Storytelling Strengthens Community
Our stories as LGBTQIA+ people are powerful. When we see ourselves in other peoples’ stories as well as when we learn about experiences that are not our own, we build understanding and empathy for each other. We affirm our own experiences and embrace difference. The act of sharing stories strengthens our communities.
The stories archived here are primarily a part of the Queerly Photo Collection, an independent project established in 2020 by freelance photographer, Kyle Warnock. The Queerly Photo Collection documents moments in the lives of hundreds of LGBTQIA+ people based in Maine.
Additionally, we now welcome community submissions! If you are a photographer and have a portrait + story to share, please fill out a form by clicking the link below.
Chris, She/Her
“How is this my life?
I was born and raised in Maine. After graduating from high school, I left Maine to find my life, but thirty years of being away taught me my life was right here in the Pine Tree State the whole time.
I was a closeted lesbian in the Mormon church until I was nearly fifty years old. I was told that God wanted me to be a stay-at-home parent in a Connecticut suburb. I struggled to find meaning and purpose in my assigned roles of wife and mother, and the hopelessness of not knowing myself, or feeling known by anyone around me, eventually became too much to endure. I lost myself in the struggle to survive because although I had a good life, I knew it wasn’t my life.
Returning to Maine has brought me home to myself. I’ve connected with my joy and I’ve discovered my peace. I’ve returned to places I never thought I’d see again. Leaving my old life and coming back to live in the Northern Maine Woods has helped me ‘get the stink blowed off.’ The view from the top of this mountain is better than any future I could have imagined for myself.
People challenge themselves by hiking the Appalachian Trail and one of the rewards for finishing their rigorous journey is seeing the view from the summit of Mt. Katahdin. Now I get to live in that view.
This is my life. I’m so glad I stayed long enough to find myself here. And I have found myself. Here.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, July 2026.
Victor, He/Him
“I grew up in Evangelical Christianity and purity culture, where being gay was something to overcome.
The messages were familiar: ‘Love the sinner, hate the sin.’ ‘Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’ I was taught that homosexuality was an abomination, a rebellion against God’s design, and a reason to fear judgment. I also grew up hearing the AIDS crisis described as God’s punishment for being gay. Yet even then, I struggled to understand how a loving God would use fear, disease, and hell to compel belief or conformity.
I was conditioned to believe it anyway.
In Bible college, I wrote my thesis based on the belief that homosexuality could be explained, treated, and overcome. In many ways, I was writing my own story of denying my queerness. For decades, I believed a core part of who I was needed to change. I embraced celibacy. Beneath it all was a low-grade depression and the exhausting work of living divided against myself.
It wasn’t until my thirties that I first encountered the possibility that I could be both gay and Christian.
When I began coming out, I realized I no longer wanted to spend my life denying what the Creator had called good. As the psalmist writes, ‘Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous.’
For the first time, I began to believe those words applied to all the queer parts of my soul, too.
Coming out cost me deeply. Some family relationships ended. I lost the church community that had been my spiritual home for forty-five years. Yet I also discovered something freeing: the Creator I had spent my life serving was not waiting on the other side of authenticity with condemnation, but with the freedom to embrace all of me.
For most of my life, belonging felt conditional. Today, my ministry is about helping people discover the sacred—in themselves, one another, and across many wisdom traditions. I now believe that belonging is not something we earn. It is something we awaken to.
If I could sit down with my younger self today, I would tell him:
You were right to question the fear.
You were right to wonder whether perfect love truly casts out fear.
Guess what?
It does.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2026.
Ev, He/They
“When I left for vacation, I didn’t have a plan. The next morning, I was on a plane to Puerto Rico. Three nights later, after a few new connections made at a queer guest house outside of Old San Juan, I found myself sitting across from Mark, ‘a therapist from Brooklyn,’ with The Knight of Cups in one hand and clarified punch in the other. Intrigued, I asked him what he picked up on. He talked about not trusting my own voice (oh no), my burnout with the fashion industry (check), and that he could see me doing something in medicine or healing. (‘Nah.’ I thought) ‘Cool’ I said.
Returning to Maine, I thought about where I’d been on my own healing journey. From grueling self-confrontations at Vipassana meditation retreats, to perusing the self-help section for another book I wouldn’t read, I realized some of my most healing moments were with community, in movement, on a dark, loud dancefloor. Desperate to create the unapologetically queer spaces I was looking for since my time in Australia, I threw a few events at Jewel Box, Hi Blank* & OOF.
As the dust settled from OOF, I stepped away from nightlife but took the ingredients that made the dancefloor home; Dark. Loud. Movement. Community. Before I felt ready, I auditioned thinking ‘the worst they can say is no,’ but 5 months later began instructing at a local cycling studio, Reve, followed by NXGen & Salud.
Later, I went back to school to become an LMT. Movement taught me how to process emotion, energy, and experiences. Bodywork became the flip side of the coin to find regulation, rest, and somatic integration. While in school I connected with a massage practice for clients dealing with chronic pain. ‘The worst they could say is no,’ so I asked if they would take me on as an apprentice to learn deeper therapeutic work. Exactly a year after coming on board, I opened my own Therapeutic Massage practice in Portland, Ev.LMT.
Four years later, I still think about Mark and the Knight of Cups urging me to put intuition into action. Maybe it wasn’t so much a prediction of the future, but a reflection of movement held up at the right moment by a stranger outside Old San Juan.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2026.
Haley, She/Her
“I grew up knowing I was queer. It was a key that unlocked everything for me: my years as a singer, my friendships, my early work in special education, and my current work as a mental health occupational therapist.
At the core of my work is the conviction that everyone deserves to be in the driver’s seat of their own life. In my practice, Hummingbird OT, I support neurodivergent adults in stepping into that role. By addressing sensory processing, executive functioning, and identity exploration, I help clients find the keys to their own lives and trust themselves to drive.
This is where I am. Where are you trying to go?”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2026.
Carl Smith is a retired public school teacher and Kerry Drach is a retired clinical psychologist. Both have lived in Maine for many years and both came out as gay men late in life after raising their families in long marriages. Carl is now divorced, and Kerry was widowed by the death of his wife to breast cancer. We are both fathers and grandfathers, and Carl is even a great grandfather. His children live in Maine, Texas, and Oregon, and Kerry's daughter, his single child, lives near Paris, France, with her French husband and their children.
"We met online at Match.com in 2015. At time Kerry lived in Portland and Carl in Brunswick, Maine. We found that we share a lot in common in terms of background and social values. Both of us grew up in the Philadelphia area, Carl on the Pennsylvania side and Kerry on the New Jersey side. We were both foreign exchange students in high school. We both graduated from Antioch College in Ohio, though we did not know one another there. Carl is an avid gardener, growing vegetables and flowers, and he was also a landscape gardener during times between teaching positions. Kerry is an avid classical pianist and is actively involved with the Portland Conservatory of Music chamber music program. We have taken trips together, including hiking in the southwest, a three week tour of Vietnam, and multiple visits to Mexico.
From the beginning we were mutually attracted by one another's intelligence, sensitivity, and good looks. In 2021 Kerry moved to live with Carl in Brunswick with the shared intent of being supportive, helpful partners as we age. We are fortunate to have a great circle of older gay men as friends and enjoy doing things with them. Given our age (in the 80's), both work hard at keeping as fit as possible. At this point in our lives our idea about living in a queer world is simply that people should feel free to be who are, and others do not need to judge what is right and wrong."
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2026.
Sam, She/Her
Lifelong learner. Social Diva. Proud adoptee. Queer. Outdoors lover. Mainer.
"As a Mainer, I’ve built queer community in unexpected places. I’ve met many of my queer friends through introductions from friends’ ex-fiancés, random dining hall encounters in college, interactions at places of worship, and gay dating app meetups. To my fellow Maine queers, I hope we continue building a queer culture that thrives on incidental encounters and silly introductions.
Maine’s tight-knit queer community is what has helped me feel so supported in discovering my trans identity, because without each other, many of us know we wouldn’t have other sources of queer joy. I’m about to graduate from UMaine. I don’t know what’s ahead of me. I do know that I call Maine home, I’m profoundly shaped by my queer friendships, and I want my life’s work to support the mental health systems and queer communities that showed me how to find pockets of joy in life.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2026.
Aiden, He/Him
“Hi! I am a queer, trans/non-binary, neuro-spicy, artist and therapist. I started my transition over a decade ago, and as I find myself becoming an elder queer, I feel a deep commitment to being visible, accessible, and supportive for younger queers. I believe in sharing lived experience, offering steadiness and hope, and helping make the path a little less overwhelming for those coming up behind us. I am openly out because I believe it matters, especially now, for queer and trans people to see real, joyful individuals doing life things in a tough political climate.
As an artist, I know colors and stories can say what words sometimes can’t. Art has been a place where my authentic self could exist before it was safe or possible to be myself. Making art helps me think, regulate, and imagine. Being creative gives shape to feelings that live in my body and nervous system in a way I struggle to communicate otherwise. I think queerness, too, lives outside of tidy narratives, and art offers a way to honor complexity, contradiction, and becoming ourselves.
As a therapist, I hold space with warmth, humor, and deep respect for your path. I believe healing works best when we bring our whole weird, wonderful selves to the table. My style is person-centered, strength-based, and gently goofy. I love mixing grounding, curiosity, and creativity to help you feel safe, seen, and supported. I am especially passionate about supporting queer and trans folks as we grow and step into authentic versions of ourselves.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2026.
Ria, She/Her
“I grew up in northern Maine, a place where queerness wasn’t often spoken aloud, let alone celebrated. For a long time, I didn’t have language for myself, only the sense that I was somehow adjacent to what everyone else seemed to fit into. It took the cliché falling for a friend (ugh) to finally see my own queerness reflected back at me. That realization arrived during a period of profound upheaval, when I was navigating an eating disorder and learning, piece by piece, who I wanted to become. Those years reshaped me. They pushed me toward healing, toward community, and ultimately toward the work I do now.
Today, I identify simply as queer, with labels like bi/pan and demisexual feeling adjacent but not definitive. I’m a size-inclusive, social justice-oriented registered dietitian living in central Maine with my partner and our dog, supporting many clients who are queer themselves. I carry an awareness of my own bodily privilege and the responsibility to divest from the systems that uphold it. My queerness, my recovery, and my commitment to liberation-centered care are deeply intertwined. They guide how I show up in my work, my community, and my life.“
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2026.
Caiti, She/Her
“One piece of advice I would give to my younger self is, nothing is linear. Milestones happen at times you least expect them to, and sometimes they will surprise you! When you’re young, especially for Millennials you are told, job at 25, house at 30 and settled by 32-35. That’s a pipe dream for most people nowadays! At 27, I came out as queer/Lesbian and it’s not really a milestone, but self discovery. It was a facet of my identity that I did not see unfolding until that point. I have a good job, soon to be a homeowner, and yes I’m 31 but I had to work for those goals. My point is, life will fall into place when it feels right, and taking life seriously and slowly will make you happy for years ahead.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2026.
Andy, He/Him
“Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves; we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity… The massive task of our adult lives is to unpick which parts of ourselves are truly us and which parts we’ve created to protect us.”
— Alexander Leon
“Those words have always resonated deeply with me because they capture so much of my own journey. Growing up as a young kid in Buxton, I became a master observer of the world around me - keenly attune to the people and world around me. What once felt like hyper-awareness for protection — the constant observing, sensing, and interpreting — I now understand as a deep, sacred superpower. It’s the part of me that was authentically mine all along, even when I didn’t recognize it. It allows me to connect with people in ways I deeply cherish. And laughter has become one of the brightest expressions of that authenticity: an entry point into connection and community.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2026.
Dana, She/Her
“When I moved to Maine, I wanted so badly to feel like the state border sign was speaking directly to me: ‘the way life should be,’ ‘welcome home.’ Things felt turbulent, ungrounded to say the least. Almost 5 years later, it’s easy to see that I’ve come into myself and found ‘home.’ After moving almost every year or two for 15 years, it just hit me that I’ve now lived in the same apartment—with my favorite person—for over four years. I’ve worked through so many prickly parts of myself and found a supportive community for both my creative work and my earth-based skills, even one that encouraged me to start a business. When you get to evolve in a place, it begins to feel like home.
One thing I love about Maine is all of the elder queers, there’s something so humbling about being around those who fought for all of us to be boldly standing here today. My wife and I got engaged at the shacks at Willard Beach, and when they washed away a few winters ago, we went back to find a piece of the wreckage. So many others were there remembering their own moments. We met an 80-year-old man who said he’d married his husband there; whether from the biting cold or pure emotion, his eyes welled up when we told him we’d gotten engaged there just months before the sea claimed that shoreline.
I feel blessed to live somewhere where queerness feels hopeful—where you can grow old with the person you love, and it really can be that simple. The world feels so threatening right now, and I often remind myself that the elders in our community fought fiercely for us to be visible, to love openly, even to marry. There is still so much work ahead for all marginalized groups in this country, but I remain profoundly grateful to those who paved the way.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2026.
Lily, They/He
Lily is a genderqueer, transmasculine barber based in Westbrook, Maine. He has loved hair for as long as he can remember loving anything.
They began cutting hair in their childhood bathroom, giving his little brother makeshift mullets long before they ever held professional clippers. Since then, Lily has honed their craft and built a career grounded in skill, creativity, and curiosity. He uses hair as a medium for many things—self-expression, connection with queer community, and helping queer people see and affirm themselves more fully. Lily hopes their chair is a space where people feel comfortable exploring, asking questions, and experimenting with how they want to show up in the world.
Across cultures and throughout history, hair has signified identity, care, community, and class, among other things. It has served as a powerful tool of expression, artistry, protest, and disruption. Lily’s work continues in that lineage, honoring hair as a site of meaning, transformation, and possibility.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, December 2025.
Lindsay, She/Her
“I recently listened to a podcast where Andrea Gibson said: ‘We don’t have to learn how to love ourselves. We just have to learn to shuck off everything that’s in the way of us knowing that we love ourselves…I don’t think there’s anything that you can do to love somebody better than to un-know them in every moment—to relate to them as if they’re a mystery, and to understand they are a mystery.’
This idea of ‘un-knowing’ resonates deeply with me and how I relate to queerness in myself and others. To un-know is to let down your filters and societal biases and just see a human for the sole beauty of their humanity. And treating others as a mystery acknowledges that there is always more to learn about them, and that they too are on a constant journey of growth and change. I found QueerlyME during an unstable and difficult time in my life and I’m so grateful for how it helped me foster friendship and community. I have never felt such acceptance and pure connection to myself and others as I have within this community.
A bit of advice as winter sets in: I know winter in Maine can be a difficult time for many, but try to lean into the natural process of doing less and slowing down, and you may even find it becomes one of the most essential seasons.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, December 2025.
Maya, She/They
“It’s been difficult lately for all of us to stay afloat in the depths of this darkness that has been spreading. It digs its filthy roots into our society, doing its very best to infect us with fear. To silence us.
Resistance can be many things. It can be little things. Co-founding Queers In Gear several years ago in Lewiston opened my eyes to that.
Following selling my car and moving to Portland to wrench on bikes this past April, I’ve been lucky enough to help lead weekly (April thru September) rides in both Lewiston and Portland that cultivate queer joy in ways I didn’t know possible. Fascists hate queer joy, ride your bike with us in 2026 :)
Support your local shops. Pay cash when you can, hug/kiss/cuddle your friends if that’s your/their thing (write letters to them too). Romanticize your life, read a book by candlelight, bring yummy food to a potluck, remember riding your bike is hot. Stretch, breathe, listen.
We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.
Available for silly bike rides and talking about vampires.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, December 2025.
Arabella LaDessé
The Goddess with many names. descends in a blaze of high energy and divine drama. With beauty that commands attention and presence that radiates power, she brings more than performance; she brings transformation. Every movement, every glance, every word is a revelation, a reminder that divinity can wear heels, shimmer under stage lights, and roar with joy.
Your Portland Princess and reigning New England Queen, Arabella The Goddess embodies Melaninated Magic in motion. When she steps on stage, she doesn’t just entertain she awakens. Step into her world and watch how your questions find answers, your spirit finds rhythm, and your night becomes unforgettable.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, October 2025.
Kai
“As a two-time brain tumor survivor, it’s important to me to find ways to advocate for both systemic change in healthcare and funding for continued brain tumor research. My tumor type is called a Rathke’s Cleft Cyst and it’s a benign pituitary mass. In January 2021, it was found incidentally when my doctor at the time admitted me to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms. We did a CT scan and then an MRI. All which led to a long year of tests, labs, and repeat scans. I had my first tumor resection in May of 2022. By March 2023, my scans showed that I was in recurrence and my tumor was growing back. It was stressful to go through all of that again so quickly after surgery. It grew quicker the second time around and by fall of 2023, I had a second surgery. This has really caused a massive financial strain and piles of debt. It ate through what little savings I had and it was just so unexpected. That’s why I’m so passionate about advocating about this. No one should have to be in a financial bind while already dealing with the stress of a major medical diagnosis. I have been able to advocate from Maine with the National Brain Tumor Society. Last year, I met with representatives and senators virtually and had the opportunity to share my brain tumor story while urging their support of The BRAIN Act (H.R.2767, S.1330; The Bolstering Research And Innovation Now Act). The BRAIN Act aims to advance the quest to defeat brain tumors, once and for all, by increasing research funding, fostering collaboration, promoting critical awareness efforts, and supporting innovations in and access to care. I’m participating in the New England Brain tumor walk in October down in Boston and fundraising for the National Brain Tumor Society. I’m hoping to raise at least $1,500 by October 19th. The NBTS has been such an amazing resource for me while navigating all of this and I can’t think of a better way to work towards making even a small impact. I’m hoping to collaborate with some local businesses in the Portland area in these last few weeks before the walk to do some sort of fundraising so I can get closer to my goal. I really want to put my energy towards something positive.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, October 2025.
Aquarius, They/Them
“Portland has been the site of deep transformations and catalysts that have formed me into the artist that I am. I continue to experience divine reflections of my place here, and how I can have an impact on the communities that shaped me. Being from Maine and having strong roots here, I have entered a season of harvest while simultaneously planting seeds for my future. I want to continue building creative & liberation based spaces in this state, especially for Black, Brown, Indigenous and Immigrant people, and I see this as a part of my life’s work.
I returned to Maine in November 2024 after spending a majority of the previous 9 years in Mexico. That spiritual journey conditioned and prepared me for what is happening in the current moment, both personally and on a collective level. I came back to my home state to be in community, to build systems of care and reciprocity, and to be an example of how to live in possibility while holding multiple and sometimes conflicting truths.
It is my purpose to be a builder of worlds, a bridge between all of the simultaneous transitions, deaths and rebirths we are experiencing collectively. I am here to do liberation work, culture building, healing artistry, and to develop creative capital for groups that have been marginalized and under-resourced – queer, trans, gender expansive people, and people of the Global Majority. Maine has long been known as a creative hub and a place where the arts are celebrated. I believe this is the time to use creativity to build the world we deserve, one that puts humanity first, and is based in regenerative values. So that we can move towards right relationship with ourselves, the land, history, nature, and each other.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, October 2025.
Megh, She/They
“Queer is more than just a label or identity. It is a philosophy, a way of witnessing and challenging societal norms, an invitation to reach past the binary. It is an offering - of space, community, and belonging - for those who wish to live beyond imposed limits.
Leaning into and learning my own queerness has offered such peace of mind. As a philosophy, queerness speaks in nonbinaries, which is a gift to those whose brains refuse to experience life in black and white. So many of us were conditioned by a culture and society beholden to extreme rights and wrongs; so many of us spent formative years of our lives indoctrinated into a system of rigid expectations. The work of rewriting this conditioning - the awareness that is required to name the black and white and welcome the grey in its place - is a long and significantly meaningful road. If you’re interested in doing this work together, in community, please reach out to me. Let’s identify the obstructions that no longer serve us and carve our own paths forward.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, August 2025.
Cheyenne, They/Them
“Anyone who knows me knows I’m a huge nerd. I’m pretty sure half of my personality is Star Trek and the other half is books. Growing up, my home life wasn’t great and we lived off the grid in the middle of the woods away from other people, so my escape became books. I discovered a love for Greek mythology which became a love for all kinds of mythology and fantasy. In Northern Maine, I didn’t really see myself represented in any way, and that was similar in books and tv. I think that’s why I loved Star Trek (TOS) so much. Seeing Nichelle Nichols as Lt. Uhura meant someone like me could be important and valued. I also found myself relating to Spock since he was half human and half Vulcan, and never felt like he completely fit in with either Vulcans or humans. I saw that mirrored in my own experiences as a mixed race person. Reading Octavia Butler in college really changed my whole world. I’m a huge bookworm and read a ton of books every year, so I am delighted that there are so many more Black authors writing fantasy and scifi. Some of my favorites include N.K. Jemisin, Roseanne A. Brown, Jordan Ifueko, Justina Ireland, and so many more. There are also a plethora of LGBTQ+ writers now, and my shelves are filled with them. If you want recs for books with QBIPOC, and disability rep, follow me on instagram @queer_bookwyrm.
Since representation is such a passion for me, it makes sense that I found myself part of an organization like @downeast_rainbow. We work to support LGBTQ+ youth in some of the most rural places in Maine, providing affirming online communities and a mobile community center called the Traveling Rainbow Project. We also work to educate the adults in Washington County to help them figure out how to make safer spaces for the youth, so that more of these LGBTQ+ youth can grow up to become LGBTQ+ adults. For many kids, I may be the only queer adult they know, and that can make a big impact. To learn more about DRA, head to our website.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, August 2025.
Kage, They/Them
“To let oneself be emergent. In a perpetual state of becoming. Damn– I love that for us! Queerness, in our world ruled by a falling empire that is so determined to label, divide, police, and punish, is freedom. To quote Octavia Butler: ‘All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth is Change. God is Change.’ Living under this falling empire, so fixated on control, rigidity, and conformity– I hold the deepest gratitude for change– expansive, like the ocean. Each day, I ask myself a few very essential guiding questions, in practice of embodying how I want to be as a person (loving, kind, open)… Those questions are: ‘How do we respond to harm without causing more harm?’ and ‘Am I leading from a place of love or fear?’ I also remind myself of the 7 core assumptions of restorative justice, which I believe in as my guiding principles. A few that resonate the most with me are: ‘The true self in everyone is good, wise, and powerful,’ ‘The world is profoundly interconnected,’ ‘Everything we have to make positive change is already here,’ and ‘We need practices to build habits of living from the core self.’
These days, I invest most of my time digging into transformative justice work, staying curious, unlearning, writing on my Substack: blue sky moon (a thought & heart journey for those dreaming of a better world), attempting to write a book, singing, listening to music, dancing, digging in dirt, drinking morning coffee, chasing the sun, embracing & healing chronic ‘illness’, trusting my body & slowing down, learning from nature & tending to beloved plants, and watching films. I greatly enjoy the medicine of making others laugh, although I admit I often end up laughing hardest at my own humor. Striving for a greater sense of community, I’ve been dreaming about bringing back block parties lately (who’s with me?!)… My moon, mercury, and venus in Gemini love a coffee date and making new connections. Thank you for witnessing me– It feels good to be seen. See you out there– Let’s keep showing up for each other. May empire fall ever faster. Free Palestine.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, August 2025.
Jen Bella
“In more ways than one, I love being a queer elder. Living in Denmark (ME) as a ‘grown up’ isn’t half bad. It’s been wonderful to find my tribe and become increasingly involved in Maine political activism, which I have been tending to all across the country since my teen years.
I came out in 1981 as bisexual, then in 1982 as lesbian. I have recently felt that pansexual was more accurate, but queer works the best. I’m a psychotherapist that specializes in work with the LGBTQ+ and kink communities. I recently finished my autobiography, You’ll Always Fool the Guesser. My deep loves are travel, cooking, and my family (chosen and blood). Most days I wake up feeling really, really lucky and ready to get into any shenanigans that await me.
If you want to find me at drag shows, I’m the chick in the back with the cane and a stack of bills waiting to be graced by the Queens and Kings who look my way.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2025.
Donovan, They/Them/It/Its—ask them!
Donovan is a genderfluid disabled artist who has been exploring their relationship to their own queerness in many ways since their schooling days. They value being their authentic self and emphasize this in their forms of expression, from makeup, to fashion, to art.
Bright colors, especially pink are among the favorites that fill an overflowing wardrobe, from pastels to goth pieces. For someone who considers themselves “genderhoarder” the ability to shapeshift in outward gender expression can be a very freeing and euphoric experience, allowing one to settle into feeling like oneself.
Donovan is also particularly fond of exploring somewhat surreal artistry, finding interest in new mediums, bold colors, and sometimes difficult subjects. Art expression was perhaps Donovan’s first love, and is a way for them to connect with the world, difficult emotions, big emotions, and more.
Navigating the world as a queer disabled person of color can be a whirlwind sometimes, but finding the ability to be authentically themselves, and express themselves as fully as possible will always be Donovan’s goal. They hope others can also find the ways that feel best for them to be as fully themselves as possible as well.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2025.
Stuart, She/Her
“For me, being part of the queer community means being a little bit outside of the expected norm. In a society full of expectations, deviating from the usual is often confusing and sometimes scary. Whether you are the participant or observer, differences are not always comfortable.
As a female who has a male-presenting name I’ve always had to navigate being part of the unexpected. Embracing queerness is about curiosity in a world different from your own. As humans, we like to label and categorize. It makes the world simpler to navigate. When something or someone is in the expected place there is a sense of comfort and predictability. When out of place — either by being misunderstood or misplaced — this often leads to a sense of unease. Exploring queerness, and supporting my community to do the same, is permission to move past assumptions and discover our own identities.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2025.
Skip, He/Him
Skip Brushaber has been active in the LGBTQ and recovery communities for many years. He is one of the founding members of AIDS Project and the Our Paper Collective. For many years, Skip was on the board of the Westbrook Food Pantry and volunteers at the Animal Refuge League. He also is a greeter at the Equality Community Center and actively participates in activities through the Network for Older Adults. A published writer and mixed media artist, Skip is committed to human rights and social change through his art. He resides in Westbrook with his three four legged friends who rescued him.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2025.
Evi, They/She
“Things feel really scary these days. My meditation teacher recently compared our group to a herd of bison, just sharing space, grazing, swatting flies off our butts…but all with the collective awareness that we are within the safety of well-intentioned and openhearted company.
As a queer & nonbinary parent to a toddler, being in community with other queer families has become a critical safety net. We also feel a bit like herd animals. Certainly, sharing resources, exchanging advice, offering tangible and intangible support — but often just mutually existing in the same physical space, eating snacks and marveling at the innocence of our kids.
Listening to the news about the Southern California earthquake earlier this week, I learned that elephants bunch up and stand together, creating an ‘alert circle’— a response matriarch elephants display when they perceive a threat. My collective of queer families feels like my alert circle. Elephants unite under stress, and apparently, so do we.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2025.
Lydia, She/Her
“I’ve been asking myself a lot lately ‘What does it mean to be resilient - as an individual? As a community?’ A nature nerd at heart, my mind turns to ecology. What makes an ecosystem resilient? It answers: Habitat connectivity - reducing fragmentation to keep communities together. Strong biodiversity - celebrating every individual and recognizing the value in our different experiences and perspectives. Nutrient cycling and sharing - mutual aid in action. Adaptability and functional redundancy - remaining flexible, caring for ourselves and others, and stepping up when needed.
I could continue with this biology lesson, but you get the idea. Resiliency isn’t just about surviving, it’s about interdependence, adaptability, and care. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson says, ‘Strong communities are born out of individuals being their best selves.’ But in difficult times, it can be hard to feel like our best selves. So if you’re feeling hopeless, alone, angry, or anxious, I encourage you to step outside. Wander by a river. Breathe in a forest. Hug a tree. Slow down and observe a bug, a bird, a chipmunk. Remind yourself that we are all connected, all growing, all part of a dynamic equilibrium that carries us forward not only towards survival, but resiliency.
And if you need a walking buddy, let me know.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2025.
Bel (Daene) Kugel, They/Them
“As someone who took many years to figure out a place to really call home, it seems like Maine might finally be it for me. A place to settle into discovering who I am, and how I fit in with myself, and into the world.
I find joy in learning about plants and people’s relationships with them, moving my body to music and feeling it in my bones, devising complex (read: extra) cocktail recipes, and doing all sorts of other alchemy. I wish I could be riding my bike every day, as well as discovering more secret little places to sit and read and watch the trees.
After moving to Portland this past June, from Iowa, and Wisconsin before that, I think this is finally a place to live as myself. It hasn’t been an easy path, but being able to live authentically as a queer and trans person - with at least some degree of safety - for the first time, has been world opening. I’m currently on a path of learning what authentic engagement and collaboration with queer community could actually look & feel like, I’m working to develop the trust in myself to fully engage with it.
It’s easy to feel afraid when it doesn’t seem like there is a roadmap or guide to how to live in the world as yourself, or how to love – both oneself, and others. But coming to Maine, and for the first time trusting that I don’t have to do it by myself anymore, and that there is such a thriving and joyful queer community around me, has made it easier to live, and feel, and dream.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2025.
Dakota, They/Them
“In the last five years, I have grown into my queerness immensely. I used to fear letting the world see me for who I was. Now, I am so comfortable in my skin. A lot has to do with transitioning and finding support within my friends, family, and community. It seemed to be getting better for a while, but now, with the current political climate, it’s a scary time. I’ve had many people come to me for advice about how to support trans people in their lives, and what I can tell you is to fight for them when no one else is, even if they can’t see you do it. Tell them you love them, often.
As exhausting as it is to constantly fight for your place in the world, I am taking time to cultivate a life that I love to live. I want to be a role model for younger people to keep going, to prove that it does, in fact, get better. I want to create something that means something and that will last. Being queer or trans is not a choice, but if it were, I’d choose it in every lifetime. We are palpable and unmeasurable. We radiate a sacred joy.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2025.
Thai, She/Her
“I’m in a process right now in my life of learning that love doesn’t have to be punitive. Growing up I believed that love was the practice of becoming someone lovable. I then spent most of my life molding myself into as many versions of lovable as necessary, leaving me completely detached from who I actually was or what I wanted. Queer love, by nature, demands the opposite - it’s gentle, it’s curious, it’s fiercely understanding. Being in queer relationships have quite literally awakened me to another way of being, they’ve let me be messier and welcomed me being a person in-process, even when I contest. Queer people celebrate themselves in a way that no other community I know does. Being given the permission to celebrate myself too is mostly very scary, but it’s also the most exciting offering.
Losing all sense of myself has now left me with the unique pleasure of getting to be curious about this thing called Thai from the beginning. I get to take myself on dates, I get to meet myself for the first time and ask as many questions as I want: What’s my favorite meal? What makes me nervous? How do I want to be loved?”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2025.
Reo, She/Her
“When I was outed in high school in 1978, all of my friends stopped speaking to me. My discharge from the US Navy reads; ‘Reason for Separation - Homosexuality -
Engaged in, attempted to engage in, or solicited another to engage in a homosexual act or acts.’
Now, in 2025, gay marriage is legal and my wife and I can live openly as lesbians. The cultural change in acceptance of Queer folks over the past forty years has been rapid and astonishing. At least it was, until the Republican party so successfully targeted our community to be the scapegoats used by every fascist regime to gain power. Although I am horrified about the direction in which our country is headed, I stand defiant. My mantra for the next four years and as long as it takes is, ‘Louder and prouder.’ We will not go back.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2025.
Travis, He/They
“I pulled my father's abandoned acoustic guitar out of his closet when I was 14. At the time, I was into heavy metal and grunge. My first band was called Phlegm Sandwich, and we mostly played Nirvana covers at the Bucksport High School talent show. After I graduated from UMF, I moved to Boston and joined a queer punk/noise band called Pornbelt. Over the next few decades, I was a part of many groups, from old-time/contra to costumed cover bands. Whenever I would move to a new city, I would immediately start looking for people to play music with.
After returning to Maine in 2019, I wanted to get a queer punk or old-time band together. I started to give up on it until I met a bass player who wanted to play both! After we found our front person, it came together. Many years ago, I tried to start a band called Queer Beach, named after a lesbian pulp-fiction novel from the 60's.That band didn't take off, but I always hoped I'd be able to use the name again. When we were trying to decide a name for our current band, my bandmate said what about Queer Beach!?! I couldn’t believe it! Amidst the political nightmare, Queer Beach and teaching quilting classes in Portland and Westbrook bring me immense joy and keeps me focused on my friends and community.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2025.
Hannah, She/They
“I never thought being queer was bad. Growing up, my family never made comments about queer people. My father brought my brothers and I to a pro-gay rally in Portland when I was 11. I always assumed that having a crush on boys and girls was totally okay. As I got a bit older, I was exposed to more and learned that not everyone had the same feelings about the queer community. I had a long-term boyfriend through high school, so outwardly addressing my sexuality was never a topic of conversation. Once I moved away to college, I started dating a girl and came out to my family, friends, and community. Coming out is hard enough, but in late 2015, with the presidential election right around the corner, it was especially eye-opening. On top of all that, I was diagnosed with bone cancer 2 months later.
Here I am, 18 years old, living 2+ hours away from home, baby gay, and now... cancer patient. Stage 2 Chondrosarcoma: Bone Cancer. I had a softball-sized tumor growing off of my pelvis, and the ONLY treatment is surgery. I moved home, my bed in my mother’s living room, and I just had major abdominal surgery to remove the tumor and what we thought were healthy margins. A year later, the cancer returned, and I had to have an even bigger surgery. I felt like I was drowning, searching for any kind of footing. I was navigating life as not only a queer person, but also a cancer patient. I struggled for years trying to find this new version of myself. Since 2015, I have had 4 surgeries to remove tumors, I am missing a bone, and I had to learn how to walk again. Since 2015, I have found my people in the queer community, and married an amazing woman. I have taken everything I have been lucky enough to experience, and I formed this new beautiful version of myself that I am incredibly proud of. Please check out curesarcoma.org and expand your knowledge of bone cancer as it is often referred to as the ‘forgotten cancer’ and does not discriminate!”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2025.
Alejandro, He/Him. Venezuelan.
“Although right now, very early 2025, I’m stepping steadily into my thirties, it wasn’t until June of 2023 when I was able to begin building what is my own family in Maine, thanks to people that have been willing to help me navigate around the vastness and complexities of the current world we live in. I am now a part of a community where I’m embraced for being exactly as I am, doing the things I love and loving the people I choose to love.
Every path you choose to take or find yourself in comes with hardships of all sorts, people and things you can’t control, some problems will last for longer, some will soon disappear overnight, in these situations, my mom has taught me to always ‘be grateful of what I have and conscious of what I do’, ultimately meaning to acknowledge that I’m the only constant in every situation so I need to take care of myself and to face the present with gratitude, happiness and confidence.
These paths also come with blessings, all of them, delight yourself in them.
Smile, it will only get better from here.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2025.
Nina, They/Them
“Every step is a story in its own right and every breath a rebellion in a world keen on erasure.
In the quiet of the outdoors, I found solace and a community that thrives against the odds.
I am grateful for all I connected with through hiking, camping, and participating in other nature-centered activities. Your remarkable collective freedom is a memory near and dear to my heart.
Under open skies and among kindred spirits, I was reminded that Queer existence is as natural and unstoppable as the rivers that carve their way through stone” in solidarity with everyone outside the binary-conditioned existence.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2025.
Yusur, They/He
“I think fear right now is a survival instinct, for many of us. I fear for myself, and my sisters, and my parents, and my students and my trans siblings and the people who are told are illegal (as if that is a thing a person can be!). I fear for the people who are forced out of their homes, stripped out of their humanities overseas. I feel fear in my bones,and underneath my finger nails, and in the sobs that get caught in my throat.
It’s ok if fear has been your companion too— squeeze its hand gently.
Now, we need to utilize our fear. It is incredibly easy to feel submerged with panic, to barrel into cycles of ‘what ifs’, to be lost amidst what feels like a catastrophe. We need to stay informed. We will be dusting away the spiderwebs of hateful rhetoric. We need to recognize fear-mongering for what it is. Keep reading your books, keep researching to understand your rights, keep correcting people when they’re misinformed, keep educating yourself more, keep showing up for community.
I love you, I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2025.
Cee, They/Them
Cee holds joy as a central value in their life. In addition to rekindling their theatre-kid joy as a part of an improv troupe, Cee finds joy in music, dance, sewing, coziness, animals, cooking, friends, and family (in any and all combinations). They’ve been working in education for most of their adult life, but still keep rock-star as fallback career. Cee lives in Brunswick with their teenage son, dog, and two cats.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2025.
Julia Maslen, She/Her
“After years of following the societally-approved path, my life completely shifted around my 40th birthday—divorce, a shift in my sexuality, embracing my intuition as my guide, and eventually moving to Maine. I went from living in the shadows to fully living my truth, a truth I continue to deepen into daily.
I am passionate about the Healing Arts and offer therapy, intuitive healing, and community gatherings in Falmouth, Maine. My life purpose is clear: to bring infrastructure into communities that revives intentional connection and promotes spiritual wellness. While society often leads us down an ego-driven path, I believe the future is about soul-led living. I host intimate, substance-free gatherings where we connect in real, raw, and groupthink-free ways. I live and breathe this mission.
Let’s Connect! If you have insights on unmet community needs or want to share your thoughts on the loneliness epidemic, spirituality, and/or connection I’d love to hear from you.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2025.
Kyle Warnock, Any Pronouns
“The first time Queerness occurred to me, I was 12 years old in South Dakota. It occurred to me, at first, like a passing thought. I watched a YouTube video of a group going to an anime convention, all of them varied in gender expression and in Queer relationships, and I thought, ‘Yes, this feels right.’
I had already had crushes on all different types of people. I had no concrete attachment to my gender, aside from feeling aligned toward masculinity at the time—fluidity came to me later in life. My home life was dysfunctional (an understatement), and so explicitly acknowledging my Queerness seems easy in comparison. It was how most other people reacted that made existing as outwardly Queer difficult. South Dakota is still one of the most difficult states in the U.S. to navigate as a Queer individual.
I retreated inwardly for a long time, and rediscovered the full extent of my Queerness and the power of Queer community when I reached adulthood in Maine. Yet, I’ve ALWAYS been in search of connection and the fulfillment of connecting others. Queerly ME embodies this passion, and a lot of what I didn’t have access to growing up, what we all deserve and need to feel belonging. And so, if you find yourself in need of community, reach out. Queerly ME is here for you.“
Photographer Credit: Nathan MacDonald, January 2025.
Francesca, She/They
“I’m a psychotherapist in private practice and I was diagnosed with Autism this year, which has been incredibly liberating. A lot of things make sense to me that didn’t before: why I had to hide in my closet in the dark while movers took away boxes from my last apartment; why I ate mostly plain pasta in childhood; why I had to wear leg braces for toe walking in preschool. And then the strengths: sitting in a room for hours extremely focused on art; the pattern recognition that makes me a good therapist today; my endless curiosity. It’s my favorite thing in the world to connect to fellow Autistic queer folks in and out of the container of therapy.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, November 2024.
Gina, They/Them
“I want to take this opportunity to uplift the love I have found in my queer friendships. I have fallen so deeply in love with my friends, letting myself lean into the beauty of how we show up for each other. I have been so held and seen within these connections as my own queer identity has evolved, finding these friendships to be deeply transformative in the course of my life. I am old enough now to have friends that I made as a young adult coming out as queer and now these same folks have known me for more than half of my life seeing the many iterations of my queerness and life unfold. To have connections like that is powerful beyond words and I am deeply grateful to be loved and to love in that way. In a world that centers romantic relationships as the ‘worthy’ relationships to build one's life around (and I do love romance), I can't help but want to shout to the world how deeply and profoundly I love my friends. And a little shout out to Queerly Me where I have met some of my new friend loves in the last few years.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, November 2024.
Meg, She/They
Meg is a unique individual, and that is what queerness means to her: Individuality. Meg has always felt on the outskirts of groups, just different enough never to feel a sense of belonging. They were a single, intact being, separate from the group. Their neurospicy queerness was never fully accepted (internally or externally) until living abroad in Scotland, 23 years into their life. Here, she was surrounded by a new type of human, a confident, witty, and bold type who challenged her to become deeply in tune with themself. She came out in 2021 as bisexual, but that was just the start of their journey. Nuance and difference appeared as the days passed. She explored and experimented in the city of Scots, testing each label like a new jacket. It was hard but necessary. When it came time to move on, back to Maine and back to their home, they decided it was nearly impossible to identify with a singular “label” or “description”. She was confused and detached, from their friends, her community, and our place.
It was around this time, in 2023, that they discovered an organization called Queerly ME. She found, while immersed in the woods with other “different” queer humans, that individuality didn’t need to be lonely or solitary. One could be Queer without being separate or isolated. In this gathering, she saw people complimenting one another. They lifted each other up, played to their strengths, and took what they needed, giving back what they could, individuality intact. It was magnificent and inspiring. She was not only surrounded by extra-ordinary humans, but she was one, fully themself. Nearly a year later, Meg’s confidence has grown and she decided she wanted to show it off, being authentically themself. Meg belongs in this community, in this city, in this state, and in this world, just as she is: A Queer, lady-adjacent, different, and wonderful individual.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, October 2024.
Isaiah, He/They
“My partner and I both grew up in Hawaiʻi and we’re often asked ‘Why would you ever leave Hawaiʻi move to Maine?’ It makes me a little sad because it often implies that Maine isn’t as nice. In the past couple of years, we’ve really fallen in love with Maine. The natural beauty of this place as well as the wonderful people we’ve been able to build connections with, many of whom we’ve met through various programs by Queerly ME, makes us grateful for what Maine has given us, there’s no need to compare it to anywhere else.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, September 2024.
Alexa, She/Her
“My sexuality journey has been an interesting one. After marrying my high school boyfriend at 23, it all came to a head at 27 when we divorced. I remember moments throughout my marriage when the ‘reality’ would creep in that I could never be with anyone else and explore my potential queerness. But I had suppressed my sexuality so far down (for many reasons) that I believed that was just an intrusive thought. Since my divorce and with the help of my chosen family, I have fully come out and embraced my reality that I am a lesbian and I am so happy to be out and living this truth. The lightness and freeness I feel in my life and in my body is so real.
As a queer yoga instructor, I bring these experiences into my teaching. I felt so disconnected from my physical body while suppressing my sexuality. Yoga was the only time I felt connected and able to actually tap into my inner self while feeling into my physical body. I strive to guide people into those spaces where they can FEEL. Sometimes I bring people into uncomfortable shapes in the body - with the idea that it’s not always about ‘feeling good’ but about ‘feeling.’”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, September 2024.
Jae, They/Them & Zoë
Zoë and Jae are both from away—Minnesota and New Jersey, respectively. They met in Maine (as farm apprentices!) and were friends at first sight. They always knew they wanted to live together, and yet somehow they never imagined it would be as a soon-to-be-married couple.
They’re grateful to have landed in Lewiston, where they’ve found a wonderful group of friends who are queering what it means to be a community. “Everyone always says it’s so hard to find friends in your thirties,” says Zoë, “but that hasn’t been the case for us.” Says Jae, “Attending queer social events connected us to people who share our lifestyle and values, and we feel at home here because of that.” The two explain that their community isn’t “queer” because it consists exclusively of queer people; it doesn’t. What makes it queer in their eyes is that Jae, Zoë, and their friends share time, space, and self in ways that joyfully embrace communalism and mutual flourishing. They support one another and cultivate happiness together even in the darkest of times. It’s the sort of community that Jae and Zoë want for everyone.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, July 2024.
Tessa (She/Her) and Kira (She/They)
Tessa (She/Her) and Kira (She/They) met the cliche modern way, with Tinder. They spend their time baking, gaming, traveling, and spending the days with their two cats, Ace and Juuj.
While Tessa works overnights at an assisted living facility, her true passion lies in baking and sharing the joys of food with others. With Kira’s support and handiwork they’re hoping to open their own home bakery by the summer. If you asked Kira, she’d say the goods Tessa makes are worth sharing but if she could hoard them all she would.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2024.
Alex, They/Them
“I have always been in-between as a person, whether that is ethnicity, race, or gender. Not 50% this and 50% that but 100% a third, unique thing; the insider with an outside perspective. I was really lucky to grow up in Los Angeles where in-between-ness isn’t too uncommon and I could really explore my identity. It’s a real privilege that I was able to have a community that gave me the experience to look at the world as a gradient not a binary.
I’ve been in Maine for over a decade but I am new-ish to Lewiston. I joke that I just moved here to say that I moved from one LA to another. When I came to Lewiston, I thought about the issues and identities that are important to me and which ones would make the most sense to engage with. There are so many wonderful queer people in the area but there is a lack of spaces for us to gather and build community. I ended up taking on running an existing social event called Second Saturday and with some friends we’ve built L-A It’s Happening Queer @itshappeningqueer to organize that event and others. I’ve also helped organize Pride in Lewiston for the past couple of years and this year will be my biggest yet. We are going to have a whole week of events from June 1st to June 8th. I am really looking forward to it.
If you find yourself in Lewiston, get in touch: I wouldn’t mind showing you the city I love.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2024.
Rakeem, He/Him
“For me exploring my sexuality meant finding my passion. Whether it was long nights, in ballet tights, in the studios growing up, or seeing a little bit of me inside of the queers in my community. Each time I took a leap of faith outside of my comfort zone I discovered another facet of me. Growing up Black and Queer in Sweet Home Alabama was a recipe for a trauma flavored funnel cake lightly powdered with social injustices and fried in micro aggressions, but it molded me into the unapologetic artist you’ve all come to know today.
When I moved to Maine, it took me a while to find my community. Often, I’d stop myself from opportunities, due to fears of inadequacy and imposter syndrome, until I was lucky enough to meet a group of like-minded individuals with THEM Burlesque, a queer burlesque troupe that I’ve been with for over a year at this point. It started off with THEM, but quickly expanded into the rich, vibrant, and welcoming queer artist community of Portland.
In the end, I just want to be living proof that you can overcome the struggles of your environment, find and thrive in your niche, and you can shine through the darkness the world puts on all of us with the strength and love of our fellow LGBTQIA+ community.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, June 2024.
Cara, She/Her
“I follow my core values, live with integrity and listen to my intuition. Everything else sort of works itself out. It’s less chaotic this way. Every moment requires a flexible mindset and balance of energies and adaptation. I’m a goofy firecracker sometimes and also a calming grounded realist. I go after what I want and also understand what I can and cannot change when something isn’t working. I enjoy my time in nature and solitude, put my energy into defining purpose in work and creativity, spending time with my social circle, and expanding my community of relationships. Writing about and sharing inner experience and finding depth in connection defines much of my life. Older and wiser, I live contentedly now and with patience, everything I need is within me and within the life I’ve built for myself. I have found that anything worth having, doing, loving, becoming is worth waiting for. Time will tell what is possible for me.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Max, He/Him
“Hey my names Max, I’m a proud trans man who aspires to be a nurse and continue working with those who have dementia.
In my free time I enjoy long boarding and anything involving nature.
I’m very excited to be moving out of the winter season and into spring time.
I enjoy the sense of new beginnings!”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Ashley, She/They
“I grew up in a very conservative religious community in Southern Kentucky, and while I knew and loved people who were gay, I didn’t learn about bisexuality until my mid-twenties. It was a moment of, ‘wait, doesn’t everyone make out with their girlfriends when they’re drunk?!’
By that point, I was in a loving hetero-presenting marriage (one I’m still happily in today!), and even still, learning about and being able to name this part of myself felt SO liberating. It’s like when you have this feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, but then you come across an essay or poem where someone articulates the feeling perfectly. You feel so seen like, ‘Yes!!! That’s it. That’s how it is for me too. I’m not alone!’
There’s a lot of privilege I have in moving through the world in a cis-het passing relationship, and also, I see that as a tool that I get to utilize. Since coming out to myself, my spouse and those close to me — all of whom were deeply supportive and not at all surprised — I’ve shared about my queerness online and in my art because representation matters. There are as many expressions of and iterations of queerness as there are queer people, and it’s important that people know that just because you appear femme and are with a man, that doesn’t mean you’re straight — or even a woman!
One of my favorite moments since coming out publicly was being approached at a park by someone who had read my story online. That sparked her own journey of deconstructing her compulsory heterosexuality and eventually coming out to herself, her husband, and her family. I felt so humbled and delighted to have played a small part in her discovering more of herself. That’s what it’s all about for me — becoming and expressing more and more of who I am, and in the process, celebrating and supporting those around me doing the same.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Dimitri, He/They
“What does it mean to be male? This is something I used to ask myself. Several years ago my spouse came out as nonbinary, so I became fixated on words like ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’; I questioned them and used them cautiously. What was I trying to say instead: kind, strong, empathetic? There was always a more truthful word. Doing this brought me to realize I did not identify with the common cultural idea of a masculine person. I removed a box society placed me into, realizing I was greater than the space that held me. I can be beautiful, tender, brave, I can be anything — I can be myself. Who I am doesn’t line up with what I’m told a CIS male looks like, and that’s okay! Don’t let this world put you in a box, because you cannot be contained or defined.
I have come to love the word queer. It allows me to declare that I don’t quite fit in with the CIS gender straight box of society, but I don’t have to plant my flag in any other constricting boxes, either. I am allowed a semblence of fluidity. Am I nonbinary? Pansexual? Polyamorous? I am just Dimitri!”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Bean, name instead of gender pronouns.
“I moved to Maine with my partner and three cats 3 years ago after receiving a remission status from colon cancer for a change of pace and a different type of fresh air than the Midwest has to offer. Maine has been a great place to get into hiking and connect with nature, I love spending time outdoors. I’m looking forward to doing that more in these warmer months, despite heavily preferring the cold. I also love reading mystery & thriller novels, writing poetry, baking, and playing Pokemon games (Platinum is the best!). Since coming here, I’ve gotten very in touch with my spiritual and religious beliefs and have met others within the Jewish community who have become close friends. I’ve gotten very involved with the Maine Coalition for Palestine & Jewish Voice for Peace, with whom we now have a state pod, connecting with aligned Jews fighting for Palestinian liberation and liberation for all people throughout Maine. @jvp.maine
Baking is my heart’s passion. It was a large part of what helped me mentally get through my cancer treatments, and I feel very strongly that all cultures live on through three things: language, music, and food. I’ve led multiple cultural baking and food history classes and feel great joy and pride with every student’s finished product. People learn how to handle the motions of a dish, respect where it comes from, and taste the history behind it. I’m starting a baking business centered around these ideals, with the hope of connecting people with foods from mine and other cultures.
I’m still seeking my queer community in Maine, but the more I find myself the more friends I find. The BIPOC Queer community here is small but extremely vibrant, and I am excited and hopeful to find myself as a more connected part of it.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Zach, He/Him
“I have a deep curiosity and desire to widen my skill base that sees me practicing many varied hobbies. Knitting, crocheting, visible mending, sewing. Permaculture design with a strong interest in tree care, soil building, foraging and water harvesting. Rowing my single shell. Embedding myself in queer community through participation or organization of events from simple potlucks and game nights, to garden work parties and talent shows. I have lived for the last 17 years in Portland, Oregon, so I am very curious and excited, having moved back to my home state, to see how my love of queer community will intersect with my love of small town/rural community that I have been away from for so long. My fixer-upper house and its setting in the forest on the edge of Cumberland County and the Mountain and Lakes region of southwest Maine give me the opportunity to explore that intersection.
Maine did not feel like a safe place for me to be gay when I was growing up. I couldn’t wait to leave. I don’t know who I’d be if I stayed here, but I know who I am now. I spent my young adulthood steeped in a loving queer community that allowed me to safely explore all of the edges of my identity. Not fully knowing how Maine had changed in the last two decades, safe or not, I was ready to move back and stand in my truth. I have to remind myself that 20-30 years ago, when I was looking for mentors and parental figures in the gay community, they were being wiped out or traumatized by the AIDS epidemic. I am now the age they would have been when I was a teen. The teens and twenty somethings of today seem hidden within a technological landscape that I am not entirely familiar with. My wish is to be part of keeping the queer generations linked with in-person community engagement.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, May 2024.
Lauren, They/Them
“In the same way a lot of us have struggled with not feeling ‘queer enough’, I’ve also often not felt ‘outdoorsy enough’. In other places I’ve lived, the outdoor culture has felt pretty competitive - who could climb the highest mountain or backpack the longest trail. In my twenties I started doubting my own connection with nature to the extent of not even trusting myself with a houseplant.
I’ve found that Maine is more welcoming and casual about outdoor interaction. Since moving here in 2021 I’ve gotten to try so many activities that would have felt off-limits before, like ski touring, snowshoeing, canoeing and kayaking, fishing, hiking, swimming, mushroom hunting, camping, and gardening. In large part thanks to the great queer outdoor programming here, I’ve gotten to start rebuilding my connection with nature at my own pace. And my first houseplant (Britney the peace lily) is still alive!”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2024.
Tara, They/Them
“Born and raised in southern Maine, this place has a piece of my heart. I am thrilled to be back in Portland after some years away, serving as the Minister of Allen Avenue Unitarian Universalist Church, fondly known around these parts as ‘A2U2.’ LGBTQIA+ Mainers have been part of this congregation since the beginning, and I follow in the footsteps of a number of out, queer A2U2 clergy with humility and gratitude.
It was in finding my spiritual home in Unitarian Universalism that I also found queer community. It was in church that I met queer and trans families for the first time... gay, lesbian, and intersex elders with incredible stories to tell. I saw parts of myself reflected in their families... their stories... their pronouns... and worlds opened up for me. Faith and queerness, to me, are inextricably interconnected. It’s all about learning to be human in our fullness, and working to create the conditions for others to do the same.
In my tradition we believe not in original sin, but in original BLESSING. We are blessed, whole, holy, cherished... not in spite of who we are but because of who we are. And what a gift. To be out, proud, always changing, growing, deepening, questioning... in this beloved community that is home.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2024.
Oronde, He/They
Oronde, He/They, is a city boi turned witch of the woods in Midcoast Maine, spending lots of his time tending to/thinking about his plants and pretending to be an old timey apothecary. Despite the transitional energy of the past few years, they are still incredibly dedicated to social justice and finding ways to highlight the importance of communication and vulnerability in creating stronger, healthier lives and relationships, especially for folks with marginalized identities and/or histories of trauma.
At heart, Oronde hopes to empower folks to show up more fully as themselves and help to strengthen and support their communities.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2024.
Jake Krueger, They/Them
Jake Krueger, They/Them, is a queer chaplain, innkeeper, community organizer, and death educator. Through much of their life Jake has been concerned with questions related to spirituality, connection, and meaning-making both as an individual seeker, and as a matter of discourse and practice within the queer community. They see building queer spiritual communities as the center of their work in the world–lifting up queerness and queer people as beautiful and sacred. When they’re not in chaplain mode you can often find them at Mercury Inn, a small bed and breakfast in Portland that they co-own, co-habitate, and co-operate with one of their partners.
Jake is a big fan of all things science fiction and fantasy, spurned by a deep and abiding childhood love of the X-Men, their favorite story-world metaphor for the queer experience. X-Men taught Jake about the importance of cultivating a sense of self worth and building a chosen family in a world that tries to tear queer people down for our queerness. The lessons learned in reading those silly superhero comics formed the foundation for the community building efforts Jake pursues now.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, April 2024.
Joanne & Pam
Pam and Joanne, both life-long Mainers from big families, fell in love on their first date in 1992. Although they were not exact matches if measured against their lists of the perfect partner, both soon found they loved each other for lots of other new and wonderful reasons they had not previously imagined. The newness has faded a bit after 32 years, but the wonderful is still there.
They have lived in Bowdoinham for over 20 years now. Joanne has started sketching and watercolor painting, taking long walks with their dog, Sophie, and volunteers here and there. Pam loves fly fishing, and pickleball and has great plans for more of both when she retires in a couple of years. They have many adventures planned for the future in their teardrop camper and where the fishing takes them.
They have three children, three wonderful grandchildren, and of course the dog.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2024.
Jenny, She/Her
“I am a collage artist, poet, singer, nature lover and teacher. Being an educator sits at the very core of my being. I work in Early Childhood and I have always believed that nature is the greatest educator of all. Children can experience awe and wonder from looking up a tree that seems to touch the clouds. They can face challenges, fears and build resilience. They can learn empathy and strength from watching the smallest insect. Nature teaches children how to connect to our world in the most empowering and meaningful ways. ‘As we begin to feel our common bond of life with living things around us, our actions become more harmonious in an unforced, natural way, and we become concerned for the needs and well-being of all creatures.’ - Joseph Cornell ‘Sharing the Joy of Nature’
In the classroom or in nature, I want each child in my care to feel safe, seen, heard and understood. That is our job as educators. We have a responsibility to meet children where they are at. We are there to gently guide and fiercely stand by and support these tiny humans along their journey to being their most true and authentic selves.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2024.
Nick, He/Him
“Maine is my happy place. Our sense of community, and our unqualified capacity to care for one other, are all some of the many things that make Maine special for me. I’ve spent my entire life here, and I can confidently say that whether you’re a new Mainer or your roots trace back generations, Mainers have a special knack for embracing you effortlessly. Being queer and the son of first-generation immigrants has taught me the unabashed joy that can come with living authentically. Despite the coldness of our winters, I’m consistently awestruck by the warmth that permeates this state. I hope that sense of awe never goes away.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2024.
Halen, They/Them
“Growing up, I always felt different from the people around me because of my race, but also because of who I’ve always been inside. As a kid in rural Maine, I didn’t have anyone around me who looked or felt like me. In my late teens, I struggled with feeling like I fully belonged in any community. I never fully felt a part of queer spaces or black spaces because I am a biracial bisexual. Over the last two years, I’ve found peace in my intersectionality. I’ve focused on becoming someone I am proud of and not worrying about if I fit in somewhere. The community I have always wished for is now in me and in the people who love me for every part of me.
I think it’s so important for black queer people to nourish and love themselves. Don’t let the worry of expectance stop you from embracing every facet of your identity. Life is too short to spend it trying to squeeze into a box that was not made for you.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, March 2024.
Jae, They/Them or just Jae
“My life has been enriched beyond measure by examining, experimenting, evolving, and expanding myself in ways that feel true and right. However, being truly seen by others has been a dichotomous struggle for me almost my entire life. Now I guess it’s time to step into the light and love of my queer community. In doing so, I hope to encourage younger queer poets, photographers, makers, and finders to follow their passions wherever they take them. I’d love to connect with other poets and photographers in this community to share feedback and publishing resources if that’s your jam.
As a queer elder poet, I take advantage of every opportunity to live proudly in a binary world as a non-binary person.
Here’s a bit of my poetry:
‘Exhausted, I claw at my female skin
worn thin over male bones,
digging to sing my song aloud.’ (You can read the rest of Monday Night Choir Boi in ‘Red Rose Thorns Journal’.
If you live in the South Portland area – you might see me on one of our gorgeous beaches, swinging my metal detector while I fish in the sand for buried treasures. You will also frequently see my roly-poly body in board shorts and a tank top, strolling along the shore exclaiming out loud about every shard of glinting sea glass I find. And rocks! How do I choose just one? Other rockhounds will relate! In the long dark days of winter – I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder -aptly acronymed SAD. I knock the sads back by sorting and making things with the treasure trove of stuff I found in the summer sun. I am currently trying my hand at making jewelry, wind chimes, and suncatchers with these artifacts.
My favorite place to be is outside with my camera taking photos of the natural world around me. I have a goal to include more real live people in my photos. I’ve made a start of that with the Cold Water Queers group. I don’t dip in the icy ocean with them, but am a land shark who takes photos of their shenanigans from time to time.
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2024.
Tessa, She/Her
“I am a community connector, a conversationalist, an activist and a person who likes to put my hands in the dirt.
I graduated from UMaine in 2022 with a Bachelors of Science in Wildlife Ecology and Ecology and Environmental Science, deciding not to use my degree and instead chose to be thrust into farming and the nonprofit world. I have maintained my connections with current and past positions at The Wilson Center, an interfaith based nonprofit in Orono, where I did program coordination, The Nature Based Education Consortium’s Stories for Change Working Group, where I am a co-chair, and Wild Seed Project, where I support their fall seed sale. Recently deciding to call central ME my home, I feel like I’ve never felt more like a rural Mainer at heart.
I am a queer, polyamorous person navigating queer dating in rural ME. I have found community in young spaces, queer spaces, Jewish spaces, outdoor/field/nature based work spaces, circles of folks called to action, outdoor recreation spaces, storytelling spaces, and spaces where differences come together over shared intention. I enjoy all things outdoors- gardening, camping, hiking, hammocking, kayaking and talking to trees especially! I am settling into the early adult stage of life, with an amount of fear and joy that I previously didn’t know could co-exist so well. I am learning that there is no reason to fear asking for help, there is real beauty in showing up as your authentic self and there is necessary connection in community. It’s beautiful that we are allowed to navigate life, and I am happy that I am navigating mine with an amazing support system that spans the state of ME!”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2024.
Catia, She/They
“I can no longer distinguish between what constitutes a hobby and what is intrinsically connected to my sense of self. I can tell you things I spend massive amounts of time doing, but I think the application of time makes them more than a hobby. The big ones: roller derby, playwriting, sewing/knitting/attempting to draw comics. Other things I spend lots of time doing: video games, reading sci-fi, thinking about aliens, thinking about liminal spaces, dissecting scripts for TV episodes out of a mixture of imposter syndrome and an unused Theater Arts degree, tying bow ties. Lately, language (especially how we choose one word over another) is taking up a lot of brain space. Which verb choice do I use to talk about learning new things: absorb vs. consume vs. engulf and why is there a variance in passivity vs. aggressiveness tied to each? How does a period at the end of a text change the tone? How we communicate on the roller derby track vs. on the bench. Questions I’ve been enjoying asking people: what is your favorite shape, what does your brain look like as a non-anatomical image, what’s your favorite alien depiction?”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, February 2024.
Sage, He/Him
“I am a gay and trans adventurer, artist, dog-dad, and nature-boy, and I’ve chosen to make Maine my home.
In my first decade of adulthood I juggled initiating my gender transition with immersing myself in an outdoor career and lifestyle. Rock climbing, backpacking, and canoeing took me all over the country, relocating to find the next employment or recreational opportunity with every changing season.
My 20’s were defined by transitions - constantly moving from one place and job to the next, while simultaneously experiencing shifts in identity, sexuality, and physical form. Constant upheaval slowly deteriorated my mental health, eventually prompting a change in lifestyle and career. The beauty of Maine’s remote mountains, lakes, and rivers (and marriage to a Mainer) led me to set roots here, where I traded the freedom of my nomadic life for stability. I bravely set out to learn an entirely new trade, becoming a licensed massage therapist, and began the next chapter of my life.
Although I still love and need adventure in my life, I am excited to spend the next decade building myself a robust and comfortable nest: prioritizing authenticity, deepening relationships, expanding my community, caring for myself, building my massage practice, snuggling with my dog and husband, exploring wild places, and making art here in Maine.”
Photographer Credit: KWarnock Photography, January 2024.