The Queer Meaning of Home
The concept of home can have a thousand different meanings depending on whom you might ask. When asked about “home,” some folks might talk about their childhood or family house they grew up in, where they might be originally from, or their close connections with their loved ones or a significant other. For a lot of people, though, including myself, the idea of home is not thought of in the most traditional sense, especially for a large percentage of people who identify as queer or a part of the LGBTQ+ community.
I still remember the first time I finally thought to myself, “This feels like home.”
I grew up in Dallas, Texas, in an unshockingly conservative, Christian household. My relationship with my parents and family was something that was less than pleasant, and that still holds some truth to this day. Navigating family dynamics, especially when you differ in opinions or beliefs, can be really challenging. Now throw in mental health concerns and abusive family members, and you have yourself a real nasty concoction. Navigating that is something I still am trying to figure out while holding love for the people in my life I don’t always agree with, while also figuring out the boundaries that coincide with that.
When I was younger, in school and an unruly teenager, I was not okay. I didn’t understand myself; I didn’t understand the world and those around me living in it. Sometimes I still don’t. But more importantly, I didn’t have a support group or a sense of safety in my home. The people who were supposed to love me unconditionally didn’t, or at least their way of showing it was rotten and made me think that instead. So I began to hate the world, and, more importantly, myself. I was jealous of the people around me who were close with their parents or siblings, who loved being at home and spending time with one another. All I wanted to do was leave, to get out and make my own home since I didn’t ever feel safe in the family home I grew up in.
Navigating anxiety and depression when you’re 15 years old is already challenging enough in itself, but starting to question your sexuality at that age, in a home where you know you won’t be accepted, is a very real and scary thing. I started to understand that I might not be quite so cookie-cutter by the end of high school, and officially came out to myself and my friends by the time I had reached college. College was life-changing for me. For the first time, I had a sense of freedom. I was meeting new people, some who thought like me, people who saw me for me. And in my college experience, amidst learning about myself and embracing who I was, I found my first “home.”
By a series of unfortunate events which coincided with yet another unhealthy living situation, I found myself at the beginning of COVID needing to move out of the place I was staying immediately. I no longer felt safe, and I was miserable. I had lived alone prior to that which was also not great for my mentality, and I lived in a dorm ever before that, which … you know.
So I found myself needing a new place to live. And at that time I got really lucky; a room had opened up in the cutest little house close to my college campus. The girls who were living there were also in need of a new roommate due to similar circumstances to my own. Now, by this point, I was a little desperate. Everything was in lockdown, and I needed to find a place to stay for me and my cat Beepo.
When I heard about this opportunity, I knew of the girls living in that home but did not know them super well. Something in that moment told me, “Yeah, okay, I think this could work.” It ended up being the best decision ever. Living in that house, I got to connect with these girls who ended up being some of my closest friends and still are to this day. They listened to me and encouraged me to open up about some of the nasty experiences I had endured; they loved me for who I was no matter what I thought or who I liked, and, most importantly, we supported one another and helped each other grow.
That sense of community, that chosen family, if you will, is something I will never forget. Sometimes our blood family is straight-up not healthy for us. But finding the people who want to grow with you, who love you unconditionally, the people you choose to have in your life as “family,” to me, at least, was worth all the hardships. Not only did I finally feel safe, I finally felt like I had a home. I enjoyed all the little things about girlhood and family that I didn’t get to have prior. And that experience of living with those two people really shaped me into who I am now.
But the story doesn’t end there. Eventually, I had to leave my safe home and seek out another. I could no longer stay in the place where I had been born, no longer could learn anything from the environment around me. So I decided to move to Colorado. I was feeling called, and felt that I would learn more about myself and the world around me then I ever could if I stayed where I was. That was probably one of the hardest things I had to do, leave that “home” and start over in a brand-new state, with brand-new people. But in doing so, I have found the best sense of home I could have ever hoped for and imagined.
“My home is the people I choose to surround myself with. The people who lift me up, support me, call me out when needed, who grow with me. My chosen family reminds me every day that I am accepted for who I am. They have helped me understand more of myself and my identity than I ever could. They accept me for my queerness and embrace it with me. They validate me in ways I never was and teach me how to view things differently or navigate a truly challenging yet beautiful world.”
Living in Denver has been much better for my soul, for my inner child that needs attention and is healing. Being surrounded by people who see me, who hear me, is all I ever wanted and could have asked for. Does that make it perfect? Not by any means. All of the hard stuff is still there; I am still healing like many others from trauma and working on staying true to the boundaries I place while navigating the love and family dynamics that still exist. The only difference is now, I don’t feel so alone.
Some of you might completely resonate with the experiences I have shared, and maybe some of you are still on that journey of discovering who you are and who your chosen family is. For a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community, the trauma and experiences we have faced by our blood family or people who we considered friends can be really devastating, and crushing. But by surrounding yourself with the people who see you for you and love you for who you are, I truly believe we can begin those healing practices for ourselves.
It is by no means easy, and I recognize that everyone is having a different human experience, but when you do find those people? Hold on to them because those are the people who will have your back. That, in my humble opinion, is what home truly is.
