Embracing Introversion in the LGBTQ+ Community
Insights on navigating the intersection between these two identities
It’s only in silence that people can truly hear themselves. Talking can keep people in their heads and safely away from their emotions. Being silent is like emptying the trash. When you stop tossing junk into the void — words, words, and more words — something important rises to the surface. And when the silence is a shared experience, it can be a gold mine for thoughts and feelings the patient didn’t even know existed.
— Lori Gottlieb
As a kid I could think of few things more peaceful than the quiet of my fourth grade classroom’s writers workshop hour, the only noises the class chinchilla gnawing at his cage bars and the occasional bell ringing in the distance. I treasured moments like these.
I still deeply value my alone time. One-on-one interactions and immersion into nature are balms to my soul, as they are for many introverts — whom Susan Cain describes as individuals who “listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.”
According to LGBTQ therapist Ken Howard, LCSW:
Estimates put introverts at between 25% to 33% of the population. If it feels like almost everyone but you is an extrovert, that’s probably because extroverts are just so obvious, and a lot of introverts are trying to be extroverts to fit in. Passing as an extrovert is a useful skill to have when you need it, but you don’t have to live your life pretending to be someone you’re not. You’ve had enough of that before coming out, haven’t you?
Few studies have shown any higher prevalence of introversion in the LGBTQ+ community than in the general population, but Howard has theorized that the closeted experience of LGBTQ adolescence might push an individual somewhere on the spectrum further towards the introverted side of it.
He highlights:
Maybe you weren’t really ‘born’ an introvert, but a lot of criticism (from bad/discouraging parents, teachers, coaches, or from hyper-critical peers who bullied, teased, or ignored you) has made you into one by killing your initiative and holding you back before you even try something. A gay child can internalize all those negative messages from others and make them into core negative beliefs (called ‘schemas’) about himself.
I can see how this could be true, even if queerness may not make a naturally born bonafide extrovert into an introvert. Gay author Dustin Lance Black wrote that his early crushes on boys had “chased him inward.” Having been a quiet kid as well, I wondered if the same applied to me — if shame surrounding my sexuality had unconsciously sealed me up around girls my age.
Regardless of introversion’s prevalence in the LGBTQ community as compared to the wider populace, here are some thoughts on the intersection of these two identities, and insights on navigating various aspects of life as a person with each of them.
Dating as an LGBTQ introvert
Back when I felt more insecure about my introversion, I’d worry that a quiet moment or not being “on” all the time would sabotage the dates I went on. Swipe culture seems to reward extraversion, charisma, and the ability to quickly make a flashy first impression.
To avert this, I learned to come prepared with questions that can lead to interesting conversations. I keep them in the back of my mind so that I’m not just defaulting to programmed fall-backs or a generic script when conversation reaches a lull.
I’ve also found shorter first dates to be ideal. They carry the least amount of pressure and a guaranteed out. Zachary Zane, who is also introverted and LGBTQ+, recommends:
Don’t go on a 15-mile hike. Don’t go ‘out’ for the evening with no specific end time. Have a set time and place (preferably a place you know and feel comfortable at.) The only thing worse than feeling uncomfortable on a date is knowing that the date has to last for another two hours.
Additionally, introverts can draw upon an understanding of environmental psychology to improve our date experiences. Loud and distracting environments, for example, over-activate my system. It’s harder for me to attune to the person I’m with — and also harder to interpret and respond to my own internal signals. Knowing this about myself, I suggest places with comfortable seating, minimal noise, and calming lighting.
As an introverted LGBTQ person, pay attention to how you feel in certain spaces to become more familiar with your own environmental triggers.
Leading up to the date
Writing allows many introverts to tap into deeper truths that may feel harder to access in “live” conversation. For some of us, a pen is a direct bridge to our brain, whereas talking might feel more like a roundabout and winding road to it. While perhaps not sustainable for getting closer to someone in the long term, it might be temporarily helpful as an initial icebreaker.
Zane writes:
If you connect with someone that way, great. Just remember that cyber connections are no substitute for face-to-face meetings where you can better judge if he’s being honest with you and you can connect on an emotional and physical level that just doesn’t exist online. If you meet someone on a website or app (especially the ubiquitous Grindr or Scruff), invite him very soon into the process to meet you in the brick-and-mortar world for a coffee date or dinner date, after you’ve established online mutual interest.
Nature and connection to the tactile world
Summer camp as a kid had such a positive effect on my spirit. Canoeing, ropes courses, and horseback riding were among its many engaging activities. Cabin-mates and I shot bows and arrows. We tanned on smooth white boulders, swam through rushing water, slid down waterfalls made from naturally occurring rock slides. At the camp-wide oatmeal fight, squishy oatmeal covered our body in slimy films that felt like coats made from sea anenomes.
Tactile details from that summer remain in my mind — the soap that ran down horse’s fur as we cleaned them, the farmy smell of manure that filled the air (offset, to some degree, by the soap), the way the mud squooshed beneath the tires of our mountain bikes, the smell of embers left over from the previous night’s campfire. All of these tethered me to the moment, helping me to fully embody it.
Cati Vanden Breul wrote in Introvert Dear of a study that involved dividing students between a forest and city setting. Both groups spent two nights in their respective locations. Upon returning, the students sent to the woods had lower levels of cortisol (the hormone often used as a marker for stress) than those who stayed in the city. The author wrote:
Introverts can be more prone to stress, overwhelm, and mental health issues than extroverts, [for which reason] it’s even more important for us to get a healthy dose of sunshine and fresh air.
Time in nature helps introverts prone to ruminating. It helps us restore ourselves, rid our minds of filters, and return us to our purest form.
Travel
My own solo travels have included bus treks across South America, restaurant-dining inside a cave just outside of Mexico City, and road trips up the Pacific coast. On a recent solo excursion to Shoshone Falls I met a crew of yellow-bellied marmots who sauntered up to a few other tourists and me with the inquisitiveness of puppies and the jerky stop-motion gait of squirrels. Part of what I love about solo travel is how, absent the distraction of other people, you can pay closer attention to small details like these.
Sometimes you just want to be alone with a book, while still in the company of others. In my travels, I found ample places where other people sought the same. In Mexico City, I read on the pews of public chapels beneath majestic portraits of Mexican Gods and brass awnings. Ornate paintings and an air of quiet reverence surrounded several other people and me. Museums are optimal for transporting you outside yourself, even as they remain low-key and relatively solitary.
The balance between socializing and solitude
Introverted LGBTQ people may understand the value of chosen family and community, but have a lower bandwidth for actually taking part in the in-person activities that allow for connection with a greater number of people. Pride events might feel especially overwhelming and high stimulus, fun as they can be if we go with a close friend group and like-hearted souls — or set limits on the amount of time we spend at them. Meax Niezgodski wrote on Introvert Dear that she felt her introversion “clashed with the LGBTQ Scene.”
My own introverted nature truthfully made shelter-in-place a bit of a blessing. Towards the start, I deeply enjoyed my solitude. Quarantine offered protection against the onslaught of the outside world. It felt like the walls of my apartment had saran-wrapped me into a tiny pocket of safety. And yet as time went on, I also began experiencing an itch familiar to any extrovert who’s ever walked this planet.
To me this spoke to the importance of balance — as just because our social bandwidth may be more minimal, introverts still have a need for meaningful connections. When the world reopened, I looked forward to swimming in that river of human connection once more. To seeing and hearing and hugging others. To dancing to music in public. I willfully took part in it all, even as I ended the day curled at home with a book.
COVID taught me I didn’t have to barricade from the world completely — just minimize my exposure to its at times overwhelming stimuli. I could still protect my flame without blocking out the Earth’s light.
Introverted LGBTQ people can set similar boundaries on their time, without walling off entirely.
There’s much to be gained from cultivating our hobbies and passions, with or without the presence of others; from relishing in our time alone; and from embracing the meaning and purpose we derive in our own company.
“When you validate, love, and appreciate yourself, as you are, you are being grateful for the life you’ve been given, and you’re letting the gift to the world that you are be shared with others. If all of your gifts are always hidden away by your introversion, you might be wasting some of those gifts. Learning to share who you are, even in your own introverted way, might be more of soft statement than a blaring announcement with a bullhorn.”