Stories

Drag Race Holland Has Failed Their Non-Binary Queens

By : Angie Williams October 21, 2020 No Comment

Growing up, I always felt like an outcast. I was always labeled as a tomboy. I hated the color pink. I still think that jumping rope is one of the stupidest activities that people do. I never felt like I found my place. When you're born and raised in San Francisco, you see a little bit of everything. Whether it was with friends or family, I would spot a drag queen on more than one occasion. When I was with family, the reactions range from grumblings under their breath to a simple head shake. When I was with friends, it was always that long quiet stare until you pass them, at which point everyone would burst out in laughter and make comments. Not wanting to stand out even more than

Cutting Ties

By : Kat Hewitt October 12, 2020 No Comment

I miss my mom when I eat angel hair pasta or hear Martina McBride playing. I miss her when my friends talk about spending time with their moms. I cried the other day at my best friend's house when her mom asked us if we would help her set up for a dinner party. I stood in their kitchen with tears running down my face because that was something my mom always used to ask me to help with. My mom and I are working on our relationship. In the first fifteen years of my life, we were best friends. I loved her more than anything in the world. I thought she was perfect, flawless, invincible. It’s a really strange feeling when you grow up and realize that your parents

Dealing With the Anxiety-Inducing Experience That Is College

By : Audrey October 4, 2020 Comments Off

Before I moved into college, I had a completely different piece in mind (even just saying the word “piece” makes me feel professional but, I am very much not so). I wanted to write about LGBT+ representation in animation, which I still want to do, but I am feeling quiet sidetracked at the moment. So yeah, almost three weeks ago I moved into college. College, especially during this time of living in a pandemic, is a strange place. As a freshman, there’s this great task put on your shoulders of having to find how you fit into the vast community. On top of that, you have to figure out where to go all the time (which I am terrible at). Once move-in starts, there’s pretty much this scramble to meet

Purple

By : A.R. Enfield October 4, 2020 Comments Off

In a world of red and blue, I am purple. It's confusing to other people, yes, but it's probably even more confusing to me. People on the outside get the simple answers— "I am nonbinary," "I am genderfluid," "I'm just me." I, on the inside, have to deal with all of the thoughts and feelings surrounding that. There are days when I am purple, sure. But there are days when I am colored magenta or indigo, red or blue, and on confusing days I'm a tye-dye of hues. On even more confusing days I feel gray overtake my being. The days when I am red I question if my previous days or weeks or months were even real. “Am I faking it?” “Is purple even a real color?” “What does

We Need to Address Butchphobia

By : Al Pim September 9, 2020 Comments Off

We live in a violent and oppressive world. Being a stud, the world seems to take its anger out on us. I cannot speak for any experience outside my own and hopefully, there can be others who read this and understand or relate to this. We are attacked for being us, accused of being violent, or cheaters. We are accused of wanting to be “like men” when we are actually very far from it. We are not trying to emulate men. We are trying to be ourselves. We just want to live without people trying to pick at us. Without people telling us what we are, or what we aren’t. People call us confused, violent, ugly, too much, et cetera. Some people even call us cringy, or they feel uncomfortable

My Mother: A Haunting

By : Spandana Janapati September 9, 2020 Comments Off

my mother is all silk skin and broken knuckles. when i was younger, i would count the wrinkles on her fingers and the lines across her palm. i wanted to know why she had more lines than i did. i never figured it out. my mother is all soft rain and wet grass. her hair hangs to the base of her neck and her smile stretches to the left more than to the right. i think mine stretches more to the right. my mother doesn’t like things out of order. every nail polish, every empty shoe box, every ripped open envelope has its place. even people had a place. she taught me the importance of silence, the value behind a closed door and i had practiced so much that even

MyUmbrella

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