by Tara Cobb
I’m not going to lie; I was nervous about moving to a small town and not at all certain I could handle “small-town life.” I mean being queer and finding a supportive community of other LGBTQIA+ folks and allies was hard enough in the suburbs of Chicago where I grew up and in the heart of Milwaukee where I’d most recently lived. I was worried that Platteville’s smaller population and the conservative reputation of small towns would make living as openly queer difficult for me, but more importantly, I feared it would make life for my high school-aged nibling* emotionally distressing or even physically unsafe. I realize that might sound surprising to some considering the disparate crime rates in areas like Chicago versus that of a town like Platteville but, as part of a marginalized group such as the LGBTQIA+ community, there is often comfort found in diversity and safety found in anonymity.
So, when my family moved here last June, I was thrilled but still somewhat apprehensive to see that a Pride in the Park event was planned for the week after we arrived in town. It could not possibly be as large and supportive as the Pride Parade and dozens of other events in Chicagoland or the weekend-long celebration of queer unity that is PrideFest in Milwaukee, I reasoned.
And I was right. Kind of.
Of course, it wasn’t as large as Chicago Pride Parade or Milwaukee PrideFest. But it was much more well-attended than I had expected and every bit as welcoming. It was clear to me that Pride in the Park was a town-wide effort full of community institutions and local businesses that came out to Pride to embrace the full spectrum of their community. There were representatives from nearby churches and businesses, and the public library as well as a bunch of fun stuff for kids to do. (I’m not ashamed to say that I sat down at the picnic table and painted rocks alongside preschool and elementary school children.) My family and I chowed down on some food truck BBQ, made pronoun buttons, and chatted with some of our new neighbors. (One person brought their long-haired guinea pig named Lettuce who was the sweetest critter ever!) My angsty teenage nibling* even felt comfortable enough to approach some other folks with whom to sit and talk. My favorite part of the event was listening to other LGBTQIA+ people (from teenaged to middle aged) get on stage to share their stories. Some were humorous and others heartfelt. But they all drove home the point that You Are Not Alone. From the flashiest cities to the most rural hamlets, we are here. And, when we come together, we can make our homes and our world a safer and more loving place for us all.
At the end of the evening, we made our way home with rainbow flags, leftover BBQ, fliers for upcoming meetings, tired feet, and the buoying belief that our new home would welcome us in.
*Nibling is a gender-neutral term for a sibling’s child