My name is Ambika Nair. I am from Plainsboro, New Jersey. 

I grew up in a conservative South Asian family. I only really realized that I was bisexual once I graduated high school. 

And so I went to college in D.C. at George Washington University. This was sort of the first space where I could tell all of my friends that I was queer, and really live my best queer life. 

I graduated college in 2019, but then almost immediately after, about six to seven months later, the pandemic hit. Also, at the same time, my dad was going to receive a kidney transplant, and lockdown started the week that he finished his operation.

And soon we were  in June of 2020. I was in my apartment one night, feeling pretty lonely, and I get a call from my mom. Immediately she starts crying. She says, “It’s been a really, really tough couple of months at home. Your dad’s recovering, but the care is really, really overwhelming. I really need help.”

After a little bit of a pause, I’m like, “Okay, Mom, I’ll come home.” I make the trip back to Jersey. Because I wasn’t out to my parents, I found myself essentially having to go back into the closet.

I remember this one time where, after sort of a long day, I was sitting with my parents in their bedroom. And I remember my dad sort of looking at me and saying, “You know, we’re gonna get old one day. You’re gonna need help to take care of us. You’re gonna need a husband.”

“We're gonna get old one day. You're gonna need help to take care of us. You're gonna need a husband.”

I just smiled and nodded and said, “Yeah, okay.”

This topic of having a husband would come up in small and subtle ways, and every time it did, it would just continue to weigh on me. I had a group of friends from home who, you know, grew up in the same context that I did, were also from fairly conservative Asian families, and they also happened to be queer. 

We had this little group chat going. And they showed up for me at some of my lowest moments.

I turned 24 when I was at home during the pandemic. My birthday was not at the top of the list of priorities for really anyone at home. I went to my friends in my… in our little group chat, and I said, “Guys, I’m really depressed. I feel really sad.” They essentially were like, hold on, we’ll be there in a couple of hours.

My friends arrived one by one to our driveway. And they brought folding chairs. One of my friends brought a charcuterie board. They brought a cake. They brought snacks. They brought a speaker. And everyone sort of set up their chairs six feet apart to be safe. Everyone was masked. For a moment, it felt like all of the hardships and adversities all just disappeared.

A couple of months later in April, the vaccines were released, and I really sort of began to think about whether or not it was time for me to go back to D. C.I definitely felt a sense of guilt, but I also really, really missed my old self. I of course went to my friends, my chosen family, and sort of expected people to have the same sort of conflict as I did. What they instead said was a resounding, “You need to go back to D.C., you need to choose yourself.” 

I let my parents know of my decision. They were initially disappointed, but  ultimately knew that I had made up my mind and knew that I would be happier. 

I  called up some of my friends from D.C. With no hesitation, they were like, “ Get your things ready and packed. We’re going to load them up in our car and we’re going to drive back to D.C.”

My friends came. The first song that they play on the radio is a song by Rina Sawayama called Chosen Family. It’s so funny because they played it because they know I love Rina Sawayama. But that moment, it felt movie-like. 

Once I was back in D. C., it was almost like I had to learn how to be a queer person again. As much as I loved being back in D.C. and being around a lot of my friends in D.C. again, I kept thinking back to my friends from home. And they all just happened to be based in New York City.

I was really ready for a new adventure, but I was ready for a new adventure with my chosen family and my queer friends. And so, I decided to move to New York City. I also decided to live with and be around the very same friends who essentially saved my life. 

As a Queer person, your chosen family is your lifeline. We’re not related by blood, but they love me and cherish me and are there for me the way that a bio family is expected to be.