How Queer Youth are Navigating Quarantined Life in Non-Affirming Homes

Only 24% of [queer] youth can ‘definitely’ be themselves as an LGBTQ person at home.” How are they managing to cope in these uncertain times without regular routines and support systems?

BY: SARAH HILTON

Art by Ryanne Kap // THE UNDERGROUND

With the announcement of social distancing measures put in place, and the closure of post-secondary institutions in Ontario, all I could worry about was how I was going to manage being quarantined with my parents for the next six weeks. My dad is conservative, and my mom doesn’t exactly agree with same-sex relationships. I haven’t always had the easiest time living with them knowing that if I didn’t keep my guard up, if I said the wrong thing, they would know who I really am.

Sure, my parents have their decent moments from time to time—Dad always looks happy to see my cousin’s girlfriend every year at Christmas; Mom is counting down the days to when my queer relatives finally get engaged to their long-time partners. But it’s different having a gay relative versus a gay daughter: having a queer child means you have a direct connection to the queer community, and for my parents that means they’ve raised a child who goes completely against what they think is “normal”; for non-affirming parents, it’s a disappointment.

Of course my parents have their moments when I think coming out might not be “that bad,” but seeing the way they interact with relatives and friends, as opposed to what they say when they’re at home and they think no one is listening, it makes me shrink into myself a little more. Because there’s always someone listening: I’m listening, and staying silent.

The first time I knew I couldn’t come out to my parents was when we were at a dinner with my grandparents to celebrate a birthday. We’d received the news that one of my relatives had lost his husband to cancer just a month before, but my sister, my dad, and I were just hearing this news for the first time over cake and coffee.

“It’s rough for him, but he was only married to an old man for the attention and you all know it,” my dad said, looking at me and my sister. He tried explaining to us that the only reason my cousin married a man was because he was “traumatized” (i.e. he had grown up in a mid-low income family, and his parents had divorced). To my dad, being gay isn’t something that you’re born with, it’s something you “do” for the attention of others to take pity on you after you’ve led a life of trauma. And instead of showing sympathy for my cousin’s loss, he expressed nothing but disgust.

Needless to say, I’ve never known when or how I’d be able to come out to them.

The one thing I loved about my life prior to this pandemic was how much love I received (and currently receive) from my chosen family. Living at home while closeted, there’s parts of myself that I’ve never been able to share with the two people that I’m meant to feel safe with.Because of that, there are basic emotional needs that I’ve always lacked at home, and instead sought out from the friends closest to me.

Our homes are supposed to be the safest places for us, but when that’s not true, we make new homes for ourselves in friends, in mentors, in classrooms and workplaces, anywhere we may feel safe enough to be ourselves without the fear of someone causing harm to us for being who we are. When I needed help in my classes, when I started dating someone new, when I was accepted to grad school, my parents were never the people I went to first. Knowing that I can’t share my sexuality with my parents has affected my relationship with them entirely—if I can’t share this part of myself, how could I share the rest?

I’m grateful to have a support system outside of my immediate family that love and accept me unconditionally. It’s always made living with my parents a little easier when I could spend the night at a friend’s house once or twice a week. It was also easier altogether by simply being a full-time student while working a part-time job. I was always busy, and always out of the house with somewhere to be. Most days, I would only have to be home for dinner before heading to bed and leaving early the next day for class, or work, or wherever else I was needed.

Generally speaking, living with my parents has always been easier when I could have as much space away from them as I used to. So when my workplace closed and my classes were moved online, it was detrimental. It means being stuck in a small house with non-affirming parents and being unable to truly live. It means sleeping all day just so I can have the house to myself at night; it means going without the only people that make life truly feel valuable; it means having to hold my tongue when I hear homophobic slurs passed across the dinner table, sitting back and going limp.

This is the reality for many other LGBTQ+ youth currently quarantined in non-affirming families. Right now, they’re in a particularly precarious position where they not only face the fear of not knowing what comes next in these uncertain times, but they also need to factor in their personal safety within the home. Even for those who aren’t closeted, being confined to their non-affirming homes can lead to multitudes of abuse—whether it be verbal, emotional or physical—now that there’s nowhere else for them to go, nowhere for them to escape when situations escalate. And when these events do take place, where is there for them to go now that social distancing rules have been put in place?

According to their 2018 LGBTQ Youth Report, the Human Rights Campaign Foundation found that “Only 24% of [queer] youth can ‘definitely’ be themselves as an LGBTQ person at home”. For many readers, this percentage will likely exist as nothing more than just a number; when they see these statistics, they have a way of desensitizing readers into experiencing a momentary reaction before moving forward with their lives. But for myself and many others, this is our every day. This is the reality of every waking moment we spend in non-affirming families: whether we’re closeted or not, we’re stuck in situations where we’re forced to hide who we are to stay safe.

So far, quarantined life hasn’t been as hard as I anticipated: my parents are essential workers who have been (safely) working through most of the pandemic. It’s not the sort of space that I’m used to, but it’s a routine I’ve come to slowly adjust to. Even then, I know that if my parents were to discover my sexuality, even if they were to read this article, or overhear my phone calls with friends, it would be uncomfortable at the very most, but I wouldn’t find myself in an unsafe situation. Other queer youth, however, aren’t as lucky as I am.

Art by Ryanne Kap // THE UNDERGROUND

For youth like Sophie (she/they), by far the biggest challenge that has come with being quarantined at home has been “being closeted around [her] parents.” Sophie has not come out to her parents due to their strict cultural and religious beliefs.

“My parents are really religious,” she says. “Although they’re both educators and work with a variety of different people, they’re from a culture where anyone different gets judged really harshly. Being gay gets you imprisoned or killed in a lot of countries with heavy religious influences, and unfortunately my parents are from one of these countries.” Knowing how her parents would react, it’s easier—and safer—for Sophie to navigate quarantined life while remaining closeted.

This is a similar experience that was shared by Jane (they/them). As a lesbian, they say that “the hardest challenge of quarantine has just been being home all day and having to be ‘on’. Having to act the way people I’m with want, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

This idea of “having to be ‘on’” is something that a lot of my closeted friends and I have had to act out in order to feel safe—or in other words, to avoid suspicions—at home. For myself, this has primarily come in the form of filtered language—calling my same-sex partners my “friends”, and paying close attention to word choice when discussing queer issues in front of family—though this can come in many different forms depending on one’s situation. The bottom line is, having to “be ‘on’” means that you’re making an effort to hide who you are for the sake of your safety.

“My family dynamic is very ‘traditional’,” they say. “I don’t think [my parents] would be supportive [if I came out], one of my older sister’s friends is no longer allowed to come to our house for ‘acting too gay’.”

Being quarantined with unaccepting families for both Sophie and Jane has also meant having to go without their support systems when they’ve found themselves particularly overwhelmed at home. “I haven’t seen my therapist or doctor in ages, which has been a massive hit to my mental health,” Sophie says.

For Jane, this quarantine has meant not being able to receive support from their chosen family. “I am only officially out to two people I know in real life,” they say. “Not being able to see them is really difficult. They’re the only people I can talk to about my girlfriend or make dumb jokes about being gay, the little things that don’t seem big but are nice to have.”

This isn’t to say that coming out to family solves these problems instantaneously. Even for people like Mars (she/her) who are out to her parents, navigating quarantined life while living with a “very religious and somewhat conservative” family has been a bumpy road to say the least.

“Even though they are somewhat accepting, they’re still mildly homophobic and very religious,” Mars says. “When I first came out to them they were ‘supportive’, … [but] it became really hard to be around my parents. I’m still not allowed to tell my younger sisters about my identity because my dad told me it was too inappropriate to know at [eight and nine years old].”

Mars says that because of the pandemic, she has not been able to access safe spaces that helped her to cope with her living situation. “I had a group that I could go to that was formed specifically for LGBT youth in my city, … my school is also a safe place for me since many other students there were LGBT, so it was like a second family to me.”

Of course, there’s no single solution that can solve every individual conflict that queer youth face over quarantine, closeted or not. But over the course of the past three months, queer youth have come together virtually to cope in their own ways throughout the pandemic.

them. suggests that if you’re in isolation with access to social media platforms and digital forms of connection (e.g. FaceTime, Zoom, Skype, etc.), “now is the time to start reaching out.” In an interview with them. psychotherapist Andrea Glik says, “When we are in an abusive or non-affirming environment, we can be gaslit into believing that we don’t have worth, that we aren’t lovable, that we aren’t deserving of respect.” As such, having access to a support system that accepts and loves you unconditionally can offer a sense of escape from the space you share with non-affirming family members or housemates, even if said escape solely exists online.

The main thing that has helped Jane to cope with quarantine is Skype calls with their girlfriend. “We’re long-distance and it’s been really difficult, but having the ability to stay home and Skype for six/seven hours a day is really nice.”

Sophie shares that in her spare time, she acts as a moderator for an LGBTQ+ discord server where she and countless others have the chance to interact and connect to those in the community. She has also had the opportunity to find meaningful connections with those she’s interacted with through TikTok, where “queer teens are using the app to construct situations that make an often difficult and nerve-wracking experience [coming out] a little bit easier,” says Business Insider. 

Art courtesy of Unsplash (@steve_j)

Even for those who haven’t come out to family or friends just yet, there are still many spaces available that offer support to those in non-affirming households. TrevorSpace is a free, confidential forum affiliated with The Trevor Project, which aims to offer an affirming space for youth 13-24 to connect with other queer youth. The TrevorLifeline is also an available resource  for those in need of immediate support, available to call (1-866-488-7386) or text (START to 678678). Additionally, Gender Spectrum is an advocacy organization for LGBTQ+ youth that is offering online groups, live stream webinars, and ongoing online or phone discussions. Their regular resources are ongoing online through the pandemic, and can be found in their Resources Page, along with a list of external resources.

For those without stable internet connection to access these resources, there are always alternative methods to cope with quarantine and improve one’s mood. Mars shares that she has been using this time to “make sure to be aware of [her] self-care.”

Self-care can look broadly different for each person, but them. offers a concise list of ways in which queer youth can take care of themselves in quarantine, including getting enough sleep, making art, “[staying] in touch with your body”, and to seek guidance and joy.

One of the most important suggestions that them. makes to queer youth is to keep in touch with your queerness, or in other words, “[don’t] forget to do what you normally do”. Psychotherapist Laura A. Jacobs speaks to this suggestion, saying “Try to shrink that pile of dirty laundry. Clean your home. Keep a daily routine. Bake cookies. … Netflix. (Chill if you can do it safely.) Let your freak flags fly.”

No one experience is the same, but I can say with certainty that as a collective, the LGBTQ+ community is coming together in countless ways to help to overcome the struggles they face at home. them. concludes their self-care suggestions by saying “know that you are never alone”, and it’s a statement that rings true no matter what situation queer youth find themselves in while stuck in quarantine. Living with non-affirming families isn’t an issue that can be solved overnight, but having an open heart, an open mind, and reminding yourself that this situation is only temporary, is the best way to begin creating positive coping strategies for the remainder of this pandemic. Reach out to your friends, reach out to your doctors, “seek joy,” and do whatever you need to in order to stay safe.