Monthly Archives: November 2018

Jonathan, Student, San Francisco

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Jonathan, in his own words: “Being queer to me means understanding and acknowledging yourself and how you’ve gotten there. Everyone has very different experiences and different ways with handling their situations and life, whether they be negative or positive. These experiences along with other experiences from my life have been amazing tools that I don’t let define me but I use to remind me, they also allowed me to become very open minded in everything I do and my interactions with other people, whether they be queer or not. Being queer for me isn’t a life style of labels and cliques, but a mentality about how I treat others and would like to be treated.

Being in the military on Submarines was definitely a challenge and a success. I have never been broken down to my core and then some and I’ve managed to be able to stack myself back up in a fashion of my choosing. I knew that once I got through the military I’d be able to do almost anything.

(My coming out story) isn’t sappy or happy. I’m adopted, and my family is split in half by both political parties, and my brother was an ex white supremacists. Including him, everyone in that family loved me unconditionally and for that I was very lucky, my parents literally chose me and my siblings and took them in as blood. Telling them wasn’t very difficult but I know that’s different for many people. My mother did cry, they were however more in favor of me NOT being it only because they knew how cruel the world would be to me, but little did they know that they gave me an amazing set of tools that I use and beliefs that I use to this very day.

I could talk for days (about the queer scene in San Francisco)! It’s been very upsetting and awesome at the same time. The bay area is very enticing to all different types of queer people and it’s supposed to be a safe place. My friends I’ve met here have been nothing short of amazing and welcoming as we are all from different parts of the world and share our experiences. But, I’m comfortable with my friends but often feel I can’t be that comfortable in San Francisco. I tell everyone that there are two sides to this place and you can access them based on how you decide to interact with others, whether it be online medias (apps and such) or exploring the social activities whether it be work, school etc, you can also make your judgments based on those two sides if you please. I’m not going to say that dating or meeting people for me has been hard here, but I’m constantly reminded in a lot of situations and settings that I am not a type that many guys come out here to seek, even for friendship. This is shown not only by the slew of apps and Facebook communities, but by the interactions I’ve had at bars and social gatherings, and I’m still shocked by each and every one of them. Being racially ambiguous (I’m mixed Scandinavian and African American), and being adopted and raised by white people, I don’t have a set distinct or definitive culture and I think that scares a lot of people but I think it also invites others who are like me.

Ultimately SF has proven to have tons of welcoming people but also an onslaught of toxic and often racist people and interactions which have proven to be unhealthy. I do not hate these people but I know what is good for me and my development and where to assert my energy and love.

(Advice to my younger self) Love and get to know your siblings more and also cool it on the empanadas and cafe con leche.”

Mark David, Writer, Portland, Oregon

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong


photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Mark David, in his own words: “I was recently invited to participate in a panel on queer writing as part of the Portland Book Festival, and my first response was, “Why me?”

“I’m truly honored,” I wrote back, “and I’m very open to participating. Just to be clear, though, most of my writing probably could not be characterized as ‘queer writing,’ other than the fact that ‘queer-I’ wrote it!”

I went on to explain that although my newest fiction series featured gay characters whose stories were integral to the plot, I wouldn’t characterize the novels as “gay fiction.” As well, I continued, my sexuality might figure in my memoir and, parenthetically, in some of my other nonfiction, but it was hardly front and center in those books. I concluded by noting that even though I had published a couple of gay erotic romance stories under a pen name, they did not represent my primary focus.

“A perfect candidate for the panel!” the organizer exclaimed.

“Really!?” I exclaimed in turn when I read Kate’s email. And then I wondered: Am I a “gay writer,” or am I a writer who happens to be gay? And, apart from the obvious, what does it really mean to me to be gay?

Before I answer the questions, here’s a Cliff’s Notes version of my story. I came out in 1975, just before my 21st birthday. Twenty-two years later, I fell in love with a woman, got married and had a daughter. After the marriage ended — six years later for reasons unrelated to sexual orientation — I resumed my “gay life” and ultimately wrote my books that include queer content.

Before Kate approached me, I would have answered those questions by saying that I’m a writer who happens to be gay and that, based on what I write, I’m no more a gay writer than I am a Canadian-born writer, a Jewish writer or a Portland-based writer.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that just as my Canadian and Jewish roots inform everything I write, whether or not my books have Canadian or Jewish content (some do), my sexuality and all that derives from it also informs everything I write. How could it not?

Regardless of the plots and themes of my essays, books and screenplays, everything about me — my history, my nationalities, where I live and who and how I love — is in everything I write. More than that, these essential parts of me express themselves in how I live, how I relate to others and how I relate to the world. Of course they do. How could they not?

I am a Canadian-born writer.

I am a Jewish writer.

I am a gay writer. How could I not be?”