There’s a staunch Puritanical and traditionalist bent that persists in New England, now resulting less in atrocities like the perennially invoked Salem Witch Trials and more in people being doggedly polite: here, that means ignoring each other in public, not making small talk when you can be direct, and extreme propriety around personal questions to the extent of depersonalization. It can leave a queer kid uninspired, and in communities where, for better or worse, coding is still a vital method of communication, it can make the world feel small.
The world tells us that we should not want anything beyond what is here and now, right in front of us, but what’s in front of us is violent and harmful. What’s in front of us is killing us. Wanting for more is such a queer project.
As COVID-19 brings the world as we know it to and end, queer, trans and marginalized communities need to transformative justice more than ever. But what does it mean to believe in a world without punishment in the apocalypse?
It’s time we stopped telling people to “love themselves” and started demanding fat liberation at every level, in every way. Here’s how we liberate ourselves from the tyranny of diet culture, and why that matters for the betterment of our communities and our future.
In a country that hates immigrants, every day immigrants are on the front line of imagining and enacting another world: One where they can safely live with basic dignity, respect, and protection.
When it comes to my queer desire, my favorite feeling is a juicy lack — I don’t have the person or thing I want and that tastes like salted caramel perpetually not in my mouth. The distance is not only enjoyable, it’s my edge, but sometimes it feels like there’s something missing.
Our ability to conceive of ourselves surviving and thriving into the future is a crucial part of manifesting it as a lived reality.
For a long time, my wildest dream was my parents’ acceptance, it seemed so far off. Those years of silent dinners, no questions, no answers. I didn’t dare dream of anything else.
Book archives and research on queer identity from the Institute for Sexual Science were destroyed by Nazi book burnings. Our history and culture got lost. What else had I missed about the queer past of my city?
Spaces that center and uplift Black performers create a magic you can feel. Meet seven of Washington D.C.’s drag and burlesque performers bringing palpable Black queer joy to the stage.
As Vermont became the second state to introduce a bill to decriminalize sex work, the real possibility of decrim future is on our horizon. But how would decrim take shape in the United States? Would the police still arrest sex workers? Will sex workers get labor rights? And what about human trafficking?
Even if it’s not overnight, New York does have the money and economy to bankroll a $Free.99 MTA. If New York were a country, it’d have the 11th biggest economy worldwide, between Canada and South Korea. If much smaller cities like Tallinn, Estonia, Kansas City, USA, Dunkirk, France and Luxembourg have rolled out free public transit using taxes and subsidies, then NYC can too.
“Call Your Girlfriend” is not just a song that holds up as a classic sad bop — but as a work of art that asks us to radically reimagine how we might uncouple ourselves from each other in gentler, more entangled ways.
In QTPOC community, the future can feel precarious. If queerness is so often associated with action and survival, how do we learn to slow down and rest so we can live long enough to grow into the queer elders we always dreamed of having?
Perhaps my identity oscillates at times but in a world that attempts to force me to choose one side of a binary, I remain firmly in the middle.
Being invisible is in some ways a privilege. QTPOC who are visible are subject to scrutiny at best and violence at worst. I don’t want to talk about visibility. I’m still ashamed of the lonely, aching part of me that longs for recognition.
You can’t win in a world not meant for you, so I’m offering up the In Another World Issue as my attempt at creating some other option. We’re presenting you with the ways that bright, thoughtful, ferocious people are creating their own space. Worlds within and outside of this slippery one, full of answers and questions and buoyant hope tunnels.
As we head into the crisp, fresh beginning of 2020 and a new decade, we want to hear about your queerest, wildest dreams for the future. Deadline for submissions is January 31!