When I see this, it bothers me for two reasons - because I live three miles from the Westboro Baptist Church, who collectively wouldn’t have an issue with this, and secondly because I’m not addressed in this drawing at all.

Ever since I was young, I felt that time was critical, but I couldn’t begin to explain how. It wasn’t until I studied philosophy, especially that from ancient Greece, that I began to see a pattern in the way I perceived the world that was different yet not. I to this day, must determine things by what they are not - I’m obsessed with creating a place where nothing is.

The reason is simple - from my earliest memories, I remember the feeling of exclusion. Exclusion on the basis of size. Exclusion on the basis of sex. Exclusion on the basis of religion. I quickly came to realize that it didn’t matter what I was, but what I wasn’t.

Then came the day that I was singing a song that was popular on the radio at the time. I was about eight, and it was the country song by Shania Twain (Woman, or I feel like a woman, something like that). I was singing in the garage, playing with my bicycle when my dad grabbed me from behind and yelled at me to never sing that song again. I learned that being male meant I had to not be a girl. Not ever.

I played with my younger sister a lot since I never had many close friends. I secretly played house, dolls, and beanie babies with her. It wouldn’t be until much more recently, that I began to piece things together. During my childhood, I was completely unaware.

Exclusion really came to haunt me during adolescence when I became borderline radically homophobic, terrified that I might be gay and face my family’s rejection. Which was certain since my parents had spent years telling me of the evil of homosexuality.

To be continued…