Queer, Trans, Outdoorsy, and Melanated
Not all of us grew up spending time in nature even if we found our way there as adults. Some of us built upon childhood memories of sleepaway camps and fishing trips with grandparents. Others became first-time hikers, cyclists and climbers in our 20s or 30s. Collectively, our outdoor experiences occupy a spectrum—especially for those who identify as queer/trans People of Color. Even though we may face similar obstacles, like safety, access and representation, it’s important to make space for LGBTQIA+ outdoorspeople to share their stories. Online and in-person communities—including our own—still have a lot of work to do in creating safe, outdoor spaces for all, where queer and trans People of Color are celebrated!
Keep scrolling to learn from three outdoorsy LGBTQIA+ People of Color.
Jeisanelly (Jessy) Hernandez
Jeisanelly is an Afro-Latine, Puerto Rican descendant with a knack for getting outside. Ever since they were a kid, they enjoyed spending time outside. There were camping trips with friends, bike riding for hours in the neighborhood and fishing with their dad at a nearby pond. But it wasn’t until a middle school hiking trip that Jessy really felt the beauty of the outdoor world. “The view at the top of Greylock was like nothing I had seen before,” said Jessy. “This is what made me fall in love with hiking. I quickly signed up for the same elective the following year.”
As they grew older, they found a continuing relationship with nature centered around stillness—not activity. “When I was younger, everything always felt so fast-paced and care-free,” they reflected. “But now, I stop to look at the details, soak in the beauty of it, and sit still in the moment with the sun, the wind, the water, and the trees.”
There were also new ways to connect and find community outdoors. “I’m really grateful that from a very young age I was introduced to so many cultures and identities,” Jessy added, mentioning that their family is also supportive of their own queer identity. That doesn’t mean they don’t experience obstacles as an outdoorsperson. Especially when it comes to outdoor sports, they don’t always feel represented. “There is a big racial disparity that I struggle with. A lot of these outdoor spaces are not advertised as being ‘for everyone.’ They don’t come across as diverse,” they admitted. “So it can be hard seeing yourself in these spaces.”
Jessy enjoys canoeing and paddle boarding—two sports that don’t have large BIPOC communities in the U.S. for many reasons. And in their home in Massachusetts, they rarely see other BIPOC on the trails. “I know this is due to a combination of things, such as accessibility issues, knowing the park is even here, and culture/social attitudes of some communities up here,” Jessy explained.
Fortunately, there are a few LGBTQIA+ groups and spaces that Jeisanelly has access to through the university including Lambda and Queer/Trans POC (QTPOC). Jessy states that while these safe spaces are becoming more commonplace on campus, that’s not something they experienced back home. That’s why they believe in the importance of programs that promote inclusion in the outdoors. Whether it’s a peaceful walk in the woods or an extreme sport, nature is for everyone and isn’t meant to be enjoyed by just one group of people. “My number one priority in the outdoors is to hopefully help others make their own connection with the outdoors and to continue to build my own,” Jessy reflected. “I want people to learn and have fun while outdoors and know that it is their space too!”
Phillip Lucas
Phillip is a long-term Seattle resident who is currently living in Denver, Colorado. While he grew up in a racially diverse environment, that didn’t always include outdoor activities or an acceptance of his queer identity. “I had a very diverse group of friends growing up because the area of Seattle I lived in,” Phillip explained, “And for the most part, my outdoor activities were pretty limited to walking around city parks and other spaces I had easy access to,”.
Leaving the Pacific Northwest for Denver’s in-your-face outdoor culture was an adjustment. “I think the biggest challenge I faced toward building a better relationship with the outdoors was having confidence in my abilities,” Phillip admitted. “Colorado is such an outdoor playground, it can be intimidating to try new things when it feels like everyone around you has top-of-the-line gear and a lifetime of experience.”
And he isn’t alone in this; many of us feel overwhelmed or struggle with impostor syndrome while trying to fit in with those who were raised with immediate access to the outdoors. Then there’s the question of safety. How do you evaluate risk as an outdoorsy queer/trans Person of Color? “I’m still getting comfortable with the idea of being completely unreachable for days at a time though, that one is kind of tough for me.” Phillip added. But as diversity on the trails continues to grow, there is a certain camaraderie doing outdoor activities with other people who share your identity. “Every now and then I’ll see other Black people on the trails and we always give each other ‘the nod’, like we’re saying ‘I see you and I’m glad you’re here!’ without having to say a single word,” he observed.
Not only is the outdoors a fun and beautiful place, it can be an incredibly healing experience. “It was really rewarding to connect with the outdoors as an adult because I’ve learned that I can (temporarily) let go of so many things that stress me out or aggravate me,” Phillip continues. He enjoys spending time in Nature with a focus on recharging and restoration, “without any obligations or pressure.”
And luckily there are places and groups available for queer BIPOC to celebrate their relationship with the outdoors, especially in the Denver area. Phillip mentions that even though he doesn’t always engage with all of the available queer spaces, he does participate with groups like the Colorado Blackpackers and Ski Noir 5280.
Kenjah
Kenjah grew up close to nature. Living on a small farm, they explored often and had a close connection to outdoor activity. But where they felt welcome in the natural world, they had a completely different experience being Multiracial in society. For Kenjah, moving to an area of wealth and predominantly white neighbors was a stark contrast to their childhood. Not only did they feel like an outcast in the world of wealth, but they truly experienced the cruel side effects of exclusion. Kenjah shared “No one looked like me, and everyone thought I was weird. My hair is a 3c texture, my name was spelled “weirdly” according to every teacher and student I met, I was loud and energetic, I “played like a boy”; in short, I did not conform to what was expected in that area, and I was harshly punished and bullied for it by kids and adults alike. I never saw anyone who looked like me until I moved away and went to college.”
Despite this, Kenjah refused to let others dictate their queer identity and in turn, rejected the idea of having to “come out” altogether. “I decided that the notion of coming out was dumb.” They claimed “Straight people don’t have to come out, so why should I? I just started living my life…” Unfortunately, they do still experience rejection of their queer identity because while some close family members are loving allies, some still remain unsupportive. Kenjah continues, “It was like “don’t ask don’t tell” … If you don’t support all of me, then you don’t actually support me or love my authentic being.”
It's a hurtful thing to not be completely accepted by your peers, family, and society in general but that’s a reality for a lot of Multiracial, BIPOC/ LGBTQIA+ individuals. Even more so when you have both identities being challenged. But like many, Kenjah also finds solace in the outdoors. “My friends and I would go hiking on the weekends or our days off and get lost in the woods…” Kenjah explained, “It was a way for us to have peace away from the world that tries to force us to choose boxes to identify ourselves. We could just be.”
These combined experiences have led Kenjah to create their own queer outdoor spaces and is now involved in running wilderness events for queer folks. They continue to look for ways to create a more inclusive outdoor community for every identity and everybody. “I look forward to learning more ways to make wilderness recreation accessible to all queer folks of all intersectional identities,” Kenjah admits.
But even in such a queer-accepting space, there is still work to be done to ensure diversity is present. Kenjah continues that while there are certainly more LGBTQIA+-centric spaces, “it is a very white queer-centric experience”. They remarked, “I have had to actively look for and be very intentional with connecting to my queer community of color where I live… what I have noticed is that there are queer spaces, there are BIPOC spaces, and then there are Queer and Trans BIPOC spaces. Again, intentionality is really important when looking for community.” This is a common problem for People of Color in search of diverse queer outdoor organizations that reflect their lived experiences.
Despite these barriers, Kenjah will always work to make the outdoors a safe space for BIPOC/LGBTQIA+ individuals. The outdoors is healing and encourages us to exist as we are. Kenjah summed up the idea of outdoor inclusion with the idea that “Queer and Trans People of Color have ALWAYS been in community with nature for as long as humans have existed. It is our heritage, it is ours to claim. Our history has been erased from us over the years, but our hearts and souls remember and know.”
Message
Within these three stories is the same message. While many spaces are becoming more accepting of queer BIPOC, there is still a lot of work to be done to completely close the gaps that have perpetuated exclusion for centuries. And while many cities and communities are fighting towards inclusion, even within amongst “safe spaces” you may still find a lack of diversity. Jeisanelly’s experience of feeling unwelcome and Phillip’s reality of outdoor communities where Black folx aren’t always visible, are examples of how far we have to go. Lastly, as Kenjah pointed out, even many LGBTQIA+ outdoor groups fall short as safe spaces for queer/trans People of Color. There is lots of work left to do. Despite that, Nature doesn’t judge. It can be an incredibly healing place for all, regardless of gender, sexuality, race, experience, or identity. Whether you grew up playing outside or found the outdoors later in life, Nature is accepting of all journeys.
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