Tag Archives: gratitude

Giving Thanks For My Family

I know that for a lot of queer and trans folks, holidays are a time of immense stress (particularly if they involve time spent with families of origin). That isn’t the case for me, and it’s one of the things for which I’m giving thanks today. I spend every Thanksgiving with my parents, my older brother, and a whole bunch of other relatives and family friends. This year, there were seventeen of us: the four in my immediate family; my uncle; six family friends and the one of their nephews; my aunt, two of my cousins, one of my cousin’s friends, and that friend’s roommate. There was lots of good food; the younger generation watched Doctor Who and A Very Potter Musical: the day went well.   Continue reading

Thank You, Genderqueer Chicago

Genderqueer Chicago (GqC) is actually one of the reasons why I moved to Chicago in the first place — I’d found their blog last spring, and the prospect of being involved with such a group was incredibly exciting. And now, they’re one of the biggest reasons why I am having such a hard time with the idea of leaving Chicago. Today is my last Genderqueer Chicago meeting.  Continue reading

Gratefully Yours

Until recently, I’ve had a big problem with the word “gratitude.” I didn’t like it; I didn’t want to use it; and I certainly wasn’t going to say that I’m grateful to my parents for feeding me, housing me, clothing me, and basically doing what parents should. Continue reading

For This, I Am Grateful

This year, I have had so much for which to be thankful, things both large and small.

1. My parents’ unconditional love, support, and acceptance

2. How supportive everyone has been since I’ve come out as trans

3. Finding community in GenderQueer Chicago Continue reading

It Gives Me Hope

Walking down the stairs at my parents’ house this holiday season, one of the first things I noticed was my Christmas stocking. All of our stockings were hung in a row at the landing, hand-knit stockings that my paternal grandmother made for each of us long ago (so long ago, in fact, that I cannot remember a Christmas without them), our names knit into the border at the top of each stocking. Mine, this year, had a little sign my parents had made, which designated the stocking as belonging to “RYAN.” Continue reading