On Chosen Family, Sisterhood and Sharing (Bathroom) Space
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The idea of chosen family comes from queer theorists. Originally, the term “fictive kin” was used to describe the intentional creation of a family structure that was composed of love, security and care for the family’s collective well-being. Though popularized in the mainstream recently, the creation of chosen families has been long pursued in the queer and trans community for belonging and protection.
In this article, we take you through the ways in which we built sisterhood for ourselves and what our chosen family looks like.
False Narratives and the Nuclear Family
Ranziba (R): I believe all of us are trapped in scripts that underpin the social contract. As long as you do the things that society expects you to do, you’ll get x-y-z benefit of staying within the lines. The nuclear family is the trickiest of these narratives. Dripping in pathos, the myth of blood being thicker than water lures you in like a Venus fly trap and shuts you in with societal pressures. In my experience as a Bengali woman, children often move from being the custodian of their parent’s dreams to being the caretakers of their elderly parents. It’s an identity that is based on your function within the family, your utility as a load-carrying member of the bio-unit and ultimately one that is capitalistic and extractive in nature.
Laxana (L): While I don’t entirely blame my family for pushing me to pursue a white-picket-fence life, the burden of those expectations falls heavy on my shoulders. The war and genocide against Tamils robbed our families of many experiences. However, the weight of having to live a life that centers on capital instead of community leaves me feeling extremely lonely and empty. This has pushed me to find people who view life beyond the capitalist grind and hold each other in their entirety. They say that you don’t remember people, you remember how they make you feel, and I’ve continued to navigate my relationships this way. Family members or not, how you make other people feel is integral in building a foundation for any lasting relationship.
R: Absolutely. Coming from cultures where shame, blame and guilt are currency, often families - the most basic unit of society - are the genesis of toxic relationship patterns. In contrast, chosen families offer freedom, release and healing. However, it’s not necessarily true that you must renounce your biological family to create a chosen one. They aren’t mutually exclusive. I’ve worked to heal my relationships with my biological family and there’s no comparison between the two support structures. To me, a chosen family is a set of people who see, accept and support all of me. And you don’t need to share DNA to do that. It’s an honour to be included in one, and I’m grateful to be part of Laxana’s.
L: I agree. I’ve found ease in distancing myself from family members who have never contributed to my peace and even encouraged my mother to do the same. For her, family carried her through state violence, genocide, poverty, and racism. I honour her reasoning for wanting to hold on to family, however, not all of us have to. Family can be friends, a support system that cultivates radical honesty and safe spaces. I am grateful to Ranziba for being part of that support system for me and for always sharing her extremely honest and uncensored thoughts with me.
“Coming from cultures where shame, blame and guilt are currency, often families - the most basic unit of society - are the genesis of toxic relationship patterns. In contrast, chosen families offer freedom, release and healing. ”
Seeking Solidarity, Finding Sisterhood
R: We found each other at the other end of a phone call. One person was organizing on the ground and the other was making sure those efforts made it to the airwaves. As the editor-in-chief of the campus newspaper and a burgeoning socialist, I was dipping my pen into politics with a special ‘social justice’ issue. I started hearing a name tossed around. “You know her! Laxana, from TSA.”
The talk of the town was that she was taking the Tamil Students’ Association - hitherto known for their award-winning dance crew and lush formals - back into their activist roots. I thought this was someone to not only take notice of, but someone to profile. That day, I got a crash course in the struggle for Tamil liberation and unwittingly found a member of my chosen family.
Years later, as we sit beside each other writing this article, I can barely remember finding each other in that rush of paradigm shifting, worldview shaking, adrenaline rushing pursuit of political education and political progress. All I remember thinking was, finally, someone who gets it. It felt affirming to stand in my own political power, for the first time, and look beside me to see a contemporary doing the same. As we both shared the spotlight and fought the subterfuge that often came from social justice organizing, our sisterhood is what kept me grounded. What seemed like a giant leap, what in fact one small step thanks to the support from my ‘gift sibling’.
L: I was sitting on the couch in the basement I was renting near campus when Ranziba called to ask if I wanted to be included in the ‘social justice’ issue of the campus newspaper. I remember the phone call quite vividly. In fact, I remember a lot of our relationship that gets lost in Ranziba’s busy, brilliant mind. I’ve always been good at nuances, while Ranziba looks at the bigger picture. This dynamic in our relationship started with this first phone call.
Ranziba, the editor-in-chief of the campus newspaper at the time, was more than just a writer. She came to this work with an understanding of state violence and genocide. This shared lived experience transformed our conversation from interview to dialogue, setting the foundation for many political insights to come.
Usually, on-campus efforts for Tamil liberation are often met with resistance from entities like the university administration (complaints about the Tamil Eelam flag are unavoidable). However, I remember the conversation with Ranziba was easy, politically affirming and encouraging. This is when we knew our work and our friendship couldn’t start and end with this conversation, we had to continue addressing the issues that were most meaningful to us.
Finding ‘Gift Siblings’
R: I’ve wanted a sister. Blame Big Media, but I liked the idea of sharing clothes, doing each other’s nails, having a soundboard for when life gets hard and having a built-in plus one. I ended up with an older brother who was interested in approximately zero percent of that. That meant I just became a really, really good friend.
Finding sisterhood in friendship as a proxy to the real thing was actually the best. There were none of the fights and resentment of growing up in a dysfunctional family together but all of the depth and ease of meeting each other as fully realized adults. I mean, not fully, fully realized. But at least we had someone to share therapy revelations with. I recently learned another name people give their chosen family members is to call them their “gift” family. And it couldn’t resonate more! It’s a true gift to be able to feel loved, cherished, supported and safe with your friend-families.
L: My mom grew up with two sisters and I’ve always envied their relationship, the honesty in their conversations and how radically they cared for one another. No matter the disagreements, they always found a way back to each other. Like Ranziba, I have a brother. He does have my back and the best hoodies to steal -- but it’ll never be the same as having sisters.
When Ranziba asked me to come stay with her in her cozy downtown apartment, I was hesitant. I hadn’t lived with anyone outside of family before and I wasn’t sure if I would be taking up too much space. Ranziba ensured me that as long as we both practiced radical honesty throughout the time we were living together, that things would be fine.
R: I like to lead with radical honesty steeped in empathy. I wouldn’t tell you something honestly if I didn’t love you or if I didn’t think that our relationship could handle it. Call me Tyra Banks because I root for my people. When I invited Laxana to come stay with me this summer, she was nervous. Would she impose? What if this ruined our friendship? How would we handle conflict? My answer was simply to tell each other the truth. As one of my favourite social justice educators, Kim Katrin Crosby, says: “be hard on the issues, but soft on the person”. From sharing bathroom space to sharing clothes to sharing responsibilities (Laxana is a great second-mom to Milo, my puppy) - we made it work.
L: In the end, I think the most important thing is to build a world you feel safe, empowered and loved in. Why not apply that imagination to make conventional, sometimes oppressive family structures better? Reimagining futures is critical work. A chosen family is this work in action.
*This article was co-written by Ranziba Nehrin and Laxana Paskaran.
