Best 581 quotes in «lgbt quotes» category

Bigotry lives not just in our words, but in our actions, thoughts, and institutions.

Brian organised for the body to be flown back.

Building bridges takes us further than building walls.

But charting our identities along a line in two dimensions has its limitations; namely, it doesn't accurately reflect the human diversity we observe. We don't see each other, or ourselves, in only two dimensions, and bisexual and nonbinary advocates are suggesting that it's long past time to update our ideology. Perhaps, instead of insisting that each person can be charted along a line, we should be looking up and seeing the multitude of sexualities and gender identities that exist in 3D, sprinkled through space like the stars.

But i am a black man whose black mama's body and spirit were terrorized by another black man's hands and words. Sexism and patriarchy are not part of the revolution. I am a gender-maneuvering gay black man whose spirit was terrorized by other straight black men. Hetero-sexism and heteronormativity are not a part of our revolution. I am a black man who has ignored the plights of so many of my brothers. Separation because of difference and elitism based on class is not a part of the revolution.

But in the midst of this decaying, burning city, there are pockets of hope. It can be found in the tiny dark rooms in underground bars, where women with short hair cheer on men in dresses. It can be felt in abandoned cinemas where anonymous strangers fall in love if only for a few moments, and in the living rooms where families crowd around, drinking sweet black tea and Skyping their homesick relatives so that together they can watch the long, rambling talk shows that go on all night.

But Malone was thinking now and as he watched the men lighting cigarettes for each other in the dark, having sex beneath the trees, he turned to his friend and said in a wondering voice: “Isn’t it strange that when we fall in love, this great dream we have, this extraordinary disease, the only thing in which either one of us is interested, it’s inevitably with some perfectly ordinary drip who for some reason we cannot define is the magic bearer, the magician, the one who brings all this to us. Why?

But thats their image of us so we stay tense, holding our breath, hoping we wont be found out. - about being gay from the film Love My Life

But there was a fire waiting. And there was a little meal laid out on a blanket. And there was a whole world beyond that shoreline, beyond the forest, beyond the knuckle mountains, beyond, beyond, beyond, not beneath the surface at all, but beyond and waiting.

But what if Cam asks something harder, like why I didn’t come out earlier? Well, you see, Cam, I'm a pathetic loser and it took me over six years to say two little words. I feel utterly stupid every time I think about it. I know they’ll change everything, but they're still just words, and it is the twenty-first century, not the dark ages. That doesn’t seem to matter though. I'm still afraid that Cam and every other person in the world will start seeing me differently even though I'm still just me.

But where was God now, with heaven full of astronauts, and the Lord overthrown? I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don't think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend. I don't even know if God exists, but I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it. I have an idea that one day it might be possible, I thought once it had become possible, and that glimpse has set me wandering, trying to find the balance between earth and sky. If the servants hadn't rushed in and parted us, I might have been disappointed, might have snatched off the white samite to find a bowl of soup. As it is, I can't settle, I want someone who is fierce and will love me until death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever. I want someone who will destroy and be destroyed by me. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other's names. Naming is a difficult and time-consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name. Romantic love has been diluted into paperback form and has sold thousands and millions of copies. Somewhere it is still in the original, written on tablets of stone. I would cross seas and suffer sunstroke and give away all I have, but not for a man, because they want to be the destroyer and never the destroyed.

Calling for an end to hate shouldn't be treated as a punishable offense.

Calor, hace mucho calor. Se está abrasando. Hay fuego en sus párpados que se niegan a cerrarse por completo, en la hilera de besos que Marc le ha depositado por todo el cuerpo hace un momento, en su vientre que espera ansioso una recompensa a su paciencia; y en su entrada, que desesperadamente trata de engullir la carne.

Can you imagine, somebody telling you, your love for your dearly beloved is a sin! Can you imagine, somebody telling you, women are inferior to men, and are meant only serve the men! Can you imagine, somebody telling you, a man can have multiple wives, and yet be deemed civilized! Here that somebody is a fundamentalist ape - a theoretical pest from the stone-age, that somehow managed to survive even amidst all the rise of reasoning and intellect.

Cecil reached for Dave, but Dave stepped back. "Dave, why are you doing this? You're not getting paid. Lovejoy called you off the case. You want the truth? You're compulsive. You can't leave it alone. You're like Adam Streeter, you know that? You live for danger." "I live for justice," Dave said. "Justice is a dream," Cecil scoffed, "a romantic ideal. Who the fuck gets justice in this life?(...)

Charlie smiled. ‘Actually, right now I feel like venting; maybe seeing how loud I can make the speakers in the gym and doing a workout of some kind. Does the hotel have music?’ ‘Um, pass?’ ‘You haven’t tried? Dude! Sort the shit. Hey, Valles?’ ‘Hello.’ ‘Play Queen.’ ‘Disambiguation. One: Play the Queen: Act like a queen: female monarch. Subjects needed. Two: Play the Queen: Act like a queen: a person with excessive emotional outbursts. Setting demanded. Three: Play music related to “Queen”: Playqueen: New Zealander electropop group. 2040s. Four. Play music related to...’ ‘British rock band. 1980s.’ ‘Album, or track?’ ‘I Want to Break Free.

Child, I am taking you to The Autumnal Ball.” “The . . . but . . . but . . . I don’t have a ticket.” “Don’t worry about it.” “But how—” “Don’t worry about it.” “But I don’t have a thousand dollars for—” “I said, don’t worry about it.” “But how can I not worry about it? Worrying is what I do! About everything!” With an unexpectedly calm smile, Coco put I finger to my lips. “And that’s why you need a fairy godmother. For the rest of the night you’re not allowed to worry about anything. You have one, and only one, responsibility. To have a dream come true and have the sweetass time of your sweetass life. Do you understand me?

Charlie stood there like a stone monolith, blinking at his friend. Former friend? Christ. Eventually, he managed to utter, “So it’s like that, then?” Sean visibly swallowed, stood up straight, and seemed to force himself to meet Charlie’s provoking gaze. “It is exactly like that,” he replied, brave as can be.

[...] Claiming certain historical figures was important to gay men not only because it validated their own homosexuality, but because it linked them to others. One of the ways groups of people constitute themselves as an ethnic, religious or national community is by constructing a history that provides its members with a shared tradition and collective ancestors. This was a central purpose of the projece of gay historical reclamation as well. By constructing historical traditions of their own, gay men defined themselves as a distinct community. By imagining they had collective roots in the past, they asserted a collective identity in the present.

Chocolate makes everything better, in the end,” he announced, and Thayer fully agreed. Thayer gave him a smile of gratitude and watched Castel lift his spoon from the saucer. He dipped it, gracefully, into his coffee and gave it a light stir. “Too many people rush to stir such delicate flavours. Take too long and they will clog together to become a lump of bitterness in your coffee. But take your time and be gentle with them,” Castel explained, quietly, “and they will create a symphony of flavours, to melt in your mouth,” he said, leaning down, just until his nose was over his cup, to take a long inhale. He smiled and straightened, extracting the spoon to place it back on his saucer. “Now try it.” Thayer took a sip and almost felt his toes curl at the luxurious taste. ~ Cinnamon Kiss

Cisnormativity is a set of ideas, and the practices which reflect them, that assume 'sex' is binary (male or female), that 'gender' is necessarily and always the same as 'sex', and that people live in the gender they were assigned at birth. Moreover, it assumes that genders, bodies, and personal identities match each other.

Coming of queer age in the 1990s, to love queers was to love damage. To love damage was a path to loving yourself. ...Queers do not come out of the minefield of homophobia without scars. We do not live through out families' rejection of us, our stunted life options, the violence we've faced, the ways in which we've violated ourselves for survival, our harmful coping mechanisms, our lifesaving delusions, the altered brain chemistry we have sustained as a result of this, the low income and survival states we've endured as a result of society's loathing, unharmed. Whatever of theses wounds I didn't experience firsthand, my lovers did, and so I say that, for a time, it was not possible to have queer love that was not ins some way damaged or defined by damage sustained, even as it desperately fought through that damage to access, hopefully, increasingly frequent moments of sustaining, lifesaving love, true love, and loyalty, and electric sex.

Coming out of the closet feels liberating because you no longer have to carry all that crap around with you, in your mind, wherever you go. This kind of language makes the closet sound like a horrible place, which it is. Unfortunately, for many people, it is also necessary to spend some quality time inside, if just to figure shit out in peace without the noise of the outside world. The role of the closet has changed over the years. Coming out, or simply being out, is certainly easier in a more general sense given that society is, as a whole, more excepting of the LGBT community than it has been in the past. This does not change the fact that many LGBT youth have to stay in the closet for fear of the personal safety or that many people will still take punitive actions against LGBT people just for being who they are.

Coming out of the closet was one of the most liberating things I’ve done in my life. All the worry, concern, anxiety, all that mental chatter was gone. I didn’t have to carry a secret on my shoulder anymore. Fear, doubt, shame, and worry was suddenly replaced with love and pride.

Conse­quently the Wolfenden recommendations will be indefinitely rejected, police prosecutions will continue and Clive on the bench will continue to sentence Alec in the dock. Maurice may get off.

Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out. Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him. He had never thought this could happen to him, that he would be attracted to another boy. He thought he knew himself so well. “I think you're smart, sexy, funny as hell. You have hidden depths, Lachlan. You only need the right person to coax you out of your protective shell,” he claimed. “Are you the right person?” Lachlan wondered, as he took a half step forward. Cormag took a deep breath and brushed at a strand of hair that was sticking out at a funny angle from behind the top of his ear. He tugged at his short hair every time he talked about his recent break up. He was such a dork.

Consider that people will talk about the fact that I now "pass" as a woman, but nobody ever asks about how difficult it must have been for me to "pass" as a man before.

Crushes are very strange things; they’re a warning sign in the word itself—crush: to deform, pulverize, or force inward by compressing forcefully. Whoever decided it was a good idea to equate deformity and compression to blooming affection was either very high or a genius—or maybe lost somewhere in between. But for good or bad, I could feel it: my heart pressing inward until the sound of it beating filled my ears again. I had a deformed, pulverized, compressed force on Chris, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dammit, it should be easy to come out. I mean, Mom and Dad aren't a problem. I'm not worried they'll disown me or tell me some crap like I'm going to hell or take away my stuff. I'm just afraid they'll look at me differently. I don't know, like I'll be their gay son Noah instead of just Noah. I just want to be Noah Andrews, the simple, slightly nerdy, socially awkward guy, minus the big-ass secret.

Das Geheimnis der Liebe ist größer als das Geheimnis des Todes.

Desire cannot be tamed. That’s what the King told me the first time I was here. Well, King. You should see how untamable love makes you.

Déjame estar triste, es la única forma que conozco de estrujar la felicidad para que después no me pene.

desire was warm recently shot from inside a body into a body, strange little birth, happy death ritual, sweet lord i've seen thy wrath & it taste like sugar lay thy merciful hand around my neck

Despite their frequent cries to the contrary, politicians have rarely demonstrated an ability to walk and chew gum at the same time. If they are focusing their time on bathroom bills against transgender people, chances are they’re not doing much else on the sexual assault prevention front. They shouldn’t be allowed to pretend that they care about the public.

Dextra’s obsidian gaze burns into her soul, branding it as hers for all eternity.

D’improvviso, il mondo attorno a loro tornò ad avere un colore e un profumo ed entrambi si sentirono di nuovo vivi, poiché, in fin dei conti, poco importava chi fossero singolarmente: contava solo che insieme fossero John e Benjamin.

Did I use enough lube last night?” I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes with blushing cheeks. “Don’t…don’t call it that.” “What? Lube?” he asked. I nodded and covered my mouth with my hand. He chuckled and smirked. “All right, did I use enough stuff last night?” “Mm-hmm.

Does it go away?" she asks. "Missing each other?" I think about how much I missed Maman. I still do, though it isn´t as acute as it once was. "A little bit," I whisper. "Enough so that life continues. In a year you won´t even think about me. " She turns around in my arms and looks up at me, tugging at a strand of my hair. "don´t say stupid things, Sahar. You´re smarter than that.

Discrimination is discrimination, even when people claim it's 'tradition.

does it ever get easier? is there an end to these questions? do you have any answers? will you say them to me? can you stop this unraveling? will you bring me your closure? or am I the only one who sees anymore? who sees . . . who sees . . . who sees?

Don’t answer the door without a shirt! Now, go get dressed before you catch a cold,” I scolded. “Why? He was kinda cute. Do you think he would’ve went for it if I said I didn’t have any money?” Wesley asked. “You’re mine and I wouldn’t let you prostitute yourself for pizza. Now go put on a shirt,” I said, pulling two slices onto a plate.

Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women.

Do you fall in love with boys or with girls?" I asked her. "Sometimes boys," she replied. "Mostly souls.

Don't try to be brave all at once. Take it in steps.

Don’t tell me that I can’t write a memoir just because I’m not world famous. I mean, when you really break it down I’m the most famous person currently sitting in my living room. The point is that I don’t like people telling me what I can’t do.

Do you have any idea," Kent continued,with a smoldering rage," how many young men i have prayed over in the last two years,boys, torn apart by that stupid, senseless war, or cut down by disease? Yet, somehow, someone somewhere decided that shooting a man in the head or stabbing him with a bayonet is more acceptable than touching him with love.(...) But it's God i must answer to, not the whimsical laws of men.

Dude,” he said instead, “I’m flattered as hell.” And then he kicked my foot, lightly, twice. He was smiling. He couldn’t see the chasm that had opened behind my ribs.

Do you wanna go out for lunch? In celebration?” I asked and then touched my lips in thought. “Or we could swing by the store and get something really good for dinner?” Wesley glanced at me sideways with a puzzled expression I couldn’t figure out. He looked back at the road. “Maybe later,” he said, chewing on his thumbnail. “Why? Since we’re out, we might as well stop….” “We can’t right now. There are things I have to do first,” he said, looking at me with a grin. “What?” I asked, innocently walking into his trap, though I should’ve known better by now. “Like take you home and fuck you up, down, and sideways,” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

During those snowy New England winters, besides learning to rise at five to study calculus and trudge two miles through the drifts for breakfast down the road, he had suppressed some tremendous element in himself that took form in a prudish virginity. While his life was impeccable on the surface, he felt he was behind glass: moving through the world in a separate compartment, touching no one else.

Do you think, for a moment," she whispered, "that I would have done anything differently? That I could have chosen anything but this, now?" Her dark eyes were alive, bright, shining. "I would suffer any lie, Persephone, for you.