LGBTQ+ Chosen Families & Queer Caregiving

Many adults joke with their kids that they’ll have to take care of them when they’re old. The joke hides an unfortunate truth in poor taste, that in America the model for caregiving is reliant on adult children or a spouse who take on everything alone. The model isn’t realistic, especially for LGBTQ+ older adults who may not have children or a legally recognized partnership.

LGBTQ+ older adults have been creating their own networks of care outside the heteronormative mainstream for decades. As the mainstream model of caregiving becomes increasingly outdated for all the diverse family structures in our society, we can look to LGBTQ+ older adults and their expansive notions of family, community, and care. To better understand queer care networks in Seattle, I conducted interviews with 5 of the most prominent voices in the queer aging field. Their responses paint of picture of LGBTQ+ caregiving that is less burdensome and teaches us about all the ways we relate to one another.

Caren Goldenberg (she/her) is a senior planner for the City of Seattle’s Aging & Disability services (ADS) and a member of the community advisory board for GenPride, Seattle’s only LGBTQ+ senior center. GenPride sits underneath Pride Place, an affordable senior housing apartment building. Goldenberg noted that oftentimes queer couples looking to move into Pride Place won’t fit the regulatory requirements, such as partnerships where one person does not meet the age threshold, or partnerships consisting of more than 2 people. The strict legal requirements are intended to reserve space for people who need it most, yet often end up deterring people from what should be a structural support.

Queer folks are no strangers to taking care of each other without legal backing. Goldenberg aptly noted the legacy of lesbians caring for gay men during the AIDS crisis, which is an intimate memory for many folks. She noted that even within queer spaces, caregiving has always fallen to women. As we age, we can lean on community memory as a field guide of how to navigate the challenges of caregiving with joy and strength. When I asked her what she dreams of for the future of queer aging, she smiled and said, “You know, the joke is that you live on a commune with all your friends… but that’s the dream.” Her vision hits home for many caregivers, who yearn for a community of friends in close reach, where caregiving tasks could be shared as easily as meals and skill sets. Chosen families are inherently queer, because they defy boxes and external labels of meaning. They are relationships without legal obligations and are sustained instead through everyday commitments to keep loving and showing up for one another.

Elisa Barnett (she/they), also a part of ADS, is a beneficiary services coordinator for WA Cares, a new state-wide income tax program to fund long-term caregiving. Previously they were the Program Director at GenPride, worked at a large LGBTQ+ senior center in San Diego, and developed DEI training curriculums with the Altheimer’s Association. When I asked Barnett about what it looks like to age while queer, they were frank; many people end up isolated and don’t seek help until their conditions are severe because of the threat of discrimination. They explained, “It’s scary to invite someone into your home when you don’t know if it’s safe, and if you have limited mobility that’s even harder.”

As part of their role at GenPride, Barnett led trainings at other senior centers on how to be more welcoming to LGBTQ+ members. They reflected on how sometimes the questions they received were tactless; stomaching ignorant remarks as a teaching moment made the space safer for the next person, but it also took a toll. However, Barnett emphasized that oftentimes the biggest hecklers became the strongest advocates, because they were genuinely curious. The goal is that every senior center can be LGBTQ+ affirming, and that folks will be welcomed and cherished in their own communities.

Building that vision will take dedicated funding and material support, Barnett said. As an example, they pointed out the struggle to match LGBTQ+ older adults with LGBTQ+ home care workers amidst the general shortage and underfunding of care professionals. As we live longer and more LGBTQ+ folks are fortunate to grow old, the need for care will only increase. It’s up to all of us to invest our time, energy, and money to meet that need.

One person who is already creating space for LGBTQ+ older adults in their senior center is MJ Jurgensen (they/them). Jurgensen is the Executive Director of the Greenwood Senior Center (GSC) and openly trans nonbinary. Through showing up authentically, they have changed the culture at GSC to be more welcoming and have already seen the ripple effects; despite dealing with instances of discrimination, they have also had people come out to them and inspired people to express their gender more freely, saying “I never knew it was an option.” Jurgensen notes that “representation matters at any age.”

Jurgensen’s experience at GSC is intimately tied to caregiving; one of the most important lessons they shared was remembering that everyone is bringing their whole self to an interaction. When someone accidently misgenders them, they know how to de-center themself and think about what the other person might have on their plate, such as worrying about their spouse with memory loss who keeps wandering off. It’s a dynamic process of setting boundaries and learning together, “Give them credit,” Jurgensen said, “Give them the dignity and ability to learn it.”

Following the thread of aging in community, I looked to the Eastside to meet with Axton Burton (they/them), who is the Executive Director of Pride Across the Bridge (PAB). In 2025, PAB hosted 327 events, including their monthly Rainbow Elder Breakfast. They recently started Elder Game Night, and all their events are intentionally designed as regular series, so if someone misses one they can just show up at the next. The Rainbow Breakfast also moves locations across the Eastside to equalize travel burden. When asked how they could run so many events without burning out, Burton emphasized the importance of a strong community volunteer network. PAB is built off “the community we have here,” Burton said, “It’s not academics or a bunch of non-profits, but rather people showing up for each other and meeting each other where they are.”

The Rainbow Breakfast is especially dear to them, because sometimes it’s the only time folks leave their houses for the month. Burton remarked, “It’s heartbreaking, but it’s also such an honor to hear their stories.” People find friends and build lasting care networks through PAB events, and PAB tries to positively reinforce that if someone asks for help, they will receive it. Many senior centers and community leaders believe LGBTQ+ folks don’t exist on the Eastside—Changing that narrative and holding leadership accountable to their LGBTQ+ constituents is a central mission for Burton. Seeing how much the events mean to folks and how the community has embraced them motivates Burton to continue the work.

My search concluded with one of the most influential voices in the Seattle queer aging scene. Judy Kinney (she/they) has been the Executive Director of GenPride for 3 years and is a queer elder herself. She has a wealth of experience, in youth services, adult daycare, and senior community programs, from Tuscan AZ to Durham NC and back to the Pacific Northwest. They remarked, “I’m an old school social worker … Power to the people, not the clinical stuff.” When I asked Kinney about what it mean to be the Executive Director of GenPride as a queer elder herself, she said, “I had always been in this ally role, as someone middle aged to elders, in working with diverse communities, as a twenty-year old working with teenagers,” she reflected, “[Working in my own community], it shook me. It was clarifying.”

Many of GenPride’s programs and support groups are intended to help people practice asking for and receiving care even when it’s uncomfortable. Kinney wants to expand GenPride’s events to other parts of King County and create a future where queer elders can go to any senior center and feel welcomed. When I reaffirmed that idea of aging in place in one’s own neighborhood, Kinney gently corrected me, and said with a smile, “It’s not aging in place, it’s aging in community, because we don’t stand still.”

LGBTQ+ chosen families are a beautiful example of what caregiving can look like when it’s shared. There is power in our expansive definitions of family, elders, and partnerships, and we can’t be limited by a check box on a form. LGBTQ+ elders are pushing back against isolation and carving out spaces of belonging, but we need structural support and investment to grow with us as we grow older. Together we are building a legacy of vibrant queer elder communities, where we can all thrive and grow old as our most authentic selves.

I would like to thank all interviewees for graciously sharing their time and insights. I am humbled to share your words and hope this article reflects some of the incredible work you are doing in our community.

Contributor Emily Zinter (any pronouns) is an intern with Age Friendly Seattle. Zinter is studying Public Health at the University of Washington and is passionate about health equity. To read more about other Age Friendly programs, visit Age Friendly Seattle.