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So when I knelt before a bathroom mirror at the age of 5, praying to the first G that I’d wake up the next day with a boy’s body, I had no idea of the road that lay ahead of me.

And I knew immediately that it was wrong, that it was dirty, that it was a sin. I knew that how I felt was a deviation from anything our culture could ever and would ever accept.Those people taught me that I was worth loving, and they helped me learn to love and accept myself.Maybe we couldn’t walk across campus waving our metaphorical pride flags, but we could flame on as much as we wanted to in our sacred space.The fine arts department at my university was a haven for all alphabet kids.It’s where I met my first real, live homos, who showed me that it was okay to be who I was.