Why “chosen family” is so important
Especially for those of us with deeply indoctrinated relatives
A Note From Megan | Publication Date: December 1st, 2025
As we slide into the holiday season, I’ve been thinking a lot more about chosen family. Not only in my own life, but in the ways many of us who have deconverted from toxic theology have had to adapt, finding new ways to meet our relational needs outside of our family of origin.
I think it’s rare to not have some relational loss or disruption if you still have family members who are deeply indoctrinated. Some religious groups build shunning right into their doctrines, while in many others, the shunning is an implied outcome, even if it’s not explicitly stated.
And even if there’s not a direct loss of relationship, you may find that there’s now a barrier to closeness or connection because your beliefs and values are no longer in alignment.
So whether you have explicitly stated estrangements in your family or are experiencing more subtle barriers to connection since you’ve deconverted, you might recognize the value of cultivating a “chosen family.”
I want to acknowledge that this term has deep roots within LGBTQ communities whose families disowned them or became unsafe when they came out, and I certainly don’t want to diminish the unique pain and the unique needs members of these communities often carry.
In that context, chosen family has always been about survival and solidarity, not just a feel-good way to describe close friendships.
But as I reflect on this term, it also seems to be one of the best ways to capture the unique experience of many folks who have stepped away from a religious cult. And for LGBTQ folks coming from a high-control religion, this term may feel doubly resonant.
So I’d like to spend a few minutes reflecting on what chosen family can mean and how it can be such a balm for those of us who have experienced relational pain in our family of origin, especially when that family of origin remains deeply indoctrinated.
What is a “chosen family?”
When I use the term “chosen family,” I’m talking about the people you’ve deliberately gathered around you because being with them feels like you finally have the spaciousness to completely exhale.
Essentially, they’re a group of people you form close, supportive bonds with based on trust and shared values rather than biological ties.
These are the people who show up. The ones who know your history, honor your boundaries, and still choose you on the days you’re not especially charming or easy to be around.
For many of us who’ve left religious cults, that kind of family is something we’ve had to slowly cultivate over time.
And for folks whose biological families rejected them—especially many LGBTQ folks who were disowned or emotionally abandoned when they came out—chosen family can become a literal lifeline.
These wonderful people often end up providing one of the only places we experience the kind of love and safety we didn’t consistently receive at home or in our former churches.
Characteristics of a chosen family
When you’ve spent years being told that blood is thicker than water and that family loyalty is sacred and non-negotiable, it can feel disorienting (and even a little guilt-inducing) to realize that some of your safest, most nourishing relationships exist outside those bloodlines.
But for many of us healing from religious trauma, chosen family becomes a necessary reimagining of what “family” can mean.
Here are a few characteristics of chosen family:
It’s also worth saying that not everyone has equal access to building chosen family.
Class, race, disability, geography, and immigration status can all have an impact on how easy it is to move, to leave unsafe homes, or to find affirming community.
For some, chosen family is a cozy idea, while for others, it’s a hard-won network of survival and mutual aid.
When I think about chosen family through this lens—not as a Hallmark-y idea, but as a set of relationships built on consent, care, and shared values—it changes how I look at my own life and how I understand the grief, guilt, and relief that bubbles up when the people who feel most like “family” aren’t the ones I share DNA with.
I have dozens upon dozens of extended family members on both my mom’s side and my dad’s side, but because of several different factors, I’m really only in touch with three of my brothers.
I’m estranged from both parents and one of my brothers at this point and am no longer in touch with my aunts, uncles, or cousins (my grandparents are all deceased).
To be fair, religion isn’t responsible for all of the disconnects in my family—both sides of my family have long, painful histories of trauma and abuse that also play a significant role. I talk more about that in my article, Key Ways Religious Trauma Intersects with Family Trauma.
It’s never not painful to consider how isolated I am from my family system when the sheer volume of family members I have would seem to indicate I’d be participating in vibrant holiday gatherings and lots of love and connection throughout the year.
To help me cope with this painful reality, and to also meet some of my needs for connection and support, I’ve really been attempting to cultivate my chosen family over the past few years.
It’s been a slow process as closeness, vulnerability, and connection can also feel anxiety-provoking at times as these things have all been weaponized by biological family in the past, but I am glad to report that I am making progress.
I’m curious if you’ve found the need to cultivate chosen family since separating from your former religious group. If so, what has that process been like for you?
Please comment below and let me know.