Advocating for queer-affirming death spaces – and creative ways of navigating grief – have empowered this author since leaving a repressive, religious environment.

As a trans Filipino sex worker, I’ve been using my gloryhole to create art with my clients, lovers and fellow sex workers.

Pine Gap spy base sits on stolen Arrernte lands, fuelling the forgotten war machine of Australia.

I figured I had two years left: one in reasonable health, then one in increasingly terrible health, ending in a withering, undignified, exhausted death.

I know what it’s like to be seen in my entirety. I’ve experienced disability justice in action, which is to say that I’ve experienced love.

It began as a curiosity – to explore gender and masculinity at close range, and frankly to have some really hot sex – and became an experience that altered the pathways in my brain.

We should be allied against a right-wing that seeks to undermine feminist, queer, trans, anti-racist movements, to destroy unions and to engage in climate destruction for a profit.

I also think that autistic pleasure is queer, in and of itself. It’s queer in its non-normativity, in its subversiveness, and in its consequent proximity to shame and otherness.

Disabled pleasure knows no bounds, bringing an intimacy that goes beyond romantic love, genitals or penetrative sex.

I have not known miscarriage or baby loss. But this image, of a mother waking up to exile from her child, her entire body flung, is deeply familiar and deeply consoling.

If you are an Aboriginal child whose parents have been criminalised, police officers see you as a criminal, too.

It’s like we are refugees in our own country, on our own land. Hunted by coppers and racists alike, we remember how our ancestors must have felt as we live through it.

Very often, I find that as Black people, we are not allowed to outwardly express our anger and pain. It is an implosive reaction. We keep it to ourselves.

My disability and my queerness are both invisible to the naked eye, too murky to be easily defined – so I remain in the grey areas.

With little energy but plenty of desire during cancer treatment, this author found sex had to be left to the professionals.

When you’re a trans person who is criminalised, you are minority in a minority. Unfortunately, we end up in prison a lot of the time because of the way we are treated by society.

How can the mind transcend madness when it’s confined and magnified within these walls?

Love thy holy trinity: in the name of the clitoris, the vagina and the holy vulva – amen… And that’s how you masturbate in Campbelltown.

It’s important to me that people feel the queer love and joy in my work. It’s important that people are able to see themselves in my work.

As a Deaf person, movement is such a huge part of my life. I guess I’ve needed to explore more about how dance is connected to Deafness, and how dance is connected to body language.

“The main focus of my work is a documentation of soft, intimate moments.” Photographer Spyros Rennt talks to Christopher Boševski.

I recently moved into my new physical home and my new spiritual one. This new home is one of acceptance – not only from others, but of myself.