An Ode to my Queer SelfRead More
Men say a lot of stupid things to me. That’s not an accusation. It’s not even an intelligent observation. It’s a fact. And do you know what makes me feel worse about myself?
I let them.
And that’s not fucking fair.
It started maybe about ten years ago. It would be a sweltering hot day and, in accordance with the weather, I would choose to wear one of my flowing sundresses that used to make me feel so happy. But then I would walk to a friend’s house or to catch a tram. The sweaty place where my thighs meet and rub as I walk would become red, raw, and irritated, until I would find myself at home hours later- lying on the couch, legs up, bag of frozen peas on my thighs, cursing the day the sun came into being, along with the sick, sadistic liars who told us that summer was fun and carefree.Read More