![]() At first I watched the beautiful rethinking of gender that Gen Z queer culture hath wrought as if it were happening on the other side of a generational glass wall. When I first heard the word “nonbinary,” I didn’t know what it meant aside from the fact that I was no longer in my 20s. And like anything tectonic, it was alarming for me when the stories I’d always told myself about being a gay man started to move. They become foundational, tectonic in ways that are deeper than we understand. Joan Didion wrote in The White Album, “We tell ourselves stories to live.” Part of what she meant, I think, is that we come to rely on our stories as a kind of infrastructure we build lives, friendships and marriages on top of them. For years, I told these stories and they ended, after a couple of handjobs in the high school cafeteria bathroom and the discovery of James Baldwin’s Another Country, with coming out as a gay man. ![]() I was big, and awkward, and I used to have a recurring dream that I was an animated character in a world of live-action people, but none of them would tell me I was animated, so I just walked around trying to be a person like everyone else. Guest Column: A Therapist Shares Mental Health Tips for Striking Writers ![]()
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