Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
They say that the first person you have to come out to is yourself.
10th grade. The boys' locker room. Carl Fox standing naked in front of his locker. Me, transfixed.
Skin like blue-veined marble. Swinging, thick brown Botticelli hair. Eyes as big and liquid as a deer's.
I'd never seen anything so beautiful before in my life.
"So this is it," I thought. "Homosexuality."
In that wellspring moment of perfect clarity and inner stillness, I knew that for me this was the most true, most pure, most noble, and most perfect thing that there could ever be.
Along with that calm acceptance came the understanding that anyone or anything that claimed otherwise was simply, deludedly, and irredeemably wrong.
The first person you have to come out to is yourself.
We are a permanent and necessary part of the way things are. We have always been here, and we always will be, while humanity endures.
Happy Pride Week, all. We've worked long and hard to get here.
Sparky T. Rabbit
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