When Yael Ezerzer came out as queer in 2016 at the age of 17, she realized she was surrounded by straight people. Most of them were accepting of who she was, but they didn’t share or understand her experience. Growing up in a fairly conservative household in Montreal, Ezerzer felt a deep longing for relationships with people like her—people who didn’t make her feel different, even by accident.
 

“ I think that’s a big reason why I came out,” she says. “I felt like I needed to find people who were like me and unless I was visible, it was really hard to find.” 
 

This longing for friendship is common among LGBTQ2S+ folks, especially right after coming out. When I realized I was bisexual in 2021, I too found myself yearning for friendships with people who knew what I was going through. Nearly five years later, my queer friendships provide me with understanding, validation and comfort. 
 

Experts confirm I’m not alone—studies have shown that friendships between LGBTQ2S+ people lead to increased well-being. But many of us struggle to find the time and the wherewithal to maintain, let alone widen, our social circles as adults. 
 

To help you find those meaningful connections, Script has put together this quick queer guide to making friends.
 

The health benefits of queer friendships
 

Friendships between LGBTQ2S+ folks are a necessity for health and well-being, according to Barbara Rowlandson, a Kawartha Lakes-based qualifying registered psychotherapist and coming out coach with Anne-Marie Zanzal Coaching.
 

“For queer folks, being among people who are like us is incredibly important for good mental health,” she says. “Sexual-minority stress—that is, the consistent negative impacts of being a queer person living in a world designed for heteronormativity—is cumulative and wearying.” 
 

The stressors can be external, like societal discrimination—or internal, in the form of internalized homophobia or being closeted, she explains. The impact of sexual-minority stress is well researched, and studies suggest it’s directly related to heightened risks for mental health issues like depression, anxiety and substance use.
 

Indeed, data from the recently released 2026 PTP Pink Paper on LGBTQ2S+ health found that approximately 40 percent of LGBTQ2S+ people have been diagnosed with a mental health condition—a rate that’s twice as high as their cis and straight counterparts.
 

“The good news is that queer community is a powerful buffer from the impacts of sexual-minority stress,” Rowlandson says. “Social support serves as a protective factor, promotes psychological resilience and gives queer folks an opportunity to be in a space where they can let their shoulders down and just be.”

Beyond mitigating minority stress, research shows that queer friendships can offer a sense of belonging, a feeling of validation and affirmation, and a greater understanding of one’s own identity. 
 

Creating a “chosen family”
 

In her quest to make queer friends, Ezerzer took two different approaches: immersing herself in creative, alternative spaces, and dating. “ I didn’t know exactly where to find queer friends, but I knew that while dating, I would at least meet a lot of queer people,” she says. “I did, and some of them did become friends.” 
 

But it was through pursuing her passions, including environmentalism, music, photography and art that she met a wide array of queer folks with whom she shared common interests. Ezerzer was in school at that time, which made meeting people simpler. She met friends through her school newspaper, for example, or in an environmental club, where she wound up becoming close with someone she is still close with nearly a decade later.
 

“ I felt not so different, not othered,” she says. “ I really felt like I had found my people and created a chosen family.” 
 

This was also true for Candie Tanaka, an artist and writer who grew up in Tsawwassen but only truly began to find queer community when they attended Emily Carr University in Vancouver in the early 2000s. “ It was great because everybody was just themselves,” they say. “No one cared about anybody’s sexual identity or gender identity.”
 

As a trans person, Tanaka feels that having friends who relate to their experience and are completely comfortable around them is particularly important. Having to explain their identity over and over can be exhausting, but a shared experience creates a sense of ease. As they’ve gotten older, though, they’ve found it somewhat difficult to find new close friendships. “ You just can’t go up to someone like you did when you were a kid and go, ‘Hey, let's be friends,’ and then you’re friends for years,” they say. 
 

How to make queer friends as an adult
 

Adulthood is less conducive to making new friends, either because people are more closed off to new connections, they don’t prioritize friendship or they’re simply too busy, explains Rowlandson. 
 

“Couple that with feeling tired from the grind at the end of the day, and it can become incredibly easy to just put PJs on and sink into the couch,” she says.
 

As a result, finding connection and community requires intention and effort, even if it feels uncomfortable or inconvenient. Havana Hechavarria, a licensed counsellor with the Montreal Pride Therapy Network, says one of the best ways to meet new people is to check out the events, groups and organizations in your neighbourhood, town or city.
 

You can search online for LGBTQ2S+ events, or you can join a group based on one of your interests, like Ezerzer did. Queer people are everywhere, and showing up as your authentic self will often attract like-minded folks to you. 
 

You can also volunteer for a local organization or cause that’s meaningful to you, she says. Or try using an app to meet folks, such as Bumble BFF or Lex. 

You don’t have to try all these things at once, though. You want to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up, Hechabarria says. Instead, she suggests committing to trying one new thing every week or month. “It takes a bit of bravery and you have to put yourself out there,” she says. “But if it’s something that’s really important to you, you have to make time for it and be patient and dedicated.”

Hechabarria also emphasizes the importance of really trying to get to know someone by asking them questions about their likes and interests. If, after chatting for a while, you find you’re hitting it off, you can make your intentions clear and state that you are looking to make more friends. If the interest is reciprocated, be intentional about making solid plans. 

 

Real friendships take time to develop, so don’t get discouraged if you don’t find your new BFF right off the bat. 
 

“You hope you’re going to meet someone and you’re going to click right away, but I think often that’s not the case,” she says. “You need to be willing to give people a few chances and get to know them.” 
 

Not finding the right event? Start your own
 

If you’re extroverted, Hechabarria says you can also host your own event or group. 
 

Tanaka did just that, and now hosts a Pride Speed-Friending event at the Vancouver Public Library a couple of times per year. The event is similar to regular speed dating:  participants sit across the table from someone and have a few minutes to chat (organizers provide prompts in case of conversation lulls). When time is up, everyone rotates, and at the end participants choose who to keep in contact with. 
 

The VPL first started hosting speed-friending events post-COVID, when people were particularly starved for connection. The first iteration was open to everyone, not just the LGBTQ2S+ community, and it was an instant hit.

“ It was super busy,” Tanaka says. 
 

After the success of the initial event, they decided to host a queer version during Pride month. It was so popular—with attendees ranging from their mid-20s to their 60s—that they now host it twice a year. They’ve also expanded to offer a trans-specific version another two times annually. 
 

Tanaka says the participants usually end up enjoying it so much that they have to tell people to leave because the library is closing.
 

“ As queer people, we want a safe space where we can just relax and talk to [each other] ,” they say. “ I think [the success of the event] just shows that we need and want that human-to-human connection.”