You are the object.
She comes and asks me who I am
Asks me to grip harder.
When the moon is unreachable
I push myself into the breachable
Her eyes feel my insides and suddenly
I am nobody.
You fumble and drop sentences, your leg trembles and beats a staccato rhythm on the pavement while she patiently hears out your half-complete, constantly backtracking stories, nods and keeps brushing her hair back.
Intersex people spend a lot of their lives doing this emotional labor for others because they are inherently responsible to be born an error.
Sadat’s book is a heartfelt coming-of-age story of a young boy who not only has to deal with the struggles of being gay in a conservative society but also has to survive war, starvation and intense loss while doing so.
Artwork by acrylicelephant
I hate that I wallow
That I bury my face into my hands
Slam the door behind me
And cry all day
I hate that my diary …
she's a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse.
This is a story of a girl who falls in love with an ethereal being who literally tears out her heart.
This question took me back all those years ago and I vividly saw her pushing some kid out of the way to crouch down in front of the place he was about to step on.
When I joined the course, I was excited to share my experiences with the class. But with time I realised not everyone was interested. Most of them didn't interact with me, asked questions, or exchange their experiences.
Hindi Poem by Shubhshree Mathur.
If I wasn’t feeling like shit because I was turned on by girls (one girl in particular), I’m sure I would have found something else to hate myself for. I was young, female, loud, and had a body. Society does this to you. It moulds you till you are all soft woundable spots, and then it makes you kick yourself.
I tried to remember if the booth on screen is the same booth that I and my partner usually go and get a security check from. I couldn’t recognise it. I stopped thinking and concentrated on the film.
I want to tell him how I feel,
How I struggle to sleep,
That fear of the two letter word,
Makes me weep,
He is The Only One.
how do you know it's girls?
i wonder as my friend comes out to me
how do you know the limit of your love?
and somehow, weird quizzes dragged me all over the internet
Meera made a friend in the glass case she suffocated in for 25 years.
The universe tells you nothing.
But when I first laid my eyes upon her left shoulder,
and saw a tiny, black mole
all this logic was gone.
Loving someone who is in the closet taught me how to manage my feelings and changed the way our everyday lives unfolded. I realised that being with someone who is in the closet means respecting them and their privacy, and being supportive.
An intellectual phenomenon, almost
Ready for you to stare at but never touch
And debate what these clothes mean, this hair, this skin, this nail hanging limply at the end of my
An armchair critic up to the age of 30. I finally decided to take the plunge and come out publicly in 2004. I had been out to close friends and family for a decade. The catalyst for my activism was the Islamist movement and its growing influence within communities like mine in Luton.
The luminous room was welcoming,
A place where he was transformed,
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
This is where his life reformed.