By Dr. Zachary LaVigne, B.S., D.C.
Anxiety isn’t just a feeling—it’s a signal. And for LGBTQ+ folks, that signal is often firing on high. Studies consistently show that queer and trans people experience higher rates of anxiety and depression than their cisgender, heterosexual peers. But it’s not because we’re inherently more anxious. It’s because the world gives us more to be anxious about.
From growing up with subtle (or not-so-subtle) messages that something about us is “wrong,” to facing real risks of rejection, violence, or legal discrimination, our nervous systems are often doing their best to keep us safe in a world that doesn’t always feel safe. This is what researchers call minority stress—the chronic, cumulative strain of navigating life in a society that marginalizes your identity. And lately, it feels like those stressors are intensifying.
Scrolling through the news can feel like stepping into a minefield. Bans on gender-affirming care. Attacks on drag. Book censorship. The political is personal for us—every headline has the potential to shake the foundation of our security. So it’s no wonder our bodies feel on edge.
But here’s the good news: we’re not powerless. Our ancestors—queer and otherwise—survived by forming tight-knit tribes, tuning into their bodies, and supporting one another. And those same instincts still serve us today.
Start with the breath. It may sound simple, but conscious breathing is one of the fastest ways to calm the nervous system. When your body thinks you’re in danger, your breath gets shallow. But when you slow down and breathe deeply into your belly—try inhaling for four counts, exhaling for six—you tell your body, “Hey, we’re safe now.” Do this often. Even better, pair it with a daily mindfulness practice or grounding technique, like placing your bare feet on the earth or holding something textured in your hand to bring your awareness back to the present.
Get outside and move. Long before we had couches and phones, we moved across forests, plains, and mountains. Our bodies evolved to regulate stress through physical movement, especially in nature. Hiking, even just a slow walk among trees, helps calm the sympathetic nervous system. The smells of pine, the crunch of leaves, the natural light—it’s medicine we were built for. If you can’t leave the city, find a nearby park and walk without a destination. Can’t get to green space? Pop in headphones and play soft music or nature sounds as you walk—blocking out honking horns and distant sirens can keep your nervous system from slipping into fight-or-flight. Even a short walk with intention can change the way your brain processes stress.
And perhaps most importantly: connect. Anxiety thrives in isolation. It tells us no one will understand, that we’re a burden, or that we have to get ourselves together before we reach out. But connection is the antidote. Whether it’s a text to a friend, a queer hiking group, a drag brunch, or even an online forum where you feel seen—community calms the nervous system like nothing else.
The truth is, the world may stay uncertain. But we can build something more certain between us. We can choose to tune into our breath, our bodies, and each other. The same way early humans sat around fires and shared stories to ward off the dark, we too can sit together—maybe not always in person, but in spirit—and remind each other we’re not alone.
Your anxiety doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means your body is paying attention. So listen with compassion. And when you’re ready, speak up. Someone out there needs your story to feel a little less alone in theirs.