Becoming the Role Models We Needed: Why Community Building Must Go Deeper

When I was coming out, role models were hard to find.

Sure, there were visible figures — drag queens, activists, the occasional celebrity — but few who reflected the quieter, messier journey of figuring out who you are when the world barely knows what to do with you.

Most of the role models I could have looked up to were still behind closed doors.
Some stayed hidden out of necessity. Others were pushed to the edges — visible, but distant, and often portrayed through the lens of stereotypes or political struggle. There was little space for nuance, or for the full humanity we all crave to see reflected back at us.

And when real mirrors are missing, you build your own — from fragments, guesswork, and hope.

Today, the world looks different — and yet, in some ways, the gap remains.

New research shows that nearly 70% of young Australian men are turning to online masculinity influencers to find guidance — not just the loud, toxic figures making headlines, but the polished, everyday mentors selling success through discipline, wealth, and emotional control. It's easy to think this content is harmless, even motivating. But studies are revealing a darker reality: young men who follow these influencers are reporting worse mental health outcomes, higher levels of loneliness, and more risky health behaviours, like steroid use and crash dieting.

They tell us they feel inspired. But underneath, many are left feeling more isolated, frustrated, and trapped than before.

It’s not just an individual crisis. It’s a crisis of community.

The Mirage of Quick-Fix Communities

At the same time, a booming "friendship industry" has risen, offering curated events, apps, and solutions that promise to cure loneliness. And yet research shows that loneliness isn’t solved by simply getting more people into a room. Most people don’t need more acquaintances — they need deeper trust, real consistency, and spaces where they feel seen.

Superficial socialising can sometimes deepen feelings of loneliness, not cure them. True connection isn’t about a dinner party or a one-off event. It’s about showing up over time, being vulnerable, building a foundation strong enough to hold the full weight of who we are.

Without that, loneliness becomes even sharper — because it reminds us what we’re missing.

Why This Matters for Queer Communities

For queer people, these pressures cut even deeper.

We already know what it feels like to exist without clear roadmaps.

We know the loneliness of not seeing ourselves reflected in the world around us.

And now, in a world flooded with influencer ideologies and surface-level community offerings, the need for real spaces — spaces built on honesty, consistency, and care — is urgent.

If we don't create these spaces, others will fill the gap.

And what they offer may not lead people toward strength, connection, or healing — but toward emotional suppression, transactional relationships, and hollow validation.

We can't afford to leave belonging to the algorithm.

What Real Role Modelling Looks Like Now

Being a role model today isn't about perfection. It’s about living — and leading — differently.

It looks like this:

• Visibility without polish. Showing the messy, real, human sides of success and growth.

• Emotional fluency. Talking about loneliness, anger, fear — not just posting about wins and celebrations.

• Critical literacy. Teaching ourselves and each other to question who benefits from the stories we’re sold about strength, success, and belonging.

• Mutuality over celebrity. Choosing communities over audiences, friendships over fanbases.

• Slow community over fast fixes. Understanding that trust is built over months, not moments.

These aren't side notes to our activism or community work. They're the work.

Building Community Is a Form of Resistance

History has shown that when societies become unstable, it’s not grand gestures or perfect slogans that hold people together — it's communities. Real ones.

In times of political instability, cultural fragmentation, and rising fear, gathering together and creating spaces of solidarity becomes not just important, but essential for survival.

Right now, connection isn’t just a nice idea — it’s an act of quiet rebellion.
In a world trying to drive wedges between us, to commodify our loneliness and sell us hollow solutions, choosing to build authentic community is radical.

When we create spaces where people can be fully themselves — without shame, without fear — we’re not just being kind. We’re resisting a culture that thrives on isolation.

This work doesn't belong to someone else. It isn’t waiting for a future generation to pick it up. It’s ours — here and now.

At Get Out, we’re not interested in hosting events just for the sake of it, or creating surface-level gatherings that leave people feeling more alone than when they arrived.

We’re here to build something real: emotional infrastructure, social scaffolding, a cultural heartbeat strong enough to hold people up through the good days, the hard days, and the messy middle in between.

Visibility is important — but it’s only the starting line.
Belonging is the goal. True, lasting, lived-in belonging.

We don’t have to wait for someone else to create the communities we deserve.
We have the tools. We have the experience. We have each other.

We can build them.
And in doing so, we become the role models — the real ones — that we once wished we'd had.

Come build it with us.