What it Means to be a Safe Space

“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

― Maya Angelou, All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes

Can we protect you from ticks, tripping on a branch, a sunburn, or water-logged tent?

Nope.

Can we offer you a space where you feel safe to learn basic wilderness skills, come as you are, and feel like you belong?

Totally.

The Issue

A safe space refers to the culture and community that Ray of Sunshine Camping & Glamping is building.

We can’t promise that nothing scary, painful, or bad will happen to you, but honestly, life can’t guarantee that either.

We will do our best to market to the right crowd– to the people who understand that everyone deserves a space to be in nature without the fear of being harmed or harassed.

We exist in a world where rural areas are scary for marginalized groups, where solo travel as a woman is considered brave, and where people think safe spaces don’t need to exist.

We exist in a world where the hairs rise on the back of your neck; you get that sinking feeling in your gut, knowing you’re not alone anymore.

You scan your surroundings for how you can escape, what you can hide behind without being seen, and you wonder how much they’ve already seen without you knowing.

You bring two chairs, buy masculine-coded gear, and always sleep with an exit plan including a carabiner to hold your tent zippers together.

You tell yourself that the other hiker, also miles into the wilderness, doesn’t have you on their radar. You look behind you to make sure they don’t.

You curse yourself for forgetting to put the knife from your car door into your tent or backpack.

You lock your doors quickly and don’t linger in a parking lot for too long before driving off.

You and your partner agree to not hold hands because some bumper stickers looked sketchy parked out front of the gas station you’re going into.

You hope the person pulling over to help your broken-down car has kind intent.

You never tell anyone you’re alone, and you have your backstory ready.

Personally, I’ve had my own scary encounters. 

• On my first solo camping trip I went to West Virgina, had the whole space to myself, and then after nightfall, I heard two men set up their camp right next to my tent. They turned out to be okay, and they felt bad once they realized how much they scared me. But like broskis??? Why not pick a spot without a tent already set up.
  

• I was solo camping in Arizona on a fire road, tucked into a dispersed camping spot. Around 2 in the morning a spotlight woke me up. I tucked my head under my pillow, waited until the light went away, and watched as the truck was looping up and down the road. I got into my driver’s seat, and drove away as fast as I could. I would’ve written it off as someone on patrol, but they caught up to my car and began following me as I was driving out. I got far enough ahead of them that I parked in a wash, turned my lights off, and they drove by me. I went to a nearby state park and hid at their campground until daybreak.
  

• I was watching the sunset at an Arizona STATE PARK, not even alone in the wilderness, and some creepy older man walked up to me, asked if I was camping alone, and invited me to his trailer for beers with a bunch of his buddies. I’ll pass, thanks.

And all of that is f*cked up.

If you resonate with any of the above, it doesn’t make you weak or paranoid or helpless or a victim. It shows that you’re responding to a world that is not historically safe.

What We’re Doing About It

We can’t fix the whole world. But we can build our corner of it with care, intention, and accountability. At Ray of Sunshine Camping & Glamping, safe spaces are sacred.

When you book a stay here, you’re not just reserving a tent pad or a cabin.

You’re agreeing to uphold a shared ethic:

• Everyone gets to feel safe here.

• Everyone gets to belong here.

• Everyone gets to exist here without making themselves smaller.
  

If that’s something you believe in, you’re our people.

If that’s something you’re still learning, we’ll welcome you as long as you’re willing to grow.

If that sounds “too sensitive” or “too political,” this probably isn’t your spot—and that’s okay.

Creating a safe space means:

• We believe people when they share their lived experiences.

• We don’t tolerate harassment, violence, intimidation, or “just joking” language that harms.

• We don’t question why someone needs a place to breathe easier. We simply make sure we’re creating one.

• We treat consent, privacy, and personal boundaries as non-negotiable.

• We keep learning, listening, and improving. Always.
  

Creating a safe space isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being responsible and responsive.

We’re not just building a rural getaway. We’re building a culture where people who are usually on guard can finally exhale.

Where someone who’s used to scanning for exits can slow down enough to notice the birdsong.

Where the queer couple can hold hands at the campfire without unwelcome glares.

Where the solo traveler doesn’t have to hide why they chose to come alone.

Where the solo parent feels comfortable to travel with their children.

Where the person who never feels like “the outdoors is for them” finally feels like it is.

We’re not asking you to show up fearless. We’re just asking you to show up as you are.

Let the woods be a place where you don’t have to brace for impact.

Let the fire crackle without an exit strategy in the back of your mind.

Let yourself be held by a community that cares. This is a safe space not because it looks good on paper, but because safety is love in action.

You deserve that. We all do.

Reserve your safe space today. Check out our events and offerings.

We’d love to have you here.