What my mother didn’t yet know about being gay in the South was that you never ran out of material, that being secretly gay your whole life, averting your eyes every time you saw a handsome man, praying on your knees every time a sexual thought entered your mind or every time you’d acted even remotely feminine – this gave you an embarrassment of sins for which you constantly felt the need to apologize, repent, beg forgiveness.

-Garrard Conley

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