Three and a half years ago, I swiped right on a guy named Chris on Tinder. His profile featured numerous photos with mountains and glaciers in the background, which caught my attention because I’m also into mountaineering. Initially, our conversations and meetings were kept in “friends zone”: I was looking for new members to join our “Pink Summits” campaign, an initiative I started to promote LGBTIQ visibility through adventure sports like mountaineering and rock climbing.
That year, we were planning to climb Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps, and Chris had already been there. We agreed that he could be our mountain guide. I was excited: there are not so many gay mountaineers in this world and even less of those who can guide a group to the top of the highest mountain in Western Europe.
Over time, our friendship blossomed into something more, especially after Chris visited me in the Canary Islands. I had originally gone there for a week to enjoy my holidays, but I loved it so much there that I extended my stay to several weeks, and then a few months. When our next meeting was postponed, Chris decided to join me there instead of waiting for me back in Germany.
When Chris arrived the first thing we did was to run along the stunning coastline. What was meant to be a short run turned into an all-day marathon with breaks for swimming in secluded bays and with the ocean views from the coastal cliffs. During one of these breaks, I wanted to touch his hands and kiss him, but we were both a bit shy. The day ended beautifully with a romantic evening on a rock, where we watched the sunset and shared our first kiss.
That first kiss was followed by many others on various mountains: Teide, the highest in Spain; Mont Blanc, the highest in Western Europe; numerous peaks in the Alps and in Central Asia; Aconcagua in South America. We even kissed as a protest against homophobic and transphobic laws in Russia and against the war started by the totalitarian Russian regime on the mountain named after Vladimir Putin in Kyrgyzstan.
It was on Denali in Alaska, on the highest mountain in North America, that I proposed. I wanted to propose marriage at a special moment for both of us and in the mountains, since the main part of our life is connected with the mountains: with climbing, mountaineering and paragliding. Moreover, it seems like no one in the world has ever proposed so high in the mountains: this would be a unique moment not only for us.
Also it was important for me to propose somewhere in the United States, a country that changed my life profoundly. Back in 2010 I had a unique chance to study Digital/Graphic Design in the USA and live in Tacoma, Washington. I was closeted back then and did not accept my own sexuality. I was ashamed to call myself “bisexual”, not mentioning that in fact I was of course 100% gay.
Living in the United States helped to meet first openly gay people, young and old, with various racial, economic and cultural backgrounds. It was fascinating and new to me to see how openly and freely those people live and how courageous they are by not hiding their true selves. Back in my home country, in the conservative and patriarchal society of Kyrgyzstan where Islam plays a substantial role in the lives of people, I did not meet gay people who are so liberated and open.
It took me a while to accept myself taking into consideration the conservative, sexist and homophobic background of my family and society back in Kyrgyzstan. However, this process of fighting my own prejudices against myself and of finally accepting and loving myself got accelerated thanks to local LGBTIQ organizations in Tacoma. First I went to Rainbow Center. I was so indecisive and scared to enter that center and stayed outside for more than half an hour being ashamed of a potential risk of someone seeing me entering the Rainbow Center. In the end, I got a bit of courage to enter and to talk to the people there. They forwarded me to Oasis Youth Center who were very friendly even to find a Russian-speaking person to better integrate me into their community.
Thanks to the wonderful people at Oasis Youth Center, thanks to their community events like Queer Prom, regular drop-ins, and most importantly their leadership workshop organised somewhere in nature in wooden cabins, I learned a lot about being queer and about myself. All those wonderful experiences led me to my coming out stories (first, to my friends, then to my parents, and later to the whole world). I also became LGBTIQ+ activist and one of the first Kyrgyz people who openly came out and advocated for LGBTIQ+ rights.
And I returned back to the USA, this time to Alaska bringing the rainbow flags to the top of Denali as my gratitude to this country that shaped LGBTIQ+ activist out of me. After almost two grueling weeks of climbing, enduring snowstorms, bitter cold, and both physical and psychological challenges, we finally stood atop Denali. Chris cried with joy upon reaching the summit. You can’t imagine our happiness when I fell to my knees and presented the ring, with the majestic Alaskan Range in the background and the rainbow flag waving. It was a true celebration!
After savoring this unforgettable moment, I reminded Chris that our primary goal was to descend safely. A mountain isn’t truly conquered until you’re safely back.
A few days later, we vacationed in Hawaii to celebrate multiple events: successfully summiting Denali, raising the rainbow flag as a queer team for the Pink Summits campaign, and our engagement on that challenging and dangerous mountain.
Who knows… maybe we’ll get married on Everest?