Homer: A Safe Haven at the End of the Road

Alaska is the “biggest small town” you might ever visit.

“My name is Jamie too!!  Wait, are you Jayme M?!  I’m Jamie A!!”  The woman in front of me mirrored my excitement as she jumped up and down at the chance encounter.  Arriving for my first summer in Alaska (2022), I knew no one except for my new supervisors at my new job on a wildlife refuge.  A state park ranger in Virginia had given me contact info for three of her Alaskan friends, and one of those people, Jamie, wrote back with a friendly email saying that she lived in the same town where I would work. 

An annual bird festival in Homer partners with the abundant number of boat touring companies here to provide steeply discounted birding tours and remote hiking excursions that week.  I carefully picked one excursion out of more than a hundred being offered, deciding where to put $70 on a tight budget before paychecks started coming in. On the 80 mile drive down to Homer from my new work home, I thought about needing to reply to Jamie’s last email sent a few months before.  Only five other passengers waited for the small boat that would take us out to an epic glacier walk in a state park.  And that’s where I met Jamie, a wonderful queer ally, who I will call my first friend in Alaska.  The conversation came easy, as we enjoyed a rare sunny day walking to a glacier in the rainforest across the bay from Homer.  

The Southern Tip of Alaska’s Central Road System

All my subsequent trips to Homer are probably rosy colored from this first day trip being amazing.  It helps that the scenery here is stunning.  Homer’s economy revolves around a barely there landform that lays claim to being the 2^nd longest spit in the world: a 4.5 mile narrow finger of land created by a glacier that stretches out into the Kachemak Bay.  

This spit is literally the end of the road, or the beginning of the road?   If you drive north from Homer, it takes you on a string of mostly two lane highways through the middle of the state, that end 1078 miles later in Prudhoe Bay on the Arctic Ocean.  Let me take you on some of my queer ventures from Homer to the Arctic Circle, which is far north as I made it on this particular road.

Just walking the spit itself is an adventure; look across the bay and you’re in one of the few regions of the world where you can see glaciers and active volcanoes on the same coast line.  Walk the docks harboring hundreds of boats and spot sea otters napping on their backs, oversized starfish and other tidepool creatures clinging to the dock, maybe a bald eagle silently swooping down from a perch to snatch a fish from the water and tear it open on the rocky beach.  A short ride into the choppy bay brings sightings of humpback whales, clown like birds called puffins, and family rafts of sea otters linked together. 

Okay, now I’m just romanticizing Homer … but it’s easy to do.  Onto my more queer adventures in this magical place (summer of 2023).  Homer quickly felt like a haven as I started getting a better feel for the area from LGBTQ+ community members and allies.  Both long term residents and newcomers seemed to feel welcome and at home in their community. 

It’s not a perfect haven though; as there’s still a need for places like Haven House, a local nonprofit that provides a safe place for women and LGBTQ+ people who are experiencing domestic violence.  An employee of Haven House walked out onto one of Homer’s wide rocky beaches with me and snapped photos in the vibrant dandelion patches between driftwood logs.   Their conversation alluded to the dichotomy between the incredibly warm and welcoming vibe of Homer for queer people, but also helping other community members in their work who were stuck in less than ideal situations. 

Small Town Pride Hopping

Google’s address wasn’t bringing me to the right spot for Homer’s Pride event, so I started looking up green spots/town parks on the map that might be hosting the event.  The second patch of green I circled seemed to be it. There were about a dozen cars parked along the street, and maybe a dozen tables and tents set up.  It was a stark difference from the large, bustling, commercialized Pride events on the East Coast, but it fit the spirit of Pride. The small, square patch of grass was tucked away from the business districts and bustle of the touristy spit.  Pride events in Alaska were relatively new to many smaller Alaskan communities like Homer, which only started hosting organized Pride events a few years ago. 

A tiny gazebo in the middle was decked out in colorful balloons, and served as a stage for a woman in sparkling dress, and a young adult with Down’s syndrome who were dancing to the music pouring out of a boom box.  Later I photographed the woman on Homer’s stunning beach, and sensed her kinship with the queer community, being someone who always felt ostracized because of her body type and weight.   The young person with Down’s syndrome was dazzled by her transformative sparkling rainbow make-up and asked her, “will you go on a date with me??”  She let him down gently, and told me with slight embarrassment that she wasn’t sure her young family friend could recognize her in drag.   Her transformation was effective! 

Creating Your Tribe

The day after, I hung out at the home of a family who was a driving force behind Homer Pride.  One of the moms had poured much of her energy into organizing the event, despite a long struggle with health issues over the last year that had left her struggling with body image and using a walker to get around.   She talked about meeting her female partner after starting her adult life and having children in a heterosexual relationship. “After I kissed her, I couldn’t go back…” she said with a blushing grin.  

She and her partner have consciously created space for their teenager/young adult to explore their queer gender identity, and informally adopted their child’s young transgender partner who didn’t quite have the same safe space to explore who they were in their other home.  A cisgendered, gay man who shared his passion for the art of drag performance had also been adopted as part of the family, even driving five hours each way from the city to spend Pride weekend with his family.  Their colorful dynamics reflected the spirit of Pride, and the need to create our own supportive communities and families.  

Check out more stories and experiences of people in Alaska here and on social media. Or continue on this journey north with me to Soldotna, Alaska, an epic 80 mile drive north from Homer.

June 2023