Months ago, before Covid made a nuisance of itself, and kids left their houses for school, I got a call at the info desk from a local middle schooler. This child had a few questions to ask me for a school project. 

I’m not sure what I expected -- maybe help finding books on a topic they were studying. I settled in. These unexpected conversations are my favorite part about working at a bookstore, and while I’m certainly not a tutor, I’m pretty confident in my ability to at least find the right book to send a middle schooler in the right direction. 

In 1994, in a southern Baptist household on a dead-end street of nine houses, I felt one way and one way only: alone. Where I grew up, queer was a crime. If you were lucky you were ignored and if your luck ran out, you were punished. It felt like the only option was to keep your head down and mouth shut. I was fifteen years old and knew exactly who I was but struggled to articulate my identity.

Photo by yoav hornung

Courtney shares her first encounter with LGBTQ+ literature.