Sober & Queer: Practical Advice for Finding Community Without Alcohol
Being queer is hard enough. Being a sober queer used to feel like I was a walking oxymoron. When I first got sober, I went through a grieving period realizing that most of my communal queer spaces were bars.
Similar to when I first came out, the Rejection Monster growled and snarled, and all I could think about was how many of my peers would inevitably think about how uncool and weird I was for not drinking. But just like before, that monster died down when I found support in unexpected places, proving that I didn’t have to choose between sobriety and being part of my community.
Here are 5 tips I learned along the way.
1. Get involved in an established community focused on anything other than drinking.
When I first got sober, I spent a lot of time alone. It took me a while to figure out who I was in social situations without liquid courage. When I first got sober, I quit CrossFit in favor of a drop-in gym. I would go to the gym, stick my headphones in my ears, hope and pray that no one would say hi to me, get my workout in, and leave.
When I realized I got better gains in a group environment, I searched for a CrossFit gym that was small and queer-friendly. CrossFit and my local box have been instrumental in helping me break out of my shell. It was a testing ground for peeling back my layers of social anxiety and making lifelong friends in the process.
We even raised money for an LGBTQ organization that helps local queer youth who wouldn’t otherwise have access get involved in fitness. Organizing this fundraiser during Pride was such a fulfilling alternative to getting shit-faced at the parade, blacking out, and wondering who I woke up to the following day.
I encourage everyone to pick something they say they’ve always wanted to do but never had the time to learn. You have your time back! Celebrate!
2. Build up sober confidence.
Sobriety made me realize that I was an introvert masquerading as an extrovert when I drank. Without my security blanket made of ethanol, it became a lot harder to open up in social settings.
So, I decided to take writing classes. I met incredible people who liked what I had to say. It built my confidence as a writer, especially writing about my experience as a lesbian or writing short fiction on queer topics.
I felt comfortable speaking up in class and building relationships with writers who also happened to be sober and queer. Having my classmates’ support and feedback built my confidence and I finally wrote my damn book!
Community has been instrumental in my sobriety, just as it was when I came out, which leads me to…
3. It may be scary to tell queer friends about sobriety. Tell them anyway.
Telling my friends and family about my sobriety was incredibly scary in the beginning. I was so worried about what they would think about me.
Did I receive adverse reactions when I announced I was attempting sobriety...again? Sure I did. Do I still get asked by close friends and family if I want a drink to celebrate? Or if I want to try a very rare wine? Or if I’m sure I’ll never drink again? Absolutely. However, after building my confidence and telling more people about my sobriety, I don’t think too much about it anymore. It’s part of who I am.
Recently, for example, I was visiting queer friends in Chicago who knew about my path to sobriety and championed it. When we talked about what we could do moving forward, we scheduled dinner dates, walks in the neighborhood, and movie nights so that our visits didn’t always center around bars. They emphasized the importance of spending time together. It wasn’t about getting fucked up anymore. We realized how much we needed each other. Also, when alcohol was around, it wasn’t the main focus.
My straight friends have also been incredibly supportive. We meet for coffee, go bowling on hot summer Tucson nights, and, this fall, will likely be hiking the gorgeous desert trails. It used to feel like I was the only one in my group who was sober. More and more, however, my friends will tell me in confidence what a relief it is not to party like we used to. I just happened to quit first. By quitting first, it was as though I set the stage for people in my life to also reflect on their relationship with alcohol.
4. Be really bad at something. Like really bad.
I remember being a baby queer. I remember how liberating it was to finally figure out what made me, me. I also remember how horrible and messy that felt, like feeling around in the dark for my eyeglasses, only to knock them over in the process, blending into the color of the floors. Eventually, though, I found those glasses, put them on, and everything was crisp and clear for the first time.
I felt the same way about sobriety; only there were a lot more tears of frustration and bouts of anger toward the unfairness of others being able to drink moderately. Some days, I stopped searching for the proverbial eyeglasses altogether, but I felt comfort in knowing that one day, I would be able to see clearly again.
I firmly believe that being bad at something can prepare us for these big moments, especially doing something that we’re bad at but enjoy immensely. It is my favorite thing to do when I want to be humbled. Trying something new is messy. Persevering and doing it anyway is one of life’s beautiful lessons…even if you embarrass yourself in the process. It helps me figure out how I perform under a nominal amount of stress and if it’s worth pursuing and getting better at.
For example, I am embarrassingly bad at most sports. Like…my fiancé won’t be on my bowling team bad. Like…I throw the ball between my legs bad. Like…I request bumpers for my turn bad. I am also bad at art. My doodle progression stopped at a second-grade level.
However, although I’m bad at bowling and have been taught how to “properly” bowl, I don’t want to dominate the scoreboard. I go to socialize with my friends. I have zero interest in taking bowling lessons, nor do I have any interest in improving my bowling technique.
Doodling? I love doodling! I recently bought brush pens in various colors and even though I am drawing poorly with them, it makes me so happy to use them. I’m hoping to learn calligraphy. This will in no way, shape, or form make me more productive or the number 1 sought-after calligrapher in the world. But it’s so much fun and it helps me relax. I would have never known that had I not decided one day to ditch the Crayola washable markers and upgrade to an artist marker. The entire pack cost about as much as a beer at a craft brewery. So, why not?
The point is that being really bad at something doesn’t have to be a frustrating experience. It is a learning opportunity. Who doesn’t love to learn new things?
5. Take a new view on sobriety.
I’m sober and laughing about it. Some sober folks used to tell me that being sober doesn’t have to be my entire personality. Queer folks have told me the same about being queer. However, being queer is my entire personality…so do what makes you happy!
My sobriety isn’t a secret, but I don’t share my sober journey much on Instagram or TikTok. Being sober is a part of me. I recognize how important being sober is in my life. Without sobriety, I would not be where I am today. I am so grateful, and I will tend to my sobriety garden for the rest of my life.
Sobriety doesn’t define me, but if someone asks, I’ll share my story. I’ll write a blog about it (woah very meta!). I’m grateful for the awareness it has brought into my life. How much more present I am without alcohol. How thinking about alcohol used to take up so much of my brain space.
I know sobriety gives me a competitive edge. It’s the greatest life hack. However, there are other people out there preaching its benefits. I’m not a sober influencer. But sobriety has led me to be my most authentic self. And that is fucking beautiful.
Now you.
We’d love for you to share in the comments:
Do any of Caitlin’s tips resonate with you?
How and where do you find community in sobriety?
And, if you’re queer, share your favorite sober queer spaces!
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Such a beautiful share, Caitlin. Thank you!
I came out as queer my 20s, and the bar scene was very much at the centre of my social group, dating women for the first time, exploring my sexuality, etc. The guidance and inspiration you offer here would’ve been so helpful back then.
This really resonated with me, only in reverse! Sobriety is what allowed me to see clearly that I was queer. So I had to “come out” as sober first and then later “come out” as queer. But all these steps are so helpful.
I am so glad you were able to lean on the queer community to help you get sober, even though it makes bars and Pride events so incredibly tough. Congrats on your sobriety! IWNDWYT