Finally it’s Thanksgiving again. It’s my favorite holiday. It really is special to the LGBT community as well. Back in the day, Thanksgiving meant a tense dinner with one’s extended biological family that may or may not have been aware of the gay at the table. And, if they “knew,” they probably were not especially embracing and reminded you not to bring what’s-his (or her)-name. The only solace was the knowledge that all of your LGBT friends were enduring the same awkward charade. The preferable option was a relaxed and joyous celebration among other gays. The more likely to be an iconic Norman Rockwell occasion was the latter.
Speaking of which, as a kid and budding photographer I recall a Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle’s. I took a picture of the perfectly browned turkey on a carving platter as my uncle set it on the table in homage to that Rockwell ideal. Things would go well enough until someone’s smart, off-the-cuff comment set off the powder keg. I also recall a Thanksgiving at a friend’s whose mother obsessively cooked turkey, ham, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, more sides than one could count and half a dozen pies for dessert. Meanwhile, in the basement, his father worked his way through a pitcher of Manhattans.
I cooked for a trio of gay friends when I first settled in Milwaukee. It was one of my best Thanksgivings. My farmer friend was given the honored task of carving the turkey since he was the tough guy who slaughtered his own pigs. He managed to drop the knife and it stuck into the hardwood floor, just missing his bare foot. That moment of near horror turned into a round of laughter and another round of drinks. Dinner went on without further mishap.
Our community, our Diaspora of LGBT refugees, has established a certain fellowship. We share our diverse histories, coming together in our own melting pot. A familial bond has evolved around the ritual setting of tables and the inevitable conversation about food and Thanksgivings past. In the enthusiasm of the telling, even auntie’s mini marshmallow-topped sweet potato casserole sounds sumptuous and delicious. And I’ll recount the scene of me in my mother’s kitchen tearing up slices of slightly stale bread for her amazing Italian sausage-and-sage stuffing. We all have our gravy-stained cookbooks, heirloom recipes typed on yellowed file cards or scrawled on the backs of envelopes that we bring to the table. That, and our own acceptance of who we are, make our holiday memorable.
This year Pathfinders is having a Thanksgiving eve dinner for its homeless youth program; for information, contact Susan Raines at sraines@pathfindersmke.org. I’ll be volunteering there. And, on Saturday afternoon, Milwaukee’s LGBT Community Center is hosting the annual free Rainbow Community Thanksgiving Potluck put on by a collaboration of LGBT groups. Admission is free; for information, call 414-271-2656 or visit mkelgbt.org. Over the years, dozens who may not have otherwise had a traditional meal at home have attended. For many it’s now their family tradition.
Hopefully, our younger LGBTs will be with their own accepting families as well as their adopted ones. Happy Thanksgiving to all!
