Pride In Their Voices
By Tracy Ross
Last week, the Supreme Court ruled that existing federal law forbids job discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and transgender status. But is “winning” the same rights as the nonqueer community a victory? “Unfortunately, I guess that’s the best way to put it,” says Mountain Hardware sponsored climber Alex Johnson. “It’s a victory, but a victory in something that never should have needed a decision to be made on it to begin with. But, in this case, human rights did transcend politics, and that’s how it should be.” In celebration of Pride Month, we dedicate the following pages to the thoughts, feelings, praise, and criticism of the industry in its treatment of the LGBTQIA community. Read and react—if your wish is to make the outdoors a safer, more inclusive space.
Massimo Alpian
Outdoorist, competitive cyclist, PR account director for OutsidePR; He/His/Him
As someone with both brown and white parents, I have a lot of white passing privilege. But as a gay man in the outdoor industry, I feel I’ve had to deal with some of the same biases as other historically marginalized groups. While there have been so many welcoming colleagues and friends, I’ve often managed by getting bro-y with the cisgender straight men in some of the agencies and brands with whom I’ve worked. Yet the second I showed I’m not in their straight construct, the vibe changed and the dynamic shifted, and they didn’t see me the same way. That’s even if they already knew I was gay.
There’ve been all kinds of micro-aggressions—a casual homophobic comment here or an obvious exclusion there. And even in the moments when I’ve been included, I sometimes have ended up feeling like the odd person out at the high school dance— who wasn’t asked to dance. I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection over the past couple of weeks, and what I’ve realized is that I’ve often allowed myself to be perceived as straight-passing because it was a learned defense mechanism used in childhood and my teenage years—a means to survive, and, sometimes, a way to progress professionally. But I’m now speaking out because I believe there’s a lot of work for the outdoor industry to do in accepting the LGBTQIA community, as well as the Black and non-Black POC communities.
That’s where the industry as a whole needs to do the work to learn how to include us and not just say, “You’re here.” That will only come if we have greater understanding and representation, and—very important—examine our hiring practices. The industry should rely less on referral hiring and instead do the work of listening, learning, educating, and using resources and individuals outside of the industry to create a more equitable space to bring underrepresented groups to the table. We also need diverse representation in athlete and ambassador rosters, brand storytelling, and overall marketing initiatives. How can we say we want everyone to get outside without first making them welcome?
Erin Parisi
Climber bidding to become the first trans athlete to complete the Seven Summits; She/Her/Hers
I’m someone who finds strength, relaxation, adventure, and empowerment in the outdoors. I camped and rode bikes as a kid and then got into kayaking, backcountry skiing, and climbing. I had an aunt who was part of the LGBTQ+ community, but when I was first in the outdoors, there was no path for a trans woman. So I used the outdoors as a distraction— a way for me to keep proving to myself that I was a badass without addressing my sexuality. But, then, five years ago, I couldn’t hide my authentic self anymore.
I began transitioning and then decided that I’d show I could be trans in the world by climbing the Seven Summits [starting in 2018]—as my big FU to the world. Here’s the thing about traveling to several of the countries with these summits: In Tanzania it’s a crime to be gay or lesbian; in Chechnya, there’s government-sponsored violence against the queer community; and even in my neighborhood in Denver, I was attacked by three men and a woman. Yet I think a lot of outdoor brands are trying to make the LGBTQ+ community more visible [including Parisi’s sponsor, Merrell, who produced this video about her.] That’s good because there’s still a sort of shock value if you see a trans person at a trailhead. But if, one day, you saw one in the REI catalog, they could just be someone enjoying the wilderness.
The one beef I have with Outdoor Retailer comes from last June during the Show. It was the 50th anniversary of Stonewall and the Pride parade was nearby. I fired off a note—“It’s the 50th year of Pride, what do you have in place?” No response. I walked in the front door a couple of days later, and I swear they’d taken down the flag and swept all the glitter away. There was a lot of effort going into understanding and talking about DEI. You could have put a rainbow flag up. Had a Pride table. Something. You could have done it.
Janelle Paciencia
Social worker, climber, Latino Outdoors volunteer, NextGen trail leader for American Hiking Society; She/Her/Hers, Ella
I feel like queer women, such as myself, get left out or asked to leave LGBTQIA conversations because of the straight-passing privilege we hold. I’m bisexual and married to a straight man because it just so happened to be a man that I fell in love with and not a woman at the end of my dating journey. I know many other women in my same situation, and the sentiment resonates with them clearly too—we are queer; we are here; and we won’t stop fighting for this LGBTQ+ community with which we will always very much identify with and be a part of.
It wasn’t until I met my husband five years ago that I started to get outdoorsy, so I’ve never experienced concerns for my safety outside because of my sexual orientation. Now when I recreate and I see a trans person or same-sex couple outdoors, I make sure to give them a wholehearted friendly “Hello” and an extra big smile to let them know I see them; I am with them; and I want them to feel safe enough to keep showing up and taking up space. Especially since the predominant outdoor narrative never includes LGBTQ+ folks outside of Pride Month, and, even then, companies can do much better with their campaigns. I know there are brands that are trying to do better with their LGBTQ+ representation via their social media, but, for me, words will remain words until we see clear and continuous actions to amplify, champion, and financially support the work many LGBTQ+ folks have been doing in the outdoors long before big brands took notice. Until I see that, I’ll continue to use my dollars to vote for or against you.
Alex Johnson
Professional climber, Mountain Hardware athlete; She/Her/Hers
One of the biggest aha moments in my life came when I was coaching a kids’ team at Vertical Endeavors gym in Minneapolis. It was 2018, and though I’d dated women since high school, I had never publicly come out. That meant none of the kids I coached knew I was queer—and I wish they had. I say that because, one day, one of my favorite kids came to the gym, and she was bumming, saying she was having a shitty time in school, that she was being bullied. When I asked her why, she said, “Are you homophobic?” I said “No!” and she told me she got bullied for liking other girls.
That night, I went home and formally announced my sexuality in an Instagram post. I received a wildly positive response. I don’t know that I have ever gotten a single negative comment since. And I think it’s because the climbing community, as far as LGBT goes, is pretty inclusive—it draws the outdoor community, and people in our community generally tend to be pretty accepting because we all have this one common love. But I do think that now, especially, a lot of outdoor brands are engaging in performative allyship.
Even a brand I was with before has since been like, “Oh, yeah, LGBTQ and people of color [are out there/are in our space].” And I’m like, “Is this really the case? Because it wasn’t afew years ago.” But my current sponsor, Mountain Hardwear, is a brand from which other companies should take cues. They celebrate who I am more than my accomplishments, and the first year I was out, they flew my girlfriend and me to march in the San Francisco Pride parade. There are so many awesome people out there who are overlooked due to their color or sexuality and Mountain Hardwear wants to be the brand that is authentically for them, to put their money where their mouth is and really back these communities up.
Nikki Smith
Climber, writer, photographer, AMGA instructor; She/Her/Hers
Last year, Outside magazine ran a feature-length profile of me, and for the most part, the people who commented publicly about it were very positive. Anytime a company or magazine like that highlights stories like mine, they have to do a lot of moderating. But I received messages from trans people all over the country and world, people who thought they were completely alone. So, I appreciate the visibility to bring the LGBTQIA community into the spotlight. But one thing that’s been difficult since I came out: I went from someone who had 20 years in the outdoor industry—as a marketing professional, an author with five guidebooks, published photos and articles, and more than 150 first ascents—to someone who, if I get asked to teach or speak, I’m attacked online and reduced by my detractors to just being a “trans woman the event added to seem woke.”
I think the outdoor industry is very far behind in inclusion. Even the efforts that are happening are still very surface level. Like, a big company will do an ad campaign, and they’ll photograph me or a Black person or some other [marginalized person] doing something outdoors, but the people taking the videos are white, straight, cispeople, as are the people writing, and the people who work for thosecompanies. So, it’s still a little tokenizing, still on the surface. Advocacy groups are starting to reach more and more diverse audiences, but you look at the board, the staff, and the messaging, it’s all-white or white-focused. There is so much work to do, but outdoor companies can start by doing these three things:
Look at your marketing and messaging—examine your athlete teams and show the diversity that exists in the outdoors because Black, indigenous, trans, POC—we’re already there. Two, look at your staff and hiring procedures. If you say, “This group or these groups don’t apply,” you might want to start asking why? “What is it about my company culture or our image that prevents people from applying?” “Where are we putting out our calls for hiring?” “Why are we missing that opportunity?” Because there are so many people who would be interested in filling those jobs, but you aren’t reaching them. And, three, ask yourself, “What can we do to welcomepeople who are different into the outdoors?” I think many companies are too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, so they’ve avoided trying to change and understand. Doing more staff training, more self-reflection, more talking and training with people who are from that community—and paying them to help you—will go a long way.
Summer Winston
College professor, climber, co-founder of The Brown Ascenders; Them/Theirs
Growing up in Louisiana, the outdoors started and ended with fishing and hunting; it wasn’t until I moved to Texas after grad school that I started camping. But my mind was blown. I fell in love with how amazing the simple act of sleeping outside can be. From there, I started climbing, and now I live in California, where I do it all the time. Two years ago, I co-founded The Brown Ascenders, which works to break down barriers to access to climbing and building a relationship with the outdoors for BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) community members.
I’ll be honest. Questions around [my inclusion in the LGBTQIA outdoor community] are always difficult to answer. I’m queer; I’m nonbinary; I am masculine-presenting, but as a mixed-race Black and Filipinx human, I’m often not afforded the space to also process my queer identity. At this moment, the thing that comes to mind first is my nonbinary/trans identity. If you look at brands, organized outdoor events, and representation in media, most, if not all, of the representation fits within the conventional understanding of the male/female binary. That’s women’s clothing on feminine-presenting body structures, and men’s clothing on male-presenting body structures. Then there are gendered events that exist within the binary. A lot doesn’t exist for folks who don’t fit one of the norms. And I don’t know what to do with those spaces.
I suggest cultivating spaces and points of visual representation that are inclusive of nonbinary identities. Attention should be brought to the fact that because of the way systems are currently organized, there’s no visibility for nonbinary folks. The outdoor industry exists because communities support it, therefore it’s important to remember the diversity of those communities. We (the collective we) make it possible for the outdoor industry to have a platform. In terms of being more inclusive, the outdoor industry needs to change its hiring practices and fill leadership roles with more diverse voices. It’s shameful it took a tragedy for brands and leaders to finally see and deeply consider BIPOC folks and the queer communities. I don’t necessarily think we need a dramatic out-with-the-old-in- with-the-new mindset when it comes to leadership roles, but the outdoor industry as a whole needs to invest in JEDI (Justice, Equity, Diversity, Inclusion) training while bringing in new, diverse voices. This can allow for the change that does come—whether it be for the LGBTQ+ community, BIPOC communities, and/or women’s rights, to be sustainable.
Pattie Gonia
Drag queen and advocate-in-progress; She/Her/Hers
I’m grateful the outdoor industry has given me the opportunities I’ve had and that I’ve been able to represent the queer community, but at the end of the day, wig and makeup off, out of drag, I’m a white, cismale, and, therefore, I’m palatable and have privilege. What I’m trying to do through my visibility is to help other people who don’t have as much.
I don’t think the outdoor industry has ever built community in the ways people have wanted or needed. If you look at all of the outdoor groups that have emerged over the last two years, we were tired of waiting around for a brand or company to solve the [inclusion] problem. Now, I think the outdoor industry is trying to keep up because it sees the shift, which is only going to grow and grow. To me, it’s absolutely comical that every brand in the outdoor industry isn’t authentically embracing marginalized communities and diversity because, from a business standpoint, I’m like, “Hi. Gay people from my subset have double income and no kids and we’re here to spend our money.” There are very few brands talking to us, but I don’t think the outdoor community looks to the outdoor industry to be the almighty Oz with all the power because it’s us, the people in the outdoors, who truly hold the ability to make change.
I’m all about collaborating, and I’m all for the outdoor industry and the outdoor community working hand in hand, but I think the outdoor community is done waiting. And if the outdoor industry does want to collaborate, my advice is for it to pay people of color, and pay indigenous voices, and pay queer people not to do your marketing, but as people inside your companies because representation matters not just on the inside, but on the outside.
All of these responses were created in collaboration with the interviewees who edited and fact-checked their words.