Blog

Lesbian has its own fascinating history. In the middle of the twentieth century, gay was often used to describe both men and women. But by the 1970s, women were increasingly claiming lesbian as a distinct political and cultural identity, particularly as gay came to center the experiences and politics of men. Lesbian gave women a way to name themselves, organize around their own lives, and insist that they not disappear within a supposedly universal category.

I have deep respect for anyone choosing sobriety, sober curiosity, moderation, or simply a more conscious relationship with substances. Not because it makes them morally superior. It doesn’t. But because it often requires a kind of courage this community does not always know how to celebrate.

Independence, for us, was never declared once and settled. It has been negotiated in increments: a marriage ruling here, a city ordinance there, a workplace policy there, a fragile sense of safety that still depends too much on which state line, family system, church, workplace, or neighborhood you happen to be standing in.

As Pride celebrations fill the Coachella Valley throughout the summer, we also see an increase in pool parties and events centered around water, connection, and community. But for many trans and gender expansive people, these spaces can come with anxiety, fear, and vulnerability. 

Sacred Wounds is a weekly LGBTQ+ only support group for individuals who were impacted by religion—whether you grew up within a religious or spiritual system or experienced religion as a powerful presence in your family, caregivers, or home environment. For many, these influences shaped identity, self-worth, and belonging in painful, confusing, or harmful ways.

Coming out was not a single moment for me. It was a slow, internal reckoning. There were no visible role models in Las Vegas at the time. No openly lesbian public figures lighting the way. If there were others like me, they were navigating the same fear, the same coded language. It still took me until I was 38 to officially come out!

Lately, I’ve been reflecting deeply on queer joy: what it means to me, and how it ripples through our community and our loved ones.

I am the son of an incredibly resilient,  strong black woman who understood the power of community.

For many of us, coming out is both an act of courage and a lifelong process. Each disclosure is a leap of faith, a hope that the person on the other side will hold our truth with care. And yet, coming out is only half the story.
What if we focused on the idea of coming in?