MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU: An overweight, shy teen becomes an activist when gentrification threatens her community in a coming-of-age, coming-out tale.
Verity La. Forty Days and Forty Nights. Forty days and forty nights: a biblical honeymoon for an interfaith queer couple.
Taproot. Reviving Seeds, Rebuilding Connections. At the end of a documentary screening about a local seed-saving initiative, we audience members are offered sunflower seeds to take home.
Crab Fat. Unphotogenic. I’ve always been unphotogenic.
The Establishment. How LGBTQ Yoga Can Heal a Community. As a chubby, gender nonconforming queer I’d always been the odd duck in yoga class.
Verity La. Paper Riddles. Freshman year of high school, someone hands me a note and a piece of candy.
Funds for Writers. How I Won a Scholarship to a Writer's Retreat. Time to write—who doesn't want more of that?
Outdoors: Out on the Trail, With an LGBTQ Hiking Group. We arrived at AMC’s Lakes of the Clouds Hut after a long, steep climb.
Roads & Kingdoms: The Taco Truck is Where the Action is. All I know is, I’m not going back to Ridgecrest, a naval-base town where what passes for coffee is hot water that tastes like charred, wet paper.
Epicure & Culture: How Travelers Can Help Combat Overtourism. Overtourism may sound like the definition of a first-world problem — long lines for cold-brew coffee, too many tourists at the Sagrada Familia to get that perfect selfie — but in reality, it negatively impacts local people and our planet
Razor Literary Magazine: Some Meta SF Queer Rite of Passage. Flatland takes deep inspiration from my own life.
Epicure & Culture: Finding Connection, Cigars, & Che on a Cuban Tobacco Farm Tour. Our guide, Marla, wears pleather leggings and a wide-brimmed hat.
Helen: Confessions of an Ex Vegan Donut Baker. I gave away a thousand donuts to the wrinkled old church ladies who brought their grandkids to the Holy Roller Sunday school next door.
Matador Network: 6 Things I Stopped Giving a Sh*t About When I Moved to the Country. A year and a half ago I moved to the Hudson Valley, a rural area 90 miles north of New York City.
Cognoscenti: In Massachusetts, Repeating History, Hoping For Redemption. I still remember how I felt when my neighbor warned me about the homophobic graffiti someone had scrawled in the hallway of my apartment.
The Manifest Station: We Are All North Carolina Now. This summer, I prepared to visit North Carolina by growing out my hair for four months.
Queer/ish: Rural Identity Politics: Where I Live, it's LGBT or Q.The first time I joined an LGBTQ organization, it was in solidarity.
AfterEllen: Lesbianing with AE!, a weekly lesbian sex & dating advice column. I’m generally of the opinion that, when too many weird things start happening, the weirdness is real or Mercury’s in retrograde.
Limnisa: Gigs. “I’m having the dream again.”
Mortar Magazine: One Truth, Many Lies. These are some things you should know: I did not steal soymilk from dry storage, if by dry storage you mean the utility closet stuffed with exploding sacks of paper bags, white foldout bakers’ hats and retired cash registers, a wadded-up rubber mat turning floor space into mountains.
Sediments Literary-Arts Journal: Heart of Gold. You walk the narrow footpaths at night, your heels kicking up dust clouds.
Razor: Literary Magazine: Flatland. It goes block by block is what everyone said about Oakland when I told them I was moving west, and my block, just off Foothill, is six houses thick, tiny two-stories with cement front yards and patches of lawn out back
Queen Mob's Teahouse: Late Summer, Yellow Jade. The first time Sal hands me the slim joint, I take it and breathe in and then I cough.
Dust Jacket Short Story Journal: Asking for Trouble. July 3, Hannah Nussbaum told me that she was moving to Chicago at the end of the month.
Word Riot: How to Start the War With the Mexicans. Step out of the bright, beautiful day and into the cool, gray barn.
The Blueprint Review: Tessa in the Mirror. Tessa drives to the Target by the interstate, alone.
34th Parallel: Little Moments I Regret. I never considered Heda until she cornered me by the dumpsters behind the movie theater where we both worked and told me she liked the cut of my jeans.
Avalon Literary Review: The Wallet. I crouched in the school's administrative office rifling through the teacher’s mailboxes and praying I could find the bio quiz answer key so Erica Ash wouldn’t tell the school I got an STI from Ricky Jeffries.
Square Table: Lemon Cherry Blues. I once studied with the best pastry chef in Boston, a tiny blonde woman who gave me weekly lessons in Middle Eastern desserts.