At thirty, I realise that these borrowed worlds not only helped me through some of my toughest times as a teen, but also influenced me as a feminist, queer creator years later.
She wears the Plaid, the converse, the vans, the snapback and the suit, and man, she wears them like James Bond wears his, with disdain.
I spent a large part of my school days avoiding his eyes, at the same time very conscious of where they landed.
LGBT youth are thrice as likely to be bullied as non-LGBT youth. 42 per cent of LGBT youth have experienced cyber bullying.
The telegram: Nilla dead. Hit by earthquake while travelling. Was happy. Did not die of heart-break. No need to reply.
Many people, mostly women grew up so sequestered from sex that they associated it with pain and discomfort.
Mental illness of an individual SHALL NOT be determined by moral, social, cultural, work or political values or religious beliefs prevailing in an individual’s community.
Bunny turned out to be a very naughty child and was often found thrown across momma Bunny’s knees getting spanked.
When they define queer as "odd" and "strange"
Come to me and I shall educate you
Queer is normal.
Queer is beautiful.
Queer is fine.
A blow job sets the tone for the resulting dynamic between the giver and the receiver.
To what limits can the destitution drive you, then was my turn to experience the thrill and the peace of having you to just talk with.
I have been doing this, marching, since I am a kid. I used to go on my dad’s shoulders and march with him and my mum, as my sister was to small for all the crowd, was just us three.
An orgasm begins the moment you accept that you want somebody.
Growing up LGBT means that one finds oneself facing similar scenarios at some point or another; however these are seldom addressed or talked about in the mainstream.
I started believing in the dreams I never had,
Cancelling well laid out plans for the one who didn't have.
Sexual wellness expert Neil Dosanjh from Guptt.in suggests that sex isn’t the original sin, guilt is.
She carries burdens like flowers; says that scars are just rough kisses from the universe.
I kissed you under the mistletoe
Silently, secretly, afraid to let our cover blow
But we had to do it, it was Christmas time
I was yours and you were mine
I met Tara six years ago at a blogging conference. I was never the type to flirt with women, much less meet a high note key speaker and blurt out my sexuality while admiring her work.
Growing up as neighbours, we spent all of our time together: in school, in the evenings after, after dinner at either her house or mine.