If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

The story of queerness in Uganda, bound as it has been to fictions about who we are and who we ought to be, is a story of resilience, love and community.

I suppose the truth is my home, then, is in transition — in the in-between of leaving home, and finding another, in that bittersweet knowledge that nothing is forever.

I am coming to believe that my body is where my knowledge of the Divine lives—even when intellectual belief in God eludes me. My body has known for years that to live it would have to change.

“We were talking about all the places we wanted to visit, all the people we wanted to be. When she asked to kiss me, I said yes.”

On refusal, rest, and resistance.

My hunting experiences from youth to adulthood, in relation to my life as a black, queer woman of color.

These are all love stories.

“I had dreamt about my new sister that very night. An almost spiritual connection. Perhaps my mother could have sensed, then, that I felt the same as her; that I would grow to feel the same. That I had inherited that bond, that tether; that we shared that, too. But how could she have known? How could she understand that her son could ever carry that weight?”

In the middle of a winter night in 1973, while the residents of a small island fishing town in Iceland slept peacefully in their beds, a crack opened up in a flat patch of farmland and began spewing fire.

I spent my adolescence trying to be a boy. I wasn’t very good at it, but I tried really, really hard. I didn’t wear bright colors, I didn’t listen to pop music, I didn’t even style my hair until I was 17. I certainly wasn’t the kind of person to dress in drag. And yet I was. And yet I did. Because when I was 16 I won a drag show in Florence.

Once the itinerary is printed and your bag is packed, travel forces us out of our own limitations, the boundaries we create in our heads.

We all sat in a big circle. We were asked to share. I told them that I’d recently moved back to Seattle, only a month ago, after having been gone for about seven years. My mom died a very violent death here, I said.

There’s nothing like a beach date to the Northernmost tip of your home island of Cebu, Philippines to make you ponder the meaning of love and life, as part of the Filipino diaspora!

“When was the last time you saw a straight person in a bog? That’s what I thought.”

Saying yes almost destroyed me, but I was still afraid to say no.

One time my ex took us on a weekend getaway to a notorious suicide hotspot so that I could take a video of them breaking rocks on the beach with a very small hammer.

A border wall further fragments and disrupts nature, the land, and the people who are intricately woven into the Rio Grande Valley’s natural ecosystem. With increased militarization on the border, who has access to the land? Who is allowed to enjoy the land?

My grandparents and mother were crowded around my grandfather’s laptop; they had lit candles on a cake and sang happy birthday. I was about to make excuses to go back to studying when my grandmother mentioned the referendum. “You know, we’ll see your sister in a few weeks. She’s coming back for the vote.”

Lesbian bars may be dying, but lesbian nightlife is more alive than ever