From such far-flung locales as Chechnya and Syria, places which barely register on our collective consciousnesses, come horrifying stories about what is happening to their LGBT communities. In the former Soviet republic, gay men are being systematically purged from society through torture and murder. In the deserts of Biblical Syria, the sinister ISIS terror organization is rounding up gay men and putting them to death in ways so hideous, they defy description in civilized terms. As the march of hatred continues, seemingly unabated, here at home and around the world, there is curiously little outcry from the American LGBT community on these atrocities. Yes, to be sure, we face our own perils, as recent events in Charlottesville, Virginia, make manifestly clear. The deadly expressions of bigotry and homophobia on small-town America’s streets, awful as they really are, are made terrifyingly larger in countries where the doctrine of eradication is Holy Writ.
When going into the gym, trying to grow a larger backside. You need to know that there are 3 muscles you need to work on to enlarge your rear end. They are the Gluteus Maximus, Gluteus Medius, and Gluteus Minimus. The appearance of your butt has to do with how much fat is covering your glutes. So please note, if your legs and/or thighs are on the smaller side. A bigger ass may not be in your future. However; you can still sculpt your gluteus to a better liking. Rather you are on the fuller or leaner side, these tips should help you gain your best butt.
I remember being very young—no older than six or seven—when my mother first told me about HIV, which she probably referred to as AIDS, being the scarier condition everyone knew as sudden death. The moment and specific words used during the conversation have all faded into a vague memory, but the story about my mother’s second oldest brother, Michael, dying from AIDS complications in 1994 has been with me since.
Although I had been three-years-old at the time, I have no recollection of my uncle, but Mom told me how grandma wouldn’t allow Uncle Mike to use the dishes and silverware in fear of him spreading the virus. I feel no shame in my grandma’s actions since she lived during a time of the virus when people, including health professionals, had no idea what they were up against. Men, mostly white and gay, were dying left and right leaving family and friends with nothing but sorrow and fear while the government took its time before implementing policies and treatments to assist those effected across the country.
“The remedy for hate speech,” said Supreme Court justice Samuel Alito, writing in a landmark decision in June, “is more speech”. Adding “more speech” to the expression of white supremacist bigotry and homophobia, is exactly what hundreds of counter-protesters in Charlottesville, Virginia were doing on a bright, sunny summer Saturday afternoon. Exercising the First Amendment rights the judge wrote about so earnestly, they assembled peaceably, to voice their opposition to the blazing displays of hatred that had run rampant through the streets of this Blue Ridge city for two days. When torch-bearing neo-Nazis, “alt-right” racists, and Trump supporters—many of whom wore his trademark, red “Make America Great Again” hats—descended upon the University of Virginia’s campus on Friday night, it was but the opening salvo in a series of broadsides that would end in horrifying bloodshed, captured on video, in living color, for all the world to see.
It’s liberating. I’ve waited a long time to get naked in front of the camera, spent the better part of my life afraid of being naked. Sheltered behind closed church doors, inundated with conservative ideology —ashamed of my bare brown skin to be exposed, I never featured my body growing up, I hid it. I’ve experienced enough judgement and shade from the holy to ever let someone catch me with my pants down.
What began as my saved and sanctified mother putting her hands over my eyes lids every time nudity appeared on the movie or television screen or her confiscating my Playboy magazines hidden carefully under my mattress, ended up creating a negative, shameful, and unaffirming connotation about nudity, sexuality, and sex. The religious dogma stirred into my psyche most of my life caused me to hate myself, my body, and sexual urges and fantasies.