🚨Announcements
A number of opportunities in “Qstack Collaborations”—
is looking for tales of queer joy to include in a post; is looking for stories about caregiving; and is looking for collaborators and ideas for his Substack .Speaking of collaborations,
and I sat down for a conversation on her podcast, —we talk about Qstack and podcasts and pen names, oh my! Honorable mentions: , and .Having a great time over in Qstack Chat for anyone who wants to get in on the action—sound off on other people’s threads, or start your own.
- has been posting some of her favorite childhood reads, including Maurice Sendak’s lesser known The Nutshell Library, and the sequel to the iconic Harriet the Spy—The Long Secret—by the trailblazing queer author Louise Fitzhugh. Rebecca Panovka did a great profile of her subversive and ultimately tragic life for The New Yorker in 2021.
- published a review on Medium of the short film “Second Thought” by Art Bezrukavenko & Chris Stanley (@StanChris on Youtube)—really quite a sweet portrait of young love (and lust.)
Like “queer,” “slut” is one of those words you either vibe with, or not. Personally, I thank Miss God we have a choice about who and how many intimate partners we may have.
“An’ ye harm none, do as ye will,” as they say, and that goes equally for the high school sweethearts who never kissed another, as well as all the sport-fuckers of the world (regularly tested, sanely protected, of course) making it their personal mission to smell every flower and taste every morsel within reach.
Thanks to
for taking us on this flower-strewn journey, from first blush to rampant parade.TO ALL THE QUEERS I’VE LOVED BEFORE
By of
"This piece is a blend of first-hand accounts, personal perspective, and fiction. This is both to mask identifying details of those interviewed and to expand upon the piece’s theme. These pieces are not to be read as memoir, but I stand by the work."
It’s Pride Month.
I’d like to thank the following people:
The girl from elementary school
She reminded me of a little lamb. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She always had rosy cheeks and spoke sweetly and quietly. She had a distinct beautiful nose with burst capillaries at the base, giving the creases a dash of purple. But I didn’t know girls could even like girls, so I couldn’t put a name to my feelings. In retrospect, she was my first queer crush.
All the kids in my youth theater.
Barely any of us were straight, really: we all had staggered coming-outs over the next 20 years. I remember I wanted to kiss my Maid Marian at the end of Robin Hood when I was 12 (I had beat out the boys to play Robin). It was shot down by the director as being “unnecessary”. Yet, a couple months later, I had to kiss a boy in our next season’s production of Les Miz. The cowards!
But to do anything “gay” in our town (even under the cover of theatrical play) was very controversial, so I see why the adults felt a need to protect us from scrutiny.
All the women who were in the threesomes I had.
Thank you for helping me confirm via proper hands-on experience (pun intended) that I was not straight. A straight person couldn’t make women cum like that, nor be so ready for another threesome.
I realized I love bodies, period. Let me in your body, and I will investigate every square inch. This is what makes me feel so confidently pansexual. Every different body has something exciting and beautiful to offer.
The man who I had a queer relationship with.
In my late twenties, I sat on The Gay Beach (heyo Jacob Riis!) and said shakily, “I think I’m really truly actually pansexual. Even though we’re together.”
We’d not been dating very long. However, it was already a very intense and devoted relationship. He was quite older, and carried a shadow of authority, despite desperately wanting me to feel we were equals.
He smiled and sweetly said, “Oh yah? That’s great! One of the members of Sylvan Esso just came out and wrote a whole article about it! Want me to send it to you?”
That response got me quite wet.
Feeling safe and accepted is super hot, turns out.
I flowered into my most authentic self with him. Every time he championed a choice I made that aligned with my burgeoning sexuality, I fell deeper in love with him. He dropped me off at the Dyke March that next Pride (never one to half-ass, I had volunteered to be a marshal). He never once made me feel like my attraction to women was performative.
I think we related to each other in a deeply queer way, despite presenting as a hetero couple. In his Gen X-y way, he’d declare he’s “sadly straight”, but toxic masculinity doesn’t make experimenting with men feel very appealing or safe. In another time and place, I bet he’d be queer, too. We loved each other in a Moulin Rouge way, and we’d constantly spin gender roles on its head.
And I suppose the Michael-Jordan-performance-level way he ate my pussy made the relationship pretty damn queer, too.
The woman I let go of.
She was a magical, kind, smart, funny, gorgeous, brilliant woman. She would remark how strong my hands are, which is the kind of thing only a Gold Star Lesbian can say. She said she never “clocked” men, though she could see why I found certain male movie stars appealing.
Every time I was with her, it was like being on Wonder Woman’s Amazon Island. We were sequestered from the patriarchy, and it was fucking fun. We were both sex nerds, and nerd-nerds. The balance of generosity and boundaries in the relationship was unprecedented.
In another lifetime, we would still be dating, but she had a vision for her life that didn’t align with mine.
We couldn’t make it work.
I give it five years until she’s married with a baby. She is about to soar to places I can never go, and I’m on a road she has no interest traveling on.
And thankfully, it has nothing to do with our sexual identities.
To all the LGBTQ+ sluts
Yes, we should let people love who they want to love, but also we shouldn’t be punished for fucking who we want to fuck. Thank you for saying “yes, not all queers are big ol’ whores, but I am and that’s great”. Thank you for saying that out-loud, when I couldn’t even speak up on behalf of my own identity.
Thank you to the queer sex worker ancestors who started riots for respect more than 50 years ago.
Thank you to the queer advocates who demanded health care and justice for their dying siblings.
Thank you to the queer activists who fight for abortion, access to contraceptives and disease barriers.
Thank you leather daddies, Dominatrixes, sex educators, riggers, spankers, collar-wearers, and all the other sluts who express themselves in dungeons away from prying eyes of society, and to those who do it proudly at their local grocery store.
You paved the way for me, and all the future pansexual sluts to come.
is a New York City-based performer, producer and writer whose work focuses on love, gender dynamics, and sexuality. Produced off-off-Broadway plays include “Crush”, “More”, "Implied Consent”, "The Regime is Female” and “Mental Nudity”. Staged Readings: "Dead Girls Club" (Lanford Wilson New American Play Festival). Short Films: "Period Piece” (Sick N’ Wrong film festival, Bridgeport Film Festival). Publications: “I Won’t Be That Person” (Chaotic Merge Magazine). Fictional Podcasts: “Nora’s Dragon”. Currently Ms. Grace self-publishes via her Substack “Grace and Storms”.
What an amazing piece.
I LOVE IT 🫰🏾😂