Becca returns to Boshemia to share her thoughts on being bisexual in the Christian faith. B is a writer and MA Publishing student at Oxford Brookes.
I am bisexual and I am a Christian. My faith revolves around a deep, individual relationship with God. When I’ve needed help and guidance, when I’ve been grateful, frightened, angry, joyful—in need of a chat at any hour and in any situation, I’ve spoken to God. I’ve felt His love and seen evidence of His power to save me. I chose to be confirmed aged 13 and I used to go to Church all the time, except I was usually in the back helping with a children’s arts and crafts group called Church Mice. As the children and I grew up, it gradually stopped running; more recently I’ve just been a few times a year, when I’ve been home from university and wanted to sit with a community who loved God as much as I did.
Happy Pride everyone! I hope everyone reading this is decked out head to toe in glitter, rainbows and body paint. To mark the momentous occasion, there has been a victory within the gay community; the pride react button is back on Facebook. Truly, this is an event up there in the pantheon of queer successes along with gay marriage, the return of Will & Grace and this.
Everyone loves rainbows right? They’re fun and colourful and 9/10 times there’s an untouched pot of gold at the end; surely that should be reason enough for the LGBTQ+ flag to be a rainbow right? And what’s up with the recent brown and black additions? What kind of rainbow has brown and black stripes? Let’s have a look at a brief history of the most fabulous flag the world has seen.
God wasn’t 2016 rubbish? In the next few weeks, Boshemia will almost definitely be musing over how god awful the last year was, but today we’re going to be looking at one of the prevailing themes of the year: Toxic Masculinity. In a year of Trump asserting his masculinity in dangerous ways over everything he seemed to cross, and then somehow getting awarded for it; a year of Brexit and the following fight for the Prime Minister spot being nothing more than a dick measuring contest, only for the cursed position to go for a woman, almost certainly setting her up for failure. In a year of rape accusations, police shootings, terrorist attacks (good god the year’s even worse when you write it all down!), we coincidentally lost three icons of masculinity and gender subversion. On December 25th, aged 53, George Michael joined Prince and David Bowie in the pantheon of people destroyed by 2016; the trifecta of 80s queer icons has gone, politicians are swiftly moonwalking away from identity politics, and the world is basking in the stench of toxic masculinity. Merry Christmas.
In 1934, a racist, homophobic xenophobe was democratically elected into a position of power. He stirred up the national sense of disillusionment and validated a whole host of citizens’ hateful views. He led a campaign of hate against those of certain races, religions, sexualities and nationalities. He was mocked and satirised on the world stage and not particularly taken seriously as a threat or a danger until it was already too late.
In 2016, a racist, homophobic xenophobe was democratically elected into a position of power. He stirred up the national sense of disillusionment and validated a whole host of citizens’ hateful views. He led a campaign of hate against those of certain races, religions, sexualities and nationalities. He was mocked and satirised on the world stage and not particularly taken seriously as a threat or a danger until it was already too late.
In the latest season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, Bob The Drag Queen commented that there are two types of drag queens: Halloween Queens and Pride Queens. And this holy season of Halloween, I thought I’d have a look at drag, the horror of subversion, and the freedom of letting your freak flag fly. I’ve been lucky to be joined by Plymouth’s Premier Drag Queen Stevie Knicks, a queen on the rise and a bitch to look out for. Sashay on in and come on Boshemians, let’s get sickening!
Elisha returns to Boshemia to offer insight on gun regulation in the United States. Her perspective as a mother and member of the LGBTQIA++ community presents a crucial point of view in response to the Orlando Massacre, advocating for gun ownership in marginalized and targeted communities.
Today, our hearts are still heavy as we relive a nightmare that has swept our nation as a result of sinister people with misguided beliefs, agendas to spread hate. June 12th of this year brought us the world’s worst mass shooting to date and the largest act of terror to hit the United States since 9/11. The world is aghast. The LGBTQIA community is grieving, reeling over the Pulse Nightclub shooting. We thought that an understanding was dawning when Same Sex Marriage was declared legal in America in June of last year. This light has waned as we face the world in fear, once more, that hateful people will make us pay for our identity with blood. In the aftermath of the chaos, US citizens are in an uproar over the pursuit of an answer to growing, terrorist, gun violence that we’re seeing from extremists in the US. Conservative leaning citizens seek to place blame on the Muslim race, while the intensely liberal seek to ban guns entirely. The former is a fearful response to terrorism which is akin to the response that spurned harrowing violations of human life and rights that occurred during The Holocaust and the period of Japanese internment; an unacceptable slope that we must not follow. The latter favours taking away something that many US citizens consider a crucial right: the right to defend oneself and one’s family against forces of evil. Elimination does not a solution make, on both counts.
This guest article was written by Alex Nolan, an aspiring playwright based in the North East of England. He specialises in low-key sass, a love of cats, and unapologetically writing gay love into each of his plays.
‘They’re never going to stop killing us, are they?’ Thin, strangled words that crawled out of my throat when I read news of the massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Trembling spread outward from the core, as I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.