Check out Dannielle Owens-Reid from Everyone Is Gay’s interview with her ex-girlfriend, El.
And here’s where family drama, cultural context, the larger institutions of racism, and immigration policies get all muddled. Now, where is that immigrant who moved from Caracas to get a degree in the states to help me when I need him? (I mean, I have all these questions, Dad, about who I am and where I come from, what languages I should speak and what my place is as an American.)
I rock my natural hair long and wild. I spend exorbitant amounts of money on paraben and silicone free hair products so that I can grow it longer and wider. I hang onto my curls like they are the very things that define me. I think it’s difficult to find a sense of balance when you are constantly being told you’re “not really black” or “not really gay.” Even as I consciously tackle these issues I feel like my hair is my security blanket, my constant. And it is precious. And you may not touch it because it is a mystery to you and that is okay with me. I’d prefer to remain mysterious while I figure my own shit out.
Dirty talk (and, to an intermittent extent, phone sex) has remained somewhat of a staple in my sexual wheelhouse for the past 16 years. It’s a fun way to share fantasies without needing to have the, “So, can we sit down and tell each other over coffee what we want but are scared to ask for in bed?” talk, and can kick things up a notch if the sex is too vanilla. And, if I’m going to be honest here, it’s kind of a power trip to know that the words coming out of your mouth are helping to get someone off.
This week’s NSFW Lesbosexy Sunday includes a guide to getting better at talking dirty, among other things.
If you want any/all of the things pictured here, you’re in luck! Click here to save 20% on everything in the Autostraddle Store on December 26 and 27!
Don’t know how to rock boots or where to buy them? Check out Lydia’s guide to this season’s must-have for queers of all styles!
They both wanted to carry children, and neither had ever seen the clothing they pictured wearing while doing it. The standard options of scoop-neck tees, loose, flowy tunics and maxi dresses whispering gently of femininity didn’t appeal to their butch tastes. So Vanessa decided to make her own.
For us queer folks, even when families are fairly accepting, the cultural divide between us and our mostly-straight families can make holiday get-togethers a little (or a lot) awkward. There’s nothing quite like your weird uncle dropping a slur in the middle of Christmas dinner to liven the mood!
Because we, as individuals, may not have a particular connection to a particular lesbian bar that has gone under doesn’t mean that the death of the lesbian bar, in general, isn’t a tragedy.
Alley explored the State of the Lesbian Bar in Portland and got nostalgic along the way.
This is the great fuckery of falling out of love in the age of technology: So many invisible threads hold us together. She lingers forever in my profile picture album and my iMessage logs. Even when I try to avoid these archives, a robot can coopt her name and remind me just what it felt like to love her.
Audrey via Linked Like We Once Were