Why does my assigned sex have to limit me at all?
They told me, “Gay people are all in WeHo. There are no gay people in Inglewood.” To be gay was not only to be Other, but to be white.
But I’m a Cheerleader gave me something to hold onto: for the first time, I had seen queer love and community.
Extreme heterozygotes are everywhere in this world. Everyone could be one.
I cannot explain queerness any longer in ways that don’t involve ghosts.
Look like “a boy,” they call you “a boy.” Everyone believed my mother got her answer to her prayer, and for a while it seemed to be so.
Leaving my cishet marriage was hard, but it set us both free to find more satisfying relationships.
When I look at my personal aesthetic (if I could call it that), I see something that gives me room to move through binaries.
There is something attractive about being the subject and the artist all at once; of being entirely in control of how I am seen, who sees me.