So, you voted for Trump. And you claim to love someone who is gay. Well, here’s why you may not be hearing from them as much. You see, your vote for Trump really says this to a gay person: “You’re less than I am. I deserve more rights than you. You are a sick aberration that can be “healed” through gay conversion therapy. You—along with anyone of color—are lesser.” Gays are a minority—yes, even the white ones—and they are able to view the world from an empathetic point of v

As I talked with my friends and enjoyed the community and fellowship of my first Pride event--on the Circle in Indianapolis--a man walked slowly and deliberately through the celebration. Wearing a gas mask. It was the early 90s and also my first experience with a Pride celebration. And with abject hate. That man wanted to send a message that I was an aberration. That I didn't deserve to live, love or prosper. I remember the sick feeling I got in the pit of my stomach, watchin

While on the L heading to work last week, I received a tweet from a BBC reporter who wanted my input about why LGBT people view gay bars/clubs as safe spaces. In the wake of the Orlando shootings, I'd already been giving that some thought and eagerly offered my assistance--though curious as to exactly how I could help. He asked me to answer two questions in two separate 30-ish second videos recorded on my phone. Question 1 : why are gay bars/clubs viewed as sanctuaries to t

The first gay bar I ever went to in Chicago was a small but colorful neighborhood bar called Buddie's. I'd found it wandering down Clark Street while my friend Denise, who had driven us there from Indiana where she worked and where I attended Purdue. She was attending an author reading and discussion about "obsessive love." (She'd recently been the object of it, not the perpetrator.) Since she'd be busy for a couple of hours and since the topic didn't interest me I ventured