How this unexpected French city redefined my LGBTQ+ travel experience

Forty percent of queer travelers hide who they are when they travel, according to Booking.com’s latest research. The travel booking website’s data also reveals that alter egos, code-switching, and appearance modification allow LGBTQ+ travelers to protect themselves on holiday. But one city in France (clue — it’s not Paris) doesn’t require smoke and mirrors for an authentically good time.

As a gender-expansive traveler and travel writer who is currently writing a book about the joys and challenges of LGBTQ+ travel, I’m skeptical that hiding benefits us. I’ve masked myself during vacations for years, dressing more gender-typical than usual and avoiding public displays of affection with my partner in an attempt to pass as friends.

This behavior started in 2016 when I traveled to North Carolina while the state’s short-lived bathroom bill, HB2, made it potentially dangerous for me to use the restroom while presenting in my typical androgynous style. On that trip and several that followed, I didn’t feel empowered. I felt constrained by the need to conform to binary gender norms that didn’t fit me and hypervigilant over how I was perceived in public spaces. 

Pack your bags, we’re going on an adventure

Subscribe to our weekly newsletter for the best LGBTQ+ travel guides, stories, and more.
Subscribe to our Newsletter today

Unsurprisingly, it’s hard to have a good time when you’re an anxious bundle of nerves.

When this latest LGBTQ+ travel trend report was released, I’d been planning a 10th-anniversary vacation to France with my wife. Lyon, roughly midway between Paris and Marseille and known for its culinary scene, seemed a convenient starting point for our trip through the south of France. In Lyon, we could acclimate to the time change, eat well, and settle into French culture, or so I hoped. 

Related

Lyon, France is one of the most LGBTQ+-friendly cities in the world
Lyon is most famous for its gastronomy. What is less well known is Lyon’s status as a vibrant queer community.

Researching Lyon online, I found the city’s tourist office website, which provided a helpful English overview of where to eat and what to do. I stumbled upon its LGBTQ page, which promoted Lyon as even more LGBTQ+-friendly than Paris. 

When I discovered Lyon’s potential, my goal shifted. Could I be myself there without defaulting to hiding? 

‘Santé’ in safety

Packing for Lyon, I gathered boxy button-downs and fitted tanks, quick-dry hiking pants, and neutral shorts. My main concern was staying comfortable in the 90-degree weather, not how I’d be perceived. 

We splurged on an LGBTQ+-friendly IHG hotel and noted in our reservation that it was a special occasion. Choosing “Anniversary” from the dropdown menu felt like crossing a bridge. Declaring ourselves a couple in advance would spare us the dreaded question queer couples are all-too-frequently asked, “Would you like one bed or two?” 

The common question forces us to assess our safety in both the destination and the hotel, making a split-second decision about whether it’s safe to come out to the desk clerk so we can share a bed with our partner or whether it’s best to fall back on pretending.

Related

The insider’s guide on where to party, stay, shop, and eat in Paris
We went to an American who has lived in Paris for over a decade to get the inside scoop.

No champagne or chocolates awaited us in our hotel room, but we were too tired to care: two keys, one bed, and polite, efficient service were enough for us. 

Often during trips, I seek out queer spaces like an LGBTQ+-owned coffee shop for the comfort of being in community. In Lyon, I pushed myself to be myself in mainstream spaces.

My partner and I had booked a wine tasting conducted by an expat sommelier. We were the only guests, along with a heterosexual couple on their honeymoon. When asked why I’d booked the wine tasting, I felt the familiar urge to withhold in front of strangers. 

“It’s our tenth anniversary,” I said. “We wanted to do something special.”

“Wow, what a great way to celebrate.” Our sommelier host was excited. The newlyweds congratulated us and asked what else we had planned for our trip. The moment passed. As happens often when I choose to disclose my identity, I was accepted and affirmed. 

Releasing the greeting behind a pink praline brioche

It’s customary in French to greet a store clerk by saying “Bonjour!” when you enter. The greeting is returned with a gendered honorific; “Bonjour, Madame” or “Bonjour, Monsieur.” Over three days in Lyon, I realized how frequently my gender blurred lines. 

In a bakery, trying the city’s famed pink praline brioche, we’d hear a “Bonjour Monsieur, Madame.” In a local artisan store, we were greeted with “Bonjour, Mesdames.” Occasionally, the greeter would correct themselves, reassigning my gender upon closer inspection. 

If I’d been trying to hide, I might’ve been unnerved by their assessment. Committing to openness, I found it fascinating that my gender could change from one store to another, regardless of what I wore. Even in a tank top with visible bra straps, people perceived me as male. 

While many gender-expansive people feel dysphoria when they are perceived as a gender they don’t identify with; I have never felt like gendered labels or pronouns fit my inner experience of myself. French etiquette reaffirmed my nonconformity and gave me back the personal power I had previously given up in stressing about how I was perceived. 

Those three days in Lyon changed my experience of travel for the better. The less I worried about how I was perceived by being openly myself regardless of where I went, the safer and less stressed I felt. The more energy I had to take in my surroundings and observe signs of queer acceptance throughout France’s third-largest city: same-sex couples, queer graffiti, and wheatpaste posters for the pro-LGBTQ+ Nouveau Front Populaire, the leftist political party that had pulled off a surprise majority win in France’s recent election. 

My stay in Lyon was short but powerful. The city gave me the soft landing I wanted and the opportunity to embrace a new level of openness I hadn’t known I’d needed until I experienced it.

Lindsey Danis is a queer, gender-expansive travel writer who is writing a book about queer travel that centers queer female and nonbinary perspectives. Lindsey unpacks LGBTQ+ travel trends and shares inspiration at QueerAdventurers.com.

Related

An introvert’s guide to group travel
VACAYA is attempting to rewrite the script on LGBTQ+ group travel. GayCities sent a solo traveler to see if they’re succeeding.

Join the GayCities newsletter for weekly updates on the best LGBTQ+ destinations and events—nearby and around the world.