Chosen families are a necessity for the queer community. So many of us have waited years to find others who share our experiences, our pain, our love. Growing up was living life in whispers, afraid to scream out about who you really are. Living isolated, often in small towns with no other queer people to relate to. Moving away and finding other queer people, creating a community where you are finally understood is a defining moment for a queer person. For me, though, I was lucky. I never lived the life of “the only gay person” in town, because I had multiple family members, my own blood relatives, who experienced the same things.
Queer sibling relationships haven’t really been studied and understood. Some suggest that queer people are more likely to have queer siblings, whether it’s because it creates a safe environment to come out, or because of some gay “gene” passed along the family. For me, it was just a fact of life.
A family member came out to our family when I was still really young – before I knew the struggles coming out came along with, before I understood the way homophobia even worked. Shortly after, another close family member came out to me. I didn’t understand the terms they used, what gay or trans even meant, just that the love for my family was unconditional so none of it could really matter.
The queer people in my family laid the groundwork for me in my own journey of self discovery. I realized that I could come out easily to my family, knowing the support I would be receiving. I wasn’t stuck in a heternormative world. To me, queerness was the norm, but as I grew older, I began to understand the pain that came along with their self expression. I watched how their peers turned on them, how queerness became something that was criticized. I started to realize my own peers began to do the same. Growing up in a small conservative school, I watched queerness become a running joke at best and a sin at worst. Somehow becoming more prominent a conversation the older I got, breaking apart the world I thought of as a child. The queer fantasy land where all of us protected each other and it was something completely normal, not even noteworthy. Around this time, I began to associate coming out with fear. Fear that I would be treated the same way my family was. We went to the same schools and lived in the same community, so it made me think that treatment would be inevitable for me as well.
What really inspired me was their strength: the confidence to live as themselves, despite the onslaught of hate they had to face. They were strictly themselves. It made it easier for me to work up the strength to come out, without fear. I knew with them behind me for support, I could face anything. By the time I really started to understand my sexuality, I think the world had begun to change its mind. I am so thankful I didn’t have to face the same experiences they did, and I hold onto them for strength in times where I feel the world’s attitude shifting backwards.
Everyday I am grateful for growing up alongside those who understood my struggles, my self-doubts, my fears, in my own home. Now more than ever, we need to be standing alongside and deepening our relationships with other queer people. Staying together is the only thing that protects us when the queer community is being threatened everyday.