Real Queer America: LGBT Stories from Red States

by Samantha Allen

LAMBDA LITERARY AWARD FINALIST
A transgender reporter's "powerful, profoundly moving" narrative tour through the surprisingly vibrant queer communities sprouting up in red states ( New York Times Book Review ) , offering a vision of a stronger, more humane America.
Ten years ago, Samantha Allen was a suit-and-tie-wearing Mormon missionary. Now she's a GLAAD Award-winning journalist happily married to another woman. A lot in her life has changed, but what hasn't changed is her deep love of Red State America, and of queer people who stay in so-called "flyover country" rather than moving to the liberal coasts.

In Real Queer America , Allen takes us on a cross-country road-trip stretching all the way from Provo, Utah to the Rio Grande Valley to the Bible Belt to the Deep South. Her motto for the "Something gay every day." Making pit stops at drag shows, political rallies, and hubs of queer life across the heartland, she introduces us to scores of extraordinary LGBT people working for change, from the first openly transgender mayor in Texas history to the manager of the only queer night club in Bloomington, Indiana, and many more.

Capturing profound cultural shifts underway in unexpected places and revealing a national network of chosen family fighting for a better world, Real Queer America is a treasure trove of uplifting stories and a much-needed source of hope and inspiration in these divided times.

Genres: Nonfiction, LGBT, Queer, Memoir, Audiobook, Travel, Politics

269 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 5, 2019

About the author

Samantha Allen is the author of the horror comedy novel PATRICIA WANTS TO CUDDLE (Zando, 2022) and the Lambda Literary Award finalist REAL QUEER AMERICA: LGBT STORIES FROM RED STATES (Little, Brown, 2019). Her other publications include LOVE & ESTROGEN (Amazon Original Stories, 2018) and M to WT(F) (Audible Originals, 2020).

She is a GLAAD Award-winning journalist with bylines in The New York Times, CNN, Rolling Stone, and more. She received her Ph.D. in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies from Emory University in 2015 and has two hairless cats.

Reviews

[Cece (ProblemsOfaBookNerd) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have so many thoughts about this brilliant book and I don’t know how I’ll ever say them all in a video. Maybe it deserves its own dedicated discussion just to break down the incredible breadth and heart of this story and the queer communities we create in conservative states. I know that it has impacted me in a myriad of ways and I will never stop recommending it, and I implore you to pick it up if you want to see the colorful queerness in America today. There are so many of us, and we are so powerful. And those of us born and bred in red states are tough motherfuckers who are going to fight for our right to change the world.

[Sarah Swedberg · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to like this book more.

Maybe the problem is that I live in red America and do the really hard work of trying to make it a safer place for LGBTQ+ people. Many days I feel like the work is impossible, despite some gains. This doesn't stop me from working toward those gains, but it also exhausts me.

Maybe because of that I think Allen mythologizes people like the people I know to too great an extent.

I also think that she dismisses the good work of people in cities too easily. She writes of her friend Michael that "he realized that many of his new coworkers at the HIV/AIDS advocacy organization were more interested in climbing ladders than they were in saving lives" (19). While that may very well have been Michael's experience, in 1980s San Francisco and in 1990s Boston, the people I worked alongside were radicals who wanted to save lives and make a better world, who weren't cliqueish, and who worked across all sorts of dividing lines.

While I may find myself living in this red community for the rest of my life, I will never stop yearning for a city. Not only did I feel like I was home in cities in a way I never will in this community, I also had access to other things that are important to me.

I miss independent cinema and film festivals. I miss vegetarian restaurants (and the ones I frequented were not the expensive ones). I miss theater. I miss so many things that cities offer. For someone like me, these other things that are tied to my lesbianism but also apart from it, help to make the world a better place.

There are definite strengths to this book. I loved the introduction and may use it when I teach LGBTQ Studies this fall. I loved Allen's discussion of *queer*. But, in the end, the red America she painted rang false to me. In the end, it seemed too much like the other books I have read recently where experiences are inflated to become a universal rather than the individual stories they really are.

[Thomas · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Real Queer America, queer reporter Samantha Allen embarks on a road trip across Red State America, from Provo, Utah to the Bible Belt to the Deep South, illuminating LGBT narratives that often go unmentioned in broader media circles. She portrays the beloved community of LGBT individuals in the South as well as the fight for queer rights in these conservative states. I appreciated Allen’s warm and vulnerable narration and her disclosure of her own story of coming out, both to others and herself, as a transgender woman. She does a nice job of both sharing her story as well as including quotes and perspectives from others who reside in the South. I also felt grateful for how she names her whiteness and the privileges that come with that, as well as the importance of intersectionality, topics that I often feel get ignored in the queer community.

Though I would generally recommend this book, I think I also wanted more of an analysis or even personal perspective on the difficulties of being queer in the South? I understand that Allen tries to dispel the narrow-minded narrative that the South is an awful place for LGBT people, I get that – and yet, from other narratives I’ve read and from LGBT people I know, the South can indeed be an alienating place for queer folk and queer youth especially. After finishing this book I’m still left curious about those experiences as well as what motivates queer youth to migrate to cities (like how P.E. Moskowitz writes that it is often white LGBT folk who contribute to gentrification in cities in their book How to Kill a City ). Overall, I’d recommend this book to those interested in narratives of queer people in the South and for those searching for a book written from a trans reporter’s perspective.

[Erik · Rating 2 out of 5]

A book that had the potential to finally give voice to the silenced stories of queer people living in conservative regions, "Real Queer America" is instead dogged by its author, Samantha Allen's, constant missives about her disdain for New York City.

In the aftermath of Trump's election in 2016, journalist Samantha Allen asked herself what the lives of queer people living in the heart of Trump country were like. Herself having come of age and transitioned in small cities and rural areas in "red states" across the country, she decided to embark on a journey revisiting these places as a transgender woman and reconnecting with the people who live there.

The parts of the book that sing are those moments when Allen gives voice to the gay bar owner in Jackson, MS or the only out transgender member of the Mormon church in Provo, UT. In these moments, when she quiets her own thoughts to give a platform for the people living these experiences to speak, it is truly moving.

Unfortunately, Allen consistently (and by this I mean at least once every ten pages) goes on rants about how terrible New York City or San Francisco are. This props up a false dichotomy between "red and blue" and "urban and rural" that weakened her book rather than strengthened her attempt to give voice to silenced experiences. And this was even more troubling as she kept insisting on trying to discover the "real america" - a comment that should make us all cringe in the era of growing nationalist sentiment we see rising through figures like Trump (who also cling to an idea of a "real america.")

"Real Queer America" could have been a masterpiece of queer literature, but instead it just read like a travel blog by someone who, rather than acknowledge the plurality of queer experiences, felt a need to denigrate some in order to allow for others.

[Madalyn (Novel Ink) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This one hit me DEEP, and this is a book that I think will always hold a dear place in my heart. Fellow queer folks, especially those in red states: this is a must-read. Samantha Allen perfectly captured the unique experience of being queer in a conservative community, and both the wonderful and not-so-great things about it. And the Atlanta chapter? So much love. I will be thinking about these stories for quite a long time to come!

[Bookworm · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had been very excited to read about the stories of LGBTQ+ people in "red" states in the US. It sounded like it would be an interesting look at what it's like, at how they live their lives and deal with living in "red" states. The author herself went through a similar journey, going from a "suit-and-tie-wearing Mormon missionary" to a reporter now married to another woman.

The author takes us through various red states and interviews people there: their lives, how they realized who they were, how they were affected by (sometimes) moving to blue areas and why they moved back (or why they never left), the work they do, etc. Sometimes it's not all that different and sometimes the experiences are fairly unique to that state or person.

But...I have to agree with some of the negative reviews. I've never been a big fan of books by journalists and this is another case. I was honestly bored by a lot of the book. It also felt like the author inserted herself into the book too much, perhaps if not herself then her friends who came along the journey, whereas I was a lot more interested in the people she was talking to who she encountered.

I was also really not a big fan of the "real America" vs. the "coastal elites" narrative that was an undercurrent throughout the book. No, places like NYC or San Francisco or Washington DC isn't for everyone and that's totally understandable. But after reading through the introduction, I began to look at the title a little differently, from seeing "real" not as "very" but rather "authentic," which is not always true. And sometimes work gets done in places like Washington, DC to allow people to have the rights they have now.

The resentment is real and while the author wanted to tell a particular story, there ARE people who do want to escape these red states and go to some place like NYC, San Francisco, or even just other blue areas. Again, that wasn't what the author was writing about and I respect the story she was trying to tell but it just seemed to color the writing a bit.

Overall it just wasn't for me, but I see a lot of people liked this book. I think for the right person it would definitely a great read and/or a good gift. Otherwise I'd recommend the library.

[TK · Rating 3 out of 5]

This audiobook helped me pin point some of my feelings about queer organizing in the US South and my feelings around being a transplant from the NE. But I am not without criticism of this book. Many of these are based on my expectations of the book. I was expecting the book to be a little heavier on the road trip narrative- instead it leans on modern queer history. This is not inherently bad, but since much of the recent history is lived history for me I found myself being disappointed that the stories weren't more of the center. This isn't to say those stories aren't rich and relatable- I just wanted more of them. My other criticism is how autobiographical the story is overall- again no inherently bad but it also pushed the narrative further from the other voices and stories in the book and centers Samantha Allen in the narrative more often than not. I really did enjoy this and I did end up learning a lot and having a whole range of emotional moments I think I just wanted a deeper delve into the rich history and diversity of the Southern States.

[Rickey Bach · Rating 2 out of 5]

When I first downloaded this audiobook, I expected chapters which were snugly spun around certain individuals, who share their experiences of being queer in more conservative areas of the US. Having grown up in a very red, impoverished, and rural part of the country as a queer person myself, I wanted to connect with stories that were similar to my own. Although there are some great stories like this in the book, I felt that they were greatly overshadowed by the authors disdain for New York City, San Francisco, and any other urban or "blue" area of the US. Sure, living in urban centers is not for everyone (I myself could never exist somewhere like Brooklyn); however, to distill every blue state, or progressive city to a few stereotypes and hyperboles was dismaying. There are more LGBTQ+ friendly places aside from NYC and San Francisco, yet they go unmentioned. Living in Western Washington State, I could name a dozen different towns that are affordable, safe, friendly, and just as welcoming as the any southern state. At points I felt that I should be ashamed for having moved from a red state to a blue one; as if that meant my starting a career that could never exist in the state from which I hail was some pernicious act inflicted on the local LGBTQ+ community.

This book reads more like a blog post attempting to dismiss blue states and detail the minutiae of the authors' travels, more so than of stories shared by other queer individuals.

[johnny ♡ · Rating 3 out of 5]

this isn't comprehensive of all red states. it's mostly just utah, georgia, and indiana. as someone (trans, queer) who lives in saint louis, missouri, i hate this state and everything about it. it's a hellhole. there's nothing positive about it. yeah, it's a great book about queer triumph and life, but... i couldn't relate to it. at all.

[Bookphile · Rating 4 out of 5]

I found this both interesting and moving. As a straight, cis person who wants to be a good ally, this book provided me a lot of insight. RTC

Full review:

As a straight, cis person who wants to be a good ally, I picked this book up to give me a broader perspective of the lives of LGBTQ people, especially since most of the media focus seems to be on those living in the more liberal coastal enclaves. The premise of the book intrigued me, because as the author points out throughout the course of the book, LGBTQ have created homes for themselves everywhere, even in seemingly hostile places. To prove this, she sets out on a road trip with a friend, winding a path across red states to meet up with and learn about the various communities LGBTQ people have carved out for themselves. I myself don't live in a red state, nor do I live in a liberal coastal enclave, but my own home state has lots of work to do when it comes to advancing the civil rights of LGBTQ people, and I've often wondered why anyone who is LGBTQ would want to live in a place that refuses to recognize their basic humanity.

I have to say, this book surprised me. I admire the tenacity and determination of those living in states with laws that blatantly discriminate against them. So many of the people Allen profiles in this book express frustration with the draconian laws where they live, yet they don't want to move because they're determined to effect change. It's not hyperbole to say that they may be putting their lives at risk in the interest of helping forward progress.

However, it's also clear that while the areas where they live may not be entirely safe for them--many of them speak about being afraid to walk down the street holding hands with their same-sex spouse--they have also managed to create safe spaces. I was particularly touched by the story of Encircle, an LGBTQ center in Utah. As Allen notes, the leading cause of death for young people in Utah is suicide, and a big factor in the alarming rate of suicide among Utah youth is the vehemently anti-LGBTQ position the state has taken. The Mormon church plays a big role in this, since the vast majority of state legislators are of Mormon faith, and the faith itself not only refuses to accept LGBTQ people, it actively excommunicates them. Encircle provides a much-needed place for LGBTQ youth to go where they can truly be themselves and be accepted. It is literally life-saving.

Yet while it is wonderful to know that such a place exists, it's a cure for the symptoms, not the disease, as Allen illustrates. While she clearly dislikes what she terms as the cliquishness of the liberal coastal enclaves, she also vividly illustrates how those progressive enclaves aren't enough, and how problematic anti-LGBTQ laws and attitudes are. Teenagers and young adults are literally dying because they live in areas that refuse to acknowledge their humanity. As Allen shows, LGBTQ people need to create these communities for themselves as a matter of life and death. But the only real way to save LGBTQ people and put an end to generations of pain and suffering is by reversing discriminatory laws and changing prejudiced attitudes.

By creating communities in areas hostile to their rights, the LGBTQ communities in red states are providing much-needed visibility to the LGBTQ community as a whole. As with any -ism or prejudice (racism, sexism, Islamophobia, etc), the cure is exposure to people who are part of these marginalized groups, so that those with privilege and power learn that the people they fear are really just like them. There's no real way of sitting in comfort with this knowledge, though, since it's very troubling to know that some human beings have to put their lives at risk to convince other human beings that they deserve to be treated like human beings.

I think what impressed me most about this book, though, was how strong and committed these LGBTQ communities are. Yes, necessity plays a role in their commitment, but what stands out is the fierceness of their love for the places they live in. They want to make the places they live better for everyone, so however little some of those places might want to acknowledge it, they are the richer for the presence of their LGBTQ communities.

I'm old enough that I've lived to see progress happen in what seems to be leaps and bounds. I remember the days of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, when states were passing laws prohibiting people from marrying the person they loved, and when the majority opinion was against LGBTQ people and their rights. I was shocked and delighted when the Supreme Court made marriage equality the law of the land. (Frankly, I didn't think it would happen for some time to come. Boy, am I glad I was wrong about that!) I'm also uplifted by American youth, whose views on sexuality and gender identity are so vastly different from those of my generation and the generations before us.

But for as much progress as has been made, there's still a lot more to be done, and while I'm grateful for and respect the LGBTQ people who have taken it upon themselves to make America pay attention, I'm also increasingly aware of the part straight allies have to play. We can't just sit back and let our LGBTQ brothers and sisters take the responsibility on themselves, we need to acknowledge the systemic forces contributing to their oppression and do our part to dismantle those systems.

[Kerstyn · Rating 2 out of 5]

I struggled with drafting a review and decided I should instead leave a note for potential readers: this book seems to suffer from meddling by the publisher or editor(s) attempting to capitalize on the easy journalism popular post-2016-election that is, “we sent our coastal city journalists to a [coal town/bar in the Midwest/town that went red for the first time in history]!! They’re just like us!!” I say this because 200+ pages in we discover the author was told her *travel memoir* could sell, and it seems to me that she did not intend for this to be pitched as telling the stories of rural or red state queer folk. Because the book was sold as such, I spent said 200+ pages quite annoyed having been to a few of these locations (of which there are, truly, four and a truck stop) and grown up in a rural red area as said queer person. This “book:the memoir” explains why the author lionized its subjects, focused on the author’s past dwelling locations almost exclusively, and is a book of conservative area queer folks’ stories told by a self admitted well off California liberal in a way “the book:the anthology” does not. As an aside, I can’t recommend enough the work done by @queerappalachia and their zine/book Electric Dirt to actually allow and help rural/red area queer people to tell their stories and share their art and would heartily recommend it particularly to those readers who are seeking a kinship or to see their stories told without this additional lens.

It’s not even a bad read or bad writing, and I hope that any potential readers who have not done much moving or road tripping and would like to start exploring via book are encouraged to consider reading more point of view stories from other locations after this as a sort of warmup. The road trip from Atlanta to SF truly is fun, and truck stops are often shockingly non discriminatory because everybody is just trying to load up on more road snacks and maybe use a toilet instead of a Big Gulp cup. There’s just A Lot of nuance missing here and it was difficult for me to see the forest (adversity can strengthen people I guess, friends are made fast by hardship, the struggle for equality and equity is far from over just because we have equal marriage rights etc) for the trees of what I felt were a lot of misrepresentations, even if well meaning. (For starters, Atlanta is also home to plenty of $20 chicken tenders platters and rent has been outstripping even tech salaries for a few years now and it is not appropriate to assume that just because a gay club has patrons of many races that all of those people feel equally welcome, free from harm and harassment, etc., isn’t it a little weird to anyone how many of the people profiled seem to have left too they just came back with their coastal money later? Kind of strange in context with the vaguely anti east coast rat race/capitalist notes strewn throughout. Which again, I don’t even disagree with! But to ignore this is to ignore the often complex economies of these areas and how wealth disparity affects the people in them! And that many queer people will be and are born into families without the means or knowledge to ever leave in the first place, and will still need to carve out their own communities without money for locales or to get out if it becomes truly dangerous, as one person comments they could sell it all and eat cheese in Europe.)

I guess that turned into a review after all 😬

[britt_brooke · Rating 4 out of 5]

Humans are humans are humans. Why are people so afraid of those who are not exactly like them? This is where personal essays really shine, eliciting empathy and understanding. This collection is a good mix of personal stories and relevant commentary. Samantha Allen, an award-winning journalist, who happens to be transgender, takes us on a journey through LGBT communities in conservative states. Insightful read!

[Jessica Woodbury · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Allen's goal of showcasing the breadth and depth of queer life in red states is a worthy one and she more than meets it. For me personally, I think it's a bit too muddy in the amount of personal narrative that is included. It's not that Allen's story isn't interesting and doesn't give perspective, because it does, but it sometimes feels almost like an even split, half memoir and half reporting, and I think I would have pushed it towards more like 70/30, especially as Allen has lived in several of these cities but has a very different set of connections to them than the people she profiles.

The definite best thing about this book is how well Allen chooses her subjects. I am always worried about queer representation even in projects that are from queer people, because the end result ends up being a lot of cis white gay men and lesbians. But not this time. I think there are actually more trans people than cis people in this book, and I am absolutely thrilled with it. There are also a significant number of people of color (I didn't count, but it feels like it at least gets close to a majority if it doesn't get all the way there.) There's even an intersex person, and I can't remember the last time I saw that in anything that wasn't specifically about intersex issues. Allen's subjects are thoughtful and smart and funny and passionate. You want to be friends with all of them. And while sometimes it may feel a little too much like she is trying to sell you on a place, the cities she visits feel charming and interesting.

It's a tightrope walk to have this kind of conversation. You have to talk about how much queer people love a place, while also acknowledging that this place doesn't always love them back. They talk about how nice people are, while also expressing fear for their safety. But the need for these people, how much they're relied on, and the way different kinds of communities form in these places than you see in coastal LGBT havens. I would have liked more of a dive into that, even though it's not really what this book is for.

Don't read this book if you're hungry, there is so much stopping for amazing food.

By the time I was done, I felt newly invigorated to figure out what I can do to find and support my own red state queer community. And that's about as high a compliment as I can pay.

[libby · Rating 5 out of 5]

some might say this book is an overly optimistic view of queer life in the US, but honestly ? it was a well-needed dose of positivity for me!

[Brooke · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a small town Southern queer, I want everyone to read this book. Not everyone can, should, or *wants* to leave their Southern and Midwestern towns. Those that stay build a better future for everyone that comes after. I hope this is especially eye opening to those in urban enclaves like San Francisco, New York, LA, and Chicago: there are beautiful, thriving queer communities everywhere. The book itself meanders and doubles back on itself a few times, but I can't fault it too much - it is, after all, a road trip.

[Anne · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF. I couldn't get past all the negative energy author put into bashing the NY and SF liberal scene. Why so negative?

[Steph · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Love is what does the heavy lifting in queer survival”
This was our book club choice for June and not only did we ALL finish and love it but it came to mean so much to us in different ways and we talked about it all night. Be prepared to buckle in and have your biases challenged, your heart melted, your pride inflated, and ultimately, your optimism restored!!

In the summer of 2017, Samantha Allen and a friend went on a cross-country trip from Utah, through Texas and the Bible Belt, the Deep South, and finally, her last stop in our beautiful Tampa, Florida. Along the way, she visited friends and stopped at drag shows, political events, and also lesser-known pockets of queer leisure within some of the most rigid, solid-red states in the U.S.. Allen is no stranger to coming out amid an oppressive environment (being transgender and also raised Mormon); she demonstrates some heavy empathy in her journalism and does so much to demystify and dispel the slick of narrow-mindedness that plagues liberal spaces in a way I’ve never seen before. She nails it with plenty of footnotes and also the occasional acknowledgement of intersectionality and the certain privileges that her whiteness has afforded her journey. I feel like this book could be rewritten every year with so much more to say each time. It’s an especially great read for those of you stuck in 2016 who still think it’s effective to write off the south as a whole and make disparaging remarks about those of us here still doing our best.

I could go on but I’ll list some of my favorite takeaways:
- We have got to loosen the media’s control of the narrative that correlates queerness with big blue cities and bigotry with…everywhere else.
- “If we could literally count every queer person in America, we would never look at our country the same way again”
- Cultivating community and visibility is just as much a life-and-death matter as policy change.
- STOPPP with the internalized biphobia and impostor syndrome, you have a place in all of this to grieve and celebrate and advocate
- No seriously if you struggle with validating your queerness because of how your relationship is perceived from the outside you HAVE to read this book
- Also I really, REALLY appreciated the NYC slander and the Buc-ees commentary as well as the Dolly Parton moment. Happy Pride Month!!!

[MossyMorels · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am a transgender west Virginian who works in queer community organizing in appalachia. This book made my heart soar, I'm gifting so many copies to my queer Appalachian friends

[Jess · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm waffling between two and three stars, so let's just settle in the middle and say 2.5, and I hate to say that I didn't like it because there is a really important message of carving your space out in your hometown, finding your people, and creating change from within. But the book just wasn't what I expected and definitely read more like a memoir than what I wanted.
Most of the places the author visits are places that she's lived and most of the people that she interviews are her friends. So whenever she arrives at a new location she spends a large portion of the chapter talking about her memories and her experiences in the city (also it's interesting how she keeps saying that she fell in love with the state after talking to one person and visiting one city but that's just a bit of a pet peeve) and that's where the heart is, and when we finally get to talking about the local community it almost reads like an afterthought and most of the writing seems to repeat itself to the point where it drags. She makes a lot of bad jokes, throws in some random facts, complains about Trump (who had just become president when this was written), and talks about food. This book is like 75% her story, 10% Queer stories, 5% facts or complaints about Trump, 5% food (I'm sorry friend, but I do not need to know your full Cracker Barrel order), and then 5% hating on blue cities.
There are even some stories, like a gay spa town in Arkansas, that are mentioned as a throwaway without even being in the book and I wanted to know more about that and not one of her many, many college memories inserted into the book. I get that this a deeply personal story for her, and it should be, but I guess I was just hoping for more objectivity when it came to the contents and I wished she would have included more stories from other queer people living in these states or even more about organizations in these states fighting for Gay rights and equality. This book is really just a snapshot of the "real stories" in "real America" and not the deep dive that I was hoping for.
The other disconcerting thing is that she does spend a LOT of time hating on friendlier cities like NYC, San Fransico, and LA. Whenever she gets the chance she's complaining about them, about gay clubs being overcrowded or dirty and being everywhere, and about the price of living in these cities or just I guess the oversaturation of Queerness. To the point where it's like she's hating on the queer community in these cities, like "How dare they live in NYC when they can live in the middle of nowhere Mississippi?" This just seems odd since the purpose of this book is to stay where you feel at home, and where you feel like you belong. So why would you spend so much energy dissing the NYC community even though that's where people feel safe and where they belonged? There's also this argument of "Real America" that the people and cities on the coasts aren't in "Real America" because things are easier for them, that they might not have to fight as hard because they're more protected, which I don't think is true. Even if things are easier, why would you blame queer people for wanting to be able to breathe easier and have more spaces for them to feel where they belong? Especially when a main theme throughout the book is having that in point to your community and having your safe spaces.
The themes in this book are extremely important, but the execution is just lacking for me.

[laurel [the suspected bibliophile] · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to like this book a whole lot more than I did, but I kept thinking over and over about Sarah Swedberg's review and how, time and time again, Allen mythologizes people doing the work in red states while poo-pooing and diminishing the work being done in the cities.

Also, while the book is so hopeful, so resilient, times have changed. So much shit has happened since since 2019, and while LGTBQ+ communities are still here (we will always be here), a lot of things in this book just feel dated.

[Alison Rose · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book almost made me cry, but in a good way, but a good way that's also a sad way.

For me, the best part of this book was the discussion about queer found family, how crucial building a queer friend-family around us is to our mental health and enjoyment of life, and how damn fun it is to be surrounded by other queer people. I 100% agree...

...and I miss that so damn much, and not just in the "this fucking pandemic" way that so many of us have felt over the last year and a half. Because even without COVID, my world had been shrinking, and now even as we're climbing out of it...it's not growing again. My physical and mental health issues have rendered me essentially homebound. Even if COVID disappeared completely tomorrow, I'd still be unable to leave my apartment. (That's no exaggeration--some days, I can't even go downstairs to get my mail or do the laundry.) I have wonderful memories of my queer fam when I lived in SF, and even up here in suburbia, there was the possibility of it before. Now there isn't, and reading about it in this book just made me wistful as fuck.

So I did very much enjoy seeing that, and it was really cool to meet some of the amazing people doing the hard work of queer activism in red states. I appreciated the exploration of the reality that queer life in conservative areas isn't all doom and gloom. However, overall I was left a bit underwhelmed with the book as a whole. I think one issue is that this was much more memoir than like...sociology or whatever. The author has had an interesting life, but sometimes it was too much about her and her friends for me to stay fully invested.

I also felt like she sometimes glossed over the very real difficulties of queer life in red states. Now to be clear, I'm a born-and-raised Californian who has never lived outside of the state, and my almost-41 years here have been entirely in the bluest portions of it. I'm not trying to act like an expert at all. But I do know many queer folks who do live in those places, and yes, you can find gay bars and lesbian bookstores and trans support groups and such in Mississippi and Utah and Tennessee. But that's not the sum total of "good gay life." Living in a state where the government is hellbent on making your life as hard and dangerous as possible...that's not going to be counteracted by having a club to go to. It's not that she ignores those realities, not at all, but at times they felt very hand-waved away. I also thought it was a little heavy-handed in the attempt to make it seem like queer life in blue cities is actually garbage. Everyone wants different things from where they live, and cities won't work for all people, but that doesn't make them inherently inferior to small towns.

I also really despise the "Oh but these conservative voters are actually nice people who helped me move in and fed my fish while I was away and have no problem with me going pee where I need to" thing. I don't give a shit if someone helps you here or there and is nice to your face. Those elected officials I mentioned above? How the fuck do you think they got there? Your sweet conservative neighbors voted them in, knowing the kinds of hateful shit they would do once in office. Jimmy may not have a problem with you using the bathroom that matches your gender and not the letter on your birth certificate, but if he votes for someone who wants to pass laws saying you can only pee under bridges at night, then Jimmy is a fucking transphobic bigot who can go to hell.

This sounds like I disliked the book, but I didn't. I found a lot to like in here. But it had some issues for me that kept it from being as meaningful to me as it was for others. I'm glad to have read it and that it had the impact it did for some readers.

[fileformat · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although I wished this book was a collection of stories from the POV of queer people in red states I don’t want it to diminish the stories told via the author. The end kind of lost me with interest but I really enjoyed this read. I also don’t understand the hate she is getting for “shitting” on the “gay city metropolis” and her pov of red states. She openly admits that her experience is different and privileged as a white woman and gives multiple queer black and Latino pov’s. This does not read like a “travel blog”like I’ve seen written in these reviews. It’s a raw view on the good and bad sides of being queer in red states, especially the south. As a queer in Florida, I loved this book. I see Mississippi in a different light.

[Ryan McIlvain · Rating 5 out of 5]

What really surprised me in this memoir-cum-travelogue-cum-sociological-study was not how smart it was but how fun! I've come to expect remarkable insight from Allen--that's long been on display in her reporting and editorializing on LGBT issues in The Daily Beast. Yet something about the long form here liberates her to be consequential and breezy at the same time, colloquial and lyrical, dropping statistics (but not too many!) alongside seemingly throwaway lines of sharp poetic beauty. "Time is mostly measured in dog walks," Allen writes about a visit to friends and queer activists in Tennessee. "By day we take Doc, Red, and Lilly around the neighborhood in the musty aftermath of the summer rain. By night we go to the flooded quarry in neighboring Elizabethton, under an overcast sky illuminated by a full Aquarius moon."

The musty aftermath of summer rain! That's so right! And yet until that sentence I hadn't been given the eloquence to fit the feeling. I'm nerding out to sentences, inevitably, but that really is one of the chief pleasures of this short book. And I can see how the importance and news worthiness of Real Queer America might crowd out appreciation of its elegant form, its humor, and all the great scenes of late-night eating, drinking, dancing, talking and laughing among friends and allies. So let me appreciate! This book is a reminder that social progress often happens not in spite of friendships and loveships but exactly because of them, through them. And that an important and timely book about the strength of queer America can double as a beautiful portrait gallery of twenty-first-century Americans.

[Mel · Rating 4 out of 5]

So enjoyed gaining the perspective from a trans woman reporting on the very conservative parts of the country which all too many liberals are always quick to discredit as bigoted & dangerous for the LGBT+ populations there. The author made a great point about how even though some towns or states are vehemently working against them (Indiana for example under Mike Pence), it is still their home and they want to have a life and feel safe and flourish regardless of the narrow minded people in charge of local governments. I especially liked how she described and aligned her transition and how she met her wife with her travels across the country for this book, and how though she had lived in many states, like in her Mormon hometown, where it didn’t feel great on a large scale, she knew that even though Brooklyn and NYC are queer “hubs” they aren’t really the same as the communities built up in Atlanta or Texas. There are fewer people overall and they seemed more insular and protective and safe.

[Brigid Maguire · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love the Midwest!!!

[Maricarmen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book’s foreword starting with Florida and the actual book ending in Tampa is making me so emotional lol like are you kidding me this was so beautiful and made me feel every emotion

[Beauregard Bottomley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Our self identity is a complex thing. It gets stamped on to us from the community around us including the bars we go to, the churches we prayer in and the malls we shop at. Our image of ourselves that others stamped onto us gets formed into shaping our character. What we authentically think and desire for ourselves forms the masks that we wear as we present it to the world and ourselves, and it helps creates our personality, who we strive to be and to become despite the distractions, ambiguities, and the mood of the world that we are thrown into through mere chance and circumstance.

Bars, churches and malls are dying a slow merciful death. They each are disappearing at a faster rate than their replacement rate. They are becoming less influential in shaping our character. I mentioned bars because a lot of the author’s travels seemed to focus around bars (or at least night clubs or social gathering places with drinking, music and such). I mentioned churches because they legitimize the ‘hurtful demeaning’ of people not conforming to the imaginary norms of the prevailing mob, and I mentioned malls because they at one time were a central meeting place for consumers at large. My real point is that things which lie outside of us shape who we are and distracts us from our ownmost selves by entangling us in the ‘they’ around us through the idle chatter that permeates us and takes us further away from the self that allows us to understand ourselves most appropriately.

Let’s face it. All the places the author travels to on her journey tended to be populated by people who support a person who says ‘windmills cause cancer’, calls people ‘varmints and animals’, thinks ‘climate change is a Chinese hoax’, says ‘vaccines cause autism’, and recently babbled something about transgender people don’t belong in the military because of reasons only known to him, and chose Mike Pence a homophobe admired by homophobes for his vice president, and believes in separating and caging children from their parents in order to convince hateful rubes to the efficacy of his immigration policy. I find all of those items vile and really have a hard time tolerating, associating or not holding my noise around people who enable that kind of behavior. Without a doubt the ‘they’, the idle chatter, and the entanglements and the attunement (mood of our world) that surrounds us influence who we become, and I would prefer not to be around those people if given a choice, but I am fully cognizant that most of life is about survival and we do what we have to do to survive, and that there are ‘nine million stories in the naked city’ and each of us have a complex interconnected web that determines what we do even if that means associating with bigots, Trump enablers or haters.

The epilog had a story of a Baptist Preacher in Texas who realized her conformist ways towards one of her flock was ‘hurtfully demeaning’ and she realized that it was time to change her hurtful judgmental ways. As I mentioned, the number of new churches being built is less than the number of churches disappearing. Fundamentalist (or Mormons and Trump enablers and supporters) are still predominate in all of the places the author visited on her travels. The hate is still there, but seems to get less than the day before. That’s a good thing, but it is still there and people will still have to find ways to walk and talk around the hate when most appropriate and in the process compromise who they are at their corps more so than one would have to in most other places.

The author’s real point is that anybody who does not conform to the norms of the society at large can still have a meaningful and fulfilling life even if surrounded by bigots and Trump enablers. She’s right, but compromises and adjustments will be required and the world around us does contribute to who we become and helps define our purpose and meaning since no person is an island and complete within themselves. This book did have a good narrative when she was talking about her own experiences. It misfires with ignoring how toxic and hateful bigots, Trump supporters, Evangelicals and Mormons can be. (I noticed today (4/8/19), the NYT tells me Poland is no longer limiting their hate to immigrants, but they want to have a more inclusive hate and now are coming for gays and other non-conforming to the imaginary mean humans for no reason but to hate and spread their hate. I don’t think I’ll be moving to Poland).

[Margaret · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well I cried

“I have spent a week doing nothing but talk to people. But talking is far from nothing. Words are the literal stuff of change.”

I read a nonfiction book?? Not only that, but I loved it??? What is happening.

Part travel memoir and part recent history of queer America, this book joins journalist Samantha Allen on a road trip across America’s most conservative areas as she finds communities of LGBT+ people and examines why they stay instead of flocking to blue states. Through telling the stories of the people she meets along the way and recounting her own experiences coming out as a queer trans woman, she celebrates the sense of community and activist spirit in these areas that are usually dismissed by coastal cities as “backwards.”

First of all, I listened to this on audiobook, which is narrated by the author, and Samantha Allen has the most calm and soothing voice. I absolutely recommend this as a reading method.

Secondly, I really did not expect to love this book so much! Yes, I love reading about found families, which is what this book is all about, and yes, I love anything that could be described as radically hopeful, which is this book in a nutshell – but, wow. This is such an important book for anyone who needs a reminder that America might be broken, but there are still people who are fighting to make it better and creating spaces of safety and acceptance for themselves and their loved ones. And it’s all written beautifully and lovingly by someone whose life was saved by these communities. I can’t recommend this book enough, you absolutely must read it.

Content warnings: discussions of transphobia and homophobia

[☼Shannon☼ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Won in a Goodreads giveaway



Samantha Allen embarks on a road trip to show us how LGBTQ live in seemingly LGBTQ unfriendly areas. Along the way she visits LGBTQ hot spots and interviews the people who run them or some other noteworthy people about what drives them, why they stay, etc. I don't identify as LGBTQ (heteroromantic asexual in a hetero marriage) but it seemed like a good portrayal of LGBTQ life.

The places she travels to are : Provo Utah, Texas, Bloomington Indiana, Johnson City Tennessee, Jackson Mississippi, and Atlanta Georgia. I might be biased (I'm totally biased) but my favorite was the Provo one, which made reading the rest of the book kind of a let down, but that's a me problem.

I definitely think that anyone can get something out of this book: be they LGBTQ, cis/hetero, red state, blue state, liberal or conservative. Even those not living in America could find some value in it.

[Lindsay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a beautiful reflection--so timely, and something I hope becomes outdated very, very soon. I wasn't quite expecting its trajectory, probably mostly because I avoid synopses and reviews apart from identifying something I want to read, and so I was a little surprised that this focused on cities that are more or less progressive bubbles in mostly conservative, Southern states. I loved the discussions of identity in all its iterations, but particularly that of geographical identity (obviously?) and the reclamation of areas that are only reported for their unfavorable conditions. This hits home for me particularly right now, having moved from St. Louis, MO, (another locale that would fit in with this book) to the rural, conservative Western Slope of Colorado--both in hearing constantly from the residents of my tiny town what a terrible place St. Louis is, and also living in an area where it is not very safe to be out. I love Allen's writing, and I would be thrilled if she took on a similar writing assignment in the future to discuss places like these--places where LGBTQ+ folk carve out fulfilling lives despite living in hostile communities.