Alabama meteorologist Bryan Boggiano is known for sprinkling LGBTQ pop culture references in his shows, getting noticed by the likes of Snooki, Countess Luann de Lesseps and Trixie Mattel.
He first popped on GLAAD’s radar in May when he sent social media into a storm over his references to drag lingo and LGBTQ pop culture.
Since then, he says his crowning achievement was his “Pride Month Icons Challenge,” when he referenced at least one LGBTQ icon in his forecasts on air during June.
One of those references, Judy Garland, is below.
Bryan’s the morning meteorologist at WDHN in Dothan, Alabama, and to be clear, a phenomenon to Alabama natives like me and others who grew up queer without ever seeing such vibrant representation on our local stations. He’s having fun, and he’s a serious scientist, covering hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, heat, and even a rare winter storm along the Gulf Coast.
His job is important, and lifesaving, and his life story is also compelling. Bryan is a part of the LGBTQ community, and he has autism. He is embracing all parts of himself, on and off the air. In this first of a two-part Q&A, Bryan shares with GLAAD how he navigates the intersection of his identities, and how he’s a respectful student of LGBTQ history in his adopted state. All opinions are his own.
Q&A Part 1 with Bryan Boggiano
As someone on the Autism Spectrum, what has your experience been like?
Since my youth, there have been challenges and also plenty of successes associated with both my autism diagnosis and my personal identification with the LGBTQ community.
I was diagnosed with autism when I was two. At the time, the research, awareness and accessibility to care and services were not as advanced as they are today. But my parents and my sister all worked tirelessly to make sure I had everything I needed to succeed. I did not speak until I was two, almost three, years old. There were also some motor challenges I experienced, in addition to repetitive behaviors and attention deficits. But by the time I started kindergarten, thanks to the help of providers and people across my home region, including an early intervention care provider named Sue, I was in a “mainstream” class. Although I had an IEP in kindergarten, I had it for that year only.
I think around the same time, my family may have caught on to my potential LGBTQ identity when I could barely speak, but I knew all of the lyrics to several songs by Britney Spears.
I did well in elementary school, but I dealt with bullying in middle school. I attribute this to my struggles with socialization, struggling with understanding certain social and communication nuances, and rumors regarding my sexuality. We all have certain things we struggle with at a young age, but at that time, I crossed paths with people who were not accepting of my differences. Despite the circumstances, I managed to earn straight A’s in all of my classes.
In high school, I ran cross country and track, and I was also on my school’s newspaper. I still run, while the paper ended up being my first experience as a media professional in training. My biggest achievement was graduating salutatorian, where I gave a speech at graduation. I openly discussed having autism, and revealed that I’m bisexual/queer toward the end of my speech. The teacher who introduced me in my speech, Ms. Anderson, was the teacher I trusted most at school, and who I felt safest around.
Navigating adolescence is hard enough as it is, but when you factor in an autism diagnosis and a nonheterosexual label, I felt life was impossible. I felt coming to terms, or trying to come to terms with who I am, was challenging because of my autism diagnosis. I struggled to communicate how I was feeling, what I was feeling, where to turn to, and who to trust.
During these chapters, I had a family who loved and accepted me unconditionally. For whatever reason, I refused to believe that. I thought that since my family did so much for me for autism, they wouldn’t be able to accept this part of me. I thought of all the hours, money, and sleepless nights they had trying to get me the care I needed. I thought after all of that, if I was something less than “perfect,” they’d be mad at me or disown me. And I thought being “straight” was the only way to be perfect. It created a lot of anxiety for me during my teen years. Luckily, when I finally did say something, there was no anger. There was no hurt. There was no disowning. Nobody thought I did something wrong. I was still the same Bryan to them. They said after all I had been through in life, after all they had been through, and considering who they are as people, they want me to be happy, and that they fully love and accept me. My family made many sacrifices to ensure that I would make it. I could not and would not have made it without them.
I especially want to thank my mom. She is the strongest and most supportive person in my life, and she always has been. She’s always been my top advocate, from spending countless days in different waiting rooms and specialists’ offices in the Tri-County Area of South Florida, to volunteering all hours she was off of work at my schools, and going with my dad and sister to PFLAG meetings after I had come out to them.
Afterwards, while going away to college, COVID, and a health setback posed some challenges, I managed to make it through each time. I found my footing as a student forecaster at UF. It was at UF that I made two lifelong friends, Lee and Grayson, who came to be the two people I felt safest around in college. Afterwards, I was a writer for a hometown online news outlet. In grad school, I pursued geosciences and atmospheric sciences. While the social settings were intimidating at times, I enjoyed them, and I believe they prepared me for this part of my life.
As a meteorologist based in Alabama, why is it so important to you to be a visible member of the LGBTQ community?
In my opinion, It’s important for everyone to live happily, healthily and authentically. On a larger scale, involving voices and people is important to make sure everyone’s stories are being told. I represent more than just me based on who I am, where I’m located, and what I do.
So, I reached out for help on this question to understand more and represent the state’s community to the best of my ability. I interviewed the Magic City Acceptance Center (MCAC), The Knights and Orchids Society (TKO), and Invisible Histories.
A major theme that the groups bring up is geography.
The LGBTQ Community in Alabama
Alabama, with a population of just over 5 million people, is also one of the top-10 most rural states in the country, with 42% of residents living in rural areas, according to America’s Health Rankings. Some studies, including MacCarthy et al. (2024), find that LGBTQ people in rural areas have more negative outcomes related to depression, anxiety, and self-harm behaviors.
Although the groups tell me living in a rural setting does not automatically mean one will face discrimination or hardships (as opposed to urban areas), issues like access to broadband, health and healthcare, general discrimination, affirming healthcare practitioners, economic stability, housing, HIV testing and prevention, and employment (opportunities, protections, etc.) still arise. For healthcare, even when an area has the resources, demand can easily outpace supply. For mental health, there are challenges that the community faces disproportionally, but this is because of how others and society treat people, MCAC says.
Experiences also vary based on one’s age, race or ethnicity. Historical practices created an environment that presents and has presented Black queer and Black trans women, as well as other queer and trans people of color, with unique and heightened challenges. They relate to economic, legislative, medical (and medical malpractice), housing, and discrimination concerns, among other topics. The intersection of these communities, they say, makes navigating experiences and spaces more complicated. In fact, black trans women face the highest rate of violence, according to the TKO Society.
But, there are countless contributions that Black queer and Black trans people (especially women) have made to The South and the country’s overall landscape. All three groups interviewed say if it weren’t for people like Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, Zazu Nova and Miss Major Griffin-Gracy (all trans women of color), as well as Bayard Rustin (Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s right-hand man), the modern-day LGBTQ rights movement would not exist. The groups say preserving this history gives an accurate picture and proper credit to revolutionaries.
Their contributions are evident in just about every facet of society, from mutual aid networks, affirming healthcare systems and the arts. In medicine, gender-affirming language and care can be credited to transgender people. Ballroom culture was founded by trans women of color. Ballroom’s contributions are seen in fashion, culture, and language/terminology, to name a few.
The South is the region with the highest population of LGBTQ adults in the US, according to The Williams Institute. It is also the most diverse. Ignoring The South, the interviewed groups say, is ignoring the LGBTQ community who lives and has deep connections here. They say dismissing The South treats the LGBTQ community as a monolith, which it’s not. Invisible Histories says being dismissive holds back the community.
