I was 8 when Harvey Milk was gunned down by an assholes bullet.
I was a little too young to know anything about Milk - or politics in general.
I just coming to understand and accept my confusing sexual orientation.
Compared to some friends I came to acceptance younger than most.
For a brief spell I thought I was the only one like me in the world.
Until Anita Bryant came along with her anti-gay crusade.
I suppose I should thank her for...
Letting me know that there were more just like me out there in the world.
I knew in time that I would find them. And I did. Lots and lots of them.
But that was a long way off. So a closet became my safe place.
I knew Anita was talking about me. And I didn't like it.
I was a good kid. Eff her. I'd like to throw a pie in her face.