LGBTQ
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Alexander Leon once said, “Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves; we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity to minimize humiliation and prejudice.” Those words have always resonated with me, capturing the challenges I faced growing up queer. Early on, I learned to conceal parts of my true self—my interests, my…
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My father was a loving and accepting man. I watched him grow and evolve over the years—his beliefs shifting as he learned, as he listened, as life opened his eyes in new ways. He never clung to an idea simply because it was familiar. Instead, he allowed himself to question, to reconsider, to change. When…
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In an ideal world, I would be able to hold my husband’s hand in public without a second thought. Not just in the safe pockets of the world—the city streets where we blend in, the Pride festivals where we are celebrated, the family gatherings where we are known—but anywhere. Any street, any town, any room.…
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Imagine waking up in a world where every person looked the same, lived the same, and loved the same way. No diversity, no difference—just one narrow definition of existence. At first, some might think this sounds peaceful, orderly even. But look a little closer, and you’ll see something far more disturbing: a world drained of…
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Let me be blunt: when you vote for politicians who call us “degenerates” or promise to “protect traditional values,” you are not just casting a ballot—you are signing off on a blueprint for our erasure. The Department of Homeland Security’s recent decision to revoke protections barring the surveillance of LGBTQ+ individuals isn’t a bureaucratic tweak.…
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Imagine stepping into one of the rooms at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin. The floor stretches out before you, a mosaic of words—fragments of diaries, letters, final cries etched into stone. You look down, as if standing over graves, and read the shattered pieces of lives swallowed by the Holocaust.…
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December 2017. The air smelled like the holidays and pine needles. We stood in a room full of people who’d fought for us, cried for us, waited for us. My hands shook holding the marriage license—a piece of paper I never thought I’d get to sign. Seven years later, I still remember the way my…
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I know I drive some of you crazy with my constant barrage of queer content. Trust me, I get it. But here’s the thing—you have to understand that my posts aren’t really for you. And I’m certainly not trying to change the minds of the far-right extremists who have already decided to rationalize their hatred.…
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It was 1982, and I was seventeen—carefree, bold, and utterly convinced that the future was bright. I remember walking into the local arcade with my pink polo collar flipped up and starched, my straight-leg jeans perfectly faded, and my loafers polished just enough to look effortlessly cool. A typical seventeen-year-old in the eighties, caught somewhere…
Steven LaChance Blog 