“As wonderful as this time together has been, as close as we’ve gotten, we both know that once the world opens up a bit more, we’ll finally get to have a lot of our “firsts” — and that it may be bittersweet to finally have our first date six months into being a couple.”
“This was after that night, when I moved into the guest room with the little bathroom, when I moved my toiletries onto the shower floor, when I moved all the books I was reading, and my perfume bottles, my department-store boxes filled with eyeliner and lipstick. And I texted my spouse that we were separating and that I had moved into the guest room, and they called me and wanted to come back to the house and I said, ‘No, no, don’t, I don’t want you to,’ and then sat on the front porch smoking, waiting, as I had set the stage for another cinematic moment to happen. And my spouse did not come home.”
“I know we everywhere, but Black SOUTHERN people are and will always be my heart. The way we love up on each other. Take care of each other. Check up on each other, sometimes a little too much. It’s the cadence of our little sayings, the burst out loud laughter. The dramatics in the everyday stories of nothing. I love Black southern people.”
I tried to lead restorative justice in my own sexually abusive (former) t4t relationship. I did this because I am an abolitionist and know people are more than the worst things they do. What I didn’t know at the time: we should have not been the ones to facilitate the process. With leftist language co-opted, I didn’t know I was allowed to leave; I didn’t know I was allowed to have boundaries.
We were hoping not to have occasion to revisit this conversation as a one-year anniversary, but we do, so here we are, exploring the question: What do you feel like you’ve taken away from this past year of pandemic life?
“I spent years not thinking about my penis — or, at least, thinking about it as little as possible. After I transitioned, my penis became the most important part of my body — at least, to other people.”
We could all do with a little bit more self-care right now; this how-to takes you through one dyke’s journey to find joy and slowness through The Pause Project. Learn about her process and read about some ways you can curate a self-care project like this for yourself.
All I have is an ellipsis. Grief is a flat circle. And I never imagined I would have to live through grieving her.
How do you tell them your poem about pussy doesn’t negate your love for God? That your spirituality isn’t separate but an extension of you?
I am ready to be fearless. To dream beyond Black womanhood and know that I — Black, queer, and not-quite-sure — am worthy, so worthy of all of the love, affirmation, and power the universe can muster.
I always wonder what words my ancestors had for someone like me. In embracing my genderfluid identity, I’ve found great comfort in the deep and wide of the Atlantic — the way the water connects me to kin, named or unknown.
“It turns out I’ve been right all along: love is bigger than all that.”
I hid behind instruments, computers, Whitney’s voice, Prince’s guitar. I sat in front of my computer surrounded by cassettes, illegally downloading songs, awkwardly whispering “I love you more than I know how to explain and I’m scared so here’s a mixtape I made you.”
Since coming out as trans, the idea of sex with cis guys has gotten more complicated: can I fuck a straight man if I’m transmasculine?
The thing about miscarriage is that the word itself does no justice to the great tragedy that it is. There are very few things I know anymore, but I do know this: Birdie will always be a part of our Hanukkah story.
What does Hanukkah look like when you’re a queer, Black, convert who doesn’t find deep meaning in traditional celebrations of the holiday?
“People were always so impressed that you didn’t leave me, but your gift wasn’t staying — it was seeing. Most people don’t get to transition under the pansexual gaze of someone who loves them the way you loved me.”
I don’t think it matters much whether Avatar: The Last Airbender is “respectful” of Asian culture. I think the show is racist, and also I like it. I’m interested in what we do with the sense of agency it gives us, how it allows us to critique the structures that exist and envision our own worlds.
I’ve been told I should try to reclaim my ancestral healing practices, and this is something I would like to do. When I try to learn about Chinese things, it feels performed. I wonder if me learning qigong is any better than white lady yoga.
On the 24th day of quarantine, I turned on all of the lamps in my room and took off all my clothes. Then I stood in front of the mirror and stared.
“Knowing what’s up doesn’t totally make it better, but it helps.”