Illustration by @Skinsells

This piece is written in collaboration with the Gender and Sexuality Club at University of Saint Joseph following a solidarity group discussion that brought together members of the student club as well as members of The A Project. Solidarity group gatherings aim to facilitate the unpacking and venting of complex realities, and in this specific gathering queer and trans* participants joined in sharing thoughts and feelings around navigating home spaces and family dynamics, especially during Covid19 lockdowns. Keeping with the anonymity and privacy of the solidarity group members, we issue this piece to publicize the solidarity group’s most discussed points and realizations, in the hopes that they lessen the feeling of isolation in others who share similar experiences and struggles. 

Here are some of the thoughts discussed …

----

Are we part of a community?

To better understand how it is that we belong to a community, we must understand that while the word “community” does indeed bring people together by commonality of an experience or characteristic/s, that this least common denominator (however grand and significant to an individual) is really just that. We must not fall into erasing the diversities and non-commonalities of people within a community just to affirm the validity of what ties them together. Characterizing a group in a single way undermines the complexity of peoples’ experiences and neglects the needs and struggles that are not reflected in the basis of their “membership” in said community. This dilutes the sense of belonging to that community which ultimately views its peers in a single lens and may dismiss the other struggles of people. Alternatively, acknowledging the differences that affect the commonality - the social, political, and economic nuances that govern our lives - helps us build stronger, more genuine, inclusive and nurturing communities. In this sense, belonging to the queer and trans* community doesn’t necessarily mean that our experiences as part of the community are unanimous, but are rather diverse and that is okay. We reject the internal pressure and judgement from a community, just  as much as we reject the external pressure of gay culture, that attempt to conform our queerness and gender expressions to fit a non-conformity mold that ought not exist.

Should we create bubbles and just live in them?

We don’t necessarily share similar perceptions of what the community means to us, while some might view community as something that adds to their already existing support systems, others may have a greater reliance on the community by perceiving it as an alternate family - a “bubble” in which the freedom of being one’s self is possible. Its unbearable to live outside of bubbles, not just for queers and gender non-conforming people, but everyone needs a space where they can breathe relief, feel heard, and not alone. Very often, before we are able to create bubbles of our own design and comfort, we shop for already created bubbles and spaces. In sexuality and gender, some bubbles might measure people’s belonging by whether they have “come-out” to family, falsely associating coming out with pride / being unashamed, bringing to question the validity of the experiences of those needing space in bubbles. This expectation reinforces the belief that the family is the most important social structure, the same structure under-which violence is often perpetrated and commonly justified against queer and trans* people. Undermining the validity of chosen families and bubbles, indirectly perpetuates the system that thrives on blood-tied families as social and economic units that reproduce its values. Therefore, reclaiming the control over whom we choose to establish trusted relationships with is in itself an act of defiance and resistance.

The idea of selective “coming-out”, living in bubbles, is also often conflated with secrecy, as opposed to privacy. Politicizing the distinction between the two, lies in the different connotations that secrecy and privacy elicit. Secrets are bad, sneaky, deceitful, whereas privacy is good, discreet, cherished, intimate. Why is it then, when people choose to be selective in the people they confide in when it comes to their sexuality, they are said to be secretive, and not private?

Good secrets vs. bad secrets. Where is the line drawn?

Being a part of a blood-tied family often requires that we learn what things can be shared outside the family and what things can’t. We are told that we must keep certain secrets because they belong to the family alone, and should not be publicized for other people’s meddling. These are the “good secrets”. In fact, our ability to keep these “good secrets” is a testament of our loyalty to our families. Why so? Because this helps uphold the appearance that the family is so well-together, no matter what the reality is behind closed doors (think domestic violence and abuse), and maintains an illusion that it is functional and healthy. Keeping up the illusion of healthy and functional families is core to maintaining the oppressive nature of the patriarchal system. What about the secrets that threaten to expose this image? These are the “bad secrets”. The difference between the “good” and the “bad” is merely a difference in what conforms to maintaining family values and structure and what does not. Family values would also define a “bad secret” as any action or feeling that a family member (except the patriarch of course) does not feel they can share with other family members; as if anything that is hidden is inherently bad. But of course that same line of thinking is not granted to hiding collective trauma and abuse experienced within the family to the outside world. Therefore, redefining how we describe and perceive “secrets” can liberate us from the shame inflicted upon us by default of our identities. It can also help us reconcile with the idea that selectively sharing or withholding parts of ourselves is really an act of privacy, choice, protection, and even survival - which sounds like a “good secret” to us.

What is really the difference between chosen/alternate and blood-tied families?

Realistically, with the absence of social and economic welfare, it's practically impossible to survive without needing to rely on the opportunities and livelihood resources that blood-tied families provide. This conversation was not about alienating blood-tied families, but about how to wrap our heads around the disbelief, disappointment, and deep emotional wound of feeling that you’ve lost family.

By virtue of the blood relations that tie us to families, we are often sold the idea that the love we share with them is unconditional, as opposed to the love we might experience with other people. This idea is challenged when we are faced with rejection by these same families that promised us unconditionality, and when we are asked to change to continue to receive their love. This is significant to our understanding of blood-tied family love, that can be used as a tool of manipulation rather than a pure form of love that transcends everything. If we remove unconditionality from the equation, we discover the possibility of love that can be  chosen and pursued in alternate families. With our capacity to choose, we also gain the flexibility to negotiate and hold those who love and hurt us accountable - which makes conditionality sound not too bad. Relationships with blood-tied families have a bigger tendency to be apologetic, and we are often forced to compromise and let things slide in return for love and to keep the peace, even when it causes us harm and pain. Alternatively, chosen families can set forth healthier dynamics, where boundaries are more easily defined and respected.

----

This solidarity group discussion comes at a time when people are urged to stay at home to ensure their safety against the spread of Covid-19. The issue with this collective narrative is that it assumes that safety is solely compromised by the spread of the virus, and that all homes are necessarily secure spaces. While the word “home” may elicit a sense of warmth to some people, it can also mean alienation and estrangement to others. We have already witnessed a dramatic global rise in the death toll of women through domestic violence in what has been coined the shadow pandemic. In keeping with the exposure of cis hetero-patriarchal violence and oppression, this write-up is a reminder that the pandemic have also been increasingly difficult for confined queer and trans* people, those who have had their access to bubbles and alternative spaces restricted, and those who are struggling to navigate their family and homes.

We would like to take this chance to mention that The A Project’s sexuality hotline, open daily from 5-11pm, welcomes people who want someone to talk to and think aloud about these issues or any other topic related to gender justice, sexuality, and sexual and reproductive health and rights.