Sometimes the only way to remember the good times is to recreate them yourself.
“Why is it that trans women of color have to experience so much violence to remember that they have each other’s back?”
Calling all wandering queers! I’ve written you a survival guide for the next time you’re trying to move onto someone’s back porch.
I don’t know how to make friends, but I’m going to try. I’m going to do it with apps and technology, so that the process is replicable for the rest of you.
In the very first edition of a biweekly column all about tacos, Yvonne writes about her personal connection to the delicious, Mexican super food and her search for damn good tacos far away from home.
“It isn’t until the summer, when the frost melts and the icee man comes calling and the pool is open and the yard (however ridden with stubborn weeds) starts to incubate natural life, that you realize the source of your woes isn’t dependent on the weather. It’s you. “
“It was more like breaking off a cast than ripping off a Band Aid. In a mound of gauze and drape, I buried the certain kind of girl I could no longer relate to.”
“In one of my college psych courses we had to try to use conditioning to get rid of bad habits. My classmates tried to stop biting their nails. I tried to stop panicking during sex.”
How do we both honor our child’s memory and prepare to open our hearts again to a new child?
Was it a nightmare and you just thought you were waking up? It lasted for two hours, you could’ve been dreaming. But you were awake.
This year, from April 20th until June 12th, I made some variation of “no” my Facebook status every day. It was just something I found vaguely funny but by the end it was something that I could count on for strength.
“Now more than ever, I think it’s important to say alabanza to those who were slain, to lift their names up in prayer and to remind those of us still living that Black lives do matter — they’ve always mattered and will always matter.”
Ah, pregnant beginnings. Literally and figuratively. The first trimester of this rainbow pregnancy (yes, that’s actually the term for a pregnancy after a loss). Is it possible to grieve and hope simultaneously?
This wasn’t just an attack on a Facebook invite. For many, this was an attack similar to those they experience in the real world navigating as Black Lesbians and in a space they felt safe in. So what exactly happened?
It’s as if I had just discovered a new color and now had this entirely new dimension to my life. I was able to paint a holistic portrait of what I wanted the rest of my life to look like.
Dipping into my summer wardrobe for the first time reminded me just how far I’ve come in learning to love my body.
“Not all of my experiences as an intersex person inform my being gay, and vice versa, but the overlap is there and it affects things in ways that are both good and complicated at a time in history when homophobia and intersexphobia are alive and kicking.”
If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. After losing my first pregnancy at 24 weeks, how could we face the conception process again, with the added physical and emotional complications?
Sometimes, even the best laid plans are, well, decimated. Even a type-A mega control freak like me couldn’t control my own body when I was pregnant — and I certainly couldn’t control what happened to my son after his premature birth.
What happens when first love and first heartbreak features a cast of three.