in imageCheers to growing up Gay with a flaming capital G. iu
the limp wrists in our childhood photos, to telling on
ourselves before we could talk. To tears streaked in
playground dirt, to the bullies who told us what we
were before we knew. To slurs we picked up, dusted
off and made our own. To trying on our mothers
heels. To their fear we'd die of AIDS. To the tender
disappointment of our fathers, if we were lucky. To
waiting for a same-sex kiss on TV, only to watch the
camera pan away. To the girlfriends whose hearts we
broke when our Gaydar beeped for the first time. To
our private, dirty humor, so acerbic it can melt
chrome. To our cackle. To "is he...you know?" To that
quality straight actors win Oscars for, but can never
get quite right. To identifying one another in a
packed subway and dark park with a glance. To that
swish,
lisp and contrapposto. Cheers to our
unmistakable softness.
Leo Herrera
@herreraimages

in imageMAN NEEDS MILK OWNS 10,000 COWS
S MILK
OO COWS
MILK

in imageEGO.