Some days, survival feels impossible. The weight of grief is too heavy. The loss, the fear, the uncertainty—it’s endless.
I lost 25 members of my family in a single attack. My mother. My sisters. My nieces. The people who made my world feel whole.
And now, I am left with my father and my younger siblings, trying to survive with no home, no certainty, no way to rebuild. We have been displaced twice already, moving from place to place, never truly safe.
But we refuse to let war steal everything from us.
💔 I still dream of rebuilding. 💔 My siblings still have hopes for a future. 💔 We just need a little help to make that possible.
Even $5 might not seem like much, but for us, it’s a sign that someone still cares. If you can’t donate, please share this post. Every act of kindness matters.
Thank you for keeping our hope alive. 💙
I want you to remember:
The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.
A ceasefire ..... Doesn't mean that our fight is over for the people of Palestine 🇵🇸 .... It's actually the beginning
Our fight ends when we have a FREE Palestine 𓂆
Don't Stop •Boycotting •Sharing •Posting •Donating •Talking
Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.
It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.
That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.
It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.
A Plea for Help from Gaza: A Family Seeking Safety
Hello, I am Eman Al-Madhoun, a mother of two children, Walid & Layan. We need urgent assistance.
We live in the midst of the ongoing hellish war in Gaza, trapped between walls of fear and despair.
We struggle daily to survive in an environment filled with threats and dangers.
We lost our home and became homeless, and now we live in a small tent, suffering from insects and extreme cold.
We urgently appeal for your moral and financial assistance to cover the necessary costs for escaping to a safe environment, where we can build a better future for our children and ensure our family's safety.🙏
We are in desperate need of your support. Any donation, no matter how small, can help save our lives. Thank you for your attention and support during these harsh times.
"Please reblog or donate as much as you can."
My campaign was verified by verifying the link to my brother's account( @karamalmadhoun1 )
Thank you for your kindness and support.
Yours sincerely;
Emanalmadhoun8
@nabulsi @90-ghost @sar-soor @ibtisams @palipunk @soon-palestine @gaza-evacuation-funds @sayruq @appsa @emanalmadhoun8 @hellenic-reconstructionism
started to type “ppl will call themselves monsterfuckers just bc they’re into pyramidhead 🙄” and i think maybe i should logout and use facebook for a few days to recalibrate my perspective on society at large
I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .
I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.
Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.
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✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview
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ICE raids happening in Chicago on Tuesday January 21st. Get organized and get prepared.
i know, i know. you're trying not to doomscroll and i usually make silly memes, but this is important.
what's going on? mass a***ests and de***ntions of Dominican people looking for better lives. i'll let Bianca Graulau explain:
why is this happening? because Puerto Rico is considered a U.S. territory, not an independent nation or a state with representation and voting rights. Puerto Ricans and Dominicans are caught between disaster and the dregs of empire (climate disasters and Big Oil projects).
what can we do? support. support. support Dominicans and Puerto Ricans. and not just when bad bunny or young miko is doing a thing. or during hurricane disasters. or baseball season. people deserve to live. they deserve reparations, sovereignty and self-determination.
here are some orgs that help folks who are just trying to get on their feet and find the resources they need.
Ayuda Legal Puerto Rico
CASA
Nos sostenemos tee shirts.
Black Immigrant Bail Fund run by Haitian Bridge Alliance
HASER
donate to BUDPR's work toward Puerto Rican independence
Hey everyone, my name is Abdelmajed, and I want to share a little bit of my journey with you.
I was born and raised in Gaza, a place I once called home. Life was simple but beautiful. I remember sitting with my family in the evenings, drinking tea and telling stories. I remember walking through the streets, greeting neighbors, feeling like I belonged. I remember celebrating birthdays, laughing over silly jokes, and dreaming about the future.
But in the blink of an eye, everything changed. My home is gone. My family is not whole anymore. My city is unrecognizable. 💔 The streets that once felt so safe are now filled with emptiness. The laughter has been replaced with silence.
And yet, I hold onto my memories. Because memories remind me of who I am, where I come from, and what truly matters. They remind me that love, family, and connection are stronger than destruction.
If you’re reading this, take a moment to appreciate the little things. Hug your family, tell someone you love them, appreciate the warmth of home. These small moments are what truly make life beautiful. 💙
And I'm now waiting to be Vetted by @gazavetters 🙏
21| they/he | ace | perpetually tired | I like Ghosts more than birds sorry bird fans |
235 posts