Friendship in the Time of AIDS
by Robert Hamilton
After several months of not seeing each other, I thought I would just be happy to see my friend, and he would be just as happy to see me…
by Robert Hamilton
After several months of not seeing each other, I thought I would just be happy to see my friend, and he would be just as happy to see me…
by Justin Estoque
In the church, I was surrounded by an abundance of male erotica in the form of paintings and statues of half-naked saints and the crucified Christ.
by Ian Jenkins
Few parents have to go to court to win parental rights. Parentage is assumed for almost everyone—but if your kids are carried by a gestational surrogate, a judge has to grant you custody. The process usually goes so smoothly that the “intended parents” don’t need to appear in court. But we did…
by Eddy Boudel Tan
I married the man I love seven years ago in front of our friends. My parents chose not to be there…
by Paul Genega
I WAS A FRESHMEN at Georgetown, America’s oldest Catholic university, when I realized I was gay, so it seems fitting that my coming out story should sound a lot like Saul of Tarsus on the road to becoming St. Paul—lightning bolt of recognition, life-altering epiphany…
by Dev Jannerson
I hopped into chat rooms—yes, chat rooms still existed—as a trans guy named Clive. I dreamed up a whole character for him… Clive was confident and athletic and had a Gothic, rugged Adam Lambert aesthetic…
by Bishakh Som
Growing up, I took it for granted that we worshipped goddesses. I didn’t realize until around middle school that this was a bit of an anomaly…
by Mike Maloney
I first entered gay limbo over fifteen years ago when I came out to my wife and two adult sons at around the age of fifty-five…and I’ve been here ever since…
by Lindsey Goodrow
There is a quiet prevalence of muting the voices of the abused in our own community. It is whimsical to claim that LGBT people have escaped the abuse that’s prevalent in straight society and found a magical utopia free of partner abuse and violence. That utopia does not exist…
by Bob Angell
At the LGBT March on Washington on April 25, 1993, Ben and I walked with our friends south on Ninth Street to the National Mall. We spread out picnic blankets half-way between the U.S. Capital and the Washington Monument, joining what would become over one million protestors.