The other day I got a DM from a friend on the other side of the US, "What is it like being in Portland?"
I knew in my head what they were referring to, they're looking at applying for a month-long poetry residency in the area. They had mentioned it before. And I know that they're asking about what they can add to that application to prove that spending a month out here will be valuable to their writing about queer experience, kink, and autism.
But of course, that isn't what I hear.
What is it like to be queer in Portland (OR)? I ride the bus and I walk to the grocery store. I see someone wearing the coolest ever alternative outfit and a beam of pride hits me when they get off at the same stop as me, even if I will never know them. I see trans rights written in paint pen on the back of a parking sign and there's a gay garfield sticker on the stop sign at the end of my block. I go to innocuous evens and the introductions include pronouns. I say hi to the cats that live on the way to my bus. I go see a play. I hear my friends talk about their partners. Their transition. Their friend who was kicked out. I go to my weekly open mic. I ride the bus.
I sent my friend a couple local groups that run events, but I have never been to one on that list.
I go to the events my friends are at, and we make them a queer event. My open mic isn't a queer event, but over half of the people who perform are. The community organizing space where I host my workshops isn't covered in pride flags, it's covered in zines and nude sketches. And I do do things that are advertised as queer events, I'm part of Genderbomb and I do Stage Fright every year.
What is it like? What is it actually like? It's every day. I'm not going to events every day, but every day I leave my house I see a reminder that I am not alone.