You Deserve to Feel Safe: A Message from Sacramento

I wasn’t supposed to stay here.

I came to Sacramento as a young Mormon missionary—closeted, conflicted, and quietly afraid of the parts of myself I was raised to keep hidden. I was taught that love was conditional. That who I was could be accepted… but only if I changed it. Hid it. Denied it.

But something happened here.

Sacramento cracked something open in me. It wasn’t the landmarks or the weather—it was the people. The energy. The quiet, unspoken truth that maybe… just maybe… I didn’t have to pretend anymore. That I could breathe.

And I did.

I didn’t just leave where I grew up. I found a home. A place where being myself wasn’t seen as brave—it was just normal. And that kind of normal is something sacred when you’ve spent your life running from yourself.

Back in the early 2000s, when gay marriage felt like a fantasy and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was still the law of the land, I dated an Air Force officer. He stood 6’4”—strong, grounded, carrying the weight of secrecy like so many others in uniform.

We used to walk around Sacramento holding hands. Just… holding hands.

It doesn’t sound so radical now. But back then? That was bold. That was defiance wrapped in tenderness. That was freedom.

And it couldn’t have happened just anywhere. It happened here.

In Sacramento.

These past few weeks, the heaviness of the world has been louder. For so many, the political landscape has shifted into something colder, harsher. There’s fear—real fear—about what tomorrow might bring if you live in a state where who you are is a target instead of a truth.

I see it. I feel it. And I’ve been there.

You might be reading this from a place where you don’t feel safe. Where holding your partner’s hand still means scanning your surroundings. Where community feels like a distant dream. If that’s you, I want you to hear me:

You are not alone.

There are places in this country where you can just live. Where you don’t have to edit yourself to make other people comfortable. Sacramento is one of those places. It was for me. And it still is.

We’re not perfect. No place is. But this city has heart. It has community. It has pockets of magic and welcome and relief.

Safety is something a lot of people get to take for granted.

But not everyone has that luxury.

If you’re part of a community that’s been pushed to the margins—whether you’re LGBTQ+, an immigrant, a person of color, or anyone who’s ever been made to feel like “the other”—you know that safety isn’t just a feeling. It’s a lifeline.

I’m part of one of those communities myself. I know what it’s like to keep your voice low, your gestures small, your truth tucked away.

And I want you to know—this message isn’t just for people like me.

It’s for you, too.

If you’ve felt unseen, unwelcome, unsure of where you belong—there’s a place for you here. A community that opens its arms, not just its doors. You are welcome in Sacramento. You are safe here. And you will be seen.

If you’ve been thinking about leaving, starting over, finding a place where you can just be—you don’t have to figure it all out alone.

I’m a real estate broker, yes. But more importantly, I’m someone who’s been on that journey. I help people find houses, sure—but what I really love is helping people find home. The kind where your shoulders drop, your breath deepens, and you finally feel safe in your skin.

If you need someone to talk to, reach out. Even if it’s not about buying a house. Even if it’s just to say, “I’m scared.” I’ll listen. I’ve been there.

To everyone who needs to hear this today:

You don’t have to stay somewhere that doesn’t love you.

There are places where you’ll be celebrated, not just tolerated.

Your peace is worth the move.

You deserve safety. You deserve joy.

And you deserve to know it’s possible.

When you’re ready, we’re here.

And we’re waiting to welcome you.

Don Stocker

Don@StockerandWatts.com

916-203-2882