LGBTQ+ parenting and therapy: the unique challenges of parenting while queer

Parenting is hard on its own

Even before you throw in LGBTQ+ identity, there's no getting away from the fact that parenting is difficult. Many people come into therapy after becoming parents. It could be because their relationship is struggling, they're not functioning through lack of sleep, or they feel they've lost a part of their identity.

Often, people will start therapy when their child is the age they experienced some kind of hardship. Whether your child is happy or having similar struggles, watching them in comparison to what you experienced can dig up old wounds, even those you might have considered put to rest.

Then we add in LGBTQ+ identity.

I dedicate my career to talking about the joys and hardships of queer life. I talk about it with clients, I teach counsellors about it, I write about it and do talks on it. And I don't think I'll ever have said enough about the nuances of parenting as an LGBTQ+ person, but here are some of the difficulties and joys of queer parenthood, some of which might resonate with you:

Pathways to parenthood

Parenthood, or the wider act of family building/looking after children or those we choose (however that looks for you and your family), isn't a given as a queer person. LGBTQ+ people of any identity will at some point have had to consider the various pathways to becoming parents. These are often not clear, they're expensive and for many, they're impossible.

Grief work around fertility or the different pathways is therefore common in my practice. It's natural to be confused and even angry at the complicated systems that often feel like they're set up against you. Mourning might need to happen when one door closes. When multiple doors are offered, they need to be explored. And sometimes you might need to take a leap of faith.

Whiplash

I probably don't need to tell you, but things have become much harder in recent years for the entire community. LGBTQ+ people are facing a shocking rise in hatred across the globe. I often hear the phrase "I thought it was getting better", particularly from parents of older children who started their families at what felt like a relatively safe time. I describe this experience as "political whiplash". Parents who had considered the world they were bringing their children into all of a sudden have to contend with a brand new, much scarier reality.

Our own childhoods

As mentioned above, one's childhood can be an emotional hot topic for a lot of people. It's often exacerbated when queer identity is involved. Many people might remember a history of bullying, shame and familial tension around their gender or sexuality. Parents who have been through their own struggles often strive to do better for their children. You might also be contending with parenting a gay or trans child, with the added scrutiny and judgement that comes alongside that. This can lead to grief around your own childhood, or pressure to be perfect.

Perfection

As above, as queer people we don't get the luxury of only representing ourselves. When one of us makes a mistake, we're all tarred with the same brush. It can be easy to feel watched and scrutinised. When you've undergone the gruelling adoption or fostering process, or had social services involvement of any kind, the pressure to be perfect can feel even more heightened.

This can present as wanting to prove you're just like the other parents at the school gate, distancing yourself from others in the community, or striving for a standard that's unsustainable. The 'you' gets lost in favour of this image of the perfect parent (and I've never met a perfect parent yet so I'm not sure they even exist!).

A different kind of village

Adoption or fostering interviews, or even midwife appointments can really highlight the difference between heteronormative and queer family structures. The kind of support network professionals are looking for might include nuclear families/grandparents, friends with their own kids, local support etc. Your 'village' might look different from that. It might be plentiful, with lots of friends and chosen family around to help out (one of the benefits of queer culture). But yours might also look sparse. You might not have a wide network of friends, you might live in a hostile town so you keep to yourself or be estranged from family so it's all on you. Transition can be a time that's particularly brutal when it comes to friendships and family relationships ending. This might mean that either your village is unconventional, or empty, bringing with it a lot of different challenges.

Guilt

Agonising over whether you've made the right decisions is a right of passage for any parent, particularly when considering raising children amid a climate crisis. In addition, queer parents are questioning more and more if their existance could put their children at risk. If you're set on creating children, you might face backlash from those who consider adoption or fostering the only ethical ways to become parents/carers.

Even when you don't make the decision to add more humans to the world, other pathways are not guilt-free. There are many adult adoptees who speak out about the unethical nature and saviour-complex of the adoption industry. Being part of the system as a foster carer also comes with the inevitable knowledge that children will be let down at some point. The moral of this parenting story: often you can't win.

Joy

Something I always like to hold in mind, whether that's in counselling sessions or trainings, is a sense of queer joy. It's not that I 'silver-line' anything, but the LGBTQ+ community is proof that where there is hardship, there is also a lot of joy. If your village is small, or you can't reach out to the important people you'd like to share milestones with, these moments can be difficult to hold onto.

Queer parents get to experience all the usual milestones with some extras added in: Maybe your child of lesbian mothers fielded a question about their Dad at the park today using the proud language you'd taught them. Maybe you're a non-biological or adoptive parent who is beginning to notice how your toddler has picked up your mannerisms. Maybe your adult child used your correct pronouns for the first time. These can easily be missed by counsellors who don't appreciate the significance of them, but these are the moments that can make it all worth it.

The role of therapy

Whether or not this entire blog, or only part of it has resonated with you, this is a lot to hold on your own. Counselling can provide a space to put down the 'SuperParent' costume and be a little less perfect. It's an hour a week to voice the guilt, the despair, the worry, the exhaustion that you carry around with you on a daily basis. It also should be a place where you can talk about the nuanced uniqueness of your family with someone who walks alongside you to understand it. I know that that's not always the case, though.

About me

I'm Josiah, a counsellor and the founder of Off Beat Therapy. Off Beat Therapy exists to provide counselling to those who feel uncomfortable or unwelcome at in traditional therapy settings. I mostly work with the LGBTQ+ community, particularly with older trans people, drag performers and queer parents. If you're struggling and anything I've said here resonates with you, you can visit my website at www.offbeattherapy.com for more information about how counselling might help.

If you're a counsellor or in a similar profession and would like to learn more about supporting queer parents, you can go to www.offbeattherapy.com/training for more information

A final important note

All the words above come from me: I don't use AI in my writing so you can be sure the vibe, tone and message convey who I am and how I might show up in the therapy room.