By Jasmine Phillips
In my eyes, travel is synonymous with eating. The first thing I do whenever I reach a new destination is search for the area’s most delicious restaurants—ones that are unique, different than those at home, and that have a great environment. But unfortunately, as a queer, Black person, not all restaurants and businesses are as welcoming as I would like, especially when traveling in the South.
I was raised in Raleigh, North Carolina, with little exposure to the LGBTQ community. After I graduated from undergrad, I decided to travel as a way to experience new things and to become more comfortable in my queer identity. My first introduction to LGBTQ culture was in Atlanta, Georgia—a truly unforgettable experience. In downtown Atlanta, near Piedmont Park, there was a whole block of restaurants where LGBTQ people would come to dine, socialize, and be in community. The area, complete with a rainbow intersection, was considered to be the city’s gayborhood. And while the area was hailed as a safe haven for many queer folks, it still had an air of exclusivity.
The rub was that these restaurants were often geared more toward non-BIPOC LGBTQ folks—the music that’s played, the employees who work there, and the customer base. Even within these dedicated LGBTQ businesses where “all are welcome,” all doesn’t really mean all.
This divide is exemplified by the city’s two annual Pride events: LGBTQ Pride takes place in October, while Black LGBTQ Pride is a month earlier, in September. The October event is overrun with sponsors, food vendors, and support from local businesses; Black LGBTQ Pride, on the other hand, consistently receives less support.
The food and drink scene in the South is absolutely more conservative than other places in the country. When I take my partner out on a dinner date in the South, I know to expect the stares—from heterosexual and non-BIPOC LGBTQ people alike. Yet, when I turn around and go to many Black-owned businesses, I’m just as likely to get stares from straight Black people. While these spaces are evolving, they still have a long way to go for all of us to be comfortable.
I’ve lived in the South all of my life—It’s where I work, study, love, and exist. I’ve watched businesses in the “Bible Belt” slowly begin to change and have conversations about holding space for everyone. My ask is for this dialogue to continue and for true inclusivity to come to fruition—not just during Pride month and not just for non-BIPOC LGBTQ folks, but year round and for everyone.
