Photo of Hayden, a white man with wavy mullet-style hair, a beard, and tattoos on his forearms. He is wearing a loose neon-yellow knit shirt, buttoned only at his navel, bright blue pants, and a brass padlock on a chain around his neck. He is posed against a blurred iridescent background, gazing directly at the camera.
I'm sorry you're not gay
The words “Trans visibility looks different for everyone. How I choose to be visible or not and by who is valid.” appear on top of a purple background flanked by illustrations of leaves in rounded shapes.
The words “It matters to be visible among my friends; they can validate and acknowledge me as we see and validate each other.” appear on top of a purple background flanked by illustrations of leaves in rounded shapes.
The words “Being trans is beautiful! Trans people are hot! My trans body is sexy.” appear on top of a purple background flanked by illustrations of leaves in rounded shapes.
The words “My existence is an act of resistance. Every day I am alive, I am building a future for the next generation of trans people.” appear on top of a purple background flanked by illustrations of leaves in rounded shapes.
On this Trans Day of Visibility, we hope that you will remind yourself every day of your worth, your power, and your resilience with the affirmations we’ve collected here. Being trans isn’t just about fighting, it’s about celebrating. Joy is an act of resistance! 🌼🥹✨
a digital illustration in the style of a relief print depicting a black cat in a defensive pose holding a torn and tattered transgender pride flag in its mouth as it looks directly towards the viewer. the background is purple with some specks of blue and pink showing through, and behind the cat is a black midground resembling grass or flames. the top right corner features a box with a caption reading "T.D.O.V."
DON'T LET THE BASTARDS GET YOU DOWN 🏳️⚧️
#art #tdov #transart
A '80s-style pop art poster with white background. Red header, "4TH ANNUAL MIRA BELLWETHER". Below the header, a large, pink, banner-like shape with flared ends contains the words "BUY A TRANS WOMAN A PIZZA DAY" in thick, white, bubble letters with a heavy red drop shadow. Underneath the banner, in a smaller red text surrounded by two asterisks, "(or other food of her choice)*" In the center, the date "TUESDAY MARCH 31ST" is chunky, purple with a layered pink and white shadows and underlined underneath in red is, "HONOR MIRA BELLWETHER'S BIRTHDAY". A second pink banner, identical in shape to the first, features the phrase "Treat A Trans Woman" in a red and white cursive. The list below in red is as followed, "1. ASK WHAT SHE'D LIKE"; "2. ORDER OR SEND CASH"; and "3. CELEBRATE!"
Hey, everyone, if you want to send a trans woman and her friend a pizza
www.paypal.me/dessi66
Thank you 💖💕
A person in a powered wheelchair moves through an airport terminal. Text reads: "When a Wheelchair User Boarding a Flight Becomes Fatal. MYWAY ACCESS.
This is a warning.
A disabled man died during a plane transfer.
Not an isolated incident. A system failure.
This risk exists in the UK and Ireland too.
“Nothing went wrong” isn’t safety.
cutt.ly/8tPGeYWR
I'm tired of disabled people not understanding Deaf people and Deaf people not understanding disabled people.
Two parallel yet very distinct worlds, and I feel like I exist between them.
He's such a snot stain.
Photo of Hayden, a white man with long brown hair, a scruffy beard, and blue nail polish. He is wearing hearing aids, eyeglasses, a white dress shirt, slacks, various silver and gold rings, and a wristwatch. He is holding an FM radio receiver, with coils connected to his hearing aids, wrapped around his wrist, and draped across his shoulders while he sits facing the camera, wincing.
People don't realize how an assistive device entwines with a nervous system, becomes an extension of the body, as much a part of you as your own tongue. Its interface, battery life, maintenance, malfunctions—even its obsolescence—are yours. You don't just wear the machine. You live its life.
Photo of Hayden, a white man sitting on his bed looking at the camera, with a hazy, lavender-tinted room behind him. He has long brown wavy hair, a scruffy beard, persimmon tattoos on his leg, wearing round eyeglasses, a lavender striped button-down shirt, white socks and shoes, and an ankle brace.
🔮
180 job applications. 10 months of unemployment. 3 rejection notices. 0 interviews.
Astrologers, if you're using your lore prescriptively, congrats, you've found religion and dogma again. Leave me out of it. 🫶
Photo of Hayden, Amy, and Bronwyn: Hayden is a white man with long brown hair and beard, wearing glasses, a t-shirt and shorts, a blue jacket and baseball cap, hearing aids, and an assistive listening device across his chest; Amy is a white woman with dwarfism, with pink hair, glasses, a blue patterned dress, and black leather boots; Bronwyn, Amy's service dog, is a black labrador with a harness, collar, and a rainbow bandana around his neck. Amy and Hayden are sitting together on a cobblestone wall, with Bronwyn standing in front of them. They are embracing and smiling. Behind them are lush sunlit gardens and trees.
Amy graduated from her Co-Active Leadership Program with her new service dog Bronwyn and her old service boy Hayden helping her to the end! Our last week in Sonoma was one of laughter, tears, access, barriers, coffee runs, dirty jokes, service dog shenanigans, queer joy, and cripple-punk kinship. 🤟
I love this and love you!
I was inspired by the regal @haymayden.bsky.social for this morning's color study drawing. Just in time for #tummytuesday.
Also really not trying to be a pick-me loner boy here, I promise. I'm just not connecting with it.
Any other gay men struggling to vibe with Heated Rivalry? The excitement and joy among you all is genuinely wonderful, but I feel like I must be missing something.
I am going to Latin America on a small travel grant, but need $3,000 more for coverage of unions fighting back against Trump.
I've covered unions in Latin America for 20 years & feel workers abroad need to hear their stories.
Donate & fightback!
paydayreport.com/send-a-labor...
You shouldn't need to see a woman's death in photos or videos to care about her. That isn't empathy. Empathy is the ability to find within yourself the means to love someone in abstract. It does not demand evidence or ask that the last intimate, violent moments of her life be made into spectacle.
As for the story itself: all I'll say is that it's one for boys who love boys and love the dark, who don't obey or belong, play hockey or play nice—the crips, creeps, queers, and weirdos out there.
More to come.
It is an absolute mess of a manuscript, but it's the most I've ever written of a single project. As a deaf writer with a difficult time with language, I never thought I'd get here. There is much work ahead of me this year, but it is the sublime work of storytelling—wouldn't have it any other way.
Photo of Hayden's desk, with a portable typewriter/word processor, printed draft pages, scribbled and handwritten notes, a pen, two hearing aids, a silver Casio wristwatch, and a notebook with a blue, purple, and orange marbled cover.
With One Story's support, I ended the year with 100+ pages of my first novel—entirely different from the one I committed to writing at the start of this fellowship.
Photo of Hayden, a white man with a mullet of wavy brown hair, a scruffy beard, and botanical tattoos on his forearms. He is wearing a blue hearing aid and a tan shirt with a black mandala-style pattern. He is partially undressed, his open shirt showing his chest and stomach while he is slumped in a chair and looking at the camera with a relaxed expression.
🏺
Anyone have any disability advocacy / rights / justice connections in Los Angeles? Really trying to find a job. I'm looking for anything, but would prefer to be doing the work that is important to me, and for a safe, access-driven employer. I keep trying to network, but I'm not getting anywhere.
Portrait photo of Hayden, a white man with long, wild hair, a scruffy beard, and dark furrowed brows, wearing a teal blue t-shirt. He is looking at the camera with a serious, somewhat exasperated expression. Behind him, light colors the wall vibrant yellow and green.
2025 gave me psychic damage.
Nevermind that we have the tools and pathways to effectively and meaningfully communicate beyond speech. "Accommodation" means nothing when every employment opportunity fails to imagine possibilities and refuses to embrace different ways of doing the work from the start.
What matters is that oral communication is constant guesswork and toil for me. That the absolute best I can ever hear someone is the equivalent of eavesdropping from another room. That I can barely hear my own voice. The one thing I cannot ever improve with education or experience disqualifies me.
Does it matter that I'm completing my master's in public health in the spring? That I'm an award-winning writer? That I've been an educator and a program director? That I'm a subject-matter expert? That I am capable, creative, compassionate, honest, hardworking, and experienced?
No.
Almost every single job opening cites "strong verbal/oral communication skills" as a requirement. Not a preference. A requirement. Even "inclusive" and "equity-focused" employers. Even disability and Independent Living employers.
How do I stand a chance in this job market when I frequently have to disclose my disability just to be able to interview?
I moved on. I'm writing books instead.