As the Trump administration escalates its attacks on transgender people’s rights, revoking “X” gender markers on passports (something a federal court has halted), instructing consular officials to deny visas based on gender presentation, and enforcing a binary-only framework, one LGBTQ+ travelcompany is charting a course toward inclusivity for marginalized travelers.

VACAYA, a queer-focused cruise and resort company founded in 2017, has become a sanctuary for those too often sidelined, even within LGBTQ+ spaces: transgender, nonbinary, BIPOC, body-diverse, bisexual, and pansexual travelers.

“In our industry, trans travelers are often trapped, by their passports, by government systems, by legal names that don’t reflect who they are,” Randle Roper, VACAYA’s cofounder and chief experience officer, told The Advocate in an interview. “We can’t overturn federal policy. But we can create joy and freedom onboard, and that’s what we do.”

Patrick Gunn and Randle Roper cofounded VACAYA in 2017.

Unlike successful decades-old legacy brands such as Atlantis Events, which caters primarily to cisgender gay men with circuit-party-style itineraries, or Olivia Travel, which targets lesbians, VACAYA’s leadership said the company intentionally created something different. “Atlantis caters to maybe 3 to 5 percent of our community,” Roper said. “We’re building something for everyone else.”

“We have a really keen eye on the balance of an experience,” Roper said. “There’s no way to push guests seven nights in a row, all night long until noon the next day, and expect people to do that without some kind of enhancement, right? We don’t do that.”

VACAYA’s parties typically wrap around 3 a.m., Roper explained, so guests can sleep, explore ports of call, and recharge.

Co-founding partner Patrick Gunn said that during a recent cruise where the host cruise line, without consulting VACAYA, brought an independent medical care team onboard. “We kind of chuckled,” Gunn said. “We were like, ’wow, you’re going to have a really quiet week.’ And that’s exactly what happened.”

By the conclusion of the trip, the care team, Roper said, reported just one intervention: a Dungeons & Dragons player experiencing an anxiety attack during a fantasy quest. “That was their most tense moment,” Roper said. “I love that story.”

That mindset of balance and care underlies VACAYA’s programming, from DJs spinning “anthem moments of pure joy” to D&D sessions hosted by Magic Academy, Gunn explained.

“You can enjoy this without overdrinking or adding other stimulants,” Gunn said. “The joy is real. And it’s shared.”

Of course, he added, “Vacayans” (that’s what they call their loyal guests) can expect to enjoy world-class entertainment, dining, and unforgettable excursions.

Each trip also features gender-neutral bathrooms, “including for people who sit to pee,” Roper said. Everybody is invited to wear pronoun pins, and for a retreat away from the bustle, a “Transcend Lounge,” a dedicated onboard space for trans, nonbinary, bisexual, pansexual, and female-identifying guests to gather, decompress, or exist.

For Gabrielle “Gabby” Dorsey, a Black trans woman and VACAYA team member, the lounge isn’t a novelty. “It’s a space where you get to be 100 percent yourself,” she said. “No questions, no judgment. If you’ve spent your life hiding or suppressing your identity and you need to connect, that room means everything.” On recent trips, the lounge overlooked a pool deck, allowing those enjoying the lounge to be away without being excluded.

Mason Fitzpatrick, a 34-year-old transgender man who works on VACAYA’s media and guest support teams, echoed that sentiment. “It’s rare to be in a place where no one questions who you are,” he said. “I live in a conservative Trump town. I’m stealthy most of the time for safety. But on that ship, the walls come down. You get to breathe.”

Those opportunities also allow guests to take emotional risks, he said. “You watch people walk differently by the end of the week,” Fitzpatrick said. “Their shoulders drop. Their voices get louder. Something shifts.”

Jamie Hartman, a 42-year-old transgender woman, parent of two kids, and software engineering manager from Portland, Oregon, described a similar experience. “I didn’t have to shield myself or explain myself,” she said.

Hartman now regularly travels with the company, often with her partner of seven years. She’s even been invited to help guide consent-forward programming in the Red Light District, VACAYA’s adult play space.

She said organizers, impressed by her feedback and engagement in spaces like the ship’s red light district and Tantra workshops, asked her to help make the red light district more inclusive. “If you don’t know about the red light district, it’s really kind of like a bathhouse out there at sea,” she said. “I’ll have these opportunities to facilitate organic encounters. Somebody, I’ll just kind of smile on the pool deck, and we’ll strike up a conversation. I’m a hugger. You want a hug? Okay, cool. Maybe the conversation goes in a space where you can practice some enthusiastic consent. You’re in a space where all of the people around you are also feeling liberated and open to, hey, experience some of those yellow zones.”

VACAYA charters entire cruise ships.

For Hartman, those “zones” serve as a way to gauge comfort and safety: green signifies ease and familiarity, yellow signals a stretch into new or slightly uncomfortable territory that can spark growth, while red indicates overwhelming distress or panic to be avoided. At VACAYA, she said, people are encouraged to explore the yellow zone if they wish — pushing boundaries in ways that feel consensual and safe — without fear of crossing into the red.

That goes for conversations, too. Hartman, who appreciates a bit of gender ambiguity, recalled one guest who assumed she was transitioning “in the opposite direction, from female to male.” She said, “It was validating on multiple levels. I got to just be and not perform.”

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That affirmation, Hartman said, matters more than most travelers realize. “At the welcome table, there are pins with your pronouns. Mine says ‘she/they,’ and I don’t feel like I have to choose. I can show up fully.”

Alysse Dalessandro, a plus-size queer woman and content creator, as well as a former inclusivity consultant for the company, helped design the pronoun system after raising concerns on an early cruise.

“It wasn’t just, ‘here’s a rainbow bowl of pins,’” she said. “We had detailed conversations about design, placement, wording, and guest education, because VACAYA wanted to get it right.”

Dalessandro also helped rebrand what had been called “Women of VACAYA” into a more inclusive program for women, trans, and nonbinary guests. “We had a trans man who said, ‘This isn’t for me.’ I said, ‘No, but it should be.’ And we changed it.”

In one memorable moment, she recalled hosting a hot tub night during an underwear party attended mainly by the cisgender gay men onboard. “One guest presented as female on the cruise but male back home for safety. At that moment, they were in a bikini for the first time, in public, with their partner.”

The company offers a diverse range of experiences, from entertainment and cuisine to alluring shore excursions, quiet reading spaces, Dungeons & Dragons nights, book clubs, and wellness workshops.

“They know not everyone wants a fetish party,” Dalessandro said. “So we also played [the sapphic card game] Les Convo over wine one night. It was spicy, but it was our kind of spicy.”

Roper said VACAYA offers roommate matching and no-interest payment plans, with trips ranging from $1,100 resort weeks to $30,000 luxury expeditions. It runs a “Reach Out” program that delivers supplies to local communities and raises funds for LGBTQ+ nonprofits. VACAYA also spent $90,000 in 2025 for WorldPride in Washington, D.C., the company said.

And in February, when guests spotted Cuban refugees adrift in the Gulf of Mexico, and officials brought them aboard, VACAYA staff and travelers sprang into action, providing food, clothing, and medical care until the U.S. Coast Guard arrived. President Donald Trump had recently dictated that the Gulf of Mexico be called the “Gulf of America.”

“It was the Republican nightmare: refugees, gays, and the Gulf,” Roper said. “But it was also a metaphor. This community knows what it means to be adrift, and to be rescued.”

VACAYA travelers

For Hartman, that metaphor holds. “This isn’t a space where you’ll never encounter a misgendering,” she said. “But you’ll never face it alone. You’ll be affirmed and supported. You’ll be reminded you belong.”

Dorsey put it more simply: “No matter where you are on that journey, if you’re just starting into your gender journey, you’re welcome. If you’re 15, 20, or 30 years into that gender journey, you’re welcome. If you’re someone who’s looking for a space to be your authentic self because nowhere else you’re able to do so, you are more than welcome.”