When I first got into real estate, I didn’t set out with the goal of becoming particularly known as a neurodivergent non-monogamous “Queer Realtor” (or Queerltor as I like to say for the groans), but it is who I am. As a cisgendered married woman, I live with my cisgender male husband, and, for the most part, I get to exist in the world with straightish-passing privilege. I can generally talk about my husband without having to specify his gender, and my sexuality can be tucked away if I just need to buy some new bath towels from a sales lady who insists that “His & Hers” matching sets would be “Oh so darling”.

Appearing straight whilst working in a very heteronormative industry can certainly have its advantages. I don’t need to explain myself at networking events and I can easily help my hetero clients feel just as at ease as my non-hetero clients, without lowering myself to working with homophobes, of course. My sexuality doesn’t have to be of any importance because many people assume I’m straight because that’s the world they’re used to. It’s worked and continues to work, but was starting to make me a little bit uncomfortable a few years in, until some unhideable finger tattoos helped me feel more visibly me. You’d think that my many leopard print outfits and Femme presentation combined with plenty of tattoos also easily gives me away, but I’ve had many years of chameleon practice to learn how to adapt conversationally to those around me, and mask successfully as a late diagnosed AuDHDer. (Until the autistic burnout hit, but that’s another story).

Admittedly, I grimace at open houses when potential straight buyers joke about how the woman will always get the larger closet but, don’t worry, honey, you’ll get the “Man Cave” to make up for it. I bite my tongue when he jokes about how she’s going to love the kitchen while she slips to me quietly that she actually hates to cook. It’s sales, and there are many times in this world that we must do the little dance to keep the train moving along the track. And of course, it’s about the clients, not about me. I don’t need to scream “I’m pansexual!” at every potential home buyer who simply wants to know how condo sales have been the last little while in Regent Park; but also I don’t need to hide it at all should it happen to come up in conversation.

When thinking about my “sphere of influence” (sales speak for “people you know that might hire you and/or refer you”), the majority of mine fall under the 2SLGBTQIA+ umbrella. While it’s never previously been a highlight of my main professional life, I have always been out in my side-gig life. I started as a very out polyamory advocate who used to do a lot of tv, print media, and radio long before most people were comfortable identifying publicly as non-monogamous. I wrote a book on non-monogamy, led multiple workshops in sex education, hosted a queer sexy-storytelling event at a queer bookshop cafe, and founded Playground in 2011, a sexuality and gender conference that’s run 6 times with close to 450 attendees, but is on hiatus now thanks to the pandemic stealing my energy away from extra-curriculars.

At all of these various places, I was able to be my fully queer self, first as bisexual, and then as pansexual, once I began to understand the complexity of gender and my interactions with it in greater detail. In January 2020, I joined Pride Toronto as an out and proud pansexual board member, where I most recently in 2023 chaired the creation of the new 5 year strategic plan, and helped to diversify the board, by hiring more wonderful queer representatives from local Black and Indigenous communities. I’m no longer at Pride Toronto, but there and beyond, I’ve found even more community where people are unafraid to speak their personal truths and it’s been nothing short of inspirational. I know other Queer Realtors, who I wouldn’t hesitate to refer out to, and am constantly looking for queer suppliers to help my homeowners feel as comfortable as possible when getting their housing needs met.

Still, with all this queerness in my life, I didn’t initially think that my personal queer identity would become such an important part of my Realtor identity. I knew I was likely going to have a lot of queer clients simply based on the gigantic network I’ve created for myself over the years, but I didn’t think about how much my own queerness (or neurodivergence) would matter. It’s never been at the forefront of my past employment experiences because I was simply there to do a job for a company vs. now where a big part of this job focuses on who I am as a person, as a whole. And, despite what a lot of my fellow Realtors will tell you not to do, being out and loud about my politics is who I am publicly, which means it’s going to become who I am professionally. I’m also very out about living in a chronically ill body, which means that, while I do work “full-time”, my full-time may look different than yours. Instead of having 20 clients on the go, I might just have 10, and that’s plenty for me. Hiding these parts of me, just to get the sale, goes against everything I am.

There are over 70,000 Realtors in the Greater Toronto Area. Many of them are sadly not successful, especially after recent slow markets, and I don’t want to become another depressing statistic. I’ve learned that who I am at my core is absolutely everything in this business; I cannot become just a number. Anyone can do some quick research and tell you about the current state of the market or offer you a free pricing evaluation of your home. It’s not unique to send clients the latest MLS listings or to send them information about sales month-over-month. Honestly, any Realtor with access to the internet can do these things. But a queer neurodivergent Realtor? Well, my brain and heart both work and think differently than the norm, similar to the brains and hearts of the majority of my clients.

My autistic side notices the smells in the neighbourhood, or the sounds coming from the neighbours backyard. My ADHD picks up on things like extra storage space that I know you’re going to need for those hobbies you’ve started, but never finished, (but will definitely come back to in a year or 5, I believe in you!). And my queerness knows to let you know that legal names are a requirement on paperwork, but your preferred name is what I’ll always call you. Your pronouns? One of the first things I’ll ask about if you haven’t told me them already. I won’t even blink if you tell me that the basement is going to be turned into a sexy play space, or if you’re dating my three last clients who all happen to live on very close streets in the east end. (Based on a true-ish story). And that walk-in closet? I know it could be a theirs and theirs situation where everyone (or no one!) needs to hang up their long dresses.

Most importantly, we can have an honest conversation about the neighbourhoods that you’re looking at moving to. We’re lucky in Toronto that, for the most part, being queer is widely accepted, though sometimes I think that it’s more appropriate to say that being anti-queer is less accepted. That doesn’t mean every street is as friendly as the next though, and it’s important to me to be able to help my clients move somewhere where they feel like they are part of a community and can feel both physically, and emotionally safe.

Over the years I’ve noticed that so many of them either identify somewhere on the 2SLGBTQIA+ rainbow themselves or they’ve been referred to me by people who do. At first I thought that it was because I’m well known and have a large sphere of influence, but it’s more than that. As referrals kept coming in I noticed that many of them come from places like the Homes For Queers (Toronto) group on Facebook and finally it hit me. Queer people inherently trust other queer people more. When you come from a marginalized group, there’s a greater requirement of safety with any professional service provider you work with. Some blazer wearing centrist named Karen who blinks furiously when you tell her that you want a home for your polycule or that you use they/them pronouns, well, she’s likely not going to get it. And queer people already experience so many people in their lives who just don’t get it.

It is extremely important to me that my clients feel comfortable sharing who they are with me when we work together. My best work is done when I have a strong understanding of their housing wants, needs, and desires, outside of just the finances. Finding a new place to live and/or saying goodbye to a space can be a very emotional experience. The pandemic and the rising cost of living since lockdown has made it more clear than ever before that our homes are our sanctuaries; they’re the spaces where we get to be the most “us”. Being a part of a journey to find that space is honestly an honour and I take the responsibility seriously.

I strive to create a safe(r) environment where my trans clients understand the reasons I may require their dead names, if they haven’t legally changed them yet. I work hard to be a bridge between my clients and other people involved in the deal when it comes to making sure everyone is using their correct pronouns. I’ve worked with polyamorous clients who require less traditional space requirements, something I understand as I have lived in a home with two partners previously. I’ve worked with sex workers who can often have a much harder time securing housing, and queer families who just want to live in an area where their kids can make friends with other kids who will understand them.

Who my clients are and how they identify, should they be comfortable enough sharing, is extremely important to me. Without understanding at least a small portion of who they are, how can I help them with what is certainly going to be one of the biggest decisions in their lives? And if someone doesn’t want to share, that’s also ok. The whole point is about creating the space to be, or not to be … that is the answer actually.

While I’m unable to take on every client due to budget and time restraints, I’m especially proud of the work I do in the rental market in Toronto, an area a lot of Realtors try to grow out of once they get enough cashflow from home sales. *Studies suggest that Canadian LGBTQ+ youth are over-represented in poverty statistics, with Between 25 and 40 per cent of homeless youth identifying as LGBTQ+. This is due to rejection from family members during the coming out process. (*source: The Homeless Hub). From a strictly business perspective, rental clients can eventually become buyer clients, or refer me to potential buyers and sellers that they know. (I’m actually actively looking to work with a new Realtor at my brokerage who shares my values that housing is a human right, someone who can help the many queer clients I get inquiries from throughout the year. Please reach out if you know a new agent looking for a new brokerage to call home!)

Rental clients in Toronto where I work always need the help. So many landlords and listing agents try and pull illegal crap in lease agreements and tenants need someone on their side long before things end up going to the Landlord and Tenant Board. That goes double for queer tenants who already face an extra layer of discrimination finding housing, and even more so for racialized queer folks. It may be a lot of work to handle rental transactions, hence why I need some help, but I believe that it all works out eventually. A quick and easy house sale can make up for a longer than usual rental search. While the financial rewards may greatly vary, one is no less valuable to me than the other. A client is a client, and everyone deserves a home they feel safe in.

One of my goals in the next year is to become an accredited member of the Canadian Queer Chamber of Commerce. They have a rigorous screening process and only have approximately 500 accredited members in all of Canada right now. I want to be a part of helping to spread the word about simply inclusive and intersectional policies that myself and other Realtors can adopt in our work to make all clients feel included.

If I was straight I would still make it a priority to create a welcoming and safe professional relationship space for my clients. Being direct and empathetic are two of my greatest strengths as a Realtor, so I’ve been told by my clients! And as I’ve thought over the years about who I want to be in my professional life, since becoming a Realtor in 2019, I’ve realized that my queerness and neurodivergence are actually personal strengths. Simply by being out I can hopefully help people feel more comfortable during what is, let’s be honest, an incredibly stressful time. Whether buying, selling, or renting, people deserve to be seen, to be listened to, and to be appreciated for who they are.

I see you. And I’m honoured to be your local Toronto **Queerltor.

(**Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s such a good bad pun.)