The winter holidays can feel… complicated. For many LGBTQIA+ people, this time of year is equal parts wrestling with the political implications of the holidays, finding cozy things to do in the darker days, and dealing with the stress of spending time, or not, with certain people. But it’s primal to yearn for comfort foods and rituals that welcome in the light.
If you’re craving connection, warmth, or simply want a way to anchor yourself as the year winds down, a last-minute Friendsgiving with your chosen family might be exactly the thing. The good news? It doesn’t require weeks of planning, 14 lists, or a spreadsheet. (Unless that’s your thing, you do you!) You can pull this together in 24–48 hours and still be cherished and seen this holiday season.
Here’s your guide.
1. Start With a Text Thread, Not a Big To Do
This isn’t a Martha Stewart holiday tableau—it’s yours.
Send a simple group text:
“Hi loves. I’m craving a little queer community magic this week. Anyone up for a tiny, scrappy Friendsgiving? Low-stress, high-love.”
People may be more available than you think. And nearly everyone is hungry for connection. Offer one or two possible windows, and let folks self-select.
2. Anchor It With One Dish or a Simple Theme
Every queer gathering has someone who shows up with a perfectly caramelized tart and someone who brings two bags of chips. Let it happen.
Pick one anchor dish or a simple theme you know you can handle last-minute:
- A pot of spiced lentils or chili (folks can bring sides that match)
- Fall feelings (think pumpkin spice, local seasonal foods, squash)
- Breakfast for dinner (who doesn’t love pancakes and toppings?)
- Carbs and comfort (soup and bread!)
Then let everyone else fill in the gaps. Ask people to bring whatever they love, whatever they have, or whatever they can pick up at the corner store on the way (a bag of candy or some hand picked flowers totally counts). This is a celebration of abundance, not expectations.
3. Lean Into Cozy, Not Fancy
You don’t need matching plates or tablescapes. Honestly, mismatched dishes are a vibe.
Create warmth with the simplest tools:
- Tea lights (or whatever candles you already have)
- A playlist that sounds like fall feelings
- Blankets and pillows on the floor
- A “take your shoes off if you’re comfy” welcome
If you’re hosting outside, add string lights and a few extra jackets. No one cares if your backyard looks like a work-in-progress—they care that you invited them.
4. Make Space for a Mini Ritual
Queer holidays thrive on chosen rituals. Build one in, even if it’s tiny.
Options:
- Gratitude Round Robin: “Name one thing you’re proud of surviving this year.”
- Queer Toasts: Raise a glass to the brilliance in the room.
- Ancestor or Heritage Moment: Honor queer elders, personal ancestors, or community history.
- Tender Check-In: Invite everyone to share something they’re craving more of in the coming season.
These moments are where the real magic happens.
5. Honor Accessibility and Emotions
Someone might be arriving from a hard family conversation. Someone else might be overstimulated before the appetizers.
A little care goes a long way:
- Ask about access needs ahead of time.
- Keep a quiet corner available.
- Offer non-alcoholic options and comfort foods.
- Normalize late arrivals and early exits.
Friendsgiving is about belonging, not performance.
6. Send People Home Feeling Loved
End on a note that makes people feel held:
- Pack leftovers in BYO (bring your own) containers.
- Send a group photo (faces optional!) afterward.
- Share a simple love note in the thread:
“Thank you for being my people. I’m grateful we get to do life like this.”
Being cherished doesn’t require perfection. It just requires showing up—with food, with heart, and with your full, queer, beautifully human self.
Final Thought
If this season is tender for you, you’re not alone. You deserve connection that feels nourishing and real; not the forced cheer of holiday commercials, but the steady warmth of community care.
A last-minute Friendsgiving won’t fix everything. But it might give you one night of joy, softness, and belonging. And sometimes, that’s exactly what our bodies and hearts need.
