Because of the positive affirmation I received during sex, I began to believe it was all I was good for. When people wanted me, I assumed it was my job to provide joy for other people. I gave myself to a lot of people in that way. I had to remember that I had a right to pleasure as well.

First I became a cloud-woman. Min had always liked watching them as a child, one of her only good memories from that period. I lifted up my skirts, let her lap up my water. Her mouth was covered in dew when I kissed her.

As annoying as it is, probably, to hear it, you really have to lead with love. It’s not our responsibility to love people who hate us or wish us ill, but if those people are your friends or family, it is yours. If you genuinely care about your family and want them to be and do better, let that ground your conversation.

Many Black women are raised to give our apparent struggles the stiff upper lip. We’re taught to be loud, and proud, and bigger than the world sees us. And at the end of all of that effort, in my most private and intimate moments, I wish to lay my burdens down. Ain’t I a bottom?

Our QTPOC besties are vital to our existence so we wanted to create a list filled with our stories to celebrate just how magical they are.

This is not a how-to guide; there’s no right way to navigate these situations. Let’s share instances of microaggressions and some ways to deal in the hopes we’ll all be able to make it out alive, looking sexy and loving our hardest.

“Yup, we were just lesbians in a library. You know, just hanging out.”