For Gays and Lesbians,
Holidays Can Be a Time of Added Stress
At family gatherings, many keep their lives
and personality locked away
By Rex W. Huppke
Chicago Tribune reporter
December 23, 2009
Even after he turned 20, Justin Herren viewed Christmas with childlike wonderment. Back at his family's home in Tennessee, he and his brother and sister -- all three grown up -- would rise before dawn to open presents, just like they did as kids.
The family would sing carols around their mother's piano, soak in a tree trimmed with long-familiar ornaments and reconnect over an elaborate feast.
But when Herren was 22, he sat his family down and told them he is gay. At that moment, the holiday he loves was forever altered.
Five years on, he and his father still barely speak. His mother doesn't want to hear about his life in Chicago. Instead of a four- or five-night Christmas stay, he flies in for a night and leaves the next day.
"We're able to be around each other, but it's just tense," said Herren, now 27. "To be honest, I'd rather be in a place with people who are happy to have me around, rather than just tolerating me."
While many view the holidays with a certain amount of familial anxiety, people who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender often face a wide array of additional stressors. Some aren't out of the closet -- or have told only a sibling or two -- and spend the holiday keeping a whole part of their life and personality locked away. Others must manage parents who don't approve of their sexuality. And some must be apart from their partner because of unaccepting relatives.
"You have all the built-up family expectations and the mythology of the holidays, you have the regular family drama, plus this," said Lisa Gilmore, a counselor at the Center on Halsted, a GLBT community center in Lakeview. "There's this added tension relating to a family member's identity, there's anxiety over secret-keeping."
Gilmore said about half of the GLBT people she sees experience stress over their sexuality around the holidays, facing situations ranging from concerns about acceptance to fears of domestic violence.
"The holidays are a lot about fantasy," Gilmore said. "For some, there can be a deep grief and sense of loss over the shattering of that fantasy. For others, it's knowing that the holidays are always going to be this hard, thinking, 'Something about my identity is always going to be a problem.' "
That's what it's like for Ben Gannon, 24, of Chicago, who still returns to his family's home in rural Washington state every Christmas. His father is a conservative Christian minister who, along with his mother, has been unable to accept that Gannon is gay, even though he came out at age 19.
"I was informed of the impact I'd had on the family by coming out," Gannon said. "So at Christmas, it's a bit of a Cold War. I don't talk about my sexuality, I don't talk specifically about my life. It's a part of my life they just can't handle."
He loves his parents and still hopes they may one day recognize him for who he is. Over Christmas he finds himself "re-enacting that time before I came out," savoring the moments when he forgets himself and the way his parents view him: "Sometimes I get lost in the performance, and it's great. But it doesn't last."
Germaine McGlun was born and raised in Chicago. She's 54, and this Christmas she'll surround herself with friends at a celebration the Center on Halsted is hosting. She has vivid memories of Christmastime growing up, from the smell of home cooking to the excitement of being surrounded by loved ones.
She spent last year with her family, and while they're largely accepting of her sexuality, she felt like she didn't fit it. People kept asking if she was married, talking about their kids, asking her if she wanted to have kids. McGlun didn't take any of it as mean-spirited, but rather just a lack of understanding of her life.
"This holiday, it's just about having that joy and that connection with people," she said. "I really love the connections that exist among people in the GLBT community. I feel safe, comfortable and close in this community."
While many like Herren, Gannon and McGlun navigate awkward complications, there are certainly families who don't give a second thought about a relative's sexual orientation.
Courtney Reid, director of programs at the Center on Halsted, has three children -- 4-year-old twins and a 6-year-old -- with her partner, Pam Palmentera. Their two families live in Texas and Virginia, and Reid said both sides embrace her and Pam, as well as the children.
"We really have no holiday anxiety, beyond the basic stuff everyone deals with," Reid said. "And it's wonderful, because we're able to -- with each of our families -- help our girls form these traditions and sense of family. We're considered very much a part of the family, as it should be."
Which isn't to say there wasn't a period of transition.
"For both sets of families, when we first came out, it was very much of a challenge," Reid said. "But I think at the end of the day, my parents' love for me won out."
Hope for a similar result is what many like Gannon and Herren cling to, that and memories of good holidays past.
"They're my family, I love them," Gannon said. "Ideally, I would love to spend Christmas with them as myself. But right now, I just can't do that."
Chicago Tribune reporter
December 23, 2009
Even after he turned 20, Justin Herren viewed Christmas with childlike wonderment. Back at his family's home in Tennessee, he and his brother and sister -- all three grown up -- would rise before dawn to open presents, just like they did as kids.
The family would sing carols around their mother's piano, soak in a tree trimmed with long-familiar ornaments and reconnect over an elaborate feast.
But when Herren was 22, he sat his family down and told them he is gay. At that moment, the holiday he loves was forever altered.
Five years on, he and his father still barely speak. His mother doesn't want to hear about his life in Chicago. Instead of a four- or five-night Christmas stay, he flies in for a night and leaves the next day.
"We're able to be around each other, but it's just tense," said Herren, now 27. "To be honest, I'd rather be in a place with people who are happy to have me around, rather than just tolerating me."
While many view the holidays with a certain amount of familial anxiety, people who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender often face a wide array of additional stressors. Some aren't out of the closet -- or have told only a sibling or two -- and spend the holiday keeping a whole part of their life and personality locked away. Others must manage parents who don't approve of their sexuality. And some must be apart from their partner because of unaccepting relatives.
"You have all the built-up family expectations and the mythology of the holidays, you have the regular family drama, plus this," said Lisa Gilmore, a counselor at the Center on Halsted, a GLBT community center in Lakeview. "There's this added tension relating to a family member's identity, there's anxiety over secret-keeping."
Gilmore said about half of the GLBT people she sees experience stress over their sexuality around the holidays, facing situations ranging from concerns about acceptance to fears of domestic violence.
"The holidays are a lot about fantasy," Gilmore said. "For some, there can be a deep grief and sense of loss over the shattering of that fantasy. For others, it's knowing that the holidays are always going to be this hard, thinking, 'Something about my identity is always going to be a problem.' "
That's what it's like for Ben Gannon, 24, of Chicago, who still returns to his family's home in rural Washington state every Christmas. His father is a conservative Christian minister who, along with his mother, has been unable to accept that Gannon is gay, even though he came out at age 19.
"I was informed of the impact I'd had on the family by coming out," Gannon said. "So at Christmas, it's a bit of a Cold War. I don't talk about my sexuality, I don't talk specifically about my life. It's a part of my life they just can't handle."
He loves his parents and still hopes they may one day recognize him for who he is. Over Christmas he finds himself "re-enacting that time before I came out," savoring the moments when he forgets himself and the way his parents view him: "Sometimes I get lost in the performance, and it's great. But it doesn't last."
Germaine McGlun was born and raised in Chicago. She's 54, and this Christmas she'll surround herself with friends at a celebration the Center on Halsted is hosting. She has vivid memories of Christmastime growing up, from the smell of home cooking to the excitement of being surrounded by loved ones.
She spent last year with her family, and while they're largely accepting of her sexuality, she felt like she didn't fit it. People kept asking if she was married, talking about their kids, asking her if she wanted to have kids. McGlun didn't take any of it as mean-spirited, but rather just a lack of understanding of her life.
"This holiday, it's just about having that joy and that connection with people," she said. "I really love the connections that exist among people in the GLBT community. I feel safe, comfortable and close in this community."
While many like Herren, Gannon and McGlun navigate awkward complications, there are certainly families who don't give a second thought about a relative's sexual orientation.
Courtney Reid, director of programs at the Center on Halsted, has three children -- 4-year-old twins and a 6-year-old -- with her partner, Pam Palmentera. Their two families live in Texas and Virginia, and Reid said both sides embrace her and Pam, as well as the children.
"We really have no holiday anxiety, beyond the basic stuff everyone deals with," Reid said. "And it's wonderful, because we're able to -- with each of our families -- help our girls form these traditions and sense of family. We're considered very much a part of the family, as it should be."
Which isn't to say there wasn't a period of transition.
"For both sets of families, when we first came out, it was very much of a challenge," Reid said. "But I think at the end of the day, my parents' love for me won out."
Hope for a similar result is what many like Gannon and Herren cling to, that and memories of good holidays past.
"They're my family, I love them," Gannon said. "Ideally, I would love to spend Christmas with them as myself. But right now, I just can't do that."
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