Oh my god it was like The Exorcist, behind a hay bale, in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. The guys were trying to make sure I’m not going to get killed by a grizzly. I felt so much better after that, it was great. You know, these were manly men. If you met them in a bar you’d be like, “What do you do for work?” and they would be like, “I catch bears for a living.”
"Fuck you, does NYC have a flag? Chicago has a flag."
"Yeah, what is it? A Dunkin Donuts napkin?"
From my late teens to my mid-20s, everything I read was gay, gay, gay. Trying to fill that empty space in me that wondered where I came from and what had transpired before I got here. I had to anchor myself, place my very existence in a framework, give my life context. I had to find my culture, my history. Claim pride in my past and awe for those who created and paid for it. The shared experience that was lacking in my own home I found in the history of my LGBT brothers and sisters. I had to find, recognize and create my own heroes. As a Jewish kid, my lineage came to me. As a gay kid, I had to go to my lineage.