I was raised by Tegan and Sara

By Iris Kingery

Image by Iris Kingery

Do you believe in the ever-elusive, almost spiritual power of a “full-circle” moment? Despite having lived only 22 years on this planet, I definitely do. A full-circle moment is a reunion with the origin of a life event, but as a wiser person. Some examples of full-circle moments might include a grandparent witnessing their grandchild’s birth, a renewal of vows or rereading one’s old diary. A bonafide full-circle moment takes your breath away and makes your heart flutter. It crystalizes your understanding of why a sequence of events in your life's history had to happen exactly the way they did. It punctuates confusion and heartache with meaning and closure.

My most recent full-circle moment is my favorite yet. This moment took the form of a Tegan and Sara concert one chilly San Francisco night of November 2022. Everyone who knows me knows that I adore the identical twin sister musicians for their moving lyrics, guitar craft(wo)manship and fearless social activism. Originally from Canada, the sisters started making music when they were 15 with a guitar they found in their parents’ basement. Their DIY beginnings gave way to an authentic sound that has now spanned 10 studio albums, featuring everything from organic instrumentation to new-wave synth bops. It's true rock music – ultra cool yet disarmingly honest.

Tegan and Sara are inspiring individuals for more than their music. Both sisters are openly gay, and they strive to affirm the broader experiences of the LGBTQ+ community. They speak honestly about their identities in songs such as “I Was Married”, a melancholic guitar ballad about cultural homophobia separating gay couples with earnest love for each other ("muscles fought so long//to control against the pull of one magnet//to another magnet"). And now, both Tegan and Sara are actually married. Sara's partner recently gave birth to their first child, a son. "Sara just had a baby," Tegan proudly bantered to the audience that November night at the Fillmore, who cheered in delight.

Image by Iris Kingery

And that was my full-circle moment. My cheeks flushed as I realized then that, in a way, Tegan and Sara raised an integral part of me from its infancy – my courage to live my life as an openly lesbian woman. I discovered them nine years ago, as a plucky middle schooler with all-consuming angst ready to be unleashed into the world of indie-rock music. The urgently uptempo guitar riffs of "So Jealous" became the soundtrack of my young life, despite having no one to be jealous of except the popular girls with knee-high Nike socks that now strike me as an egregious fashion sin. “We're gay," the sisters would casually mention in interviews.

Even at 12 years old, I was starting to gather that I wasn't straight, but it was a revelation that made me feel uncomfortable and ashamed. I was aware that the bubble of my kind, progressive family didn’t match the whole of my conservative Kansas hometown. 2013 was, somehow, a notably different world than 2023. Kids still called each other “fags” and non-ironically posted things like “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” on their social media. One time, a friend gently told me, “you know, Iris, it wouldn’t surprise me if you were 100% gay.” My stomach did a flip, frightened at the prospect of being different.

Tegan and Sara, however, were different in the most exquisite way. Their androgynous style and edgy gay love songs (hello, “The Con”) perched myself in my young mind as The Coolest Thing Ever. They opened the door to the possibility that different could be good.

So, when I was 13, I made a bucket list in my diary of things I wanted to do in the next five years, or perhaps in the rest of my life (when you’re 13, those periods of time seem equivalent). At the very top was “See a Tegan and Sara concert.” I wanted to meet these people who were slowly but surely propelling me in the direction of self-actualization. Underneath, I wrote “fall in love, for real,” implying that I had been in love before (I hadn’t) or had anyone in my sights (Tegan, maybe).

Return to my full-circle moment. I’m standing in the historic Fillmore, feeling my 13 year old self rise out of some forgotten part of me to say hello. The sisters opened with a colorful, synth-infused track, "Stop Desire," from their 2016 album "Love You to Death." Their voices, clear and radiant, filled up the small ballroom. This feat was all the more impressive considering that the duo had just recovered from a cold that had rendered them vocally unable to play their Denver show. The pair hit the fan favorites from nearly every album, from the moody "Living Room" of "This Business of Art" to the euphoric "Closer" from their 2013 album "Heartthrob".

When they got to “Nineteen”, I finally cried. I had a difficult 13, and I had a turbulent 19, but now I’m 22 and at peace.

My being gay cost me a best friend. It cost me, or so I thought, my relationship with the Christian G-O-D. Being in the Fillmore, embraced by the radiant waves of electric guitars and the aromatic smell of likely-prohibited weed, I knew I'd come home. I didn't feel Capital H-I-M's domineering presence judging me, ready to snatch me from a moment of pleasure back to piety. I am free — spiritual in my own way, and knowing I can love whoever I want to.

Gay people have partners and babies and beautiful communities and happiness — it’s available to all of us. Thank you, Tegan and Sara!