learned this, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. I’m an introvert, and neurodivergent to boot. Talking to people scares me; being in a new space scares me—basically everything necessary to build a community pulls me out of my comfort zone. I love the idea of being surrounded by people I feel connected with, but when it comes down to it, I would rather stay home and watch Star Wars. Add to that the busyness and stress of working a job and doing chores. Most evenings and weekends, I’m brain-draining on video games rather than attending events. Community feels too hard to build.
These are common issues: anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions often stand in the way. (Especially because queer folks struggle with worse mental health outcomes than non-queer people.) For folks in marginalized racial, class, or disability groups, there can be fear of additional stigma and misunderstanding. Other barriers like travel, living in isolated locations, lack of accessibility, or the fear of being outed also make these first steps difficult. Even our society is structured in an individualistic way to keep us apart. There are a lot of factors stacked against us. And in a time where the world feels especially unstable, it makes sense that we want to cling to our comfort zones. However, we need an active queer community—now more than ever.
Why Bother?
Community, of course, affirms us, helps us fight loneliness, and supports our mental health. But it is also so much more. Where institutions fail us, community closes the gaps—physical, financial, emotional. Through it, we can share basic needs, resources, knowledge and advice, social support, belonging, affirmation, and love. In an era when money is growing tighter and the U.S. government is setting its sights on queer people, our wealth and our protection lie in people we can depend on.
Beyond that, community is resistance. By coming together, we declare we will not be erased. By caring for each other, we show ourselves and the world that we are valuable, and we deserve joy and love. And of course, when we stand together, we can fight for the future we deserve. This is what community means, and more than ever, we need it.
How do we build community?
There are hundreds of ways to build community, but here are a few ideas:
Come to our events! We host multiple events per month, ranging from game nights to identity-specific groups. We also sponsor Hudsonvile Area Pride each July. Feel free to come by and visit!
Host an event. Priya Parker, author of The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters, says, “The best way to get a seat at the table is to host a table.” For example, include other people in something you enjoy. If you like watching sports, invite some friends or neighbors to watch the game with you. If you want to visit the farmer’s market, try making it a group outing. The possibilities are endless!
Get to know your neighbors. For introverts and folks who prefer one-on-one interactions, you can ask people to coffee or lunch. These help you build in-depth connections, one person at a time, without the chaos of a larger gathering.
Write letters. If physical isolation, illness, or disability makes attending events difficult, try sending emails, letters, or cards. It lets you build bonds across long distances, and it can also be a creative outlet!
Remember it’s a process. For various reasons, these suggestions might not work for you, or the events you enjoy aren’t as regular or as well-attended as you’d hope. That’s okay! Community takes time to grow, and every effort, no matter how small, is a step in the right direction.
Like anything worth building, community takes effort and stepping outside your comfort zone. But with small, intentional actions, we can create the queer community we need, for Pride Month and all year round.
