Charity Sunday: Pushing Back – #LGBTQ #PrideMonth #CharitySunday

Last June, at the end of Pride Month, I dedicated my Charity Sunday to GLBTQ Legal Advocates & Defenders (GLAD Law), an organization that provides information and support to LGBTQ individuals and which advocates for legal protections and equal rights. Despite enduring problems, it seemed last year that we were making some progress toward a society where gay, lesbian, bisexual and non-binary people were accepted, if not embraced.

 

This year is a different story. People with non-conforming gender identities, especially transgender individuals, are under attack – legally and physically – by the current administration in the United States. Every day, it seems, we read about a new law or executive order curtailing the rights and freedoms of queer people It’s very scary. With the official narrative being anti-gay, homophobia is flourishing and violence against LGBTQ people has risen dramatically:

https://lapublicpress.org/2024/12/hate-crimes-transgender-lgbtq-los-angeles/

According to Human Rights Campaign, 20% of hate crimes are motivated by gender issues. https://www.hrc.org/press-releases/new-fbi-data-anti-lgbtq-hate-crimes-continue-to-spike-even-as-overall-crime-rate-declines

It’s easy to feel discouraged and scared. But organizations like GLAD are active in the community and in the courts, working for equality. In fact, non-traditional gender orientations are increasingly accepted by the majority of people. And many legal decisions have affirmed that queer individuals are in fact entitled to equal rights and protections.

So my Charity Sunday today is defiant. We will not give up. We will push back. We will stand up for the principle that every human should have the right to love whomever they choose.

And for every comment I receive on this post, I will donate three dollars, rather than my usual two, to GLAD.

For my excerpt, I’m sharing a bit from my dystopian MM romance The H-Gene. This near-future sci-fi novel portrays a horrific but (unfortunately) believable America where everyone suspected of being homosexual is imprisoned in isolated internment camps – if not murdered outright.

Blurb

Dylan Moore will do anything for freedom. Seven years ago, a gay plague spread to heterosexuals, killing millions and sparking brutal anti-gay riots. The Guardians rounded up men who tested positive for the homogene and imprisoned them in remote quarantine centers like desolate Camp Malheur. Since then, Dylan has hacked the camp's security systems and hoarded spare bits of electronics, seeking some way to escape. He has concluded the human guards are the only weakness in the facility's defenses.

Camp guard Rafe Cowell is H-negative. He figures the lust he feels watching prisoner 3218 masturbate on the surveillance cameras must be due to his loneliness and isolation. When he finally meets the young queer, he discovers that Dylan is brilliant, brave, sexy as hell — and claims to be in love with Rafe. Despite his qualms, Rafe finds he can't resist the other man's charm. By the time Dylan asks for his help in escaping, Rafe cares too much for Dylan to refuse.

Dylan's plan goes awry and Rafe comes to his rescue. Soon they're both fugitives, fleeing from militant survivalists, murderous androids, homophobic ideologues and a powerful man who wants Dylan as his sexual toy. Hiding in the Plague-ravaged city of Sanfran, Dylan and Rafe learn there's far more than their own safety at stake. Can they help prevent the deaths of millions more people? And can Rafe trust the love of a man who deliberately seduced him in order to escape from quarantine?

Excerpt

As they approached the corner of Market and Dolores, a wall of grey steel slats, nearly two stories high, rose in front of them. Red-lettered signs plastered the hoarding—“Contaminated Area. Extreme danger. Do not enter”—plus scowling skull and crossbones icons for those citizens who couldn’t read. The official notices were augmented by coarser, more casual notices—“Die fags!” and “Kill the queers”. Dylan was used to such sentiments, but Rafe’s body stiffened as they approached the barrier.

The fence ran left along the west side of Dolores as far as they could see. Meanwhile, it stretched for blocks along Market. It appeared at first to be impenetrable, but at Castro there was a closed gate, wide enough for a bulldozer. Dylan was surprised to find that the entry was bolted but not locked and that there no guards. He scanned the power poles and neighboring buildings. He didn’t see any cameras, though that meant little.

Market Street was momentarily empty of both people and vehicles. “This is our chance,” he told his companion in a loud whisper. “Now!” He slipped the bolt and cracked open the door.

“Wait—maybe we shouldn’t… The Plague…” Rafe hung back as Dylan stepped partway inside.

“Come on!” Dylan hooked Rafe’s upper arm and yanked him into the shadows on the other side of the door. Rafe stumbled on a heap of debris. Dylan steadied him. Nervous sweat beaded the black man’s brow.

Sympathy tightened Dylan’s chest. Poor Rafe. Despite his gang background, he wasn’t used to being hunted. Plus he still believed the Guardians’ propaganda. Dylan pulled off his mask, stuffing it into his back pocket, then moved to do the same with Rafe’s.

“No!” The ex-guard backed away. “I’ll keep it on.”

“Don’t be silly,” Dylan laughed, snatching the mask away and planting a kiss on Rafe’s mouth. He felt his lover relax a bit. “I’m sure we’re being watched in here. We need to show who we are, so they know they can trust us.” He pushed the hood back, exposing Rafe’s scowling face.

“But the Plague…”

“Artemis said it was safe, that the disease has died out. Don’t you believe her?”

“Um—I’m not sure…”

“Well, I do. She’s one smart lady. I think the Plague is the least of our worries.” He held out his hand to his hesitant partner. “It’ll be okay, Rafe. As long as we’re together, we’re okay.”

Rafe grunted in reply, but he allowed Dylan to lead him deeper into the exclusion zone.

The devastation was more extensive than anything they’d seen so far. The streets were pocked with grenade craters and lined with heaps of charred rubble that had once been buildings. In some places it was difficult to walk. They trudged uphill, dodging piles of debris, scanning for any signs of life. It was eerily silent. The babble from the vidscreens didn’t seem to penetrate here.

Dylan checked the map, then turned left on to a narrower street. Half-demolished wooden structures leaned at crazy angles around them. “This should be Church,” he told Rafe as they took a right. “And that should be Wilde Baths.”

He pointed to a three-storey, stucco building across the road. The roof had caved in on the left, but the right side of the edifice appeared to be intact. Splintered boards shuttered the windows. Weeds sprouted on the sills. Despite its dodgy appearance, however, Wilde Baths had a very solid-looking front door.

Dylan knocked—three long, two short, one long—the way Artemis had instructed. Sixty seconds went by. No one answered. The buzz of a helicopter sounded overhead. His heart slammed against his ribs. Could Artemis have betrayed them?

As though sensing his unease, Rafe put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Dylan took a deep breath and knocked again.

Hinges creaked and the door opened an inch or two. “Yeah?” The unseen man sounded annoyed, even angry.

“We’re friends of Oscar,” Dylan answered with the pass phrase. “Artemis sent us. We need to talk to Hammer.”

The gap widened another few inches. A slender man with a trim goatee glared at them. “Hammer’s not here now.”

“Can we come in? Wait for him?” Rafe interjected. The engine noise grew louder. “It’s not safe for us out here.”

The man’s eyes flicked over them, weighing the risks. Finally he nodded. “Okay.” Stepping back, he let them enter, then bolted the door behind them. “Here.” He handed each of them a folded, dingy-looking towel and a key, then pointed down a dimly lit corridor. “Locker room’s at the end of the hall. Baths are in the basement, massage on the second floor. I’ll come find you when he gets back.” Dylan didn’t expect the grin that twitched at the man’s thin mouth. “Have fun.”

“Wait a minute…” Rafe tried to return the towel.

Dylan grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. “Thanks,” he called back. “We really appreciate it.”

Rafe struggled to extricate his hand from Dylan’s grip. “Stop,” he hissed. “No way I’m getting naked in front of a bunch of queers.”

“Oh, really? Do you want to go back outside, then? Well, go ahead.” Dylan was suddenly furious. How could he love such a damned homophobe? “Maybe that copter wasn’t looking for us after all. Anyway, you’re not queer. You don’t have to worry. You can explain it all. How you were tricked into helping some Plague-infected perv escape quarantine. It wasn’t your fault, was it? Sneaky little fag must have drugged you or something. You’re straight as Uncle Ike, right?”

For buy links: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/thehgenebook.html

Please leave a comment. Push back against prejudice and injustice.

---