When people talk about being a lesbian today, there is often a sense of confidence around the word. It can feel empowered, reclaimed, even chic. But in the 1970s, in Las Vegas, the word “lesbian” did not sparkle. It did not feel fashionable. It felt heavy. Dangerous. Lonely. 

I came of age in a city known for neon lights and spectacle, but there was very little light when it came to queer women’s lives. Las Vegas in the 1970s was not the glamorous playground people see now. Beneath the glitz of the Strip was a culture shaped by conservatism, secrecy, and strict gender roles. Being different—especially being a woman who loved women—was not something you announced. It was something you hid. 

The modern LGBTQ+ movement was still in its early, fragile years following the 1969 uprising at the Stonewall Inn. While that moment in New York sparked national conversations, those ripples took time to reach places like Las Vegas. And even when they did, they did not necessarily create safety. Visibility did not equal acceptance. 

There were no rainbow flags in storefront windows. No Pride parades. No lesbian social groups advertised openly. If community existed, it was whispered about, and I didn’t know where to find it. You had to know someone who knew someone. Bars were often the only gathering places, and even those carried the risk of being outed, or judged. 

And then there was the word itself: lesbian. 

It wasn’t celebrated. It wasn’t worn like a badge of pride. For many of us, claiming that word meant risking family rejection, job loss, and social exile. Even within ourselves, it could be difficult to say. “Gay” or “bi” sometimes felt safer, softer, less specific. “Lesbian” felt like a line in the sand. 

Coming out was not a single moment for me. It was a slow, internal reckoning. There were no visible role models in Las Vegas at the time. No openly lesbian public figures lighting the way. If there were others like me, they were navigating the same fear, the same coded language. It still took me until I was 38 to officially come out! 

My journey in 1970s Las Vegas was not easy. It was marked by internal loneliness and uncertainty. But it was also marked by discovery—the profound, grounding truth of knowing who I am. 

Today, the word lesbian carries visibility and even style. It shows up in headlines, on T-shirts, in bios, at Pride celebrations. But I remember when it was heavy. When it felt like stepping into the unknown. And I am proud of the woman who finally stepped anyway.

It’s because of those brave steps—yours, mine, and ours—that we can now celebrate out loud. Join us at from April 20-26 as we honor Lesbian Visibility Week with a full week of events dedicated to the stories, the joy, and the community we’ve built together. We’ve come a long way, and we can’t wait to be visible with you.