“At 27, I came out as Korean-American. I was always Korean, of course. I checked the “Asian” box when filling out a form. My ethnicity was written on my face in the shape of my eyes and my small flat nose. But until a few years ago, it wasn’t an identity I felt connected to. There were many identities that came first — poet, bisexual, queer, feminist, activist, organizer, fattie, vegan. Being Korean was a fact, but not an identity.”
Since her failed bid in 2007, I’ve been ready for Hillary. But even more importantly, I’ve been ready to raid the Ready for Hillary online store.
I got a taste of something I had never known — shopping in the men’s department afforded my body the opportunity to take up the amount of space it actually takes up.
“The growing “body of evidence” emerging from biological and medical research, according to some commentators, speaks loudly and clearly: transgender people exist, science says. Of course, we already knew that… Any responsible approach to folding science into advocacy efforts should not only understand what scientific research says, but how and why it came to say what it does.”
“Satisfactory social responses are often more obvious to nonautistic individuals. My behavior can be misinterpreted as ludicrous excuses or just being a jerk, when I’m simply lacking social knowledge.”
“My friends who hadn’t left town took me to new restaurants and bars they had found during their fledgling adulthood. Strangers lived in what had been my home. The girl I loved in May wasn’t speaking to me. I had a wonderful time, but I learned the city wasn’t mine anymore.”
Here are some tools I employ to protect my sobriety while still allowing me to participate in all of the fun. If you’re concerned about being a sober queer at Pride this year, some of these tools may come in handy.
Kelly cut off all her hair and started dating Katie. I started chasing around after a guy who looked like Ellen DeGeneres and trying to make sense of the mess in my brain.
We got chills and teary eyes in the first session when leaders from the southern based LGBTQ advocacy organizations we invited told us simply that we didn’t have to leave the south. I can’t remember ever having heard anyone tell me that so plainly before.
“Of course, we abandoned the trail and set off in flip-flops, so our adventure was a little less Indiana Jones, and a little more Troop Beverley Hills.”
National Poetry Slam 2013! We laughed, we cried, we stayed up until ungodly hours of the night to cheer on our friends and favorites.
“Tomorrow we’re getting on a plane at 6 am and flying from LA to Boston and not returning until Thanksgiving. It’s quite possibly the craziest thing we’ve ever done.”