Hello friends and fam,
My puppy and I, Mary, found a safe place and a loving community in Austin, but I’m struggling to find work. I have been able to pay for January’s rent in Atlanta, travel expenses, and my car payment since December with the help of folk like you, and I’m forever grateful. The work I’ve been able to get has not helped much, and I’m again in need of help. I have no money for rent(although the people I’m living with have been very understanding so far), and bill collectors are calling and threatening to send my case to collections. I haven’t been able to afford flea or heartworm medication for my dog, and the stress, combined with the work I’m doing and help I’m attempting to get for PTSD has made every day a struggle.
Help if you can. If not, thanks for reading and spreading!
History below:
grrlyman:

Enakai needs your help
In December my four year relationship ended, my employment ended, and I was hospitalized against my will. I’m down to my last $40. Like most folks of color, I hate asking for help, but with no family and no money coming in, I’m desperate. I’ve been selling things on ebay and etsy, trying to make money any way I can, and applying for jobs, but I have to admit that I need help. I still have to pay $175 on a traffic ticket I’ve paid half of, first and last month’s rent for the new place I move, and $400 to drive across country. This brings it to a little over 1500, so I’m asking for that amount and hoping that I’ll be able to get enough from the side jobs I’m doing to cover food and anything else that comes up. If people are able to lend instead of donate, that would be preferable. There’s also a donation link for paypal on my blog.
A short version of my story is below, for anyone who cares:My family life was always abusive and unstable, which meant that up until the age of 11 I was regularly homeless, starving, or subjected to violence and sexual assault. After that, I lived with my father, whose neglect was welcomed over what I’d come from. Shortly after coming out as a lesbian I was raped for the second time at 13, and my father decided that I was either lying or bringing it on myself and institutionalized me. After I got out, he moved me to Georgia, in part for the better job opportunities for a black man in Atlanta, and in part to avoid the rape trial. His girlfriend soon kicked me out for making a necklace that said, “dyke,” and I lived with friends, worked, and eventually bought a $100 car to live in.If it weren’t for the help of some friends and a couple high school teachers I can’t even imagine where I’d be, but they helped me stay safe, and encouraged me to graduate and apply to colleges. I got a full scholarship, and was able to move into dorms, giving me a place to stay during the school year. Without family, and with loosing a lot of the support from high school, college was overwhelming. The addictive personality I’ve struggled with since childhood took over, and I was soon doing a lot of coke. Eventually I switched to meth and stopped attending classes. Luckily, a professor stepped in and encouraged me to go to a rehab for homeless women, where I stayed for 2 years.At 24 I graduated college, took a job as a case manager for people with developmental disabilities, and settled into my first real home. It’s the first place I was ever allowed to decorate, the first place that felt mine. I’ve lived here for 3 years now, and it’s the longest I’ve ever stayed anywhere. In December my relationship ended due to my white partner’s racism. It was devastating, losing the family and home I’d worked so hard to build. Things got very dark, and I considered suicide. Instead, I was involuntarily institutionalized for 2 days where I was mistreated and misgendered, exacerbating the hopelessness I was feeling. I got out feeling no better, but as the days have passed I’ve been reminded by friends and loved ones of my strength and purpose. I want to live again.It’s time to move on, though. While I love the south, it doesn’t feel like home to me, and having gotten a glimpse of what that can feel like, I’m going to find it again. Help if you can. If not, thanks for reading and spreading!

Hello friends and fam,

My puppy and I, Mary, found a safe place and a loving community in Austin, but I’m struggling to find work. I have been able to pay for January’s rent in Atlanta, travel expenses, and my car payment since December with the help of folk like you, and I’m forever grateful. The work I’ve been able to get has not helped much, and I’m again in need of help. I have no money for rent(although the people I’m living with have been very understanding so far), and bill collectors are calling and threatening to send my case to collections. I haven’t been able to afford flea or heartworm medication for my dog, and the stress, combined with the work I’m doing and help I’m attempting to get for PTSD has made every day a struggle.

Help if you can. If not, thanks for reading and spreading!

History below:

grrlyman:

Enakai needs your help

In December my four year relationship ended, my employment ended, and I was hospitalized against my will. I’m down to my last $40. Like most folks of color, I hate asking for help, but with no family and no money coming in, I’m desperate. I’ve been selling things on ebay and etsy, trying to make money any way I can, and applying for jobs, but I have to admit that I need help. I still have to pay $175 on a traffic ticket I’ve paid half of, first and last month’s rent for the new place I move, and $400 to drive across country. This brings it to a little over 1500, so I’m asking for that amount and hoping that I’ll be able to get enough from the side jobs I’m doing to cover food and anything else that comes up. If people are able to lend instead of donate, that would be preferable. There’s also a donation link for paypal on my blog.


A short version of my story is below, for anyone who cares:

My family life was always abusive and unstable, which meant that up until the age of 11 I was regularly homeless, starving, or subjected to violence and sexual assault. After that, I lived with my father, whose neglect was welcomed over what I’d come from. Shortly after coming out as a lesbian I was raped for the second time at 13, and my father decided that I was either lying or bringing it on myself and institutionalized me. After I got out, he moved me to Georgia, in part for the better job opportunities for a black man in Atlanta, and in part to avoid the rape trial. His girlfriend soon kicked me out for making a necklace that said, “dyke,” and I lived with friends, worked, and eventually bought a $100 car to live in.

If it weren’t for the help of some friends and a couple high school teachers I can’t even imagine where I’d be, but they helped me stay safe, and encouraged me to graduate and apply to colleges. I got a full scholarship, and was able to move into dorms, giving me a place to stay during the school year. Without family, and with loosing a lot of the support from high school, college was overwhelming. The addictive personality I’ve struggled with since childhood took over, and I was soon doing a lot of coke. Eventually I switched to meth and stopped attending classes. Luckily, a professor stepped in and encouraged me to go to a rehab for homeless women, where I stayed for 2 years.

At 24 I graduated college, took a job as a case manager for people with developmental disabilities, and settled into my first real home. It’s the first place I was ever allowed to decorate, the first place that felt mine. I’ve lived here for 3 years now, and it’s the longest I’ve ever stayed anywhere. In December my relationship ended due to my white partner’s racism. It was devastating, losing the family and home I’d worked so hard to build. Things got very dark, and I considered suicide. Instead, I was involuntarily institutionalized for 2 days where I was mistreated and misgendered, exacerbating the hopelessness I was feeling. I got out feeling no better, but as the days have passed I’ve been reminded by friends and loved ones of my strength and purpose. I want to live again.

It’s time to move on, though. While I love the south, it doesn’t feel like home to me, and having gotten a glimpse of what that can feel like, I’m going to find it again. Help if you can. If not, thanks for reading and spreading!


Sorry, y’all, but this homophobe doesn’t deserve that top.

Sorry, y’all, but this homophobe doesn’t deserve that top.

(via grasstomyknees)


commiepinkofag:

Not Paradise Island?

San Domino, a gay island community created by Italy’s Fascists
by Alan Johnston
In their book, The Island and the City, researchers Gianfranco Goretti and Tommaso Giartosi talk of dozens of men, most but not all from Catania, enduring harsh conditions on San Domino.
They would arrive handcuffed, and then be housed in large, spartan dormitories with no electricity or running water.
Some of the few accounts given by former exiles make clear that life was not all bad on San Domino. It seems that the day-to-day prison regime was comparatively relaxed.
Unwittingly, the Fascists had created a corner of Italy where you were expected to be openly gay.
For the first time in their lives, the men were in a place where they could be themselves — free of the stigma that normally surrounded them in devoutly Catholic 1930s Italy.
What this meant to the exiles was explained in a rare interview with a San Domino veteran, named only as Giuseppe B — published many years ago in the gay magazine, Babilonia — who said that in a way the men were better off on the island.
“In those days if you were a femminella [a slang Italian word for a gay man] you couldn’t even leave your home, or make yourself noticed — the police would arrest you,” he said of his home town near Naples.
“On the island, on the other hand, we would celebrate our Saint’s days or the arrival of someone new… We did theatre, and we could dress as women there and no-one would say anything.”
When the outbreak of World War II in 1939 led to the end of the internal exile regime on San Domino, and the men were returned to a kind of house arrest in the places where they came from.
A number of gay men were interned along with political prisoners on other small islands, such as Ustica and Lampedusa, but San Domino was the only one where all the exiles were gay.
It is deeply ironic that in the Italy of that time, they could find a degree of freedom only on a prison island.
There is still no real social stigma attached to homophobia in Italy, Scalfarotto says, and the state doesn’t extend legal rights of any kind to gay or lesbian couples.
Their struggle for equality goes on.
Read More

Image from: In Italia Sono Tutti Maschi — the 2008 graphic novel written by Luca de Santis and illustrated by Sara Colaone — tells the story of gay people exiled under fascism in Italy in the late 30s.

commiepinkofag:

Not Paradise Island?

San Domino, a gay island community created by Italy’s Fascists

by Alan Johnston

In their book, The Island and the City, researchers Gianfranco Goretti and Tommaso Giartosi talk of dozens of men, most but not all from Catania, enduring harsh conditions on San Domino.

They would arrive handcuffed, and then be housed in large, spartan dormitories with no electricity or running water.

Some of the few accounts given by former exiles make clear that life was not all bad on San Domino. It seems that the day-to-day prison regime was comparatively relaxed.

Unwittingly, the Fascists had created a corner of Italy where you were expected to be openly gay.

For the first time in their lives, the men were in a place where they could be themselves — free of the stigma that normally surrounded them in devoutly Catholic 1930s Italy.

What this meant to the exiles was explained in a rare interview with a San Domino veteran, named only as Giuseppe B — published many years ago in the gay magazine, Babilonia — who said that in a way the men were better off on the island.

“In those days if you were a femminella [a slang Italian word for a gay man] you couldn’t even leave your home, or make yourself noticed — the police would arrest you,” he said of his home town near Naples.

“On the island, on the other hand, we would celebrate our Saint’s days or the arrival of someone new… We did theatre, and we could dress as women there and no-one would say anything.”

When the outbreak of World War II in 1939 led to the end of the internal exile regime on San Domino, and the men were returned to a kind of house arrest in the places where they came from.

A number of gay men were interned along with political prisoners on other small islands, such as Ustica and Lampedusa, but San Domino was the only one where all the exiles were gay.

It is deeply ironic that in the Italy of that time, they could find a degree of freedom only on a prison island.

There is still no real social stigma attached to homophobia in Italy, Scalfarotto says, and the state doesn’t extend legal rights of any kind to gay or lesbian couples.

Their struggle for equality goes on.

Image from: In Italia Sono Tutti Maschi — the 2008 graphic novel written by Luca de Santis and illustrated by Sara Colaone — tells the story of gay people exiled under fascism in Italy in the late 30s.


commiepinkofag:

‘Licentious lesbian’
Identification pictures of Henny Schermann, a shop assistant in Frankfurt am Main. In 1940 police arrested Henny, who was Jewish and a lesbian, and deported her to the Ravensbrueck concentration camp for women. 
On the back of her prisoner photo was written: “Jenny (sic) Sara Schermann, born February 19, 1912, Frankfurt am Main. Unmarried shopgirl in Frankfurt am Main. Licentious lesbian, only visited such [lesbian] bars. Avoided the name ‘Sara.’ Stateless Jew.” [After 1938, as one way of identifying Jews, a Nazi ordinance decreed that “Sara” was to be added in official papers to the first name of all Jewish women.]
In 1942, Henny was gassed at the Bernburg killing facility.
Read More: Lesbians and the Third Reich

commiepinkofag:

‘Licentious lesbian’

Identification pictures of Henny Schermann, a shop assistant in Frankfurt am Main. In 1940 police arrested Henny, who was Jewish and a lesbian, and deported her to the Ravensbrueck concentration camp for women.

On the back of her prisoner photo was written: “Jenny (sic) Sara Schermann, born February 19, 1912, Frankfurt am Main. Unmarried shopgirl in Frankfurt am Main. Licentious lesbian, only visited such [lesbian] bars. Avoided the name ‘Sara.’ Stateless Jew.” [After 1938, as one way of identifying Jews, a Nazi ordinance decreed that “Sara” was to be added in official papers to the first name of all Jewish women.]

In 1942, Henny was gassed at the Bernburg killing facility.

Read More: Lesbians and the Third Reich


commiepinkofag:

Pink Triangle
Gross-Rosen concentration camp prisoner arm band



anedumacation:

Kanye West getting deep on twitter

Kanye West is the Kanye Best.

He’s actually one of those creepy guys who brags about having sex with and “turning” lesbians, but this is a step in the right direction.

(via callingoutbigotry)



thepeoplesrecord:

1,500 rally for Mark Carson in NYCIt was New York City’s largest LGBT rally in years, according to organizers. On Monday at least 1,500 people showed up to honor the life of Mark Carson and make a stand against the hate that led to his death. Carson was an openly gay 32-year-old black man who was shot and killed over the weekend in what authorities are investigating as an anti-gay hate crime.

The randomness of Carson’s death has shocked the city’s LGBT community. “Mark is not going to die in vain. We are not going to get beat up in vain,” one rally participant told Mother Jones. “Gay rights, we’re still fighting for them, and the fight is not over. We need to protect each other.”