Hi! I'm Quinn,
I am a very proud lesbian and owner/designer of Queen On The Scene Shop.
Thank you for shopping my pride and joy!
I've created dope pins and gear that can be worn with PRIDE!
I hope you absolutely love them! After all, they were created for YOU!
I started Queen On The Scene in 2017 after I attended Minneapolis Pride Festival (TC Pride) and had a horrible experience with a vendor there.
I was PUMPED to find some rainbow gear (after all it’s pride right...who doesn’t want to be a glitter bomb)!
I found the coolest pair of rainbow net hand accessories (like the one’s Madonna rocked in the 80’s) and I was PUMPED!
As I checked out, I asked the person working if they were local and they promptly said ‘no.’ I said I liked their shop and the person working said, ‘thanks - pride festivals are good money makers for me.’ I couldn’t believe what I just heard!
I should have stopped there, but I asked if their partner helped them run it (b/c it looks like a LOT of work and setup). They responded with a snarl, ‘we’re not gay.’
My heart sank. I left the booth feeling like I had been tricked. While I respect the fact that people can do business wherever and for whomever, I wanted better options for our beloved LGBT community.
That’s when I decided to start ‘Queen On The Scene’ around 3 values:
- Take pride knowing we are helping others express their pride.
- Create with integrity using quality materials.
- Be the reason for someone's smile today.
We create 100% custom, authentic pins and gear for LGBT by LGBT. Pride for us happens year round, not just during the month of June.
We also are obsessed with giving back. All purchases help us to offer custom pins (free or at cost) to our community individuals and LGBT-non profit organizations seeking fundraising opportunities.
Thank you for supporting this crazy amazing dream with me!
I believe that what we choose to put on our bodies is PERSONAL. What we wear speaks volumes—even before we open our mouths.
I’ve always loved pins. I remember seeing my first pin and was totally struck by how such a small thing could carry such a mighty message.
I grew up in a small town in South Dakota, where cows outnumber humans nearly 5 to 1. From a super-early age, I loved being creative. I remember drawing, writing, painting. I was obsessed with music and danced to the Beach Boys in the basement. I have a huge family. Like, huge. I was raised religious and consider myself in recovery. As a kid, I knew I was different. I remember feeling as if I was in the middle of the road, hoping to avoid the cars zooming past. I was trying to walk a straight line.
I identify as a late-to-the-party lesbian. When I came out at age 28, I saw the life I’d tried to duct-tape together bursting at the seams. It truly was the best/worst/happiest time in my life. But it was a struggle. I’d let myself doubt who I was inside. I kept asking questions like, “Am I ‘gay enough’ to come out?’ and even, ‘How gay am I?’ ” I kept putting one foot in front of the other and started walking.
Walking eventually turned to running. In 2017, I bought rainbow gear at a large pride festival. While chatting up the owner, I learned this vendor was not LGBT-owned. In fact, the owner was there simply to make a profit and had no intention of giving back. I was effing pissed. I hate feeling “supported” by non-LGBT community members only when it benefits them. It was the spark I needed to create Queen On The Scene.
It all started with one pin design and $120. My first pin was the ‘Take it Up With My Middle Finger’ pin and it’s been a consistent bestseller at every event!
A year later, I was back at a pride festival—this time, for my first as a vendor. I was too short to set up my tent by myself, and I threw a pair of twin-size black bed sheets over two, six-foot-long tables. I’d spent all my money on pins and a single logo sign that kept blowing away. My card reader stopped working.
Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. And I’d never felt so alive in my adult gay life.
People shared their coming-out stories, discussed their struggles, and even gave a few hugs—all gathered around a table of pins. I had found my fire.
At the end of the festival, I packed up, got in my car, and ugly-cried. I knew I’d just taken a huge step toward my life purpose: helping our LGBTQIA+ community members find their fierce.
It just so happens that my fierce takes the shape of an enamel pin! :)