Hashtag Queer: LGBTQ+ Creative Anthology, Volume 1

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ Qommunity LLC (May 15, 2017)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 238 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 194695201X
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1946952011
• Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 12.5 ounces
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 6 x 0.54 x 9 inches

Table of Contents

Editor's Note

The hashtag symbol, "#", (formerly known as the pound symbol) is used on social networks, blogs, and other websites to link content on a similar subject. So if, for example, you see "#Pride" on a post or article you know that if you click on it you'll see all the other content on that site also tagged "#Pride". It's as if the hashtag symbol stands for everything, as if to say (in this case) "everything Pride" or more specifically, "For everything Pride-related, click here."

Queer is a similar sort of symbol. In this case it's a stand-in for a long, cumbersome list of non-conforming gender-identities and sexual orientations, or an almost equally, and increasingly, cumbersome acronym that always runs the risk of leaving someone out. It's as if the word "queer" is the hashtag symbol for LGBTQQIP2SAA.

Hashtag and queer share another similarity: they're both temporal, representative of a zeitgeist, rooted in a specific place and time, those being here and now. Hashtag didn't always exist, and when it did originally, it had a different meaning; same with queer. And in the future, in all likelihood, these words may have altogether different meanings or disappear from common parlance entirely. At the social network my husband and I cofounded for our community, called Qommunity, we like to say the term queer is only useful until it's no longer useful--that is, until it's no longer necessary to identify ourselves by our otherness in order to find acceptance and equality in this world. When that time comes, words like queer will no longer be needed; they'll be moot, irrelevant, antiquated, because we'll finally all just be seen as people.

Until then, we need such words to keep us out of the closets and shadows of shame and violence. We need words that unite us, even across our own self-imposed borders. We need queer writers to make our voices heard for us, and supportive straight writers to tell their stories about loving us and bridging the gap between us. Just as importantly, we need readers like you to hear these voices, to find those that resonate with your own, and carry their words with you forward in your hearts and into your lives. This is why we created Hashtag Queer and why we're so grateful to you for the crucial role you play in this relationship.

When we released our call for submissions for this anthology we were unprepared for the outpouring of gratitude and excitement we received for simply creating this project along with all the submissions that poured in. Multitudes of writers expressed how difficult they've found it to place queer literary work. Others noted the sheer lack of literary venues out there, not just for writers, but for readers and audiences seeking work that expresses their own experiences, realities and truths. One queer writer even thanked us for prompting him to pen his very first queer piece (congratulations, friend.) Others simply expressed an eagerness to read the volume and see it in circulation, regardless of whether it included their work. To all of you we say thanks and this is for you. We hope we've made you proud.

Our submissions call was simple; we sought short work of any genre either by or about LGBTQ+. And after poring through hundreds of submissions, we've made every effort to compile as comprehensive a range of voices from our broad, eclectic community as possible, while at the same time of course ensuring that only the finest writing made it into these pages. That means in this volume you'll find work like Richard Ballon's monologue His Name Was Doug about a young gay boy's first crush; Eva M. Schlesinger's essay The Flip Side of Coming Out on facing bisexuality as an out lesbian; Sancha Mankins self-explanatorily titled poem L'chi/L'cha: on being queer and jewish; and Sam Heyman's short story, First/Then, about a rare type of intersexed person who in adolescence undergoes more than the typical changes.

But the work here also recognizes that queer people are people in addition to being queer, with common human passions and trials extending far beyond those imposed by any conflict between our gender-identity or sexual orientation and our internal or external worlds. As U.S. Senator Kamala Harris (D-CA) said at the 2017 Women's March on Washington, "All issues are women's issues!" Likewise all issues are queer issues: health, education, poverty, crime, climate change, faith, family.

So in these pages you'll read about all things queer, sure, but you'll also read about life in general, the world we share, and being human. You'll read Joe Baumann's speculative fiction tale, The Time You Give and the Time You Take, about estranged twin brothers strangely reunited; Laura Gullveig's memoir, Chasing Home, about two homeless friends surviving on the fly; Scott-Patrick Mitchell's poem, silver makes everything disappear, about the intersection of pop art and spirituality; and Carla Sameth's essay, The Year of Eating Banana Splits, about the nurturing power of food.

One last comment--a suggestion, really; perhaps even a plea: Most people prefer certain kinds of literature at the expense of all others. Maybe you have trouble understanding poetry. Maybe you've never read a script. Whatever the case, I implore you to consider reading this collection from cover to cover--in order. That's not just because every writer who contributed work to this anthology poured their hearts, souls, and talent into these amazing pieces (although that's certainly reason enough.) It's because the collection as a whole tells a story too: a common story of the shared queer experience. In all the multifarious diversity and individuality in these pieces, when you read them together in the order in which we've placed them, a grander, collective journey reveals itself. You've heard the phrase: A day in the life? Well, consider this: A life in the day. Today is the day. And the life, of course, is a queer one. On behalf of myself and my husband, everyone here at Qommunicate Media and Qommunity LLC, and every writer whose work is featured in these pages, thank you for sharing it with us.