Apparently, I’ve been too harsh on some of my white liberal (and not-so-liberal) friends and family members when talking about racial relations in America. I’d like to publish this piece as a formal apology to those I’ve made uncomfortable. I now see the error of my ways. You’re all very right, and I was so very wrong, so I’d like to help others walk in your footsteps.
Be politically active. Vote for Barack Obama in 2008. Vote for him again in 2012. Talk about how disappointed you were with his results around your white friends. Tell your black friends you…
And when do we get to have complex story lines outside suicide or gay bashing?
Remember two years ago when Hozier made waves with the video for Take Me to Church?
In it, a gay man is forced to watch as his partner is brutally kidnapped, beaten, and ultimately murdered in cold blood.
If you haven’t seen it and can’t be bothered, how about Brokeback Mountain? Rent? Lost and Delirious? Or any Tennessee Williams play?
LGBTQ characters die. It’s so obscenely prominent that it’s officially a trope.
Sure, there was some progress, like having a gay couple on Modern…
I have been fighting silence and tears for the last 24 hours. I fight them because I want to stand up for you. I want to be the one that’s strong enough to be a shoulder to cry on. If this is a funeral, I want to have the strength to toss dirt on the coffin if it comes to that.
Social media was ablaze with despair and pain. This election season has ripped families and friendships apart — and the consequences of the result will likely end more.
And in this moment, you felt like we’d officially lost the…
Can we have a quick chat?
Like a real one. Like stop fucking texting and pay attention to me right quick.
Oh, and bookmark the fuck out of this page because you’re going to want to read it again someday. And share it with a friend who needs to hear it. Which I’m guessing is literally everybody (haaa, get it? Everybody?) in your life.
Great. I have one very important piece of information for you:
Your body didn’t do anything to hurt you.
Here’s that message again in italics: Your body. Did not do anything. To hurt you.
It all started about a year ago when my uncle got sick.
After being separated from most of our family for as long as I can remember, my mom finally reconnected with my uncle last year. Shortly after, he was diagnosed with stage IV cancer and given a few months to live. My mom, not ready to lose her brother only weeks after getting him back, uprooted her life to help take care of him in Elkhart, Texas.
Elkhart is one of those tiny towns that nobody knows or cares about unless a serial killer or cult leader makes headlines…
Know what’s more painful than pulling teeth?
Stepping on a Lego, passing a kidney stone, and hitting your elbow on a white hot tire iron…
Oh, and trying to build an audience on YouTube.
Because you’re trying to create somebody from nobody.
Kim Kardashian can upload a photo of her cleaning her ears and get a million likes on Instagram.
If you try that, you’re going to get told that you’re an ugly troll.
Please don’t try it.
You can turn water into wine and lose a subscriber because you used your camera’s on board microphone.
It hurts on…
I still remember the first time I felt like my identity meant eternal loneliness.
I was sitting in a coffee shop talking with a guy I’d been seeing casually for a couple months. We’ll call him James.
Because that was his name.
(Fuck you, James.)
Note: Thank you so much to Our Queer Stories for excerpting this article!
The air held a certain thick gloom — maybe because of the late afternoon shower, maybe because I knew I was wasting my time on yet another pseudo-intellectual neckbeard Nice Guy type. Either way, the conversation was going nowhere fast.
I want to start by saying that I’ve spent the vast majority of my life feeling like an underwhelmingly average ugly duckling.
I remember feeling this way for the first time in fourth grade. I was around nine years old. There was a kid in my class who had the same name as me.
The other Michael was a lot like me. Only better. We both made straight As in everything ever, but that was about where my ability to keep up ended. I once shin-checked a guy when I played soccer (for a team that lost every single game…
It’s official: fall started four days ago.
Time to bust out the pumpkin spice everything and go on my eat-nothing diet to prep for gay Christmas (this year I’m just saving myself the trouble and going as an underwear model for Halloween).
But a dark turn of mood awaits me at the end of October: cuffing season is in our midst. As the temperature falls, so do my standards as I go on the hunt for a warm body to curl up with.
Since I haven’t learned from my past mistakes, I have sealed my fate for yet another holiday…
Silence kills me.
I’m the most extroverted person I know.
My life, my happiness, my success — it’s all based on the quantity and the quality of words flowing.
I love social media so much that I’ve worked tirelessly to build my career off of it. It’s not so much that I appreciate the finer parts of the internet. It’s not exactly beautiful.
But it is busy. Every minute, the internet is filled with another million minutes of video, another million pictures, and another million words.
It keeps the silence at…