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
How It All Changed
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.
Media Depictions of LGBT People Can Harm or Heal
by Thomas Harrison
Television was a way to explore the wider world and possibilities of relationships that I could one day have, but not all television presentations of homosexuality were positive…
The story of one closeted, English, Catholic Queen
by Stephen Wall
I am ten years old, sleeping in a dormitory of a Catholic boys’ boarding school, where I was sent at the age of eight. I wake up suddenly to find one of my schoolmates with his hand under the blanket on my bed…
Ode to a Black Ring
by Michele Kirichanskaya
For the asexual or ace community, one of the small ways of coding we have adapted is a black ring on the middle finger of the right hand. The history around the origins of the ace ring is a little murky; for me the black ring stands as a way for me to affirm my asexual identity…
Social Isolation, Dating, and Dogs
By David Masello
For those of us who live alone and are single, these months of not actually being with people, have resulted in a sense of isolation and alienation far more profound than I think we realize…
The Friend Who Stayed
By Daniel Hendrick
“I’ve got some bad news,” the lieutenant commander began, pointing to a seat across from her desk. I sat down, trying not to look nervous despite the deepening pit in my stomach. It was the early morning of Tuesday, May 26, 1992. I was 21 years old.
The Corpse, and the Living, at a Funeral
By Tom McCarron
I entered the church and sat in a pew at the very back of the church. I listened to the sermon and the eulogy, and I looked around and saw groups of old men talking and looking at me. The service was over and it was time to go up to the coffin and pay one’s respects to the deceased and to her children. I stood up and thought, if those old hayseeds want a show, I feel prepared to give them one.