I hated Little League. While this baseball pic was being taken, I was being bullied by an older teammate for being a sissy and a fag. In hindsight, I wonder if he had a crush on me.
For years, my cheeks would burn with embarrassment when I looked back on my journal pages. I hated this gay boy: his girly script, his passion for Judy Garland, and his unabashed enthusiasm, which I came to see as effeminate. But now I love this boy so, so much. If I had a time machine, I’d go back and hold him tight and tell him he was wonderful and good and brave—and not to listen to anyone telling him otherwise.
