While 10 countries consider “same-sex sexual relations” crimes punishable by death, nine American states criminalize L.G.B.T.Q. people and their behavior in some way. Last year North Carolina became infamous for its “bathroom bill,” the now-repealed House Bill 2, which prohibited people from using the restroom of their choice based on their gender identity. (Per a new bill, cities and counties in North Carolina are prohibited from making their own anti-discrimination ordinances until 2020.)

In the face of hate crimes and anti-L.G.B.T.Q. laws, travelers are often the most vulnerable: If you’re unaware of a state’s laws or unfamiliar with your surroundings, it’s easy to fall into dangerous situations.

In response, organizations have begun to issue state-level travel advisories: After a rash of hate crimes in Missouri, the N.A.A.C.P. issued its first statewide warning for women, minorities and L.G.B.T.Q. people, urging them to use “extreme caution” when visiting the state. In July, California’s attorney general stopped state-funded travel to Kentucky, Texas, Alabama and South Dakota, responding to anti-L.G.B.T.Q. laws in those states.

Travel advisories and bans may seem like strong measures, but they don’t really protect L.G.B.T.Q. people traveling to or through those states. They’re just a way for politicians and policymakers to look as though they’re doing something, slapping states on the wrist with a pullback on economic incentives. Moves like that weren’t going to help Lara and me on that dark North Carolina highway.

Even if L.G.B.T.Q. people survive their incidents, scars are left from the words and actions of their harassers. This year, a man named Joseph Benjamin was driving back from Huntersville, N.C., when a car pulled up next to him. Mr. Benjamin had displayed a rainbow sticker, a symbol of the L.G.B.T.Q. pride flag, on his car for a year and never had a problem. A woman in the passenger seat and the man driving the car put out their wrists and let them go limp, the chiding, stereotypical gesture for a gay man. “It just kind of reminded me of being bullied,” he told me, adding that those two probably felt empowered because of the current social climate.

Because such incidents often involve interstate travel, there is a role for the federal government to play, as well as state and local authorities. But given the current administration and the dominance of many state governments by politicians opposed to L.G.B.T.Q. rights, for now the responsibility falls on us, the community, to protect ourselves.

For example, we need travelers’ guides that provide information on a county-by-county level about what travelers may encounter while they’re driving in these areas. The government already does this, in a way: The State Department provides international L.G.B.T.Q. travel information for those looking to go abroad. It is a sad reality that we need the same sort of guide here in the United States.

The day may come when Lara and I — and countless other L.G.B.T.Q. people — can enjoy safe travel across the United States. But until then, the only people who are going to save us is ourselves.