The first day of summer is fast approaching, the day that marks the longest day of the year and the turning point where darkness starts to become longer. This is the twin to the Winter Solstice marking the longest night of the year and the world’s return to lengthening daylight. It is magical in every sense, not just from the spiritual aspects.
For most people, the Summer Solstice is about sunshine, longest days, bonfires, and celebration. But for many of us in the LGBTQ+ community—especially those who’ve spent years negotiating shame, silence, or survival—the light can feel like a spotlight instead of a blessing. That’s why I’ve come to see the solstice not just as a seasonal shift, but as a deeply personal invitation.
Reclaiming the Summer Solstice has become a ritual for me. A time to honor where I’ve been, recognize where I’m still healing, and step fully into the parts of myself I’ve learned to love—especially the ones I was once taught to hide. (Or at least trying to step into the parts I am learning to love, it is hard)
- Why the Summer Solsrice Matters to LGBTQ+ People
- Light and Shadow: Both Belong
- Ways to Make the Solstice a Queer Celebration
- A Solstice for the Seasoned Soul
- You Are Worthy of the Light
Why the Summer Solsrice Matters to LGBTQ+ People
The summer solstice for queer people holds power that often goes unspoken. We’ve spent years (sometimes lifetimes) navigating systems that tried to keep us in the shadows. And here comes this moment each year when nature itself refuses to dim. The longest day. The most radiant sun. A cosmic push that says: “It’s okay to take up space. You’re meant to be seen.”
Historically, the solstice was a time for community gathering, ritual, and honoring the life force that flows through all things. That’s a message that resonates even deeper when your life hasn’t always felt safe, seen, or celebrated. For those of us who grew up queer in religious households, small towns, or closeted years, reclaiming solstice as a queer spiritual experience can be revolutionary.
Because in a world that taught us to be quiet, shining bright is an act of resistance.
Light and Shadow: Both Belong
We talk a lot about light this time of year—but what’s equally sacred are the shadows. The parts of ourselves we’ve buried. The pain we haven’t processed. The things we’ve been told were “too much” or “not enough.” Queerness is often about navigating duality. Joy and grief. Pride and trauma. Visibility and invisibility. The solstice reminds us that light doesn’t erase the dark—it requires it.
As someone who came out later in life, I carry both pride and a little sorrow this time of year. Pride in the person I’ve become. Sorrow for the years lost to fear, silence, or self-doubt. But the solstice gives space for both. It doesn’t demand that we pretend to be healed or whole. It simply offers the sun—and says: “This moment is for you.”
Summer Solstice LGBTQ+ rituals, for me, aren’t about perfection. They’re about presence. Sometimes I light a candle. Sometimes I journal. Sometimes I just stand barefoot in the grass and breathe. The point isn’t what you do. The point is that you show up for yourself, as you are.
Ways to Make the Solstice a Queer Celebration
You don’t need a coven, a drum circle, or a ticket to a solstice festival to create meaning. You just need intention. Here are a few simple ways I’ve brought queerness, spirituality, and healing together during the solstice:
- Create a light altar: Fill it with things that reflect your identity—photos, crystals, symbols, poems, anything that honors who you’ve become.
- Write a letter to your younger self: Tell them they made it. Tell them they were never broken. Tell them you love them.
- Name your shadows: Light a candle and speak the things you’ve been hiding—from others or from yourself. Not to shame them, but to invite them out of isolation.
- Celebrate your body: Whether it’s dancing, swimming, sunbathing, or rest—choose something that reminds you your body is sacred and worthy.
- Set intentions from a place of wholeness: Not what you need to fix, but what you want to nurture.
Remember: your ritual doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. It just needs to be yours.
A Solstice for the Seasoned Soul
There’s something beautiful about experiencing the solstice in midlife. You understand more. You’ve lost things, grieved things, and healed parts of yourself you didn’t even know were fractured. The light feels less like a spotlight and more like a warm, affirming presence.
For LGBTQ+ people over 40, especially gay and bisexual men who’ve weathered decades of culture shifts, loss, and personal evolution, this solstice hits differently. It’s not about becoming—it’s about owning. Owning who you are. Owning the light and the dark. Owning your joy, your grief, your contradictions.
We don’t need to prove ourselves anymore. We just need to be present—with each other, with ourselves, with this sun-drenched moment that says: You’re still here. And that is everything.
You Are Worthy of the Light
The Summer Solstice isn’t just a calendar event—it’s a reminder. A nudge. A call. Whether you celebrate it with fire rituals, meditations, chosen family BBQs, or simply taking a deep breath at sunset—it’s your moment to shine.
For those of us in the LGBTQ+ community, especially those carrying both scars and strength, the solstice can become a sacred time of return. Return to self. Return to truth. Return to the knowing that you are worthy—of light, of shadow, of belonging, and of joy.
This year, let the sun see you. All of you.
Gay in the CLE 