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Who Lives, Who Cries, Who Tells Your Queer Story

There were striking similarities between the box that the collected seasons of Queer as Folk were packaged in and myself. It was awkwardly large and a shade of uncomfortable, gaudy white (just like me!); it was both obnoxiously and emphatically flamboyant while self-contained in such a way that belied a tidy seal over a bursting self-hatred (just like me!); and I thought I could hide how flamboyant it was while it glared miserably, lurking in the corners of my parents’ home (