Excerpt:

While living in Chicago as an obviously gay man, I felt free to be my unabashed self, clad in all manner of sequins and androgyny. On the road, not only did I literally not have the closet space to accommodate such a wardrobe, but I often didn’t feel safe presenting myself the same way in unfamiliar regions. Despite experiencing kindness across the country, there were times when I’d be too wary to exit the RV at rural gas stations, deterred by the glares I was getting through my window. And in Wyoming, a beautiful state that I adore, a group of teens shouted homophobic slurs and joked about assaulting me—all while I was wearing the most muted, all-black outfit I could possibly find to “hide” myself.