The lingering impact of going ‘home’ for the holidays as a trans person

Four trans people from across the U.S. share the highs and lows of visiting family and spending time in their hometowns during the 2025 winter holiday season.

Though we’re rapidly approaching Valentine’s Day, the effects of the most wonderful time of last year have some of us still musing on the subjects of home and family. For trans people who visit their families of origin or hometowns during the winter holidays, there can be a lot to navigate in the moment, including shifting familial and social dynamics, gendered traditions and expectations, and increasingly conservative or hostile cultural landscapes. Processing these journeys can take time and impact us long after the twinkling lights come down. 

In 2025, the United States saw 1,020 anti-trans bills introduced on the legislative floor, targeting trans people and our access to bodily autonomy, health care, and public space. 125 of those bills passed into law, threatening the lives, safety, and basic human rights of trans people across the country. 

“It’s hard to be somewhere where you know that your existence rubs against the fabric of the town,” says Joyah Dominique (she/they), a 31-year-old nonbinary trans woman. A Black and Puerto Rican actor and baker, Dominique is based in New York City. They returned to Bethlehem, PA to visit their family for the holidays. 

“My big thought [was]: How can I make it back unscathed?” 

Dominique describes Bethlehem as the kind of town where you likely aren’t the first queer person someone has met, but you are probably the only one they know personally. The oldest of six children, she says her family is trying to meet her gender journey in the middle, but “going to the middle for me means taking steps back.”

During her visit, the youngest sibling asked Dominique why she wouldn’t insist that her family call her Joyah, her chosen name. While she didn’t have a clear answer, she did spend time with more conservative family members without suppressing her femininity, which illuminated a new revelation. 

“Coming as a full version of myself allowed them to move forward in a rate that they couldn’t if I kept coddling their feelings,” they say.

Above all, Dominique hopes more people see the value in checking in on those in similar positions. “I wish more folks knew that choosing to be palatable for a few days is vital for some of us,” she says. “I wish more folks asked questions before giving answers.”

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Chris Moon (they/he), a Korean American transmasculine nonbinary model, is also based in New York City. The 26-year-old spent the holidays in Nashville with their sister and mother, who have always been supportive. 

Even with their support, family can be complicated. Moon says, “It’s a moment of celebration over surviving another year, as well as seeing — in the complicated tapestry that is family — where the threads are lopsided, frayed, or just where they need to be.” 

To stay grounded, Moon took to his daily practice of journaling as a means of “taking out the junk in my brain, then touching base with my soul and body,” he says. 

In 2024, Tennessee passed 10 anti-trans bills into law — the most of any state. 51 bills were passed across the United States, with Tennessee signing around 20% of those into law. In 2025, Tennessee considered 30 pieces of anti-trans legislation, and passed another 10 bills. Considering the state’s political and cultural climate, Moon was relieved to be in a politically blue city in a sea of red.

A refreshing change from the hustle and bustle of New York City, Moon appreciated the slowness of Nashville. For Christmas, they asked their tattooist sister for custom ink. To their surprise, their mom joined in on the design brainstorm, showcasing the progress she has made in becoming more open-minded.

“Like many Asian parents, she’s previously been against tattoos as a whole, so receiving that extra bit of support from her meant a lot to me,” Moon says. “We decided on an old Korean Hanja symbol, which wouldn’t have been found if it weren’t for my mom’s knowledge of it.”

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Apollo Robert (he/him), currently based in Virginia, also stayed in Nashville for the holidays. A 26-year-old white intersex trans man, Robert is a youth program manager at interACT, the advocacy organization for intersex youth. While not originally from Tennessee, his immediate family relocated there to be closer to their extended family. 

Robert and his unwaveringly supportive parents are astutely aware of the state’s stance on trans, nonbinary, gender-nonconforming, and intersex people. Last summer, the Supreme Court upheld Tennessee’s ban on certain gender-affirming medical treatments, including puberty blockers and hormone replacement therapy, for trans constituents under 18. 

Prior to his visit, Robert anticipated feeling on edge while in public.

“Despite passing as a cisgender man, I don’t pass as straight. I come across as a cisgender queer man to most people,” he said. “Thankfully, I’m often in public with my family, so I feel reassured that I have their support if I were to ever experience harassment.”

Much to his relief, Robert experienced no harassment over the holidays. “I want people to understand that I’m lucky in feeling safe enough to visit a rural town in a politically deep red state, and that I have supportive family members,” he says.

Additionally, he came out to his great aunt over the phone during this visit. When he shared his new name, she responded by enthusiastically saying, “Oh! Hi, Apollo!” which Robert described as “very heartwarming.”

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For Jordan Stanley (he/they/she), a 36-year-old genderfluid nonbinary actor and website designer, holiday plans involved an international trip to Idaho. Currently based in Vancouver, Canada, Stanley previously lived in New York City to pursue musical theatre — a respite during their youth in Idaho.

“Back then, it was more baked-in belief — often religious — and a lack of representation than anything more overtly insidious,” she said about the general levels of homophobia and transphobia in her hometown. Between her brother’s newfound sobriety and this being Stanley’s first Idaho visit after coming out to her family a year ago, she braced herself for the possibility of a difficult visit home.

Ahead of their trip, they mused, “I wonder what sort of collision is in store — a car crash of emotional overwhelm? Or the violent silence of pretending that I’ve come to know so well?” 

Similar to Tennessee, Idaho has become a center of legislative assault, with most of its trans, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming constituents relying on bordering sanctuary states to receive gender-affirming care. 

While Stanley came to Idaho prepared with a slew of outfits and a mental catalogue of clapbacks, their visit was surprisingly affirming. 

“My mom bought me foundation for Christmas, my dad included me in the annual girls’ nails appointment at the spa, they both came with my partner to get my ears pierced, and my brother — despite several petty attempts to get some kind of reaction from him — acted like nothing at all had changed.”

Stanley wondered, Had they all secretly taken a course together on loving and validating trans children? Between cuddling the family cat, dancing to house music, and strolling along the beautiful Idaho landscape every morning, Stanley found a lot to enjoy this holiday season. 

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Having a support network of friends, family, wider community, or even animal companions can make a challenging time of year easier to get through. 

“It’s best to be just as kind and understanding as possible,” Moon adds. “What’s kept me above water in difficult moments is remembering the friends and community I have with people who…genuinely see me for my whole self, and/or constantly remind me of what’s possible.”