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On Isolation, Queerness, and Family

Writer's picture: MegMeg

I have never been great at having authentic conversations with my family about queerness.  I grudgingly came out to my parents as bi when I was 17 in a family therapy session and I instructed my mother to just tell everyone else in the family.  I never heard how anyone reacted but by the time I next saw anyone it was just understood. No one said anything negative, not even people I’d assumed were at least a little homophobic. Probably no one was surprised. No one is or was ever surprised by my sexuality. 


As I’ve aged I’ve gotten to a point where it feels at least normal to reference women I date as much as men I date when talking to family, but I’ve certainly never explored my feelings about my sexuality with any family member, even those to whom I feel quite close.


With gender it’s been different. Sort of.  Perhaps because I am still in a space where I feel like I’m figuring things out, I am much more comfortable and willing to discuss my gender and my gender journey with family, though mostly it hasn’t come up.  I told two of my cousins about my pronouns by text before seeing them at a cousins weekend and I wore my she/they pin to the internment of my grandmother’s ashes. My cousins sent supportive replies and no one commented on the pin at the internment. I’m not sure if anyone noticed the pin or even registered that there was a shift from my she/her days to my she/they present. Hell, I’m not sure if everyone who saw me wear the pin even understands what she/they means.


I feel like I’m willing to talk about it, that I’d even like to talk about it but I don’t know how to start the conversation and I don’t think that any of them would feel comfortable starting it.  It’s been so many years of me feeling too awkward to discuss sexuality that it feels like gender was off the table before I even realized there was something to put on the table. After I posted my blog post about pronouns I sent the link to my immediate family and asked them to read it. I know some of my extended family read it because of comments they left on Facebook. We continue to generally not discuss it. Part of me wants to, I just don’t know how.


I have always felt different than the rest of my family, especially in the context of my extended family. I am queer and genderqueer and perpetually single and childless. I recently moved from MA to NC because of a desire for closer friendships when most moves for folks my age are familial or romantic. I sometimes feel like everyone in my family is working on a set of milestones on their heterosexual life paths and I am meandering in a field off to the side with a different set of priorities and values.


This makes family time complicated. It means that every time there is a joyous celebration I feel a little twist in my stomach because I’m unlikely to have a celebration like that. Every baby or wedding reminds me of a life I don’t live and won’t live. Even things like marriage, which are technically accessible to me, come with larger societal complications than a heterosexual marriage would.


There is a part of me that still mourns the kind of life I could have had if I were cis and straight. I love my queerness and wouldn’t trade it for anything but I have moments where I am sad that my life looks so different than the one I thought I would lead before I figured myself out. It’s normal to mourn that life. It’s normal to feel a pang of sadness when other people experience the social, interpersonal, and political benefits of those life milestones. And it’s normal to feel kind of crappy when you have a pang of sadness when other people experience joy.


As queer people we often feel like outsiders even when we are loved and accepted by our families. Life is different for many queer people than their cis and straight family members.  Certainly there is variation in the queer community and some people’s life paths more closely resemble the traditional milestones of the heterosexual majority, but there is often still some isolation as a queer family member in a majority heterosexual and cisgender family.


We are coming into the holiday season and, for many of us, family gatherings highlight our sense of isolation. Sitting at the table and eating turkey while you all catch up is often a reminder that your life does not look like your family's life. Whether or not you feel comfortable sharing about your life, hearing the details of your family member’s progress on the path for heterosexual life milestones can be difficult even when you are incredibly happy for them.


If you are feeling alone, I recommend that you build check-ins with the other queer people in your life into your holiday celebrations. Remember with them the benefits of authenticity and the ways that you love your life and the path that you are on.


If you feel comfortable, talk to your family about the isolation you feel. I may have never been good at talking to family about gender or sexuality directly, but I have had some fruitful conversations about isolation. Those conversations can be hard and are often quite scary but they can pay off beautifully.  


Not everyone has a family situation where it is safe to have a conversation like that, be sure to gauge your physical and emotional safety before you embark on a vulnerable conversation.


I love my family ferociously and I get along with them quite well. That doesn’t mean it is always easy. It’s okay if it is sometimes hard. It’s okay if you don’t feel like you quite fit. It’s not any fun but it is very normal. Stay in touch with queer friends and chosen family  about what you are going through. It’s worth it.

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