Accumulating the Gay Away
I thought the septum was an obvious clue. The Doc Martens scuffed by random punk shows and hikes, the Phoebe Bridgers shirt my English Professor bought me after, with stains from rubbed off makeup. I thought all these subtly unsubtle hints could be clues to indirectly telling my family I was queer. The more formal, festive “coming outs” never felt right to me — big balloons grazing walls and streamers […]


