Out and Sober
There is a surprisingly small number of safe spaces for the LGBTQIA populations that are also substance-free. When one imagines the “Gay Scene” they’ll likely conjure up one of two images — a gay club or a parade. Well, the parades I’ve gone to have been pretty well lubricated — in terms of alcohol — but even so, parades are only short term public spaces to feel included. Both of these spaces deemed safe for the LGBT community are vastly unsafe for a person struggling with addiction.
The most abundant “safe space” for people dealing with addiction is what we, in the addiction culture, call “the rooms”. “The rooms” entail all the anonymous-based 12 step programs that exist to help people suffering from addictions and afflictions from those addictions (AA, Al-Anon, NA, ACOA, OEA…the list goes on.) While Alcoholics Anonymous has some women-only rooms and (even fewer) LGBT rooms in the Philly Metro Area, AA is a lifestyle change. This particular brand of treatment requires complete immersion. One safe place meeting a week is often insufficient for the newly sober.
I frequented the Al Anon rooms much more heavily. For Al-Anon, there are no specialized rooms for LGBT participants probably partially because Al-Anon meetings (geared towards partners, families and friends of folks with addictions) are far more scarce. I was usually happy if there was a meeting within a 1/2 hour radius of my fairly urban neighborhood. Still, my sexual orientation caused some discomfort in those circles. My “alcoholic partner” (which is a term used in the rooms for for a significant other regardless of the orientation or gender identity) was a partner in the popular queer sense: my same-sex, super-gay, we’re-totally-lesbians, partner.
12 step programs have a policy to leave your personal opinions on any areas of controversy at the door. But in some circles, my existence is a controversy. It did not go unnoticed or unmentioned in these rooms. Many people find God in the rooms; it’s encouraged in the programs to adhere to a higher-power(although to some that power may be fate, the program, or nature.) As such, many people are religious in these almost entirely white, cisgender, middle aged groups of people. Those usually aren’t the qualities of the pro-LGBTQ+ fan clubs.
I, in no way, want to discourage people from these rooms. These rooms saved me. The vast majority of members are welcoming and inclusive and amazingly strong people with stories that help you feel sane. However there are those in the group with strong opinions about homosexuality. Those opinions filter out as people talk about their respect for their higher power, and how, by the way, homosexuality is a sin. Didn’t you know? How can you accept the assistance of a higher power while being all-gay-and-what-not?
Those overt confrontations were exceedingly rare. But more common was the visual disengagement of members when, in one-to-one conversations, they realized we had less in common than they had imagined. The immediate cessation of conversation, or that little jerk of discomfort from the other person, or the aversion of eye contact upon the realization that I was queer happened all. the. time.
So I stopped outing myself. I used gender neutral terminology while refusing to lie. I changed my narrative. My story was presented with omissions (big glaring omissions.)In doing so, I realized my own discomfort in these spaces. The rooms are supportive to me as someone whose life has been deeply affected by alcoholism, but all while making me feel like I have to hide parts of myself. How many other LGBTQ folks feel that way?
On the path to recovery, my partner and I struggled to find spaces that were both inclusive as a young gay couple, but also, not a bar. Please? Not a bar? Like somewhere local that won’t stare at us for holding hands, but also, not have the most tempting array of micro beers available. We frequented coffee shops for the most part. We also joined an inclusive Unitarian church with LGBT groups (which, by the way, frequently have events around alcohol but respected our decisions not to partake).
But there’s a gap here. With such a high correlation between trauma and addiction as well as trauma and homosexuality, it’s not surprising that there’s a higher rate of substance abuse among LGBTQ populations. But the most common treatment model for substance abuse may not be inclusive for this subset. Conversely, many of the most progressive and inclusive areas and communities, at least in southeastern PA, also happen to be meccas for young folks with a dense population of bars and clubs. So what does our life look like, now that we’re in recovery? (Spoiler alert: outdoors and in-home activities for now.)
TL; DR: The 12-step program circles may not feel comfortable as a lesbian, but neither do the LGBT circles feel comfortable as a sober person in recovery.