We live in a hugely complex social structure, that is organized in the slimmest of fashions, and yet it is pretty darn good at giving us staggeringly impressive lives, yet we seem to have no words to describe the thing we all live inside. For instance, in almost every language I can tell you my exact relationship to almost any kin member (Margie is my second cousin, twice removed, on my father’s side), but I have no words to describe my relationships to the people around me whose efforts are far more important to my health and happiness. Not to slight my imaginary cousin, but her connection to my well-being is not nearly as important as the eye doctor I see once a year, or the unnamed driver that delivers produce to our local grocery store twice a week. And none of these individuals are as important as Guillermo, the guy who makes the buche tacos I love so much that we frequent the little hole in the wall where he cooks at least once a week. 

To be fair, most of the connections in our lives, especially if we live in a modern city, are historically brand new. Our languages have not yet come up with words to describe their importance to us. In the not too distant past, kin relationships were about the only resource a poor person might call upon, so of course developing words to describe our relationships (and thus defining our obligations) were essential for survival. In the last X number of years our social organizations have branched out into so many different specializations — ways for humans to be and work, and thus connect — that our languages have just not yet caught up. The problem, as I see it, is not that we don’t have words for these connections, it’s that we don’t have words to describe the obligations such connections entail. 

After all, if Margie, my imaginary kin member (second cousin, twice removed, on my father’s side), were to show up on my door step on a cold rainy night, I would likely feel obligated to give her a warm dry bed for the night, and some food in her belly the next morning. Everything after that would have to be negotiated, depending upon what they needed and what I had to offer. After all, I live with other people who are even less connected by kinship ties to cousin Margie, but to whom I am far more deeply obligated. (You better believe my wife’s needs come before Margie’s.) But how much am I obligated to the guy who cooks my favorite tacos? We have a kind of convivial relationship, though neither of us knows much of the language of the other, but there is no good word for our connection outside of “commerce,” which sounds cold when put onto paper, and in no way describes the esteem I have for the man’s cooking. There is no language that I know of, no words that plots our relationship, and more importantly the social obligations we might have towards each other. And yet, we are very much connected. I see it in his smile every time I show up at his restaurant. Ola Amigo!

The term “found family” is especially popular among marginalized communities. I don’t know a single gay or trans friend who does not use the term frequently. So far, this is as close to the concept of the twined connection/obligation typically expected in kin relationships, but being used for those we feel obligated towards but have no kin ties. And found family is a very general term. It doesn’t carry the very specificity of  words like cousin or brother. I’m quite sure that someday there will be words for the concept of a found brother, or found cousin. Words that not only describe the connection, but also carry the weight of social obligation. We just don’t have them yet. Perhaps I’ll write a book with them just to get the idea started. Who knows?