The idea behind Queering the Map is simple: to offer queer people around the world a map where they can drop pins tied to personal anecdotes and memories. As the platform’s creators explain, “From collective action to stories of coming out, encounters with violence to moments of rapturous love, Queering the Map functions as a living archive of queer life.
Michigan, United States.
Since it launched in 2017, the map has accumulated over 500,000 posts in 23 languages, becoming an ever-growing archive of queer experience. It's a striking sight. There are so many pins that they blur together and literally obscure the digital map beneath them—especially in the Global North—visually erasing borders and creating a new territory of queer presence. Each pin marks a moment: a kiss, a confession, a glance, a rupture, a reunion. What emerges is a collection of deeply personal stories that add to a shared experience of queerness.
The project began with a memory anchored to a tree. Lucas LaRochelle, the founder of Queering the Map, used to bike past a tree in Parc Jeanne-Mance in Montreal. That spot carried particular meaning:
“It’s the tree that I had met my first successful long-term partner under, and at that same tree we had a conversation in which I was quite explosive about my non-binary gender identity. And so that feeling of queerness in relation to space seemed very linked to that tree.”
Gambia, West Africa.
Reflecting on that and other places where their memories were rooted, LaRochelle began to wonder about all the locations that bore no visible mark, but carried the weight of someone else’s queer memory. They imagined a map that could make them visible.
“I was interested in the other places and the affects that were stuck in those kinds of environments, and how demarcating them and making them visible could create a new feeling of connection to queer community at large.”
That idea—of mapping feelings, not just places—became the heart of the platform. Unlike traditional cartography, which often flattens the world into borders and categories, Queering the Map invites a more fluid relationship to space. It shows how queerness is entangled with geography in ways that are emotional, affective, and deeply embodied.
Vitoria-Gasteiz, Basque Country, Spain.
The site itself is simple to use: visitors can zoom in on any location and read or contribute stories. Posts are moderated by a global team of volunteers who ensure that the platform remains a respectful and safe space. Users can submit anonymously, which allows for intimate reflections that might otherwise go unspoken.
Importantly, the map also includes stories from places where being queer is dangerous or criminalized. In 2023, during the war in Gaza, people from the LGBTQ+ community there used the platform to share their stories. In doing so, Queering the Map offered a rare space of expression and recognition in a moment of violence and erasure.
Province of Batangas, Philippines.
Queering the Map shows that queer life is everywhere—not just in major cities or visible movements, but in overlooked corners of parks, in bus stations, in kitchens and alleyways and classrooms. This kind of mapping is a form of resistance, memory, and care—a reminder that every place holds a story, and every story helps shape a map we can call our own.
Miguel Botero is an editor and project manager at Memria. He has co-produced more than thirty narrative projects on peacebuilding in collaboration with filmmakers and podcasters in Colombia.