At Home With The Bird

For many LGBT people, Christmas and New Year can be a trying time. I know it certainly is for me. It’s the time when many people head ‘home’ – if you can call that place you grew up, that houses your parents and siblings ‘home’. It’s the time of year when you have to ring your loved one quietly at 3am, and sneak stamps from the book to send them letters.

At least, that’s my experience so far this Christmas. I know it’s terribly scrooge of me, but I am counting the days till I’m away from this place. It’s not that I don’t like home, and my family aren’t really so terrible, but it’s just hard to come back to the place where I have to hide myself again.

I often wonder how my gay friends really feel about going home, how they act with their family, and if they are counting the days as avidly as me. Not that I act differently, but you know what I mean. I’m not the same socialite at home as I am with a group of adoring friends.

I know some people have families who are accepting, and who they enjoy going home to. I’m a little jealous of that, but I don’t even really know how I’d feel if my parents weren’t how they are. I know there are also other people who, for a variety of reasons, have no home to visit – and as much as I might pretend I’d like that, I know that in my heart I wouldn’t like it at all.

It does seem a shame that you have to spend the campest time of year with ‘the folks’. Their enthusiasm for tinsel and ‘The Sound of Music’ just isn’t enough to replace my gay male friends.

Wherever you are spending your holidays, and whoever with, try not to throw a turkey in frustration. The bird has suffered enough.