Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Pride.
Coming Out as Single
I’m just 1 person who does a lot of coming out. In today’s society, it isn’t just those in the LGBTQ+ community who find themselves in the position of deciding whether to come out or not. When we meet new people, those people make certain assumptions about us partly based on context and partly based on society’s norms and expectations.
By Kate McDevitt5 years ago in Pride
Being Unapologetically Me. Top Story - June 2021.
Growing up, I was never confident in myself or my sexuality. I was always chasing people around, desperate to be accepted which got me in some pretty messed up situations. I always put my faith in the wrong people and got let down every single time. When I got out of my hometown, I realised that the world is so much more accepting than I realised. I came to the conclusion that I didn’t have to be afraid to be myself and I started being unapologetically, me.
By YesItsMocha5 years ago in Pride
Queer Cult
Drop a stone into still water, and you will see its ripple effect. That’s what I want to be. I want to be an effective agent of social change, a stone dropped into water, propelled into the future by compassion—compassion for the self and compassion for others. My goal is to provide resources and a safe space for people to explore and understand their identities in relation to currently accepted social constructs in order to become more self-actualized, and by doing so, create a more empowering and compassionate world.
By Jaesic Feathers5 years ago in Pride
Excommunicated at 14
When I was fourteen I was caught in the arms and bed of a sexy little boy just three years my junior. Problem is I was also a boy and this was the 1970's. I mention this story in my book Silent Cries, A Memoir. Why do I mention this here? I am starting to advocate more for gay youth as I know the first hand challenges they face. What was it like to be excommunicated by the Pastor and Youth Pastor? It was very difficult as a teenager to understand what was going on and why. The family attended an Independent Fundamental Baptist Church with strict adherence to the bible. Being gay wasn't allowed nor would they discuss it with you.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Pride
#RiseInPride. Top Story - June 2021.
Growing up, I always felt disconnected from family and friends. I’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. I’ve never been sexually attracted to someone. As I grew up, I realised that I am a Cis-gendered woman, whose pronouns are she/her, and that is Asexual, bordering on Demisexual, who is Bisexual under certain circumstances. Basically, whilst I’m not sexually attracted to any gender, if I have a deep connection with someone, there is a potential for me to be aesthetically attracted to them (which is a really fancy way of saying that I can have a crush!).
By Rebecca Smith5 years ago in Pride
Two vulnerable groups
I have many hobbies and interest which has motivated me over the years. I am passionate about writing, photography and traveling. I have several passions though, one is The Trevor Project and the other one is veterans issues. It is reported that twenty-two veterans commit suicide every day in America. There are a number of reasons why, but one is our veterans who return home with non visible wounds, such as PTSD have to fight a government unwilling to pay us what we deserve.
By Lawrence Edward Hinchee5 years ago in Pride
Cowboy Boots in the Closet
I grew up in a rural southeastern Ontario town - the kind of town that inspired popular country songs and girls like me to wish for a pair of cowboy boots for Christmas instead of the latest trendy clothes or gadgets. The farm roots ran so deep that it was high school tradition to celebrate graduation in October because June was just too busy for the farmers to take time off to celebrate. Unsurprisingly, I was a hard-working girl from a large family that was barely getting by, where grilled cheese and canned soup were staples leading up to mom's bi-weekly pay day.
By Aly Jensen5 years ago in Pride
Ins and Outs
As we move throughout the world as children, we often view our experiences from superficial, literal perspectives. Our perceptions are diluted, and we only understand that of what is directly in front of us and naturally, when presented with overcomplexities, our efforts to comprehend these situations often result in misinterpretations or frustration. This patten is reflected universally in our youth, so essentially it is inevitable, however, in the duration of my upbringing, this would prove to be quite the motif as the introduction of unnecessarily complicated situations, concepts, and relationships would contribute to not only a looming sense of perplexity, but of social and internal ostracization as well; a social shock nonetheless that would extend into my adolescence and eventually reach a sound resolution in the form of several longwinded life lessons.
By Michael Lamarche5 years ago in Pride
Fitting In
Upon looking up the word or phrase fitting in, I learned that fitting in means to be socially compatible with other members of a group and similarly to find room or have sufficient space for someone or something. It seems by that definition everyone else had a box that they could check, whether it was yes I’m socially compatible or yes there is room for me. But there was a moment I felt that everyone had that box but me. I even felt as though I couldn’t even turn to my race, my skin color for a box that allowed me to fit in by that definition. I mean how simple would have been just to use my race and say there it is, I’m compatible, but yet I couldn’t even do that. It was drilled in me that black doesn’t crack, it was supposed to be beautiful, confident and resilient. Even that definition didn’t allow me a box I could check. I’m already failing the black girl magic test and all I have done so far it just walk into the room. I entered every room and immediately get an overwhelming sensation that I don’t belong, that this place was not meant for me. I felt as if I had stumbled on it by accident and had gotten lucky enough that someone let me through the door. No one could be looking at me, but I just knew they were staring and saying amongst themselves “why is she here, does she not know that the world wasn’t designed for her?” Where is my fairy godmother in that moment to wave a wand and sprinkle some magic dust on me to make a Cinderella moment happen. My godmother is no where to be found, so it ‘s just me and my thoughts, and a feeling of a thousand blind eyes judging me, and they don’t like what they see. It’s just me walking into the room with my things rubbing together creating friction and doubt, my breasts bouncing as if they are trying to escape from the bondage of my bra, and people pay a fortune to make these things bigger, they must enjoy back pain. To add to all of that is the stomping sounds that the weight of my feet make. I might as well as me the elephant in the room, I’m something that you don’t want to look at but you cant help but notice. I’m unpleasantly loud and for God’s sakes who wants an elephant in their room. There is no place for an elephant but aside and out of the way when it comes to human social interactions, and elephant would not be popular in that context. One moment can define you, and mine came like most did in high school, where fitting in is a fairy tale. I was a cheerleader in high school, not a popular one, but one none the less. If you ever thought that there was no such thing as an unpopular cheerleader, well here I am to debunk that myth. I put those two words together like an oxymoron, unpopular and cheerleader contradictory in every way, proven by every teenage and high school movie ever made. Cheerleaders were always many things, mean, cruel, selfish, harsh, vindictive, but never unpopular. I was the only black cheerleader between both the varsity and junior varsity squad. So who was I going to relate to, and who was going to relate to me. I stood at 5’6”, 150 lbs, size 10 shoes, size XL uniform, and daughter of a janitor and cafeteria worker, none of which I ever felt excluded me from anything. But in this squad I was the tallest, the thickest, the blackest, and the poorest member on the squad. I didn’t look like them, I didn’t have the same life experiences as them, and my hair was definitely not like them. I can think of many significant moments from being on that squad that made me feel out of place, moment where it seemed like the timeline had gotten discombobulated and somehow the Phyllis that was me became the cheerleader that another Phyllis somewhere else was supposed to be. Maybe I was never supposed to be here, and there were many moments that made me believe that was a fact, but none as significantly defining as the uncomfortable issue of my hair. I know its just hair, and its not a vital organ like a heart or your lungs, but if there is a challenge placed on your hair it becomes very vital then. Even Rapunzel had a harder time being saved from the tower without her hair, and even men go through extreme measures, physically and financially when they start losing their hair, so don’t be so quick to dismiss the importance of hair, especially when you as a black girl hear nine white girls say “we can’t do that in our routine because of Phyllis’ hair.” What was that? Was that empathy? Were they expressing understanding of my hair being different and therefore had different limitations from their own hair. Did they even know enough about my hair to being using empathy. I mean this was 1999, if black hair was ever popular, it was surely not popular then. Did they know that I didn’t have to wash my hair every day, that I had to grease my scalp, that getting my scalp scratched was a connecting tradition. My thighs didn’t fit in, my shoe size didn’t fit, my weight didn’t fit in, and now my hair didn’t either. Maybe they meant to be empathetic but the words were said in a way that conveyed privilege and frustration. Apparently they wanted to do a part in the dance routine where we would take our hair out of the high top ponytail it was in and bend over flipping our hair and then we would stand up and toss our hair over our shoulders in a sassy and sexy way. My hair would do none of those movements, so here I was signaled out, being reminded again that I was different and probably should not have been on the squad in the first place. Thinking about it now it seems silly and mundane, we probably would have looked more stupid than sexy doing that in the routine, but at that time it was a pivotal moment for a bunch of girls to project their sexuality. Hindsight always wins, if they knew what they know now they would have thanked my hair for preventing them from doing something silly, and if I felt the way about my hair as I do now I would have unapologetically laughed in their faces about how upset they were feeling about a ridiculous routine. I have grown in confidence about my hair and my size, and in some ways I do have to give society part of the credit because society has grown in defining beauty by more than one standard.
By Phyllis Andrews 5 years ago in Pride
