The In-between: A Home for the Holidays

By Lorien Hunter

November 21, 2018

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Photo credit: rawpixel.com

I was probably in high school when I started celebrating the holidays with other people’s families. As I have previously described, my home life back then was rather difficult, which made the prospect of spending a bunch of extra alone with my family decidedly unappealing. Luckily, I usually had at least one close friend whose family was aware of my situation, and they would always graciously invite me to spend the holiday with them.

For those who have ever spent a holiday with someone else’s family, you are probably already familiar with the strange sort of in-betweenness that one often experiences. You get dressed up in whatever you think is the appropriate level of fanciness for that particular family, and then smile and make polite conversation with the various relatives and other strangers who are also there that day. At the meal, you eat whatever is put in front of you, and bear witness to (and sometimes even partake in) the unique set of holiday traditions that are observed. If it’s Christmas (or some other gift-giving holiday), you may even get that random $25 gift of lotion or a candle when they open presents, which is a super sweet gesture that basically says, “We don’t really know you that well, but want you to feel included.”

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Of course, you rarely ever do. No matter how hard everyone might try, you cannot quite escape the recognition that this is not, in fact, your family. Instead, you remain at the outskirts of the celebration; a friendly interloper; an observer and appreciator of festivities that do not belong to you.

In my case, at least growing up, this was always a somewhat bittersweet realization. On the one hand, it meant that I could relax and enjoy myself un-harassed for a few hours, but on the other hand, it made me feel out of place and alone. The food was different, the traditions were unfamiliar, and there was always this unshakable feeling of separation that hinged on the knowledge that these were the very same practices that made everyone else around me feel certain they belonged. There is a captivating sort of melancholy in witnessing these holiday family traditions, knowing that the warmth and acceptance I experienced there was only on loan to me, and that in just a few short hours or days, I would inevitably have to leave it and return home.

During my mid-20s, I started occasionally traveling to the San Francisco Bay Area to celebrate the holidays with my aunts and grandfather. At first, this felt like just another adventure into the holiday practices of other families, because even though they actually were my family, their traditions were not a part of my experiences growing up. In large part, this was due to both the physical and emotional distances between California and Wisconsin, all of which were compounded by my father’s own complicated relationship with his father.

Over time, however, my feelings of separation began to subside; particularly since moving in with my grandfather to help care for him in 2014 (you can read more about those experiences here). In the last few years, I have gradually begun to find a sense of belonging with my California family. We celebrate each other’s birthdays, gather for major and minor holidays, and enjoy a wide variety of meals together. The traditions from my aunts’ own childhoods have begun to merge with the new traditions that we have created together.

At the same time, I have also begun to foster a new set of holiday traditions with my little brother. Starting about ten years ago, we began to meet up and spend Christmas with one of our divorced parents. This eventually developed into the institution of a “Siblings Thanksgiving”, where we basically get together at his place in Texas and drink a shitload of sparkling wine in our pajamas while I watch him and/or his friends play video games. Occasionally, one of our parents even comes along for the ride, which has been its own intriguing thing to watch, as our old family holiday dynamics morph into a healthier and happier 2.0 version.

This year, however, due to some scheduling issues, my brother and I won’t be able to celebrate our Sibling’s Thanksgiving together. At first, my plan was to join my California family instead, however, my grandfather’s needs have increased significantly, such that, if I’m being completely honest, my staying home would entail a whole bunch of extra caregiving duties. I also toyed with the idea of going back to Wisconsin to be with one or both of my parents, but the plane tickets were exorbitant and I couldn’t bring myself to spend that much money for a few days of freezing my ass off in the cold.

Instead, I have decided to once again pack my bags, jump in my car, and head off on another holiday adventure. Shortly after making this decision, I realized just how long it had been since I’d undertaken this type of journey, and how central a practice it has been in my life. My experiences as an outsider to other people’s family events were my first real holiday tradition.

I felt compelled to share all of this because I realize that I’m not alone. Although family acceptance among queer folks is better than it used to be, far too many still experience some form of family separation. Of course, many queer (and non-queer) people have family tensions rooted in other issues as well. Whatever the reason, I know that this Thanksgiving there will be many folks out there like myself who are participating in a different sort of family gathering, whether it be someone else’s family, or one that they have built with friends and partners on their own.

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For me, I have only recently come to realize that through my frequent practice of participating in other people’s family gatherings, I have also inadvertently been building an alternative extended family network. When confronted with the impossibility of Siblings Thanksgiving 2018, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities. During my teenage years I found these alternatives to be sad and lonely; as an adult I have now come to appreciate them as the beautifully enriching opportunities that they are.

Perhaps it is just the sociologist in me who finds delight in the endless diversity of the human experience. Or maybe it’s a sign of my growing comfort with my life in the in-between. Or perhaps it’s simply the product of getting older and having had more time to nurture deep and meaningful connections. Whatever the reason, this Thanksgiving, as I look around, I am most grateful for the incredible network of people that surround me, both those with whom I share DNA, and those with whom my sense of family has been cultivated in other ways.

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