By Loren Olson

If I am known in this world at all, I want to be known as myself. I hope you approve, but it no longer matters to me if you do.

By Jonthan Alexander

We had ourselves, our own experiences, our journeys to this moment.  We couldn’t hide anymore. And we didn’t.  

By Edward Gunawan

Yes, the encounter happened, I would remind myself. The card is real. And so are we.

By Meredith May

Managing Edie’s stress tested the limits of our compassion and our strength as a couple, but the shared struggle has bonded us closer than had we been given an easy dog.

By Randi Triant

Somewhere along these years, I’ve made a conscious decision to keep writing stories with characters that have AIDS.

By Ren Iris

Hello world! My name is Ren. I use they/them/their pronouns. These are not my “preferred” pronouns; these are my pronouns.

By Bea Hitchman

Undeniably the gift of aunthood, made us revisit our choices about having children of our own—whatever that might come to mean.

By David Pollak

Colored paper sheets were circulated, in the slightly blurred print of a Gestetner copier, bearing our chants, such as: “2, 4, 6, 8, is that copper really straight?”

By Richard Bagarozy

I only imagined that all boys felt as I did when I experienced the intense and almost unsettling vision of male beauty when I fell in love with my classmate.

By Ken Harvey

I used to think that romance meant a moment when time stops and all you understand is the emotion of the here and now. But what happens when you have 25 years of shared experience? How do you forget all that time?