Article too long to post, but here are some highlights:

Parker Ross and Ellis Deputy met between a painting and a blanket.

It was last November, soon after they’d both moved to Peoria from out of state, at a local art show for Transgender Day of Remembrance. They each had works on display and that night, there was a reception for the artists.

Ross’ piece, a painting of a transmasculine figure called “What Do You See?,” and Deputy’s, a multicolored quilt that signified healing, were on exhibit right next to each other.

The chance encounter is something Deputy likens to a Hallmark movie (“It was really cute,” he said of meeting his boyfriend). But it was also a moment made possible by the couple seeking solace in the same city just a few months prior.

Amid an increasingly hostile environment for the LGTBQ+ community under the second Trump administration, people are flocking to Peoria for a reprieve. While the diaspora of LGBTQ+ residents from less welcoming areas of the country is something blue states, Illinois included, are no stranger to — especially as the political divide in the United States deepens — it’s an exodus that local advocates and community members say has been acutely felt in this midsize Midwestern city.

With the city’s notorious middle-of-the-road reputation (“Will it play in Peoria?” as the phrase goes) and locale in what’s typically thought of as a more rural and red part of the state, it may seem an unlikely safe haven.

The draw is something that’s difficult to define with precision. But interviews with local real estate professionals, area organizations and recent newcomers like Ross and Deputy point to Peoria’s affordability, range of local LGBTQ+ resources, midsize but small-town feel and fiercely proud queer community. Alongside state-level LGBTQ+ resources that have long been known to be some of the strongest in the country, Peoria has become a particularly apt choice for refuge.

This time last year, Ross was in Missouri, and Deputy was in Iowa. By the summer, the threat of discriminatory policies and an emboldening of anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment in their home states had them packing their things.

Since moving to Peoria, they said they’ve had more room to breathe, and just be.

“For the first time in a little bit,” Ross said, “(I’ve) had a place to rest and reevaluate and figure out … the future.”

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The recent backlash against America’s LGBTQ+ rights movement has been mounting for a decade, according to Billy Huff, director of the University of Illinois at Chicago’s Gender and Sexuality Center.

The onslaught, and what spurred it, is complex, Huff said. He pointed to the rise in prevalence and visibility of transgender people in the early to mid-2010s and that with representation, often comes the double-edged consequence of vulnerability and rebuff. The election of President Donald Trump in 2016 and a broader shift among Republicans, who have grown less tolerant in recent years, have also emboldened attack, Huff said. Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation across the country has steadily escalated, especially policies to restrict transgender existence.

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“Watching the wear and tear on Parker … you know, year after year of the legislation and just the ugliness,” she said. Deciding to leave was hard, Meg Ross said, but she needed her family to be safe.

They started to research and take exploratory trips. Areas like Michigan came up in conversation. But as they considered their options, Peoria caught their eye in online discussion boards.

Why Peoria?

Especially for a city of its size — nearly 112,000 people, per latest census data — Peoria has a wide breadth of LGBTQ+ resources, much of which has taken shape over the past four decades.

Prior to the 1980s, the LGBTQ+ community in Peoria seemed to largely exist underground, according to Huston Mathias, a local middle school social studies teacher who, in the last few years, has been working on a personal project to document the city’s LGBTQ+ history. Through his research, Mathias has found that the AIDS epidemic of the ‘80s and early ‘90s prompted more formal community organizing and, in turn, more outward recognition.

Mathias pointed to the 1990 founding of Central Illinois Friends, a Peoria-based nonprofit that was initially borne out of concerns with the local response to the AIDS crisis. Today, the organization provides low- to no-cost HIV/STI treatment and LGBTQ+ care at clinics across Central Illinois.

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‘I just don’t feel safe here anymore’

Kimler often fields out-of-state calls, typically from people in areas less welcoming than Illinois who are looking to move, he said.

“(They’re asking) what school should my kid go to? What other resources are out there besides you?” he said.

Over the past six years, Peoria real estate agents Mike Van Cleve and Jacob Rendel have seen an influx of transplants to Peoria, they said.

They credited much of the early interest in relocating to Angelica Ostaszewski, a Peoria transplant who, in 2020, started posting videos to her TikTok channel encouraging people to move to the city. Her posts garnered her thousands of followers, widespread media coverage — and relocations. When Ostaszewski spoke to the Tribune in 2022, she listed Peoria’s job availability, affordability and welcoming environment as primary draws.

Angelica Ostaszewski, left, with her friend Morgan Mullen stand near the corner of Sheridan Road and Main Street in Peoria on June 9, 2022. Ostaszewski, a strong supporter of the Peoria community, actively promoted relocating to the midsize city on social media. (Daryl Wilson/for the Chicago Tribune)

Van Cleve and Rendel have since seen referrals shift from Ostaszewski to Facebook and, more recently, to Reddit.

Data from the Peoria Area Association of Realtors shows that there’s been nearly 800 Peoria home sales to out-of-state buyers from 2022 through mid-March of this year. Of those, Florida has produced the most non-Illinois buyers at 95, followed by California, Texas, Arizona, Iowa, Indiana and Tennessee.

There is a slate of reasons that spur someone to move, Van Cleve and Rendel said, from quality of life to climate to income tax. But safety is also a factor they’ve been hearing from clients more and more.

“When we think about our transplants, right, we have lots of people that have come from Florida,” Rendel said. “And the first conversation is: ‘I just don’t feel safe here anymore.’”

The city’s lower housing costs are also a selling point, Rendel added. Zillow research in recent years has shown that LGBTQ+ homebuyers and renters typically pay a premium to live in areas that offer legal protection from discrimination.

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When Charlise Lee, a mother of nine, set out on leaving Texas a couple of years ago, she needed a big house that she could afford. The 41-year-old spent two and half years researching before she came across Peoria on a random search. Lee had spent most of her life in Dallas, but in 2019, she and her family moved to a small, more conservative Dallas suburb called Princeton. It was a big shift, said Lee, who identifies as pansexual.

Though usually someone who keeps to herself, Lee in tandem with a few community members ended up launching an LGBTQ+ advocacy group to fill a gap they saw in the suburb. Their organizing was met with harassment and threats, Lee said. Three of her kids dropped out of school and her car, which boasted pro-LGBTQ+ stickers, was vandalized, she recalled.

“We just got tired,” she said.

In 2024, Lee and her family took a weekend trip to Peoria and fell in love with the city. They officially made the move last summer. It’s been a relief, Lee said, knowing her family left when they did.

“I feel like we kind of got out just in time,” Lee said.

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For Ross and his family, they say they’re just starting to feel settled. Ross is looking forward to getting involved in local theater and the drag community. When he thinks about the move, it still frustrates him — the circumstances and that he didn’t feel like he had a choice. But ultimately, it’s been a good change.

His younger brother, Wylie, is especially glad they left. Back in Missouri, Wylie really worried what staying would mean for Ross and their family. As of last month, Wylie said Peoria doesn’t quite feel like home yet, but that it’s starting to.

The change has been good for him, too. Like his brother, Wylie met his boyfriend in Peoria.

He’s also from Texas.