Wells SEATTLE, WA I grew up in a town called Normal, Illinois. Go ahead, laugh. Everybody does. Here’s the thing about being from Normal: You don’t realize there’s anything funny about being from Normal until you leave. A typical midsized midwestern town, Normal is home to a state university, the headquarters of a few major corporations, lots of churches, and some folks (some, mind you) who don’t much care for gays and lesbians. I wasn’t bullied in Normal, but I was deeply in the closet. I was always aware that the wrong gesture, look, or tone of voice could grab the attention of someone who might want to hurt me. And I didn’t want to get hurt. So I monitored my actions and behaviors very closely. Growing up there meant being wary of how my churchgoing family might react if they discovered that I liked boys. We attended a Southern Baptist church that wasn’t all fire and brimstone, but it wasn’t exactly forward thinking either. I heard rumors of a gay bar in town called My Place, and rumors that guys found going in and out of there were beaten up.
