It was absurd – to argue with something that photosynthesized my guilt – but the absurdity thrilled me. Maybe that’s what queerness is, I thought: the pleasure of breaking form, of wanting in directions that defy taxonomy. It was absurd – to argue with something that photosynthesized my guilt – but the absurdity thrilled me.… Continue reading Soil Under My Fingernails: Queer Identity in Timothy Ngome’s Where the Petals Remember My Name
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