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

By Chenoa Rai
A Black boy feeling like a woman and wanting to live as one: where was this acceptable? Definitely not in my world, and I didn’t have the language to properly express who I was. The only trans representation I had came from Jerry Springer, who did more to exploit trans women than to humanize them.

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by Ty Bo Yule
I hadn’t planned on transitioning at Harvard. No one would choose to invite puberty to graduate school, but I probably wouldn’t have finished my degree if I hadn’t…

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by Phil Tarley
In 1970, I met Michael Feigh in San Francisco and he quickly became my pimp. My English boyfriend introduced us when we were hippies living near Haight-Ashbury. I was nineteen…

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by Terry Wolverton
It’s been said that a thing does not exist until you have a name for it. When I was growing up in Detroit in the ’60s, no one I knew was talking about lesbians…

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by Walter Meyer
Suicide, rightly or wrongly, feels preventable. If I had listened better, been a better friend, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Bill’s death by suicide haunted me so badly that I couldn’t bear to think about him without it causing days of depression.

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by Walter Holland
In 1996, I was on the beach at Fire Island Pines. It was an exquisite summer day, and the sea was dazzling. But the beauty of the day belied the reality underneath: The Pines had become one of the epicenters of the HIV/AIDS epidemic…

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by Charlie Ceates
I technically have two coming out stories: coming out at school and coming out to my family. I’m grateful that I have more than one, because the former is a bitter memory…that I rarely revisit, even though it taught me a valuable lesson regarding trust. Luckily, I also have the memory of what it was like coming out to my family…

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by Emily L. Quint Freeman
One May night in 1969, along with seventeen others, I broke into the Selective Service office in Chicago’s South Side. We stuffed over 40,000 draft records into sacks, dragged them to the adjacent parking lot and set them on fire…

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