It was a cloudy afternoon in Bangkok, when knowing glances were passed between Pomme’s friends. She sat on the worn steps of the university building, shoulders heavy, eyes downcast. The warmth of a hand pressed against her shoulder broke through the fog that had swallowed her thoughts. “What’s the matter?” was the first thing anyone said to her that day. A sigh was all she could manage to let out, as another one of her friends slipped down next to her, not waiting for an answer. Their presence was a shield, fending off everything that was troubling her. Stillness hung in the air, “How about a pint at our regular bar?” One of her friends said, refusing to let the quiet linger. Within minutes, the heaviness began to loosen, laughter filled the room, and years later, Pomme would still refer to them as her sisters, and wherever they are, home.
For Thailand’s LBQ women, this is what family often looks like. Forged in moments of recognition and care, even without the tether of blood, through reassuring touches, companionship, and unspoken understanding, the meaning of family to them has shifted.
The concept of chosen family takes on particular urgency in contemporary Thailand. Kim and Feyissa (2021) define this as “a group of people to whom a person is emotionally close enough to consider them as family, even though they are not biologically or legally related.” While the country made history in January 2025 as the first in Southeast Asia to legalize same-sex marriage, extending adoption, inheritance, and spousal rights, the path to this milestone is revealed to be complex.
A 2023 government survey showed that 96.6% of the Thai public supported the marriage equality bill, a remarkable leap from 2019 UNDP data that revealed significant gaps between public endorsement and family comfort, with many more willing to accept LGBTQ+ people as neighbors than as children.
Even so, the geography of acceptance, it turns out, is measured not in miles but in a level of intimacy. The difference between celebrating in Bangkok’s vibrant Pride parades and sitting across from parents at the dinner table can feel worlds apart, which is why friends and community members often become the first to witness LBQ women’s authentic selves. Not because blood ties lack warmth, but because chosen family offers the comfort of shared understanding, where acceptance arrives without the gentle work of time that biological families often need.
Bonus, one of our interviewees, shared her experience, reflecting on this divide. Her fear of disappointing her parents has deterred her from coming out. As an only child, she’s hyperaware of the weight that is put on her. “There might also be questions like, ‘Why don’t you like men?’ ‘How will you have children?’ ‘Who will take care of you when you’re old?’ These kinds of questions could come up, especially since I am an only child. Once I graduate, I may have to bear many responsibilities on my own,” she explained. The weight of those questions and discussions at home find release only in the company of her chosen family, her friends, whom she trusts with the parts of herself she cannot yet show her parents. Despite carrying only fragments of her truth, her parents are still those she treasures most deeply. “My parents are the ones who have loved and cared for me since I was a child, and this makes me feel that they will always stand by my side.” For Bonus, a found family is not a replacement but a complement. One offers immediate acceptance, while the other offers continuity and care, even if full understanding is not yet possible.
Aom describes found family less as a safety net and more as a philosophy of love. “As a 28 year old, family now means a group of people who share an unconditional bond with you. Even if you haven’t spoken or met for years, the intimacy of being together never fades.” This redefinition took root when she first began to connect with others in the LGBTQ community, especially LBQ people.
Though her blood family accepts her, they had not walked the same path, nor wrestled with the same questions of desire and belonging as her and other LBQ people. As she put it, “More than anything, I was seeking emotional support through shared experiences. Knowing that others had walked a similar path made me feel less alone.” To Aom, this wasn’t about replacing one form of love with another, but about discovering a different kind of kinship entirely.
PB echoes this definition of kinship. Studies by the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine in 2020 noted that maintaining friendship throughout and after the coming out process supports positive adjustment for sexual and gender-diverse youth. PB experienced this firsthand, recalling the moments when her friend held her trembling hands a moment before coming out to her parents. The heat that day was not helping either, she could feel every heartbeat, every rock beneath her feet, as she dragged herself back to her house. When words fall, and perturbing silence follows, PB didn’t expect that words of acceptance would come shortly after. “To my surprise, instead of judgment, my parents only asked whether the person I was with treated me well and made me safe. That moment was incredibly powerful because it showed me that love can outweigh confusion,” she said. “My chosen family was there for me in every step of that process. They did not try to give unnecessary advice or judge the situation. Their love and presence reminded me that I was not alone, and that kind of support is what makes a chosen family irreplaceable,” she added, grateful for these different kinds of families she gets to have.
Even as Thailand takes historic steps toward legal recognition and broader acceptance of LGBTQ+ people, the experience of Pomme, Bonus, Aom, and PB shows how chosen families remain an important part of LBQ lives. Friends who listen without judgment, who show up in small, steady ways, become the people who witness who they are and who they are becoming. Found family is not a substitute, but a complement—evidence that even in a country marching toward acceptance, the bonds we choose continue to matter profoundly.
