David Stalling

Last week I went to the Western Montana LGBTQ+ Community Center to attend its two-year anniversary celebration and Pride kickoff event.

The Center promotes itself, in part, as “a hub for connection, care, and belonging. Whether you’re seeking community, resources, or simply a place to land, you are welcome here.”

I wish that were true. In my experience, it has not been.

I used to be very active with the Center and the local LGBTQ+ community. At one point, I even served on the Board of Directors.
Over the years, I volunteered, helped raise money, wrote about the organization, participated in a weekly Men’s Group, attended potlucks and retreats, took photos for the group, and even spent several days helping move the Center into its current location.

Over time, though, I backed away from my involvement. No matter how hard I tried, I never felt like I fit in. I never truly felt welcome.

I've made a few friends there, but many people have always seemed cliquish, unfriendly, and standoffish. For a group that promotes acceptance, I have often found it surprisingly unaccepting of those who don't fit within its social circles. No matter how long I stayed involved, I always felt like an outsider.

Recent attempts to reengage only reinforced that feeling.

Over multiple interactions, I found a few of the employees there to be dismissive and rude. After complaining about one former employee to the Center director, a current employee believed I was referring to and complaining about him. I was not.

Nevertheless, he contacted me and sent a series of hostile messages. He insulted me repeatedly, and made statements that I perceived as threatening. I tried to explain that I did not complain about him and honestly did not understand why he thought I was.

I spoke yet again to the Center's director. He assured me he would look into the situation and clarify the misunderstanding. He later informed me that he clarified the confusion with his employee and I was told I could expect an apology.

Instead, I received additional hostile messages from the employee. Despite learning that his assumption had been incorrect, he repeated the insults and threats and insisted I owed him an apology.

I’m still trying to figure out how that apology might sound:

“Please assume to accept my most sincere apologies for not having done what you assumed I did and wrongly accused me of and then insulted and threatened me over, even though I didn’t do it, and now, despite all the evidence and facts to the contrary, you apparently still think I did it even though I didn’t, because you’re not one to let facts get in the way of what you want to wrongly assume and believe . . . Anyway, please assume I’m sorry for the things you wrongly assumed.”

This is not the first negative interaction I have had with people associated with the Center. It is simply the latest and, for me, the final one.

I am sure many people have had positive experiences there. If you are part of the Center's inner circle, you may very well feel welcomed and supported.

That has not been my experience.

For me, this was the final straw. It will be the last time I make an effort to be involved with the Western Montana LGBTQ+ Community Center.

After years of trying to find a place there, I have finally accepted that it is not a place where I feel welcomed, respected, or supported.