A wave of legislation targeting L.G.B.T.Q. people has swept conservative-led statehouses since 2021, when Arkansas passed a law banning hormone therapy and puberty blockers for transgender youths under 18. So far this year, according to the advocacy group Human Rights Campaign, more than 500 bills have been introduced in such places as Arizona, Oklahoma and South Carolina.
These states might not top the list of vacation destinations for L.G.B.T.Q. travelers seeking to feel welcome, accepted and safe. But even in hostile political environments, some queer-friendly communities are thriving and attracting tourists with food, festivals and, of course, drag shows. We spoke with people in four of these places about why they love their towns and why they say L.G.B.T.Q. travelers should still come.
Eureka Springs, Ark.
Out and proud in the Ozarks
In 2017, Ethan Avanzino and his partner, David, hopped in their car in Dallas and drove to Eureka Springs, in the Ozarks of northwestern Arkansas, for the weekend. They didn’t know exactly what to expect.
“We were just like, ‘What is happening?’” Ethan recalled. “It was just amazing to see this small town in Arkansas covered in rainbows.”
Eureka Springs, established as a resort town in the late 19th century, has a stunning collection of Victorian buildings and homes perched on mountainsides and tucked into gorges — a combination of architectural and natural beauty that for decades has attracted artists and bohemians to the area. The town also draws Christian tourists with a seven-story statue of Christ and a passion play — a re-enactment of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus — nearby.
In 2007, the town became the first in Arkansas to allow same-sex couples to enter into domestic partnerships, and in 2014 the first in the South to issue them marriage licenses, after a state judge struck down Arkansas’s ban on same-sex marriage.
The Avanzinos tied the knot in 2020 at the local Thorncrown Chapel, a space that not only felt “very inclusive” to the couple, but also that many architects consider a 20th-century masterpiece. Three years after their first visit, the two had permanently resettled in the town, which has fewer than 2,200 residents and is about one hour north of Fayetteville. There, they bought an old motel and started a small business: the Wanderoo Lodge, a hotel, restaurant and bar that has live entertainment as well as karaoke and trivia nights, not to mention a receptionist who’s a former Miss Gay America.
“I heard someone describe our place as Eureka Springs’ living room,” Ethan said. “Because people from all different walks of life, all different ages, backgrounds, genders, sexual orientations end up on our porch.”
Now, the couple grab coffee every morning at Bean Me Up, where their two dogs get “treats every time they come through.” For breakfast, Ethan likes to treat himself to the Eureka Bowl — “green chili and pork and deliciousness” — at Three Bird Cafe, which is run by a lesbian couple who also recently settled in town. For a more substantial meal, his pick is Grotto Wood Fired Grill and Wine Cave, which serves steaks as well as “heavenly” fried brussels sprouts. For a night on the town, there’s Missy’s White Rabbit Lounge, a downtown spot with live music, karaoke and open-mic nights — and it’s right next to a prime photo opportunity: a staircase painted like a rainbow.
On weekends, the Avanzinos enjoy Eureka Springs’ natural setting and outdoor activities, like mountain biking along Lake Leatherwood, swooshing through the treetops at Eureka Springs Zipline or going for a dip at Beaver Lake, a roughly 30,000-acre reservoir nearby. Eureka Springs also celebrates “diversity weekend” — its version of Pride — three times a year.
“I think it’s important for queer people to be in red states to show that we exist here,” said Ethan, who is transgender. “I think people have this idea of what Arkansas is: that it’s this backwoods, hillbilly, uneducated, ugly state. And it is anything but that.”
Norman, Okla.
Where drag royalty holds court
When Dyon Matlock’s brother first tried to persuade her to move to Oklahoma from Michigan, she dismissed him. “There’s no gay people in Oklahoma,” she recalled thinking. “That’s where the buffalo live.” Nevertheless, she made the move last summer and quickly realized just how wrong she was.
Less than an hour away from Oklahoma City, where she lives, Ms. Matlock, 38, has found a second home in Norman, the first municipality in the state to adopt a nondiscrimination ordinance to protect its L.G.B.T.Q. residents and the only perfect 100 in Oklahoma on the Human Rights Campaign equality index. The city of nearly 130,000 is home to the University of Oklahoma, a major collection of French Impressionist paintings, and annual events like the Medieval Fair, a free gathering for history buffs that’s been held since 1977, and the National Weather Festival, a celebration of all things meteorological hosted by the National Weather Center.
In December, Ms. Matlock, who’s been performing in drag for more than two decades and describes herself as a “Southern gentleman” both on and off the stage, made the trip to Norman for a different festivity: the city’s Pride Royalty pageant. And she won.
Since then, as the drag king Dyon Top, Ms. Matlock has become a fixture in Norman, charming mothers and daughters brunching at Victoria’s: The Pasta Shop, where she describes the lasagna as “so freaking cheesy”; cracking jokes onstage at the Deli, where drag performers and rock bands hand each other the mic; and even singing live — drag artists often prefer to lip-sync — at Equity Brewing, “a really cool place” decked out with rainbow flags. For a more low-key performance, Ms. Matlock favors a karaoke spot, like Red Brick Bar, a place where “whatever you are is cool” and everyone cheers equally for rock, country and R&B numbers.
Ms. Matlock’s love of music goes deep. After she came out as a lesbian at the age of 12 in a military, Southern Christian, African American household, the only place she found solace for many years was the choir. Then she discovered drag. Microphone in hand, she hopes not only to entertain, but also to send a message: “My goal is to make sure that everybody, especially the youth, knows that they have a place, that there’s people just like them.”
Norman has welcomed that message. When Ms. Matlock visited for Pride last month, the octogenarian receptionist at the Montford Inn, a family-owned bed-and-breakfast in the center of town, offered her some home-baked cookies for the occasion and didn’t bat an eye when Ms. Matlock re-emerged from her room as Dyon Top.
Bisbee, Ariz.
An oasis for queens of the desert
Fernando Serrano, 29, has traveled all over the United States, Canada, Mexico and South America. Yet something always drew him back to Bisbee, Ariz., where he grew up.
“It’s a weird energy,” said Mr. Serrano of the old mining town on the edge of a massive, man-made crater from which copper was extracted into the 1970s. “It’s like there is still energy pouring out of that hole and just working its magic. I call it the little melting pot.”
After the miners left, the artists and poets came, turning what was once known as the “Queen of the Copper Camps” into a quirky high-desert community of 5,000 — or as locals like to call it, a “Mayberry on Acid.” Aside from its historic charm and free-spirited culture, the town, which is at an elevation of over 5,000 feet, is also blessed with a relatively temperate climate compared with low-lying places like Tucson, about two hours to the northwest.
The rule of thumb to navigate the small town’s two main streets, Mr. Serrano said, is that “Main Street is where all our little shops, boutiques and hotels are,” and “the Brewery Gulch is where you go after 9, when you want to take the wig off.”
One of his favorite spots to socialize is the Grand Hotel on Wednesday evenings, when the town’s many musicians gather to jam, while other locals unwind after work. Two other places to “catch good tunes” are the Quarry, a queer- and woman-owned comfort-food restaurant with live music, and the Courtyard, a small events venue, where “anytime there’s music, you know it’s going to be good.”
For a bite, there’s “really good Vietnamese food” at Thuy’s Noodle Shop, run by a transplant from Ho Chi Minh City. Mr. Serrano recommends the bun cha gio, a cold noodle salad with pork, and the beef pho.
For Sunday brunch, “everybody just sunbathes and gets cocktails” at the Shady Dell, a diner and vintage trailer park where weekenders can also rent an airstream for what he calls a “1950s fantasy.” Visitors may also be caught in a time warp at Classic Rock Couture, which sells jackets, hats and T-shirts, from original 1970s gems to new, Western-inspired designs.
Last year, Mr. Serrano bought his first home, where he now lives with his husband, right at the edge of the mining pit. Accepting and affordable, the town, he said, is the ideal place to pursue his artistic passions and work on his own jewelry line, Queen of the Rodeo. Another perk: His mother, who has lived in Mexico since being deported when he was a child, is now just 15 minutes away, right across the border.
Greenville, S.C.
‘The welcome light stays on’
Eboni Sims remembers a time when people would protest and hurl bottles at her outside the New Attitude, a gay club in Greenville, S.C. Starting in the late 1980s, she worked as a performer and manager at the club, which was known for its lineup of Black L.G.B.T.Q. entertainers. She also remembers not feeling welcome at the Castle, the larger, mostly white gay club, which advertised itself as the “largest private disco in South Carolina” and drew people from near and far with its sophisticated light shows.
“I didn’t want to be secluded to one spot,” said Ms. Sims, who after eight years of competing finally won the Castle’s biggest pageant in 1999 and subsequently became the first transgender person of color to be a show director at the venue. “I wanted to be able to experience that light show.”
Greenville has changed a lot since then: Both clubs are now closed, and Ms. Sims has quit nightlife. But the city is full of new attractions for L.G.B.T.Q. residents and visitors. “Now there are so many different venues where the welcome light stays on,” Ms. Sims says.
Less than a three-hour drive from both Atlanta and Charlotte, N.C., Greenville, with 72,000 residents, is the largest city in upstate South Carolina, offering museums, restaurants, shops and everything else you would expect from an urban hub. But the city, a former textile center in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, also gives visitors easy access to nature. It is surrounded by lakes and rivers, is not far from several state parks, and has two picturesque waterfalls right in the center of town.
According to the Upstate SC LGBT+ Chamber of Commerce, where Ms. Sims is a board member, Greenville and its surroundings have become home to around 100 queer-owned businesses, including the vegan bakery Basta, Drift Float & Spa and the Tex-Mex restaurant Comal 864, whose chef was a 2023 semifinalist for a James Beard Award.
Ms. Sims said she enjoyed the laid-back and inclusive atmosphere at many of Greenville’s newer establishments. At Bar Margaret, an L.G.B.T.Q.-owned craft cocktail bar, she looks out for an exciting rotation of live events and shows that remind her of “the way the Castle used to be.” For a drink and some entertainment, Ms. Sims also frequents DT’s Tavern, a downtown spot catering to “different ages and different demographics,” and Gaslight Bar & Grill, a typical gay bar: It’s a “really cute” place, she says, where “everybody’s accepted.”
After a long day of work, however, Ms. Sims said her top pick was Modal, a queer-owned hostel, coffee shop and gallery where she could relax with a glass of wine while admiring some art or sitting out on the patio.
“Living in the South right now is incredible. So much has changed and is at the verge of changing,” said Ms. Sims, who since leaving the clubs has poured her energy into running the Ladies Room, a support network for transgender women of color. “Come down here and give it a chance, because it takes all of us. We’re always one conversation away from change.”
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