“Our community is at once intimately connected and hopelessly far-flung, legitimately linked by no more than three degrees of sex partners on a worldwide daisy chain and profoundly lonely. I only had community last weekend because I’d flown three hours to get it.”

Disabled people deserve to know, from our school days, that we’re not just cases, diagnoses, or “not really disabled”; we’re part of a community with its own histories and triumphs.

The care and keeping of lost baby birds, restaurant regulars, education spending in the US, Obama wasn’t joking, tampon tax, women in academia, I propose a Kissing Jessica Stein Addendum, viral trans bathroom selfies, that Michelle Tea piece, talking cats and so so much more!

She told America they couldn’t pray away the gay, and she was right, and we believed her.

For seven years, Homestuck gave LGBTQ fans the opportunity to find reflections of themselves, build relationships and community with other queer people, and become confident enough to own their identities.

Misty Snow and Misty Plowright are changing the world, gun and anti-terror legislation in the wake of Orlando, hate crimes in the UK after the Brexit vote, and more.

Where does the GOP set the bar for what it considers “bigotry,” or sexism, or just plain offensive bullshit?

To The Toast!

Idina Menzel wants Elsa to be gay too, Marceline sings another love song about Princess Bubblegum, Laverne Cox’s new legal drama hires a trans writer, and Shonda Rhimes really didn’t mean for Callie to leave Grey’s Anatomy that way.

“I will lick that shit out of any allegedly “empty” sauce container of aioli regardless of its size in comparison to my tongue and how many people watch in horror or confusion when I refuse to let its gelatinous goodness remain clinging to the sides of its serving dish where it would otherwise remain unused, unwanted and unappreciated.”

Look.

In a TV year full of heartbreak and disappointment, it’s nice to know at least one gay lady is bullet-proof.

“Prince — the musician, the icon, the gender-bending dreamboat — taught me that the best and only thing I can be is exactly whatever I am. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else as long as it keeps me alive and sparkling.”

Gay marriage is finally official in Colombia, two Italian women just adopted each other’s kids, the Dems are fighting for the Equality Act and Sioux Falls is stepping up, and everyone (still) hates North Carolina’s HB2.

Medium becomes a publishing platform, gay magazines are so very white, Facebook introduces live video, Spurned Elle Writer Goes On Totally Bananas Rant, proven conversation topics with strangers, Buzzfeed falls short of revenue projections and so much more!

Because the world sure as hell isn’t telling me my body matters. And having nondisabled friends who do, who affirm me precisely for standing out, means I don’t have to accept pity masked as kindness.

This outfit consisting of a rapidly deteriorating sweater, pleather pants, and a jacket made into a demi-skirt flashed me forward into a dystopian future where water is scarce but total gender/orientation presentation acceptance is not.

I started the 31st week of my pregnancy crying over the kitchen sink as I crammed my gestational diabetes breakfast into my mouth. It wasn’t the pregnancy hormones this time. It was the overwhelming grief and the sudden realization of what it means to be a parent.

“I decided to only visit tables with at least one woman behind them. It’s such a low bar; it cut out a lot of tables.”

Is it possible to learn hot dance moves and wow all your pals on the dance floor just from watching YouTube videos? I decided to find out.