The Chosen Dozen - How chosen families have changed us

We’ve all heard the saying ‘Blood is thicker than water’ but what if I tell you it's not the complete saying. 

“The blood (of the covenant) is thicker than the water of the womb.” 

Turns out, we can uncover layers of what we assume to be the truth, only by letting ourselves zoom out. So, it’s not about blindly sticking by family no-matter-what. It’s about the bonds we choose, the people who we stay for, who see us for who we are, and those who don’t bring a one-size-fits-all mold of an ideal.

The world I grew up in was where family meant the people who shared your DNA, ate dinner with you every night, and fought over the TV remote. So, of course, it should also mean they dictated their right over your choices/desires, autonomy, identity, and expression. 

And then, just when I began to accept these shackles as the shiny orbs that are supposedly keeping me safe, I saw that family can also mean the ones who sat next to you at 2 a.m. through your overwhelm, or the friend who sent a curated meme just to make your day lighter. The one who secretly knows all your drama without expecting anything in return, and those who supported you without holding you accountable for your vulnerability. 

Because let’s be honest, not everyone gets the luxury of a warm, accepting home.

For queer individuals, or even those from dysfunctional families, home can feel like a tumultuous minefield. Under layers of sand collecting over Earth, lies the rejection, estrangement, and that quiet, aching feeling of being misunderstood by ‘one of our own’. 

The fear of unearthing something traumatic can weigh heavy on a weary heart.

And that’s where the chosen family comes in; not to replace the assumed security of a family, but to find peace within a group where your presence is not a burden. 

It’s not just limited to ‘family requirements’ of remembering birthdays, but also the ones present on the not-so-special days when you feel lonely or just a bit lost. The group chat that cheers you through therapy, the one person who makes space for your tumbling, anxious rants and still says, “You go girlypop.”

There’s something deeply healing about being understood without having to explain yourself, more so when the world (read: your family) makes you feel like you’re ‘too much’ or ‘not enough’. The space that makes you feel that you do not have to justify existing to anyone feels the safest, and the people who surround you there, can build deeper routes than biological families.

When love feels conditional to your choices or achievements, finding people who love, accept, and cherish you just as you are might feel… unusual. Like an unusual but warm hug you didn’t know you craved until you were held.

A companionship which is not just about give and take, where your worth is not measured by your achievements or what you ‘bring to the table’ but the bond you share and the warmth you bring in their lives. 

I once read a quote by Robert Fulghum, he wrote 

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness.”

An unexplainable bond among some strangers who willingly chose to share this ‘weirdness’, and be a part of this journey. 

A bunch of ‘oddities’ who somehow make sense together, who may or may not share genes, but we share laughter, healing, book clubs, discord movie marathons, and trauma bonding that turns into inside jokes. They become your shut down space when life gets too loud.

So maybe “blood” isn’t the only thing that defines family. Maybe it’s the people who help you find joy in the chaos, who sit with your silence, who celebrate your tiny short-film victories and hold your weaker moments through the deepest losses. 

They’re proof that family and love doesn’t need to be enforced, it can be found along the edges. 

And that’s the most beautiful kind of family there is.