Pride means…
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Hello friends, It’s Pride weekend, and I’m thinking of all the brave people who fought so hard to be allowed to simply exist. And I think of those who are still fighting, myself included. Do we want to fight? No. We’d rather just live our lives, do our work, laugh with friends, raise families, read books, and tend our gardens. Just like immigrants and other people under attack do. “The first Pride was a riot,” it is often said, and whether something is called a riot or an uprising depends on the lens we’re seeing it through. “A riot is the language of the unheard,” said Dr. Martin Luther King. When left with no other choice, people rise up and fight back. They fought back at Compton’s Cafeteria in San Francisco in August of 1966, when a group of trans people became fed up with constant police harassment. They fought back three years later at New York’s Stonewall Inn on June 28th. Stormé DeLarverie and Marsha P. Johnson were two proud nonconformists among those who said, “Enough.” That collective “enough” is what people say when they have pride. To say “We will not abide by this treatment anymore” is to claim our self respect. Pride means we know our worth. This weekend, I celebrate my worth. I celebrate your worth. I celebrate the inherent worth of every queer and trans person, every immigrant, and every child. Our humanity itself is a cause for celebration. So is our survival. Best wishes — Thorn I write queer books because I want to reflect the world I live in, and also to envision the world I hope for. I also write queer books because I can. Thanks for supporting my vision. You can request my books at the library, from your favorite bookseller, or best of all, buy them directly from me: ThornCoyleBooks
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T. Thorn Coyle
Hello friends, It’s the first of August, which in parts of the Northern Hemisphere is considered a time of first harvest. This varies by region, of course, and has been affected by climate change as well, but I always pause at the beginning of August to ponder life, and wealth, and the fruits we share. I reflect on my personal harvest and make time to thank all those whose labor keeps us fed.* Our household garden is filled with squash and cucumbers planted by my partner, and radishes the...
Hello friends, Are you struggling? Are you happy? Anxious? Overwhelmed? Courageous? Frantic? Disengaged? Do you have enough food to eat? A safe place to sleep? Friends? Connections? Work? Books? Music? Hobbies? Do you have enough to share? It’s that last one I return to, whenever times feel hard. Do I have enough to share? The answer, thankfully, is always yes. Now, I don’t have everything to share. I don’t always have the time and energy random people may want from me. And I only have so...
Hello friends, While vending at Punk Rock Pride last month, something on the pebble dash sidewalk caught my attention. It was a safety pin. I smiled, because safety pins are a hallmark of old school punk. They were a way to keep clothing together even if you didn’t know how to sew. Safety pins were handy for attaching patches and badges to jackets. Best of all? They lacked the respectability of neatly mended clothes. Safety pins could also be seen to represent the fierce way community holds...