One of my favourite words in the gay vocab is ‘family’. And I don’t mean this in a kid with two mummies kinda way, but rather the way we refer to fellow gays as family – or ponder whether or not that hot androg chick at the local café is ‘family’.
I love the sense of belonging and familiarity that comes with the word. Like in a new workplace it’s always a relief to find out you’re not the only gay in the village – having an instant bond over the shared experiences of coming out, Oxford St hangovers or a mutual dislike of gay clichés makes the office a little more like home.
It’s not an intentionally exclusive club, but like any ‘special interest’ group, you’re going to have more to talk about with someone whose life experience is similar to your own.
When hearing about my gay adventures mum sometimes jokingly asks if I have any straight friends – because it’s true, most of my closest pals are queers with a few awesome ‘honorary gays’ sprinkled in. Like those childhood friends who always had a place at the dinner table even though they weren’t officially part of the family.
This became frighteningly obvious recently when I signed up to Google+, the new Facebook rip-off, which allows you to group your friends into various ‘circles’. I initially set up a gay circle only to realise I didn’t have any friends left for other circles. So I scrapped that idea and started friend-requesting random straight people.
It seems my whole life I’ve had an immediate affinity with queers even before I knew what gay meant. Facebook informed me that my two primary school besties grew up to be homos and I was definitely closest to my gay cousin growing up.
We were clichés – he’d be trying to braid my hair while I’d be dragging us down the park to kick the footy.
In all these relationships there was an innate closeness, which I can’t help but attribute to the gay thing – even though that part of our identities didn’t blossom until later on in life.
That said, gay ‘family’ members, just like biological ones, don’t always click. You’re likely to have as much in common with Carson Kressley as you are with annoying Uncle Steve.
Thankfully, one you endure only once a year at Mardi Gras, the other at Christmas. Happy families.
By MONIQUE SCHAFTER
Definitely agree with the whole ‘innate closeness’ thing – my best friend of 10 years and I both came out to each other this year ha ha! Neither of us had a clue :-)