Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.
Heterosexuals, of course, don’t have “lifestyles”. They have TV and golf.
There’s something fascinating about being in such a close setting with people you will never meet again. It feels like fate should happen.
He would like you to know that he is a potent force, waiting to be unleashed.
And let us not overlook the new trend in politics for lesbians in high places.
To me, my “friend” lived on Facebook, and she died there.
Barclays-sponsored parade floats or not, Pride is still important. Even more so after the horror of Orlando this year.
On a summer’s night in Pride month, a home – a safe space for LGBT people – was shattered by an act of terrorism.
I woke up to The Smell. It was thick and gluey. Naturally, I thought I was either having a stroke or the house was filling with inexplicable leaked noxiousness.
Disney can’t be lauded as heroes for, all of a sudden, being fine with an entire section of the world’s population.
The agonising minutes spent figuring out my mistake paired beautifully with hard, low wisdom tooth throbs.
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