Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.
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.
Saying “homophobia is bad” and pretending to care about LGBT progress is exceptionally easy, and Tories are getting better and better at it.
Paying for payback time.
When it comes to who the hell I’m going to vote for in 2020, I can’t help feeling that I have to choose which is more important: my Jewishness or my leftness.
There’s a quiet sadness to being a bike-hating dyke.
For illuminating stories on global events,
subscribe now from just £1 an issue