Se você queria saber como se comporta uma lésbica com apenas 9 anos de idade, seus problemas acabaram.

When I was 9, I saw a movie where one of the characters was gay and had a horrible life. The next morning I told my mom that I thought I might be gay. What I remember happening next, while probably not 100 percent accurate, is this: She started crying, hugging me, and kept me home from school that day. She asked me if I had been molested (I hadn’t been). I saw a therapist who asked questions like “Why do you think you’re gay” and “Do you feel uncomfortable in the gym locker room?” The therapist also asked me to look at some pictures, and I refused, terrified to do so in case my reaction to them proved if I was gay or not. These appointments ended abruptly after a few visits.

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