So here we are again – November rolling around like that friend who always shows up uninvited but somehow makes everything more interesting. Thanksgiving is coming, and if you’re queer like me, you might be feeling that familiar mix of excitement and absolute dread that comes with this particular holiday.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after my cousin texted me last week asking if I’m “still doing that whole gay thing.” Gotta love family dynamics, am I right? (Just kidding – I promised myself I wouldn’t use that phrase anymore.)
The Great Thanksgiving Dilemma
Look, I love turkey as much as the next person. The smell of stuffing makes my heart happy, and don’t even get me started on pie season. But Thanksgiving can feel like walking through a minefield when you’re part of the LGBTQ+ community. You’re sitting there, passing the cranberry sauce, while Uncle Bob launches into his latest political rant, and you’re wondering if you should speak up or just focus really hard on your mashed potatoes.
I remember my first Thanksgiving before coming out. I was 22, nervous as hell, and had spent weeks rehearsing conversations in my head. And I decided to bring my boyfriend along. Most people were cool about it – handshakes, polite conversation, the usual family stuff. Nobody batted an eyebrow.
Until my Aunt Ellen answered the phone in the middle of dinner prep. Clear as day, I heard her tell whoever was on the other end: “Oh, Roger just arrived with his boyfriend.” Just like that. Matter-of-fact, like she was announcing the weather. I froze for a second, waiting for… I don’t know what I was waiting for. Drama? Awkwardness? Instead, she just kept chatting about who was bringing what side dish.
The weird part? Most people just… moved on after that too. Nobody said a word. Sure, there were some curious glances and a few people clearly trying to figure out the dynamics, but the world didn’t end. Aunt Ellen still asked for my famous green bean recipe, and my little nephew still wanted me to play video games with him after dinner.
Creating Your Own Traditions
Here’s what I’ve learned over the years: sometimes you have to get creative with how you celebrate. My chosen family – you know, the people who actually get me – started doing “Friendsgiving” about five years ago. We rotate hosting duties, everyone brings something ridiculous (last year my friend made a casserole that was just mac and cheese with hot dogs on top), and we spend the day being genuinely grateful for each other.
There’s something magical about sitting around a table with people who love you exactly as you are. No questions about when you’re getting married to someone of the “right” gender. No awkward comments about your haircut or clothing choices. Just pure, uncomplicated love and way too much food.
The Art of Surviving Family Gatherings
But maybe you’re going home this year. Maybe you want to see your family, despite everything. I get that too. Blood family can be complicated, but they’re still your people – even when they’re being absolute disasters about your identity.
Some survival tips I’ve picked up:
Bring a buffer friend if possible. Someone who can change the subject when conversations get weird or just be there for moral support. My friend Alex has perfected the art of asking about someone’s job right when things get tense.
Have an exit strategy. Seriously. Know how you’re getting out if things go sideways. Maybe that’s your own car, maybe it’s a friend on standby, maybe it’s just a really good excuse about having to leave early.
Practice some responses ahead of time. You don’t have to engage with every ignorant comment, but having a few calm responses ready can help you feel more confident.
And here’s maybe the most important thing I’ve learned: when dealing with that one nutjob MAGA relative who just won’t quit, ignore them. Let their comments roll right off of you like water off a duck’s back. I’ve spent years trying to reason with my uncle’s conspiracy theories and hateful rants, and you know what I’ve learned? There’s no sense arguing with someone who’s completely dug into their position and will never see your point of view. Pick your battles, my friends. No sense creating an emotional explosion during a family holiday gathering. Save your energy for people who might actually listen.
Finding Gratitude in Unexpected Places
You know what though? Even the messiest family gatherings have taught me something valuable. They’ve shown me how much I’ve grown, how comfortable I’ve become with who I am, and how much stronger I am than I thought.
Years ago, when my mother made that sarcastic comment about “lifestyle choices,” I would have crumbled. This year? I just wish I would have said, “Ma, being gay isn’t a lifestyle choice – having seven cats is a lifestyle choice.”
The Beautiful Mess of It All
Thanksgiving as a queer person is complicated. Sometimes it’s beautiful, sometimes it’s a complete disaster, and most of the time it’s both. But here’s what I’m grateful for this year: I’m grateful for every awkward conversation that’s made me stronger, every chosen family member who’s shown me what unconditional love looks like, and every small moment of acceptance I’ve witnessed.
Whether you’re spending the day with blood family, chosen family, or just you and your cat (valid choice, by the way), remember that you belong at whatever table you choose to sit at.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends. You’re loved, you’re valued, and you deserve all the pie.
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