#queer vision

YOU 🫵 have a story to tell and we want to hear it.

If you a) are queer (however you choose to define that), and b) live in the Carolinas (or used to live here, or might one day live here, or have family here, or... listen it's a pretty flexible criterium okay?) then you, yes YOU, are formally invited to share your story with Queer Vision.

You can do that one of two ways:

If you're a writer, artist, poet, essayist, photographer, crafter, small business owner, or basically anyone who has ever done anything that can be expressed visually or verbally, we want to showcase your work in Queer Vision magazine. Submit it here!

Fuckin’ right we stole the rainbow Because long before Orlando We taught hatred how to laughAnd we showed pain how to dance Fuckin’ right we stole the rainbowBut we’re not greedy and we’ll share Naked clothed or in underwear Polyamorous gender fluid Let’s get down! Let’s fuckin’ do it! Fuckin’ right we claimed full marriage Because the way you’d disparage Our relationships as lesser  We’ve…

This month, we're talking about what it means to hold each other up.

Judy McCord opens the issue: 79 years old, 40 years into a marriage, 10 years since her husband came out as trans, and co-hosting a radio show that's become a lifeline for queer elders in Orange County.

Actor Jason Caceres follows with a look at growing up between two cultures in Miami, and what "authenticity" looks like when you're first-generation.

Then drag king and Marine Corps veteran Link Nevermore shares a story about chosen family, foster care, and finding drag through a mother who loved it first.

The centerpiece of this issue is a candid conversation with Mother, Kai, Ko, and Becca — a real, no-easy-answers roundtable about race, gatekeeping, and accountability in the local nightlife and drag scene, prompted by mixed community feedback after a recent event. It's not comfortable. It's not supposed to be.

Rounding things out: poetry on identity and mortality ("What is Queer?" and "Dear Body"), photo recaps from Alt-Pride and Belly, Ask Aunt Dorothea, Cosmic Bullshit, a look at the surprising history of the Pledge of Allegiance, and a Queer Potluck logic puzzle to test your brain between interviews.  

It depends how it happened. If you slipped up in conversation and said the wrong pronoun, I’d say just fix it, apologize, and move on. A quick, “She... sorry, he said blah blah,” acknowledges your mistake, fixes it, and then moves on. If you want to make sure they understand it was an accident and apologize, get them alone later and talk to them. I’d suggest not making a big deal in front of other people so it doesn’t upset or embarrass the person you’re talking about. If you didn’t realize their identity and misgendered them a lot in one conversation (or multiple conversations), I’d still go up to them and apologize and then make sure they know that you will use their correct pronouns from here on out. You can’t change your actions in the past, you can only change what you do in the future.

— Visionary Voices, Queer Vision Vol. 1 #8, August 2025

In your right eye rub The cold gray ashes Of our dead ancestorsOr glitter or eye-linerMake it smoky Make it sparkle Bathe your left eyeWith the hot salty tears Of the teenage queersWho at night weep alone Despairing of ever knowing The touch of their own kind If you do this your vision Will become clear Attuned now to joyAs you fuck and fight and dance and clawYour way out of this world This…