The Intersection of Queer Identity and Regional Culture
Living Authentically in Conservative Spaces
Ever since we announced we’re moving to Orlando, we’ve been met with a wave of concern-some loving, some fearful, and some confused. "Be careful," people say. "Why would you give Florida your money?" While these questions come from a place of care, they also reveal deep misunderstandings about what it means to live authentically as a queer family in conservative spaces.
To understand why we chose this path, you have to understand our journey.
Since 2018, we've moved five times, not out of indecision, but out of necessity. Our careers on Broadway were fulfilling artistically, but financially, they weren't enough to support the family we dreamed of. Shows closed too quickly, opportunities were limited, and we faced a hard truth: we needed to try something different.
We moved to Charleston, SC on a leap of faith. A business opportunity for Stephen that eventually fell through, left us in a garage studio apartment, working multiple jobs, barely surviving. But we wanted to become parents, and we thought this move was the first step. After a difficult year, we returned to NYC broke, in debt, but hopeful-Bret booked Wicked, and we believed stability was in reach.
Then came COVID. Broadway shut down, Wicked turned out to be pretty toxic at the time (listen to Stage Combat the Podcast Season 2), and we found ourselves once again without solid ground. To make the time pass we danced in city parks for TikTok, taught online, and scraped by. During this time, we advanced our surrogacy journey with our amazing carrier Krystle, and spontaneous sale of our apartment.
A temporary move to Texas for a teaching opportunity turned into a longer stay. Our son was born in 2022, and we bought a house. But even then, some friends criticized us: "How can you live in Texas?"
Here’s the thing—not everyone can live where they want. The idea that queer people should only live in blue states is both unrealistic and, frankly, elitist. Job opportunities, family, and affordability dictate where many of us live. And while politics are real, so is daily life. In Texas, people were just trying to live—just like in NYC.
Yes, we are privileged: white, cis, male, with a son. Our experience may not reflect all queer families, but it reveals something important. There’s a misconception that red states are constant battlegrounds. In truth, many queer people live here, work here, raise families here. The political climate is harsh, but community exists.
When we lived in NYC, people from red states would ask, "Did you feel safe?" Now, living in red states, we hear, "Do you feel safe there?" Both sides assume the worst about each other, but life is more nuanced.
We're moving to Orlando because of an opportunity. I’m pursuing a master’s degree, we can expand our creative content, and we’ll be surrounded by an incredible friends and an artistic community. It's not a political choice; it’s a family choice.
If I could, I’d move to LA, settle in Long Beach, and live my days out at Disneyland. But the cost of living and opportunities haven’t aligned. So, we follow where the potential leads.
This isn’t about defending Florida or Texas. It’s about understanding that queer families live everywhere—by choice or necessity. Before you judge someone’s zip code, consider what brought them there.
Queer visibility in red states matters. These places need us—to show that love exists here, that families like ours can thrive here. There are queer families who can’t leave, who need support, not abandonment.
We’re not ignoring politics. We know the risks. But we also know the power of presence. By living authentically in conservative spaces, we challenge the narrative. We show our neighbors that we are not threats, but part of the community.
Support doesn’t always mean escape. Sometimes it means standing firm. Consider donating to Equality Florida or Family Equality, which help queer families in red states. And if you want to support us, subscribe to our Substack—10% of all memberships support LGBTQ+ causes.
We’d love to have you as neighbors. Let’s build bridges, not walls.