Do you remember the first queer book you ever read?

We do. For MR, it was The Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce, and for Val, it was Pierce’s Alanna. For Emily, it was David Levithan’s Boy Meets Boy. For Ash, it was Clive Barker’s Sacrament, which explains a lot. For Rukman, it was Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey, and for Jess, it was Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. (Actually, each of these answers explains a lot.) And for Angel, it was Margaret and the Mystery of the Missing Body by Megan Milks, a book they still describe as one of their absolute favorites.

We remember these stories because they mattered to us—because they proved people like us existed, because they proved we could belong, because they proved we could be heroes, because they proved we could be loved. We remember how it felt to stay up all night reading by flashlight, terrified we’d be caught with something ‘inappropriate.’ We remember the strange, dizzy rush of recognition: I am not alone. Someone else has felt the things I feel. And we remember, too, just how hard it was to find these stories in the first place.

We live in a world where countless queer kids feel alone and afraid every day because they have never seen themselves in a story. Once upon a time, we were those kids. Today, there are more queer stories than ever—but it can still be hard to find them, and there are a whole lot of powerful people and institutions working to make it even harder. Book bans are on the rise in the United States and elsewhere, and queer books are often targeted by these attacks, deemed explicit or pornographic simply for including queer characters. Stories teach us about the world. Stories teach us about ourselves. So… what happens when stories vanish? What happens when queer readers, particularly those isolated or living somewhere unsafe, can no longer access the stories that might help them imagine a life worth living?

When we say “queer stories matter,” we don’t just mean “because they’re fun to read.” They are! But we also know that encounters with queer stories can be transformative. (Indeed, readers of all kinds know just how transformative a good story can be.) Every time we read a submission or sit down to edit an accepted piece, we’re thinking about what it might mean to the right reader. OTHERSIDE is for everyone, of course—but we do what we do because we can’t stop thinking about the readers who need these stories, the readers who will remember these stories, just like we remember the stories that shaped us. That’s why we’ll always release everything we publish free-to-read on our website, and that’s why we’re committed to releasing print editions, too: we want to do everything we possibly can to bring more queer stories to more readers.

We’re publishing this issue on June 1st, the first day of Pride Month in many places around the world. While that timing is purely coincidental, we’re proud of this issue, which features nine stories, six poems, and one essay—almost 30,000 total words—by sixteen queer authors living across five continents. In our editorial for Issue 1, we wrote, “So many of the stories and poems we loved most were those that took big risks and made us feel something.” The same is true of Issue 2. But if Issue 1 felt bleak and bittersweet, Issue 2 might be best described as warm, dreamy… even hopeful. Many of the pieces in this issue are linked by shared themes: unexpected connections, the search for a place to call home, the families we’re born into and the families we choose. Perhaps above all else, though, this is an issue about memory. What stories do you remember? How have they shaped you? How have they saved you?

Some of the poems in this issue will cradle you lovingly; some will kick you in the teeth. Chidera Offor’s “Masquerade.” opens the issue with a knock at the door and a tender, moonlit embrace. In “Ganymede,” Gospel Chinedu uses language of myth to examine state violence and queer love in a future not unlike our present. Macey Levington’s “obsolesce” sparks and shudders with all the force of a runaway train. Amie Shen’s “girl, flogged by a false-named whip.” is for everyone who has been taught to mistake love for sin. “Open Your Eyes Again” by Toby MacNutt is an offering of exquisite gentleness—a whole world the size of a pebble. And Sienna Tristen’s “As seen through the hole of the hag stone:” is a vivid journey from shore to shore, from dusk to dawn.

The original fiction in this issue will break your heart and piece it back together. P.V. Vamsidhar’s “We Who Have Been Raised by Tigers” is an exploration of memory and identity that spans centuries. In his debut short story, “Before She Knew About Magic,” Joshua Geller Schwartz presents a perfect, painful fairy tale in only seven hundred words. Lia Lao dissects celebrity culture and examines destructive desires in “This Is C(lone)-Pop.” Pairing the bitter with the sweet, J.Y. Zhang’s “Chī Kǔ” is a lush study of yearning. J.N. Howell’s “First to Rot” is a quiet space exploration story that redefines home and reimagines survival. In “Crowns,” cee-cee manrique offers readers a moment of sacred, rooted rest. And, while it falls near the end of the issue, Sydney Paige Guerrero’s “Remade, Reshaped, Remembered” reminds us that no story is ever truly over.

Plus, as always, we have two reprinted stories in this issue that you can’t currently read anywhere else online: Ben Francisco’s “Two People” is an aching tale of self-discovery and sea beasts, while Bree Wernicke’s “Spider Kiss” is the most fun you’ll ever have reading about a musty old house full of spiders. Lastly, we close with a turn to nonfiction: “A Noose of Purple Silk” by Sidney Grady, which maps the connections between queer history and queer lives today.

We adore each of these pieces—and we hope you will too. If you fall in love with anything in this issue, please consider telling a friend, writing a review, or simply sharing the link on social media! Word of mouth means everything for a new magazine like OTHERSIDE, and when we say “we couldn’t do this without you,” we really mean it. (Not a subscriber yet? Consider joining us at www.patreon.com/othersidespec for as little as $2/month, which comes with tons of behind-the-scenes content and bonus perks like Discord access, merch discounts, and more. You can even pick up a print subscription, shipping included!)

Happy Pride Month, othersiders. Enjoy the issue! And, hey, while we’re on the subject of memory… every time you see some dorky corporate Pride campaign this month, remember: the first Pride was a riot in the face of police brutality and governmental persecution. Protect queer stories. Protect trans people. Protect queer people of color. Leave no one behind. 

Gratefully,
Ash, MR, and Val