How Queer Folks Can Survive the Holidays With a Conservative Family

The holidays are often framed as a season of joy, togetherness, and warmth. And sometimes they are exactly that. But for many queer and trans people, the holidays can also bring a familiar knot in the chest. Old dynamics resurface. Boundaries get tested. The pressure to show up, behave, and be “grateful” can feel heavier than any winter coat.

There’s a quiet shame that can creep in when the holidays feel like something to endure rather than enjoy. As if surviving instead of thriving means you’re doing something wrong.

If that’s you, we want to say this clearly: you are not broken for finding the holidays hard. You’re responding to real experiences, real histories, and real limits. It’s okay to find your unaccepting or conservative family challenging to deal with. You’re not alone.

Tips For Getting Through the Holidays with Your Conservative Family

Unfortunately, a great many of us at Origami Customs have had hard times with family who don’t accept us. So here are just a couple of tips that we’ve found helpful for ways to get through the holidays with conservative family members.

Plan Your Boundaries Before You Arrive

One of the most helpful things you can do is decide, ahead of time, what you’re willing and unwilling to engage with. This might mean knowing which topics are off-limits. It might mean deciding how long you’ll stay. It may mean having a plan to leave early, taking breaks, or stepping outside when things become overwhelming.

Boundaries don’t have to be dramatic or confrontational to be effective. They’re not about controlling other people. They’re about protecting your energy. “I’m not talking about that today” or “I’m heading out now” are complete sentences. You don’t owe anyone unlimited access to you.

You Don’t Have to Perform Holiday Harmony

There’s often an unspoken expectation that queer people will smooth things over. That we’ll stay quiet, keep the peace, or make ourselves smaller to avoid discomfort, especially. Especially during the holidays. But connection that requires self-erasure isn’t real connection.

It’s okay to redirect conversations. It’s okay to disengage. It’s okay to spend more time with the people in the room who feel safer and less time with the ones who don’t. Choosing yourself isn’t rude. It’s essential.

Stay Connected to Yourself

Family gatherings can make it easy to feel untethered from who you are now and pull you back into disempowered versions of yourself. But you are strong, and you have grown more amazing every year, so find some way to remind yourself of that. Creating small anchors to your most empowered self can make a big difference.

That might look like texting a friend who sees you for who you are, wearing something affirming under your clothes, having an object in your pocket that reminds you of your power, of taking intentional breaks, or planning moments of quiet. Choose something as a grounding practice before you enter a challenging space. It can be something small and private, just for you.

Misgendering and Microaggressions Are Not a Measure of Your Worth

Being misgendered, questioned, or subtly dismissed hurts. Repeated harm is exhausting, even when it’s framed as “not a big deal.” But other people’s inability or unwillingness to respect you says nothing about your legitimacy. So do what you need to feel self-respect despite these challenging interactions.

You’re allowed to correct people. You’re also allowed not to. You’re allowed to change your approach depending on the day, the situation, and your energy. Choosing the response that keeps you safest and most regulated is not giving up. It’s listening to yourself.

You Don’t Owe Anyone a Political Debate

For many queer people, politics aren’t abstract. They’re personal. They shape our access to healthcare, safety, recognition, and autonomy. That’s exactly why being pulled into political debates at the dinner table can feel so exhausting and high-stakes.

You are not required to explain your existence, defend your rights, or participate in conversations that leave you feeling exposed or depleted. Opting out of political discussions isn’t avoidance or ignorance. It’s a boundary. And boundaries are a form of care.

It’s okay to say, “I’m not talking about politics today,” and change the subject. It’s okay to step away from the table or excuse yourself entirely. You don’t have to educate anyone in moments meant for rest. Protecting your energy doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means you care enough to choose when and where your voice is best used.

Less Time Is Still Enough

There’s a belief that staying longer, showing up more, or pushing through discomfort somehow proves maturity or love. That if you just endure a little more, it will mean something. But duration is not a moral measure, and proximity is not the same as care.

A meal counts. An afternoon counts. Even a brief appearance can be an act of generosity when it’s offered honestly. Leaving early is not a failure or a regression. It’s adaptive care. Love does not require burnout. And protecting your capacity is not selfish. It’s how you stay whole.

Make Space for Grief Alongside Joy

The holidays have a way of highlighting what’s missing. Acceptance that never came. Versions of family you hoped for, or once believed were possible. Even when things are “fine,” there can be an ache for what was never named or never met.

It’s possible to feel grateful and sad at the same time. To laugh at dinner and cry in the car afterward. To hold joy in one hand and grief in the other without needing to resolve the tension between them. Grief doesn’t mean the holidays are ruined. It means you’re paying attention to what mattered, and what still does.

Letting that grief exist without judgment, without rushing it away or minimizing it, is an act of kindness toward yourself. It’s a way of honoring your history, your hopes, and the care you bring into the world.

Plan for the Aftercare

If you know something will be emotionally taxing, it helps to plan for what comes after, not just how you’ll get through it. Survival is easier when there’s something gentle waiting on the other side.

That might look like a favorite meal, a long shower, a walk to reset your nervous system, time alone, or time with people who truly see you. Small comforts can be profoundly stabilizing. Aftercare isn’t indulgent or excessive. It’s part of the process, especially when you’ve had to hold yourself together in spaces that ask a lot of you.

You’re Allowed to Redefine the Holidays on Your Own Terms

We also want to be clear that you’re also allowed to forgo engaging with your family altogether if you need to! 

Biological family doesn’t always equal love and belonging. Traditions are not sacred simply because they’re old, and longevity doesn’t automatically make something meaningful or healthy. You are allowed to keep what nourishes you and release what doesn’t, even if others don’t understand your choices.

Many queer people build new rituals with care and intention, often alongside chosen family, community, or on their own. That might mean celebrating later, celebrating differently, or opting out altogether. It might mean quieter holidays, smaller gatherings, or redefining what togetherness looks like beyond obligation.

You Are Allowed to Choose Yourself

Surviving the holidays with challenging family does not require you to be palatable, endlessly patient, or “the bigger person.” And you don’t have to disappear to belong. You are allowed to choose comfort, dignity, and care.

Wherever this season finds you, you’re not alone. There are people who love and accept you, just the way you are. We support you, and we’re holding you in our hearts this season, exactly as you are.