#LGBTQIA issues

[southeastasianists]

It was the mid-1980s when Paul Toh came of age as a gay man, decades before smartphones and dating apps made sex a lot more accessible right at your fingertips. Toh has been diagnosed with HIV since 1989. 

Now semi-retired with his own business distributing antiretroviral therapy medication and HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), the 59-year-old said that in those days, cruising in public parks, toilets, and back alleys of dirty shophouses along pre-cleanup Singapore River for sex was par for the course. 

Unsurprisingly, cruising in public made gay men easy targets for police officers. “They started going to these cruising grounds undercover, with the explicit intention of entrapping and arresting gay men,” Toh added.

Police raids in nightlife establishments with gay clientele also became common, with prominent gay discotheque Niche having its liquor license withdrawn by the police in 1989 and the Rascals incident of 30 May 1993, in which multiple patrons were arrested for not having their NRICs on them. This came to be remembered by veteran activists as Singapore’s Stonewall. 

Fear about the spread of AIDS was part of the reason why police intensified their clamp down on queer spaces. In April 1987, Singapore experienced its first AIDS-related death. And one year later, the Director of Public Affairs of the Singapore Police Department said in a Straits Times article that “homosexual activities have been strongly linked to the dreaded AIDS disease,” making it an “added reason in the public interest for police to disallow homosexuals to convert places licensed for entertainment into places where they can congregate.”

Iris’ Work of Fighting Stigma

76-year-old health advisor Iris Verghese was among the first health workers to rise to the occasion when Singapore reported its first HIV/AIDS cases. 

“I knew just as little about HIV/AIDS as everyone else,” said the retired nurse, who first joined Middle Road Hospital, a now-defunct treatment centre for sexually transmitted diseases, in 1974. As part of her job, Verghese was tasked with contact tracing people who had sexually transmitted infections. 

The job brought Verghese to brothels and nightclubs in Geylang’s red-light district, which meant she was no stranger to serving society’s Others with kindness. 

“A lot of it has to do with my faith.”

“I thought about my role models like Jesus and Mother Teresa—they didn’t care what illness you had. If they could hang out with people with leprosy, then who am I to refuse to care for those with HIV/AIDS?”

Verghese’s work is well-documented, and everyone has given her the accolades she deserves—from President Halimah Yacob to the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Singapore to the Straits Times, which named her an everyday hero in 2019.

Plague, a 15-minute short film by Singaporean filmmaker Boo Junfeng, captures the emotional gravity of the care work performed by Verghese and health workers like herself. 

The emotionally-stirring film is inspired by Verghese’s work with HIV/AIDS patients in the ’80s and offers a look into the life of Jamie, a patient who stopped coming to the clinic for treatment and counselling.

In the film’s climax, set in the patient’s HDB flat, Verghese tries to dissuade Jamie from inflicting internalised stigma. Jamie insists on using disposable plastic cups and utensils and cleaning every surface he touches for fear of passing the virus to his loved ones.

Wanting to prove that HIV/AIDS is not transmissible through saliva, Verghese takes Jamie’s plastic cup and drinks from it. She then hands him a regular glass, beckoning for him to drink from it, only for him to swipe it away, breaking the glass and cutting himself in the process. 

Thus comes the true test of Verghese’s dedication to her profession as she steels herself to the drastically heightened risk. Now that her patient is bleeding, she is dealing no longer just with saliva, but with blood carrying the virus. 

In our interview, Verghese recalled many incidents like these. One that stuck with me was her counselling session with Singapore’s first HIV patient, a young gay professional, in 1985. “As I listened to him and gave him a hug, he broke down and cried,” she said. “He said he felt so good afterwards.”

Safe Sex Outreach in the 80s

“Things were very different in the ’80s and ’90s,” said Professor Roy Chan, Founding President of Action for AIDS Singapore (AfA). AfA is a non-government organisation founded in 1988 to fight HIV/AIDS infection in Singapore. 

“There was no internet then. When we set up AfA, we had to rely on word of mouth, phone calls, faxes, pagers, and so on. Mobilisation was not as easy then, but we overcame the obstacles we faced. It was very much more hands-on in those days,” Chan recalled. 

Chan set up AfA as a non-governmental organisation in 1988 to respond to the needs of people living with HIV/AIDS, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity, as well as to advocate for greater action and awareness around HIV/AIDS. 

AfA was also one of the first community groups in Singapore that served the needs of LGBTQ+ individuals—namely men who have sex with men—disproportionately affected by HIV/AIDS. 

“Back then, people didn’t have as much access to the internet as we do today, meaning that accurate information on HIV/AIDS was much harder to come by, making education efforts vital,” Chan recalled. “On the flip side, no internet meant the gay nightlife scene was more vibrant than what it is today.” 

Since the gay community in the 1980s and 1990s did not have the internet and mobile phone apps to meet other people online, they had to go to physical spaces to fulfil their need for connection, whether it was nightlife establishments or cruising grounds.

Gay clubs were hence crucial in AfA’s outreach programs on safe sex practices back in the ’80s—even if it meant risking the possibility of police raids.

Back then, there were very few places in Singapore where gay men felt safe enough to gather in abundance, making gay clubs a viable hub for outreach and education.

AfA’s outreach efforts endure today in the form of the Mobile Testing Van initiative on weekends. The van, parked outside popular gay nightlife spots in Singapore, aims to bring HIV testing closer to the public, bridging the fear and stigma of walking into a stand-alone clinic to get tested.

The Consequence of Outreach

The people brave enough to put themselves out there to serve a larger cause were but a small minority, especially given the cultural milieu of the time. 

“There was so much that was unknown about HIV/AIDS even among the medical community, much less the general public,” said Verghese.

“Even at Middle Road Hospital, two doctors resigned, and twenty-five nurses asked to be transferred out.”

AfA’s awareness campaigns and fundraiser drives drew a lot of publicity—and no doubt some backlash.

Still, beneath all the headlines and the star power lent by high-profile celebrity allies was the silence surrounding individual HIV/AIDS cases. 

“It was all very hush-hush. People didn’t want to talk about it. No one wanted to know who died of AIDS,” Verghese shared when I asked if the atmosphere in the 90s was similar to that depicted in films and drama series such as The Normal Heart and Pose. 

The shows portrayed the HIV/AIDS crisis in the disease’s epicentre in New York as being a time of deaths and countless funerals attended by surviving gay men. 

One exception to this veil of silence was Paddy Chew, the first Singaporean person to come out publicly as being a person living with HIV/AIDS. 

Chew—well-known for his one-man autobiographical play Completely With/Out Character—told Verghese and her husband that he wanted no crying at his funeral. 

“He asked me to arrange his funeral such that his ashes will be thrown into the sea from a Singapore Armed Forces boat,” said Verghese. She and Chew’s close friends were instructed to be dressed in their party best, with helium balloons that were to be released out at sea. 

“There was one helium balloon that drifted away from the other balloons. To me, that felt like it was Paddy’s soul saying goodbye to us one last time.”

A Tale of Two HIV Diagnoses

Perhaps by coincidence—or not, since Verghese was one of the very few nurses dedicated to caring for HIV/AIDS patients at the time—Toh’s then-partner was also one of Verghese’s patients. 

“My then-partner Freddie and I handled our HIV diagnoses very differently, but of course, we also came from very different backgrounds and life experiences,” said Toh. 

“I found out about my status because an ex-lover of mine had come down with pneumocystis pneumonia (PCP). I flew to Sydney for a diagnosis so that I wouldn’t be registered in the local system here if I was found to be positive.” 

On the other hand, Freddie found out about his HIV-positive status because he was a regular blood donor. Not only was his diagnosis inevitably recorded in the national registry, but Freddie also ran into legal trouble. He was charged in court for false disclosure of his sexual activity. 

“Because of how the entire trial turned out, Freddie was sentenced to imprisonment for twice the expected duration. It affected his entire outlook in life, feeling like he was being framed by a bigger power with an agenda, with the whole world against him,” said Toh, who cared for Freddie until he passed in 2008. 

Toh, on the other hand, took his diagnosis as an opportunity to re-evaluate his life and make the most of the eight years that the doctor told him back in 1989 he had left to live. 

“When I received my diagnosis, the only thing in my mind was this: it is the quality of life that matters, not the quantity.” And so, the two spent the next few years of their lives travelling the world, making their remaining years as meaningful as they could be. 

Anything for a Chance at Life

Maximising his remaining years did not stop at travel for Toh. Having managed to get his hands on antiretroviral therapy in Sydney in the form of azidothymidine (AZT), he went on to look for more effective forms of medication while the technology was being developed in real-time. Toh wanted to help other HIV patients like himself. 

In 1994, Toh joined the Asia Pacific Network of People with HIV/AIDS (APN+), a regional network advocating for the improvement of the lives of people with HIV/AIDS in the Asia-Pacific region, later becoming a Board member and secretariat.

“North America and Europe were progressing swiftly in their battle against HIV/AIDS thanks to the work of activists there putting pressure on their governments and the medical community to channel funding towards the research and development of suitable treatment for HIV/AIDS,” said Toh.

“In Asia, however, it’s a different story. We had to be street smart in our advocacy while also looking elsewhere for allies.”

This meant looking to donors in the West who could be persuaded to recognise the importance of HIV/AIDS advocacy in Asia.

“I was very lucky to have the opportunity to be one of the first few Asians who had access to HAART, said Toh. 

HAART (Highly active antiretroviral therapy) is a triple-combination of antiretroviral drugs discovered in 1996 by Professor David Ho. Toh had been invited to attend the 11th International Conference on AIDS in Vancouver, Canada, where the discovery of this triple cocktail was announced. 

Within three months of beginning HAART treatment in 1996, Toh saw his health improving tremendously, with his CD4 count—a measure for the immune system of PLHIV—increasing exponentially and his viral load becoming undetectable within the fourth month. 

Although Toh already had a supply of free antiretroviral medication from his healthcare provider in Sydney, he continued to look elsewhere for alternative sources for patients who were unable to afford the patented medication. 

“Unlike Taiwan, Hong Kong, and South Korea, where medication for HIV/AIDS was provided to patients for free, Singapore was the only Asian Tiger which did not do so,” said Toh. 

“Meanwhile, pharmaceutical companies in developing countries like Brazil, India, and Thailand were manufacturing their own generic antiretroviral medication in spite of patent laws, making it more affordable.”

While still not free, MOH announced in 2020 that HIV medication would become subsidised.

Singapore’s Very Own ‘Buyers Club’

With patented HIV/AIDS medication in the ’80s continuing to be inaccessible to many who needed it, buyers clubs—similar to the one featured in the 2013 film Dallas Buyers Club��would soon emerge worldwide, including Singapore. 

“The funny thing was that Australia had easy access to HIV/AIDS medication, so there was a lot of stock available in Sydney,” said Verghese. A family vacation down under in 1987 turned into an informal research trip for her to network and gather the information that she needed to perform her job optimally. 

During her trip, she met HIV researcher Dr David Cooper, who brought her to Albion Street Centre (now known as The Albion Centre), which specialises in HIV/AIDS management. 

Through her newfound contacts, Verghese managed to get her hands on some of the unused stocks of medication in Sydney back to Singapore for her support group. 

“We even got the help of the Singapore Airlines flight attendants to pool together their unused baggage allowance to bring this medication back,” she recounted with a laugh. 

Antiretroviral medication was not the only asset that Verghese brought back. She learned a lot about the virus from the professionals she met in Sydney, allowing her to move faster than the national response and gather the information needed to tend to her patients. 

A Ground Up Initiative

“George Yeo was actually very impressed with what we were doing,” recounted Verghese. “He wanted to meet with the community to learn more about our efforts and arranged a closed-door meeting with us.”

The meeting was the culmination of months of sending letters to Yeo, the Minister of Health at the time. The dialogue session was held to discuss the government’s rule that mandated the bodies of AIDS sufferers to be buried or cremated within twenty-four hours of dying. 

This rule was finally lifted in December 2000, after four years of advocacy by AfA.

They argued that the policy was outdated, having been implemented in the mid-1980s when hardly anything was known about HIV/AIDS. 

“I think we’ve certainly had to prove ourselves as an organisation over the years,” Chan said. “There might have been concerns among some who thought of us as a gay rights organisation, or misconceptions that AfA worked solely on issues that concern gay people.”

“But we’ve proven ourselves over the years to be a serious and effective organisation tackling HIV/AIDS and sexual health with clear metrics of success, and the results and continued support from the government speak for themselves,” added Prof Chan. 

Toh, who served as AfA’s Executive Director from 2007-2009, concurs. 

“Actually, not many people know this, but MOH has been quite supportive of AfA over the years. Even during my term, they would hold closed-door discussions with us, intently wanting to work with us on eliminating HIV/AIDS,” said Toh. He reckoned that MOH did not want to be publicly seen as supporting something considered by society as ‘morally corrupt’ no matter how beneficial it is to wider society. 

The Fruits of Our Predecessors’ Labour Are Not Handed on a Silver Plate

The history of HIV/AIDS and its role in fomenting community-building among the LGBTQ+ community has always been a topic of fascination for me.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to see everyone in your social circles and communities succumbing, one by one, to an unknown disease. 

Covid-19 provided the closest representation of the tumultuous and uncertain time in the ’80s.

In the midst of writing this, however, the comparison became a much closer one. Monkeypox is now affecting men who have sex with men more than the rest of the general population. 

“It’s not the same thing,” Chan said, cautioning against making blanket comparisons between monkeypox and HIV/AIDS.

“For starters,” he intoned, “monkeypox is not an unknown disease. We’ve known about monkeypox for decades, so it is nothing close to HIV back in the ’80s.”

Admittedly, life is easier for a gay man like me, who came of age at a time when HIV/AIDS is no longer considered a significant threat. 

With common knowledge of medication as well as preventative measures like safer sex and pre and post-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP and PEP), it is easy for me and my peers to take for granted the freedoms that we now enjoy, thanks to decades of advocacy and destigmatisation. 

But as Prof Chan said, “It is important not to be complacent. The freedoms and advancements we have today were not handed on a silver platter. Earlier generations had to fight very hard for all of these things.”

[angelic-transsexual]

me: *makes a tiktok about how men can get pregnant and how abortion laws affect these men also*

the comments: "SAY TRANS MEN" "PRO LIFE PEOPLE DONT SEE TRANS MEN AS MEN" "YOU NEED TO PUT TRANS MEN INSTEAD OF MEN, SAYING JUST MEN CAN GET PREGNANT AND CAN GET ABORTIONS ALLOWS CIS MEN TO HAVE AN OPINION ON PREGNANCY AND ABORTION"

like oh my god you fucking people are insufferable.

IDGAF WHAT PRO LIFERS THINK AND I DONT NEED TO SAY "TRANS MEN," TRANS MEN ARE MEN.

[yourlocaldisapointment36]

Hey guys, I need y'all's honest opinion and "expertise" on this subject. (Ace's + Aro's ECT)

So, I don't know how to explain my romantic attraction exactly.. Its obsessive and never goes away and I'm a little in love with everyone I meet. I've been going by Aro bc I have NO interest in an official romantic relationship, though I do experience EXTREME romantic attraction.

Is there anything to describe this? And if so does it fall under the category of aromantic?

Edit: thought I should add context. Just in case. What I mean by not being interested in an official romantic relationship is that I simply don't get why they exist if it makes any sense? And the thought of being in a romantic relationship genuinely kind of scares me. Lol I just don't see the appeal of being in a romantic relationship with someone, or doing things that normal "couples" would do

[bitchesgetriches]

NEW POST!

Personal finance--it's not just for medium-ugly straight people anymore! Here are 5 helpful queer money experts from the LGBTQ+ community.

[little-grey-dowitcher]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but just because you haven’t had a major argument or incident with your toxic relatives doesn’t mean you don’t have a reason to avoid seeing them this holiday season (or at all, for that matter). You don’t need to have had a huge falling out with them to not want to see them.

[hard--headed--woman]

i don't care at all if you want to call yourself queer or if you want to reclaim that slur, what i am saying is just that :

1) it isn't an identity. your only "label" can't be "queer". if no other word fits your identity than this one, then you aren't part of the community, and you are searching for a place in the wrong area. your identity is lesbian, gay, bisexual... not just "queer". always. queer just can't be the only word that describes your experience.

2) it IS a slur. i don't care if you use it or if you want to reclaim it or if you think it's a cool word and want to write it everywhere, it IS a slur, it was always a slur, it will always be a slur. erasing that and trying to lie about it is erasing our culture and history. people have been insulted with this word. this word was used in homophobic slogans. no tears for queers! see. it IS a slur. just look at what it means.

3) if you say "queer people", "queer rep", "queer books", "queer community", it is a problem. this term shouldn't be used to describe the whole community. it shouldn't be an umbrella term. it shouldn't be used to talk about us as a community. or to talk about someone in particular. us it to talk about yourself if you want, and that's all. don't use it to talk about the community in general. or to describe someone else's identity.

4) het people should absolutely never use this word. corps shouldn't use this word. medias shouldn't use this word. the way it is now the norm to use this word to talk about the community is problematic. use the acronym. they should use the acronym.

imagine if we started to use the b or c slur, the n word, the r slur, the g slur, to talk about the groups, communities, people they were made to insult. that would be problematic right ? same with queer.

[xenomorphzoid]

[imgonnagetkilledbynutstink]

Now every time I think of Jonny having been in Baddiel's Syndrome I get this sense of dread. Dudes he was so young, and at a point in his life where he was literally figuring things out about his own sexuality, and knew so little about what it actually meant that he even thought it was just something everyone felt until he expressed it and was pretty quickly proven wrong. He was playing a character that was pushing a narrative against what would end up being his own community and was too young to even understand it.

[yagikidd57]

[angeloftheodd]

Nothing pisses me off more than when a man finds out I’m friends with other queer women and femmes, then acts disappointed when I’m not sexual with them or pursuing them. They literally act like I’m doing my friendships wrong because I���m not fucking all of my friends, simply because that’s what HE thinks is hot. In my experience, most of the time, these men aren’t actually friends with any women or femmes because they see us as a set of holes rather than as whole people in our own right.

The #NotAllMen crowd better shut the hell up because only men have ever done this to me.

[i-eat-lip-gloss]

Hello, I’m Ameera a 23 years old Muslim lesbian who is trying to come out, I’ve been in the closet with my girlfriend for way too long, because of how dangerous and hard it is to come out as a lesbian to a religious Muslim family, but me and my girlfriend have decided to do whatever it takes and risk it all to come out, do you mind supporting and encouraging us?, we have the plan to go away which is why I have my donation campaign pinned on my profile, if I raise at least that goal I can start the process with my savings, I can’t come out until I’d gotten my apartment and I’m away from family, so please support by donating if you can and help reblog though I know we all have what we dealing with, so I’m not imposing we just need all the support and encouragement we can get, check my pinned post for more information on how you can support, if you are a Muslim queer and you are out, please help with tips on how to make it less complicated, any word of advice is also really needed, we really wanna come out but we need y’all 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ pride please come through for us, I believe pride is for all

hellooo

first, if what i say right now is unhelpful and/or full of typos, forgive me, my brain has not been working right these past 2 months

i completely understand that need, wanting to just love with no restrictions, hence me and my girlfriend.

although, since i am just 12, i cant do much, but i am amazing at support (at least i consider myself to be)

i have only come out to my family because my dad went thru my tumblr, and my mom saw my bisexual pin one day. and i'm still in the closet with being agender, i tried to come out to my dad, but he just said i'm a tomboy.

but anyways, i can help spread.

also, i'm not too great at this, (since i'm agnostic) but maybe start off with hinting towards that you're gay? like maybe when describing crushes (can be completely made up) use a she, or doodle a pride flag and leave it out somewhere.

i'm sorry i can't do much, but i really do hope you can come out soon.

[southeastasianists]

Kantina Matak, the vibrant presidential cafe serving up 500 free meals a day to neighbourhood kids in Timor Leste’s capital, Dili, is characteristically lively when I sit down for lunch with Bella Galhos. It is a liveliness matched by Galhos, 51 and with an aura that draws you in.

Only three when Indonesia invaded, Galhos was exposed to the violence of the military from an early age, and it was in her teenage years she situated this violence in its broader political context — leading her down a path of activism. A survivor of the Santa Cruz massacre in November 1991, she hatched a plan of escape, and via an exchange program in Canada she relocated — beginning a tireless five-year solidarity building campaign.

In Canada, Bella’s personal experiences served as a testimony emblematic of life under Indonesian occupation in Timor-Leste. A compelling and charismatic speaker, she became a potent symbol within and of the international solidarity movement, connecting and inspiring a wide network.

Amongst her initiatives since returning in 1999, following independence, are the Leubrora Green School in Maubisse that teaches children sustainable agricultural practices and good nutrition, a women’s cooperative farming group and flower garden, and the Kantina Matak where we are sitting, employing and serving as a safe space for LGBT community members. She is serving her second term as presidential advisor, this time to Jose Ramos Horta — a role she loves, and describes as “a bridge between the people and the president”.

Her organisation Arcoiris (Rainbow) Timor-Leste offers shelter for members suffering violent situations, a place that “stands and defends the rights of the LGBT community in Timor-Leste”.

“Not only do they need the shelter, but also they want to feel secure. So, whenever they come to my compound, they feel secure. By giving the people a chance, opportunity and resources without looking at who they are.”

With first-hand experience, Bella is well-situated for this work; “one of my struggles was recognising who I am”.

“When I came out it was a process of being vilified over and over again, falling down on my knees … I was meant to be a minister in the government but because of my sexual orientation I was removed. My own family, my own brothers have tried to kill me … but it hasn’t stopped me.

“Young LGBT that I help care for are struggling to be accepted, loved, cared, protected, or invested in by their own family …They experience hardship, physical abuses, sexual abuses, abandonment, they drop out from school because they cannot handle the bullies, not only by their classmates, but also by their teachers who are not understanding and have no background whatsoever or no knowledge of what LGBT is. I think people really justify their homophobia and action against LGBT people by coming out with their own theory saying: Why you turn yourself to be this? Why can’t you just be a normal woman? Why can’t you just be a normal man? Why are you against God's will?”

Bella identifies the Catholic Church as a powerful institution perpetuating patriarchal ideals, and she makes a point of their hypocrisy.

“Why can’t we talk about priests who abuse children in convents, or uncles, fathers and brothers who ruin their own family? Instead you choose to talk about LGBT.”

In a country that is 98% Catholic, where churches dot the hills and priests hold prominent sway, being an LGBT activist is hard. “I risk a lot for saying what I say and doing what I do. But I always believe that a struggle, any struggle, whatever it is, whatever time it is or where it is, somebody needs to start it.

“Being an activist is a privilege, and it is my responsibility of speaking out for others.”

Inevitably, this has drawn the ire of the church, Bella tells me. “One time there was a huge public letter coming out from the Church about me because they know I was the one that was the voice of dissent. They claimed [in the letter] that [they] supported the LGBT community, [and] are only against [people choosing their] sexual orientation.”

There is a challenge in the tension; both staunch public activist and sensitive individual, caring deeply about others.

“The way people look at you, [you] already know that you do not belong there … I am always ready to be crushed and screened out … I fight my way forward even though sometimes it’s hard.”

Laughter comes easy around Bella, and her answers are splashed with colourful anecdotes and allegories. Asked what progress has been made 24 years on from the vote for independence, she likens the government to getting ready for a party where “you don't know which clothes to put on first. If you want to put your pants on first or your underwear. So I think that's what we need to be putting in place, things in sequences, you know, we should not go to the sky first, start with the earth.

“We cannot keep on using the excuse ‘new country’ as a way of saying it's okay to make mistakes … We cannot keep running the country by just turning on our Petroleum Fund. That is for me very worrying.”

“More than 20 years putting money into all these key sectors but we have not seen the results, we need to see the result and if the result is not seen it means that we are wrong in how we are investing it … we are already getting at least two or three generations that almost have no future to hold on to and most of them are already taking off and the younger ones are also hoping to get out and that's not a good sense of staying in the country to feel and to see what is going on here.”

The valorisation of veterans in a country where resistance leaders are constitutionally enshrined as “national heroes” often comes at the cost of everyday people in the sharing of power.

“Today we are still talking about veterans, all about veterans. Basically the country's owned by the veterans and the veterans are putting all the money into the older people and we forgot to bring money to the younger people, the future of the country, the future leaders of the country, and that’s worrying.”

It’s a dynamic that means the same faces have been in power since independence, and Bella references corruption as a feature of this ruling elite. Timor-Leste rated, in 2022, as having the highest hunger and malnutrition in Southeast Asia, according the global hunger index — a statistic that sits oddly with the US$19 billion sitting in Timor’s Petroleum Fund.

“Development is going at a snail’s pace because the government is too busy distributing power among people who actually don’t have the ability to work or serve the public. These people claim, ‘I did this, I did that, I lost my family, I was with you, I suffered the most, so I deserve to be a minister.’ It’s still like that.

“We are still pleasing each other by providing each other jobs — you know, to make people happy, make followers happy. And the majority of people are suffering because this is not what they were promised when campaigning is taking place.”

Bella believes a possible pathway forward would allow the mixing of “the younger generation into the process of developing the country”.

“Over 60% [of the population] is young. They should be prioritised. They should be dignified. By giving them space, their voice should be heard, should be counted.”

This sort of people-driven participatory philosophy underpins Bella’s outlook: “The priority, the centre of all development should be people, people, people and people means you don't see the classes that you don't see the categories; it’s the people. And first you have to get them involved, not just use them when you need the vote but [so that] their voices can actually be heard and counted in the program.”

What next for Bella? Energetic, with a life loaded with experiences, maybe a presidential run? “Winning or not, I don’t care. I just want to challenge the norms.”

[angelic-transsexual]

"i support queer people but i just find it annoying when they make it their whole personality."

if you think this way then you do not support queer people lmao. i'm gonna be loud as fuck i do not give a shit. if you have an issue then you can argue with the wall. i'm gonna be a loud transsexual-fag whether you like it or not.

i spent my whole life in shame and feeling disgust for being a gay transsexual man. i'm not here to please anyone. i grew up with no trans joy so i decided to create it for MYSELF and for any trans person who needs it.

if you think the queer community will be accepted if we are quiet about our queerness, then you are absolutely wrong lmao. also being nice doesn't get people their rights. :))

[lostillusionstuffs]

I mean is it only me who feels a kind of feeling for few days or rather few months and then it's over... ?

I mean as if you were in a trance and after that period is over... you feel like shit? You feel guilty for making those vague promises because now you actually can't even relate to it?

Idk... is something wrong with me? Or is it natural... and what do you exactly call this? A sign of madness? Xd

[bitchesgetriches]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Queer Money® Podcast (@queermoneypodcast)

It was our absolute honor and privilege to chat with John and David of the Queer Money podcast about our new Burnout Workshop! John and David are incredible humans and #couplegoals. We've been fans of theirs since their blogging days, and if you're not following the Queer Money Podcast yet... you absolutely should. We know our Tumblrinas appreciate a gay as hell perspective!

Listen to the episode here!

[sweaterkittensahoy]

From this non-binary bitch who only realized it like, two to three years ago (I'm 40): You call yourself whatever you want, fellow queers. Anyone who tries to get in your business about it is a fucking cop.

i just wanted to say as someone who came out as genderqueer in 2011, you are in no way obligated to switch from using "older" other gender terms to newer ones like nonbinary. it's okay if you like the term nonbinary, but it's also okay if you'd rather stick with something else instead, like neutrois, genderqueer, genderless, boygirl, multigender, or whatever else your preferred term may be. use what suits you