She hugged me tight and told me how proud she was of me. I graduated elementary school and was on my way to middle school in a new location.
I don’t have much memory of her, but I do remember the last time we saw each other. On most school days, from kindergarten to fifth grade, I was pulled out of class to meet with her.
The great thing about my elementary school was their speech therapist. Many queer people are the outcasts in their respective locations, so make of that what you will. My mother told me I never had that many friends. Folks would usually catch me reading a book. I was known as the quiet and shy kid in school. Still, my delayed speech left a long-lasting impact. I spoke a lot better by the time I reached elementary school. Overall queer level: Existing outside of the Kinsey Scale by default. But I was able to relate to most toddlers who don’t have a concept of sexuality. I couldn’t relate to toddlers who could speak. There’s nothing to report regarding queerness. She had a gorgeous golden retriever, which isn’t related to anything at all. My parents were able to work out an agreement where sessions could take place in either of our apartments. This caused a lot of tantrums on my end and stress on my parents’ end.Ī speech therapist lived in our building, just two floors above us. Compared to a lot of two and three-year-olds, I was considered speech delayed. If I do accumulate more therapists and receive a dollar for each one, I’d be excited to have enough for even more relatively decent meals. Whether the number of therapists I accumulate continues to increase or not, I’m so excited to see how I continue to evolve and measure myself. I’m purely doing this at the expense of, well, myself.Įach of us are walking anthologies. Sexuality is a wide range of complex feelings and experiences. Obviously, there is no such thing as being “more queer” - queerness isn’t a metric system. One day, I thought it’d be pretty funny to use all the therapists I’ve had as a measuring tool for my queerness. They were either for speech or mental health. So, of course, I’m sharing it with strangers on a public platform. More than I can share in a casual, one-on-one conversation with a co-worker. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but it’s more than I want to admit. Or maybe enough money for a thing or two off the McDonald’s menu. If I had a dollar for every therapist I’ve had, I’d probably have enough money to buy a relatively decent meal at a nearby bodega.