For me to fit in, or even pretend to fit in, I simply could not be out. So I did what any “normal, red-blooded American male” does.
I must have been just on the cusp of discovering that in order to fit in I would have to pretend to be someone else.
For me the whole endeavor was like being waterboarded. I knew it wasn’t going to kill me, but my brain told me it might.
Sick of being told that, as lesbians, we should feel a greater sense of responsibility to the earth and to sentient beings. What does one thing have to do with the other? Can’t we be dykes who love burgers, leather, and turbo?
I, like so many gay men of my generation, discovered who we are, and how our country feels about who we are, while growing up in the shadow of AIDS.
I was petrified of the future laid out before me. All I knew was that my life would hemorrhage with secrecy and fiction, that what I wanted didn’t exist, and that a full, happy life wasn’t possible. That was what I knew. That was all I knew.
I hate National Coming Out Day. I have hated it since I first learned about it. Once, in college, I spent the entire day hiding in bed. I hate National Coming Out Day because I hate coming out. If you know me, you probably think there’s a punchline coming. I’m […]
The problem with conversion therapy is not the conviction that sexuality and gender are mutable. Instead, it is the notion that heterosexuality and gender conformity are best.