The tears came only after I thought about how cowardly I felt for denying my sexuality in order to fit in better, for how hurt and betrayed I felt that a group of marginalized people that I connected with so well would so easily marginalize me in return.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I’d convinced myself that attempting to pull my slightly overweight and totally out of shape ass across the seven levels that made up the gigantic waterfall was an impossible dream…

I spent my adolescence trying to be a boy. I wasn’t very good at it, but I tried really, really hard. I didn’t wear bright colors, I didn’t listen to pop music, I didn’t even style my hair until I was 17. I certainly wasn’t the kind of person to dress in drag. And yet I was. And yet I did. Because when I was 16 I won a drag show in Florence.