Wheels On Down the Road

Tag: LGBTQIA+ Community

Stories, reflections, and advocacy centered around LGBTQIA+ identities, experiences, and intersectionality—particularly through the lens of disability and inclusion.

  • Always Becoming

    Always Becoming

    A Pride Month Reflection

    I had written the meat of this post over a month ago but hadn’t published it yet. The reason I’ve been sitting on it is simple.

    I was nervous.

    I know I’ve shared a lot of my life here. However, there are some things I’m still working through with my therapist. Even at my age, I’m learning there’s always more to discover about yourself.

    Pride Month is nearing its end. The Twin Cities Pride Festival is upon us. It feels like the right time to share. Pride is often associated with the LGBTQ+ community. However, I believe it’s for anyone who has ever struggled to find themselves. It is also for those who now live in their authenticity.

    Pride isn’t just about rainbows, parades, or a single community. It’s about the courage it takes to live authentically, no matter how long the journey. It’s about the quiet moments of realization. It’s about the words we finally find for ourselves. It’s about the love we give and receive along the way.

    Whether you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community or simply someone learning to live more fully as yourself your story matters. You matter. And I hope, like me, you’ll keep becoming.

    A Journey Through Identity, Writing, and Self-Discovery

    In the recent months I’ve learned more about myself than I expected. Therapy has helped me feel more comfortable exploring who I am. Having family and friends who listen without judgment has made a huge difference.

    Writing has opened the door even further. It’s allowed me to think about things on a deeper level, to connect dots I hadn’t known were there. And through that process, I’ve started to see myself more clearly.

    Childhood & Disability

    As a child growing up in a small Minnesota hometown, I quickly learned that I didn’t quite fit. Disability was rarely visible, and the world around me wasn’t designed for bodies like mine. Navigating that space taught me resilience and adaptability. I became skilled at adjusting—at molding myself to fit into places that hadn’t anticipated my presence. I bent without breaking.

    But I wasn’t just molding to fit into the world—I was also molding to meet my family’s expectations. I performed the version of myself that felt safe and acceptable. That pressure, though quieter, was heavier. It was about survival. And sometimes, it came at the cost of my authenticity.

    What I didn’t realize at the time was how deeply these early experiences would shape my understanding of self. Learning to adapt to a world that wasn’t built for me didn’t stop with disability it became a pattern.

    That same instinct to “pass,” to suppress discomfort, followed me into every part of who I was becoming. Into how I loved. How I moved through gender. How I showed up—or didn’t—in my full identity.

    I’d spent my childhood learning how to bend myself to fit into other people’s definitions. It would take me years to learn how to define myself on my own terms.

    Coming Out, and Coming Into Myself

    At a young age the early signs of queerness began to surface even if I didn’t notice. I remember a relative who adored New Kids On The Block. I must’ve been five or six when I casually mentioned liking Danny from the band. At the time, it felt natural, but looking back, it was a small rebellion. A quiet truth surfacing.

    At a similar age, starting in kindergarten, there was always a girl, or girls, I liked. I never thought girls were “yucky;” I just knew there was something about them that drew me in.

    In fifth or sixth grade, there was a boy in Sunday school. He gave me the same fluttery feeling in my stomach that I’d felt around certain girls. In my early teens, I attended summer camp. That was the first time I truly felt something deeper for another boy my age. Still, I could not fully say the word “gay” to myself until high school. Even then, it felt more like a question than an answer.

    In high school, I wrote a paper on same-sex marriage. It stirred up a lot of conversation first among classmates, then with some family members. Questions about my own sexuality began to surface. I deflected by saying I had a lesbian aunt, which was true, but also conveniently deflected the spotlight. It gave me a way to speak up without fully stepping out. A shield wrapped in truth.

    I didn’t come out to most of my family until college. It wasn’t a big, cinematic moment. There were no joyful embraces or heartfelt cheers. There were tears, but not the kind that come with relief. It was raw and complicated, tangled in confusion and unspoken expectations.

    At first, identifying as gay gave me something solid to hold onto a label, a sense of belonging. But as time went on, I realized that label didn’t always fit. While others seemed to find a home in their identities, mine kept shifting, stretching in different directions.

    I’ve felt attraction to people of different genders and across age differences. Some connections were romantic or sexual, others weren’t. There were also times I felt no sexual attraction at all. Those patterns gently opened the door to the asexual spectrum. They showed me there was more room to explore than I’d once believed.

    Gender, Clothes, and the Words I Didn’t Have

    As a teenager, I remember my sister had a pair of maroon faux leather pants. I thought they were the coolest thing. I wished boys could wear something like that without question. It wasn’t just about fashion—it was about the freedom that came with it.

    In college, I found myself drawn to musicians like Ani DiFranco, Ellis Delaney, and especially Melissa Etheridge. Her look leather jacket, worn jeans, quiet confidence hit a nerve.

    I did a drag performance as Etheridge in college. When I stepped into that outfit, and out onto the stage it didn’t feel like a costume. It felt like stepping into something honest. Something that had been waiting to be seen.

    In my mid-twenties, I started questioning my relationship with gender. I felt discomfort in my body and wondered if I was transgender. I’m thankful I had a therapist who, though not an expert in gender dysphoria, helped me work through those feelings. Through deep conversation, I realized that I was mostly comfortable in my body. There were parts I didn’t love, like body hair or the physical complications of being in a wheelchair.

    I wasn’t seeking to transition from one binary to the other. I was seeking something outside the binary entirely. At the time, term non-binary wasn’t yet in the common language within the queer community.

    When it became common to share pronouns in bios or intros, I hesitated. He/him didn’t feel right. They/them felt a little closer, but still not quite it. I didn’t feel like a he or a they—I just felt like me. Just Levi. And for a long time, that made me feel like an outsider. But slowly, I began to understand that being just Levi was enough.

    As pronouns became more common, the concept became clearer. Friends came out as non-binary. It was like a crack in the door I didn’t realize I needed to walk through.

    The Mirror of Writing

    Writing has always been a mirror. A way to show myself back to myself. Characters with ADHD tendencies, with anxiety, trying to figure out where they fit in the LGBTQIA spectrum. Characters who are hesitant, loyal, or unsure of where they belong. They’re all extensions of me. These characters emerged from my subconscious before I ever had the words to describe those parts of myself.

    These stories have helped me process, understand, and articulate feelings that were once nebulous. Through storytelling, I’ve found a deeper clarity and a quiet acceptance. I’ve realized I don’t need to chase a destination. I only need to keep chasing the road.

    Becoming

    I’m not sharing this as a final declaration. I am not sharing this as another coming out. I’m sharing it as a snapshot. A step in the process. A truth for today. Because identity isn’t fixed it evolves. It deepens. It grows with us.

    I’ve never had one label that felt like home. Maybe I was never meant to be defined by a single word.

    Maybe I’m not a noun.
    Maybe I’m a verb.

    Always becoming.

    You’re Not Alone: LGBTQ+ and Mental Health Resources

    If you’re navigating identity, struggling with mental health, or just looking for community—these resources can help:

    Image Disclaimer:
    The featured image was created using DALL·E. It is OpenAI’s legacy image generation model. ChatGPT provided conceptual guidance and design direction for this collaboration.

  • Left Behind by the Democrats

    Left Behind by the Democrats

    Over the past few months, I’ve written extensively about the changes unfolding in our government. I’ve also discussed their impact on our communities.

    There have been drastic budget cuts to Social Security. There is also an urgent need for reform in Minnesota’s disability services. I’ve delved into the pressing issues that affect us all. I’ve also explored the challenges faced by the LGBTQIA+ community, highlighting the growing need for advocacy and support.

    Amid these discussions, I’ve felt an increasing urge to share more of my personal story. Shortly after the 2024 presidential election, I wrote a piece that I wasn’t quite ready to publish. It was raw, emotional, and an honest reflection on feeling left behind by the Democratic Party. While I shared it with a few close friends, I hesitated to make it public. I wasn’t sure how it would be received—and, frankly, I wasn’t ready for the potential backlash.

    I continue writing about the state of our nation and the impacts of policy changes on disability support services. I realize that my personal story is an essential part of this broader conversation.

    The emotions I felt in November 2024 still resonate. They affect not just me but many others too. These emotions reach those who feel disconnected, disillusioned, and left behind.

    Today, I’m ready to share this piece with you. I’ve made some edits to improve readability and included links to cited sources. My hope is that it resonates with you. I wish it sparks meaningful conversations. I also hope it encourages all of us to think critically about the direction we’re headed as a country.

    Left Behind by the Democrats

    A Personal Reflection on the Democratic Party’s Disconnect and the Fight for Our Rights

    By Levi Dokken | November 7, 2024

    I have been sitting here with a lot of feelings—sadness, anger, even rage. Part of me wanted to lash out at the people who voted for Donald Trump. To work through these emotions, I felt the need to sit down and write.

    Writing helps me release emotions. It allows me to express my thoughts. By expressing them, they don’t consume me.

    The Disconnect Between the Democratic Party and Rural America

    Donald Trump has won, and I believe it’s because the Democrats failed. They have failed the people they claim to represent. They are no longer the party of working men and women. Just look at the state of Minnesota. It went for Harris but is still a sea of red. There is only a small island of blue. The party only focuses on the areas where they need electoral votes to win the overall race.

    I grew up in a small town in Minnesota. I saw firsthand that most people in my community weren’t necessarily concerned with national politics.

    They focused more on day-to-day struggles. They were figuring out how to put food on the table. They were also finding money to cover the mortgage. They worried about what to do if their child needed braces and health insurance didn’t cover it.

    Candidates campaigned across the United States. They focused primarily on so-called battleground states and urban areas. They believed these areas would secure enough votes for them.

    Small towns across the nation increasingly feel disconnected from the Democratic Party. They believe the party has shifted its focus toward urban and coastal issues. This shift comes at the expense of rural communities.

    The Electoral System: A Barrier to Representation

    I often wonder if political candidates would pay more attention to smaller towns if votes were delegated differently. They might also focus on smaller states.

    Our current electoral system feels outdated. It resembles a relic of an age long since dead. In it, the voices of a few battleground states dictate the direction of the entire country.

    What if we had a more localized electoral college system within each state?

    For example, if each county were assigned an electoral vote, it might create a more balanced representation. The majority vote within a county would decide how that county’s electoral vote was cast. This system could offer an option to the current popular vote system that most states use to assign their delegates.

    Disappointment with Democratic Leadership

    Joe Biden announced he was running for a second term. I had a strong feeling he was going to lose.

    In 2020, he claimed he would be a transitional president. What happened to that promise? He was unwilling to even hold a primary. I was much more enthusiastic about the possibility of MN Rep. Dean Phillips entering the race. The Democrats, however, dismissed it, holding fast to the tradition that the incumbent automatically runs for re-election.

    Watching the first presidential debate, I was floored. Both candidates seemed unfit to hold the highest office in the land.

    Biden stumbled with his words and thoughts; at times, he seemed unable to keep his ideas in order. Trump wasn’t much better—he mostly rehashed grievances from 2020 without offering a clear plan for change.

    Project 2025: A Threat to Disability Rights

    Project 2025 adds to my concern. It is a plan from The Heritage Foundation. The next administration might choose to implement it.

    According to the Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund, this plan proposes changes with deep impacts on programs like Medicaid. It introduces funding caps, stricter eligibility requirements, and time limits.

    These changes could drastically reduce access to essential services for people with disabilities. Services like medical equipment, personal care attendants (PCAs), and specialist visits are crucial. They are necessary for maintaining health and independence.

    For me, Medicaid covers my specialist visits. It also covers my nearly $50,000 power wheelchair and repairs. Additionally, it covers the cost of my partner, Jason, as my PCA.

    How Do We Talk to Those Who Voted for Trump?

    How do I talk to my friends and family who voted for Donald Trump? How do I understand their choice to support someone who has assaulted women? He attempted to overturn a fair election. He also incited his supporters to storm the Capitol.

    Some of Trump’s supporters hold harmful views. However, I believe most are simply scared, misinformed, or longing for a past they believe he can bring back.

    I don’t want to cut these people out of my life, especially when many are lifelong friends or family. We can still be connected; we just may not talk about politics.

    What Can I Do Moving Forward?

    I’ve shared many things with you. The Democratic Party’s disconnect from rural America is concerning. Our electoral system has flaws. Policies like Project 2025 carry potential consequences. There’s a growing divide among friends and family. I can’t help but feel a mix of frustration and overwhelm.

    The future feels uncertain. These decisions could have long-lasting effects. They could also have life-changing effects for myself and those I care about. I find myself sitting here after writing this, asking myself, What can I do?

    As one voice out of millions, not much. But I can be part of something bigger. When others raise their voices against the incoming administration’s policies, I can stand with them. I can support the women in my life, the friends who feel vulnerable right now. I can do my part, however small, to work toward a future that protects everyone’s rights and dignity.

    Will you join me?

    Sources