The visual identity of Pride is tied to a rainbow, vivid in all its glory, as if proclaiming: We’re queer, and we’re here. The sentiment is echoed by a section of the LGBTQIA+ community who turns to fashion and a sociable personality to channel their uninhibited queerness. In pursuit of their unapologetic selves, the bold thrive among crowds at vibrant parades, drag shows, and high-energy community parties. While the music draws many, it also overwhelms and keeps the introverts away for whom outwardly social spaces can often feel more draining than empowering.
In the absence of representation and dedicated social spaces for the LGBTQIA+, engaging with the community becomes critical to affirming one’s identity and navigating the unique challenges that identity presents in a cis-gendered heteronormative society. So, where do the introverted LGBQTIA+ Indians gather? The answer is as diverse as the community itself.
You might find a Gen Z queer scrolling online forums and dating apps, while a millennial queer is volunteering at the local community centre. The cross-sectional identities of each person determine the journey that they go on to find a sense of belonging.
This Pride Month, we pass on the mic to LGBTQIA+ persons who offer us a glimpse into the often unseen spaces they engage with the community.
Crafting spaces for calm connection
A writer and founder of The Gay Muslim Space, Shams (he/she/they) identifies as a gender non-conforming gay person. The 22-year-old concluded the solution was to create the spaces they craved. “Most queer spaces I saw around me were loud, high-energy, and honestly… draining. As an introvert, I often felt out of place, even though I was craving connection, I used to avoid such settings,” Shams explains.
Recognising a shared need, Shams decided to act. “Since there weren’t many spaces that felt calm or quiet enough for me, I wondered if there are many queer people facing the same issues. I decided to create a space. I started hosting queer picnics and small events just for queer introverts, where no one had to shout over music or perform anything. Just people sitting under trees, talking about things, or not talking at all. That’s how I found people like me. That’s how I built my community,” the New Delhi resident recalls.
Finding belonging in understated moments
An IPR consultant based in Noida, Krit Negi (he/they) is a trans-masculine nonbinary person who believes that intentional, quieter settings have become a haven. “As an introvert in India’s often vibrant and outwardly expressive LGBTQIA+ spaces, I’ve found solace and connection in quieter, more intentional settings,” shares the 31-year-old. Krit credits the myriad community events that help in the process. He explains, “Queer sports events and picnics by Queer Gully, different sorts of art and literature workshops by Dwijen Dinanath Arts Foundation, queer film screenings and discussion circles by Impulse New Delhi, queer heritage or nature walks by Delhi Queer Heritage Walks and Queerjunglers are my preferred avenues. They create space to be without the pressure to perform. Sometimes, even showing up alone to these quiet gatherings has led to the most unexpected connections.”
Shreya (name changed on request), a 24-year-old cis-bisexual woman who works in marketing in Bengaluru, has found a different path to connection. “For me, the best way has been dating apps. You can`t really find people in person, most of them are closeted anyway,” insists the 24-year-old. Her reliance on the online dating space as a primary way to connect with the community, even though the focus is often not on friendship, is becoming increasingly common. “I’ve often found myself craving deeper connections but not knowing where to look beyond those spaces. I still struggle to find queer friends, and navigating community spaces that feel loud, or overwhelming hasn’t been easy. Have I found what I am looking for? Not really. But what is the alternative? At least on the apps, I get to interact with queer people,” she admits.
Shams vividly remembers a moment of profound belonging during an online fellowship. “One incident that I can think of was during my fellowship with ‘Official Humans of Queer’, we used to have regular online meetings, and I remember feeling nervous about turning my camera on. I just didn’t feel ready. But what really stayed with me is that no one ever forced me to. I told them that I have social anxiety, and it won`t be possible. They were okay with it, and I loved it,” Shams recounts.
Krit`s sense of belonging deepened through purpose-driven work. “One of the most profound experiences of belonging I’ve had within the community has been through my association with Impulse New Delhi. Volunteering with them—especially around advocacy for sexual and mental health—has given me a space where both my voice and my quiet nature feel valued. Whether it`s curating content for an online campaign or supporting offline events behind the scenes, I’ve found a deep connection through purpose-driven work. Helping to create spaces where others in the community can connect, express, and feel seen has, in turn, made me feel seen,” Krit explains.
Challenges, and misconceptions
Introversion in LGBTQIA+ spaces often comes with its own set of challenges and misconceptions. “I think that people often assume I’m not having fun or that I’m bored, just because I’m quiet,” Shams muses. The writer is inclined towards a slower setting. “They try to push me into dancing, talking more, but that’s not what connection looks like for me. It makes me even more anxious. I like to connect in slower ways,” Shams adds.
Krit echoes this sentiment, citing, “The biggest misconception is that being quiet means being disinterested.” He admits, “In any space, including community spaces, it can be difficult to initiate conversations. Navigating unfamiliar groups doesn’t come naturally to me, and that’s sometimes made it harder to `belong` in the typical sense.” However, he also highlights a positive: “That said, I’ve also been fortunate, people often take the first step to engage with me, and that small gesture of being seen and spoken to without judgment has meant a lot.”
For Shreya, her journey of self-discovery has come with the burden of integrating into a community she had observed on the sidelines. “Coming to terms with that has been a deeply personal journey, but one of the toughest parts has been adjusting to how different the LGBTQIA+ community can feel compared to what I was used to in the `straight world`—especially in terms of relationships, ideals, and social norms,” she explains.
Shreya also addresses a common misconception about the community`s size, which she feels prevents her from deeply engaging. “One of the biggest misconceptions I’ve faced as an introverted LGBTQIA+ person in India is the idea that our community is `too small’. If you as an introvert are made to believe in cis-heteronormativity, you end up missing out on engaging with LGBTQIA+ individuals around you. While queerness may not always be visible, I don’t believe the community is small, it’s just scattered,” she argues.
The ongoing journey of connection
Despite these challenges, introversion brings unique strengths. “My introversion has actually helped me relate to others who feel the same,” Shams poses. It took a while, but they managed to navigate the bold personalities and loud settings to find similar persons within the community.
“I’ve met so many queer folks who thought something was wrong with them for not enjoying parties or big events, you know? Because gay people should be loud and bold or whatever. But that`s not always the case, and that`s what inspired me to create safer spaces where being an introvert is welcomed,” Shams explains.
Shreya remains hopeful and committed to building an authentic community. “I’ve learned to listen more and judge less, even when I don’t fully relate. I’m slowly trying to explore safer, slower-paced spaces like reading queer book clubs, and podcasts, or just attending queer parties that align more with my energy. It’s still a work in progress, but I’m trying to build a version of community that feels authentic and recharging to me,” she reflects.
How can you find your tribe
Inspired by their journeys, here are some actionable ways that can help you find fellow queers who might be as mellow as you are:
Activity or interest-oriented events
Beyond the parties and drag shows, look for gatherings centred around a shared activity rather than just socialising. As Krit found, queer sports, art workshops, film screenings, and heritage or nature walks provide a natural space for connection without the pressure to perform. The focus is on a common interest, which makes the conversation feel more organic.
Create your own quiet spaces
Don’t wait for the perfect event to appear. Take a page from Shams`s book and organise a small, low-pressure gathering that suits your energy levels. A queer picnic in a park, a quiet board game night, or a reading circle can provide a comfortable environment for genuine connection where a silent presence is as welcome as conversation.
Leverage digital spaces with intention
For many like Shreya, online platforms are a primary starting point. Explore curated online forums, queer podcasts, and digital book clubs where you can connect over shared interests. Even on dating apps, be clear in your bio if you`re open to friendship, not just romance.
Connect through shared purpose
As Krit discovered, volunteering can be a profound way to build community. Joining an LGBTQIA+ advocacy group or supporting offline events behind the scenes allows you to form deep connections through purpose-driven work. The focus shifts from small talk to meaningful contributions, which can feel less draining.