Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Pride.
Two vulnerable groups
I have many hobbies and interest which has motivated me over the years. I am passionate about writing, photography and traveling. I have several passions though, one is The Trevor Project and the other one is veterans issues. It is reported that twenty-two veterans commit suicide every day in America. There are a number of reasons why, but one is our veterans who return home with non visible wounds, such as PTSD have to fight a government unwilling to pay us what we deserve.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee3 years ago in Pride
Cowboy Boots in the Closet
I grew up in a rural southeastern Ontario town - the kind of town that inspired popular country songs and girls like me to wish for a pair of cowboy boots for Christmas instead of the latest trendy clothes or gadgets. The farm roots ran so deep that it was high school tradition to celebrate graduation in October because June was just too busy for the farmers to take time off to celebrate. Unsurprisingly, I was a hard-working girl from a large family that was barely getting by, where grilled cheese and canned soup were staples leading up to mom's bi-weekly pay day.
By Aly Jensen3 years ago in Pride
Ins and Outs
As we move throughout the world as children, we often view our experiences from superficial, literal perspectives. Our perceptions are diluted, and we only understand that of what is directly in front of us and naturally, when presented with overcomplexities, our efforts to comprehend these situations often result in misinterpretations or frustration. This patten is reflected universally in our youth, so essentially it is inevitable, however, in the duration of my upbringing, this would prove to be quite the motif as the introduction of unnecessarily complicated situations, concepts, and relationships would contribute to not only a looming sense of perplexity, but of social and internal ostracization as well; a social shock nonetheless that would extend into my adolescence and eventually reach a sound resolution in the form of several longwinded life lessons.
By Michael Lamarche3 years ago in Pride
Fitting In
Upon looking up the word or phrase fitting in, I learned that fitting in means to be socially compatible with other members of a group and similarly to find room or have sufficient space for someone or something. It seems by that definition everyone else had a box that they could check, whether it was yes I’m socially compatible or yes there is room for me. But there was a moment I felt that everyone had that box but me. I even felt as though I couldn’t even turn to my race, my skin color for a box that allowed me to fit in by that definition. I mean how simple would have been just to use my race and say there it is, I’m compatible, but yet I couldn’t even do that. It was drilled in me that black doesn’t crack, it was supposed to be beautiful, confident and resilient. Even that definition didn’t allow me a box I could check. I’m already failing the black girl magic test and all I have done so far it just walk into the room. I entered every room and immediately get an overwhelming sensation that I don’t belong, that this place was not meant for me. I felt as if I had stumbled on it by accident and had gotten lucky enough that someone let me through the door. No one could be looking at me, but I just knew they were staring and saying amongst themselves “why is she here, does she not know that the world wasn’t designed for her?” Where is my fairy godmother in that moment to wave a wand and sprinkle some magic dust on me to make a Cinderella moment happen. My godmother is no where to be found, so it ‘s just me and my thoughts, and a feeling of a thousand blind eyes judging me, and they don’t like what they see. It’s just me walking into the room with my things rubbing together creating friction and doubt, my breasts bouncing as if they are trying to escape from the bondage of my bra, and people pay a fortune to make these things bigger, they must enjoy back pain. To add to all of that is the stomping sounds that the weight of my feet make. I might as well as me the elephant in the room, I’m something that you don’t want to look at but you cant help but notice. I’m unpleasantly loud and for God’s sakes who wants an elephant in their room. There is no place for an elephant but aside and out of the way when it comes to human social interactions, and elephant would not be popular in that context. One moment can define you, and mine came like most did in high school, where fitting in is a fairy tale. I was a cheerleader in high school, not a popular one, but one none the less. If you ever thought that there was no such thing as an unpopular cheerleader, well here I am to debunk that myth. I put those two words together like an oxymoron, unpopular and cheerleader contradictory in every way, proven by every teenage and high school movie ever made. Cheerleaders were always many things, mean, cruel, selfish, harsh, vindictive, but never unpopular. I was the only black cheerleader between both the varsity and junior varsity squad. So who was I going to relate to, and who was going to relate to me. I stood at 5’6”, 150 lbs, size 10 shoes, size XL uniform, and daughter of a janitor and cafeteria worker, none of which I ever felt excluded me from anything. But in this squad I was the tallest, the thickest, the blackest, and the poorest member on the squad. I didn’t look like them, I didn’t have the same life experiences as them, and my hair was definitely not like them. I can think of many significant moments from being on that squad that made me feel out of place, moment where it seemed like the timeline had gotten discombobulated and somehow the Phyllis that was me became the cheerleader that another Phyllis somewhere else was supposed to be. Maybe I was never supposed to be here, and there were many moments that made me believe that was a fact, but none as significantly defining as the uncomfortable issue of my hair. I know its just hair, and its not a vital organ like a heart or your lungs, but if there is a challenge placed on your hair it becomes very vital then. Even Rapunzel had a harder time being saved from the tower without her hair, and even men go through extreme measures, physically and financially when they start losing their hair, so don’t be so quick to dismiss the importance of hair, especially when you as a black girl hear nine white girls say “we can’t do that in our routine because of Phyllis’ hair.” What was that? Was that empathy? Were they expressing understanding of my hair being different and therefore had different limitations from their own hair. Did they even know enough about my hair to being using empathy. I mean this was 1999, if black hair was ever popular, it was surely not popular then. Did they know that I didn’t have to wash my hair every day, that I had to grease my scalp, that getting my scalp scratched was a connecting tradition. My thighs didn’t fit in, my shoe size didn’t fit, my weight didn’t fit in, and now my hair didn’t either. Maybe they meant to be empathetic but the words were said in a way that conveyed privilege and frustration. Apparently they wanted to do a part in the dance routine where we would take our hair out of the high top ponytail it was in and bend over flipping our hair and then we would stand up and toss our hair over our shoulders in a sassy and sexy way. My hair would do none of those movements, so here I was signaled out, being reminded again that I was different and probably should not have been on the squad in the first place. Thinking about it now it seems silly and mundane, we probably would have looked more stupid than sexy doing that in the routine, but at that time it was a pivotal moment for a bunch of girls to project their sexuality. Hindsight always wins, if they knew what they know now they would have thanked my hair for preventing them from doing something silly, and if I felt the way about my hair as I do now I would have unapologetically laughed in their faces about how upset they were feeling about a ridiculous routine. I have grown in confidence about my hair and my size, and in some ways I do have to give society part of the credit because society has grown in defining beauty by more than one standard.
By Phyllis Andrews 3 years ago in Pride
Being Gay in 2008
It all started with pure innocence. It all ended with trauma. I spent the past 5 years coping with surviving life in secondary school. It was hard and there were times where I thought I was so close to seeing the light. Yet here I am. Still hopeful that I will be able to move on. Since I am finally transferring, I know that there is still an exit at the end of the tunnel where I can start afresh. Forget all that is behind me and move forward. I can finally leave that hell hole of a school. I honestly can’t wait!
By Cai and Denz3 years ago in Pride
At Home with Self-Advocacy
For most people, going away to college is a life event that exists in the liminal space between exhilaration and terror. The myriad fears that rear their anxious heads come to taunt us all, in some form or another: will I make friends? Will people like me? Will I embarrass myself? Will I fit in? As I prepared to go away to college in 2013, similar anxieties haunted me, but one question loomed larger than the rest: will I be able to room with other girls, or will I be forced to room with guys?
By Chloe Crawford La Vada3 years ago in Pride
Biology Says There Are More Than Two Sexes, More Than Two Genders.
Let’s start with what makes me qualified. Aside from living my best genderqueer life, I am a pharmacologist with both a bachelors and a masters in the field. Across both of my degrees, I studied a whole range of different biology based modules, not just pharmacology. One such module included the biology of sex and gender, and how that affects medicine. I nailed that module. So with that out of the way, let’s jump in to debunking some myths about sex and gender.
By Max Fisher3 years ago in Pride
The "A" Word
Summers in Indiana passed like glaciers. As July began to bleed into the most brutal part of August, we would find ourselves desperate to find solace in any menial passing fantasy. The doldrums of boring brick suburbia left us with nothing else but those fantastical whimsies.
By Nicole Westerhouse3 years ago in Pride
Feel Better, Thanks to Season Two
Season one of Channel 4 and Netflix’s coproduction Feel Good did not make me want to watch a second season. But it wasn't all bad. Mae Martin’s charisma as her auto-fictional character Mae was undeniable. As was their chemistry with the label-less, but often referred to as “straight”, closeted George (Charlotte Ritchie). The first season of the show painted their dynamic as a queer approach at a thirty-minute comedy about the growing pains of a relationship between two people in their late twenties/early thirties.
By Elizabeth Burch-Hudson3 years ago in Pride