Growing Belonging: A Conversation in Harrisonburg

On a small plot in Harrisonburg, rows of vegetables are doing more than producing tomatoes, herbs, and greens. They are creating a place where transgender neighbors, queer families, immigrants, students, elders, and allies can work beside one another without having to explain why they deserve to be there.

The garden was founded as a trans-led community project, shaped by the belief that access to food, land, and companionship is part of community care. Its beds offer practical nourishment, while the shared work of planting and harvesting gives people a reason to gather regularly.

Q Virginia spoke with the founder about building an LGBTQ-inclusive garden, making outdoor spaces safer, and growing a model of mutual aid that can take root anywhere in Virginia.

A garden rooted in welcome

Q: What inspired you to start a community garden?

Founder: I wanted to create something grounded in everyday life. There are plenty of important conversations about LGBTQ+ rights, health care, and visibility, but people also need places where they can simply exist with one another. Gardening gave us a way to build that space through shared work.

A garden has a natural rhythm. You show up, water something, pull weeds, share tools, and talk while your hands are busy. That can make connection feel less formal and less intimidating. Someone does not have to arrive with a polished story or a specific role. They can just help.

Q: Why was it important for the project to be trans-led?

Founder: Trans leadership changes what gets noticed. We think about privacy, names, pronouns, bathroom access, safety, and the many reasons someone might be cautious about joining a public gathering. A trans-led project does not assume that everyone has the same relationship to their body, family, or neighborhood.

It also creates room for people who are often asked to wait for inclusion. We wanted queer and trans people to shape the garden’s policies, culture, and priorities from the beginning, rather than being invited in after all the decisions had already been made.

From vacant lot to shared ground

The garden’s work begins before anyone puts a seed into the soil. Volunteers discuss how the space should function, what crops would be useful, and what would help newcomers feel comfortable. Clear expectations around respect and consent are part of the infrastructure, just like raised beds and compost bins.

That preparation matters in Harrisonburg, where a community garden can bring together people with very different experiences of rural life, public space, and belonging. Some participants grew up gardening with relatives. Others are learning how to tell a weed from a seedling. Both forms of knowledge are welcome.

Q: What has surprised you most about organizing the garden?

Founder: I expected people to be excited about food access, but I was surprised by how much people value routine. Showing up on a Saturday morning can become an anchor. Someone may be having a difficult week, but they know there will be a familiar place, a few friendly faces, and a task they can complete.

I have also been moved by how quickly people share skills. One person knows how to repair a hose, another understands soil, and someone else brings a family recipe for using greens. The garden becomes stronger when expertise is treated as something to circulate rather than something to hold onto.

Growing food and chosen family

For the founder, harvests are measured in more than pounds of produce. A basket of peppers or collards can support a household, but the deeper harvest is trust. Participants learn who can offer a ride, who has extra seedlings, and who might need a quiet conversation after a hard day.

That network reflects the broader meaning of LGBTQ+ community. Chosen family is often discussed in emotional terms, yet it also has a practical side: sharing meals, checking on neighbors, helping someone move, and making sure no one has to navigate a crisis alone.

Q: How does the garden connect to mutual aid?

Founder: Mutual aid is about recognizing that everyone has something to contribute and everyone may need support at different times. We share produce, but we also share information, tools, labor, and time. If someone cannot garden one week, that does not mean they lose their place.

We try to avoid creating a charity relationship where some people are seen only as recipients. People bring what they can. That may be seeds, a few hours of work, knowledge about local resources, or simply the willingness to greet someone new.

Garden practice Community benefit
Shared planting and harvest days Builds routine, connection, and practical skills
Sliding-scale or donated produce Supports food access without stigma
Clear inclusion policies Helps trans, queer, and disabled participants feel safer
Skill sharing Keeps knowledge and resources circulating
Open volunteer roles Makes participation possible at different energy levels

Care beyond the garden gate

A welcoming garden cannot solve every barrier facing LGBTQ+ Virginians, but it can help people find information and relationships that make those barriers easier to navigate. Conversations may move from seedlings to housing, health care, family acceptance, or the paperwork that affects a person’s daily life.

For trans parents and families, legal recognition can carry real consequences. Questions about names, parentage, and vital records often arise during moments that should be joyful. Resources such as birth certificate rules can help families understand changing policies, while trusted local networks can make complicated information feel less isolating.

Q: How do you keep the garden from becoming another place where people feel observed or judged?

Founder: We start by being clear about what the garden is and what it is not. It is not a performance of perfect queerness, and it is not a place where people have to disclose personal information. We use the names and pronouns people give us, ask before taking photographs, and respect different levels of social energy.

We also pay attention to accessibility. That includes seating, shade, paths, flexible tasks, and communication before events. Inclusion is practical. If someone cannot physically or emotionally participate in the way we first imagined, the answer should be to redesign the activity.

Building a wider culture of care

The founder sees the garden as one part of a larger ecosystem of LGBTQ+ life in Virginia. Local businesses, artists, organizers, wedding professionals, health providers, and community groups all help create the conditions in which people can build stable and joyful lives.

That ecosystem includes celebrations as well as advocacy. Couples planning a ceremony, for example, may want traditions that honor their families without reproducing assumptions about gender. Guidance on gender-neutral ceremonies can open up possibilities for couples who want their wedding language to reflect who they are.

Q: What would you like people across Virginia to understand about this work?

Founder: You do not need a large budget or a perfect location to begin. Start with relationships. Ask what people need, listen to the answers, and build something that can be sustained. A garden is valuable because it produces food, but its real strength comes from the culture around it.

I also hope people understand that trans-led spaces are for connection, not separation. They offer leadership and safety to people who have often been excluded, while inviting allies to practice solidarity in tangible ways. Everyone benefits when a community learns how to care for its most vulnerable members.

Ways to help the garden grow

Readers who want to support a trans-led community garden can begin with small, consistent actions:

The founder emphasizes that support should be reciprocal and sustainable. Volunteers need breaks, organizers need backup, and community projects need structures that prevent one person from carrying every responsibility. A healthy garden depends on rest as much as it depends on water.

In Harrisonburg, the garden’s rows offer a simple but powerful message: belonging can be cultivated. Visit a local community garden, learn who is doing this work near you, and bring your time, resources, or curiosity. When more people help tend the soil, there is room for more people to flourish.