Here’s My Story
HERE’S MY STORY is a feature on The G&LR‘s website, where you can share some part of your life story with other readers. We receive a lot of submissions of personal memoirs, but the magazine doesn’t publish first-person narratives as a general rule. “Here’s My Story” is a space that allows our readers (and others) to talk about their experiences as members of the LGBT+ community. There are no restrictions on subject matter, but some broad areas might include:
- Coming-out stories
- Memorable love affairs
- An epiphany (e.g. a work of art)
Here's My Story View all
Those Who Are Saved
By Iryn Tushabe
I didn’t have a boyfriend, so pregnancy checks didn’t bother me. Indeed, they were an opportunity to do the lord’s work; I was omulokole, a saved person.
Bruce and James
By Héctor Vizoso
On Halloween night in 1991, the doorbell rang, and it was Bruce. He was excited and hurried in to tell me to get ready because he had enrolled us in a Halloween competition at the After Dark.
Selamlik and a Bouquet of Wildflowers on Jean Genet’s Grave
By Khaled Alesmael
“Genet wrote about Syria and Palestine!” says Naima, the cemetery caretaker, as she turns the key in the gate’s lock, leading me towards the grave of Jean Genet (1910–1986).
My Impact Statement: Rod Stewart’s “The Killing of Georgie (Part I and II)”
By Gregory Walters
Here was Rod Stewart, unabashedly telling anyone who would listen he was friends with a gay man. It’s important that he describes George as “the kindest guy I ever knew.”
A Bolt from the Blue
By Elizabeth Costello
My heart, my gut, my cunt assumed positions of power. If that moment was a tarot card it was absolutely The Tower — the first time I spoke to her I felt hit by lightning. The rules of my gravity changed.
The Closet is My Country
By Damisola Sulaiman
How do you accept that your closet is a country, that the place that made you into the person you are, is where you can’t be yourself?
A Day in Hyderabad’s Flower Market
By Patruni Sastry
I had watched enough Bollywood movies to know that a good pair of sunglasses could shield both my identity and my makeup from prying eyes. I packed my carefully chosen outfit— flowers handcrafted by my partner, and a wig— into a bag, locked the door behind me, and called an Uber.