Culture
Brown People Do Not Care What Your Color Is
"So what are you again? You're like, black and white right?" I was raised in an interracial home. My mom is a combination of ethnic blends ranging from middle eastern to African American and my father was Finnish and Dutch (plain ol' Caucasian).
Chandi PeardonPublished 2 years ago in PrideCarol by Patricia Highsmith
This book was originally published in 1952 under the title: The Price of Salt. Despite the author already being a household name, Harpers, her publisher did not want it because of the sapphic content. Instead, Patricia Highsmith went with Coward McCann, a small press under the pseudonym, Clare Morgan. At the time many referred to this book as the first lesbian novel with a happy ending. This might give readers the impression that Carol and Therese have a fairytale ending. Whilst the novel’s conclusion is not a whirlwind kiss and a honeymoon in the sunset, it felt like one.
Chloe GilholyPublished 2 years ago in PrideLexie Bean Hopes to Change the Trans-Narrative with New Book
Growing up in Michigan, Lexie Bean didn’t have the vocabulary to classify a very fluid gender identity and used popular culture to establish an inner dialogue. “I’m like Mary-Kate Olsen. Those were the two options. You’re either a tom-boy or a girlie girl,” remembered Bean who designates as non-binary, assigned female at birth. But the overall conversation has moved forward, and Bean’s Written on the Body: Letters from Trans and Non-Binary Survivors of Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence certainly does its part. Nonetheless as the dialogue still lacks, the author does at least have a better vernacular to feel comfortable in their own skin.
Rich MonettiPublished 2 years ago in PrideWhy the Lack of Lesfic Fiction Inspired Me
Throughout my life, I have been an avid reader. When I was a child I loved to read about adventures far away and riddle my mind with the mysteries that characters like Encyclopedia Brown and the Boxcar Children faced. Nevertheless, as I got older, I began to crave a more in-depth story line with more mature characters.
Nicole Higginbotham-HoguePublished 3 years ago in PrideA Very Campy Halloween
A Halloween playlist can fall into one of three categories. The first: spooky mood music that evokes dark and chilly autumn nights, followed by fun and goofy party music that's meant for dancing while half-immobilized by costume elements.
The Wise Fool
This is the first in a series of blogs looking at the cards in the Tarot from a queer perspective - a word I apply to myself and others with a sense of pride, and not of shame - to add some teaching content into a LGBTQIA+ Tarot group I started running a little while ago.
Mx. Stevie (or Stephen) ColePublished 3 years ago in PrideDia De Los Muertos
“This is your culture, you shouldn't have to do this.” my friend said as we walked down 24th street, scoping the pavement for the bright orange of marigold. I nodded as we held hands on our way through a dizzying myriad of people on a closed-off street in the Mission — what is now officially recognized by San Francisco as the Latino Cultural District. We walked long past the floral vendors who sadly informed us they had sold out, we were now surrounded by the murals, businesses, and old trees that are sources of strength for me and other Latinx & Indigenous people. We ran into friends and neighbors at a park. We sat on grass and enjoyed processions, drum and danza circles, holding candles and engulfed in the sweet scent of copal.
Sophie GarciaPublished 3 years ago in PrideDespite Creating Entire Fantasy World in Her Head, Author Cannot Wrap her Mind around the Idea that Trans Women Are Women
J.K. Rowling, known primarily for her authorship of the wildly popular Harry Potter series, is reportedly continuing to defend trans-exclusionary feminist perspectives in recent posts and interviews. Despite backlash from various organizations and individuals citing concerns for trans youth who might be impacted by her commentary, the author (ironically also sometimes known as Robert Galbraith), has decided to stick to her guns.
Katie AlafdalPublished 3 years ago in PridePride Month and other profitable movements.
Every June pride month rolls around and big companies are quick to jump on the bandwagon. As they release their merchandise people are even quicker to criticise them, and 'Rainbow Capitalism' as a whole. The first thing I saw when going on Pinterest to look for the flag photo was 'Pride Month Shop', and if that doesn't illustrate how commodified this movement has become, I don't know what will.
Hannah MacdermottPublished 3 years ago in PrideGet Off Your Duff Reading List: LGBTQ+ Edition
By doing this little series I've found, much unexpected, but not surprising, that most of the LGBTQIA+ books out there are geared towards young adults in the high school range (more on this later) and most are about gay boys. It was actually very difficult to find any novels written specifically to represent that 'A', for asexual, or 'I' for intersex. There's also not much as far as trans masc literature is concerned (where a cis female transitions into a male). To that end, the first (to my knowledge) middle age (10+) trans masc novel is coming out in September that specifically tackles a middle schooler's transition, before and after.
Alana BoylesPublished 3 years ago in PrideF/F Books That Are Good, Actually!
If you’ve spent any time on LGBT+ Twitter, you’ve probably come across the argument that there are no decent female/female (F/F) books out there. The argument goes that there are plenty of great male/male (M/M) books on offer, and if this is what you were looking for, you’d have no trouble finding a novel that resonates with you. However, if you were looking for some sapphic stories, you’ll probably come up empty or with a fist-full of trash.
Nancy DriverPublished 3 years ago in PrideFitting 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.
Phyllis AndrewsPublished 3 years ago in Pride