When Stef and I are at home, we hold hands and kiss. Sometimes when we’re out in a new neighborhood, or we’re walking home late to our car, we won’t hold hands. Some people out there are afraid of what’s different. And sometimes they want to hurt people like Stef and me. So, every time we’re out and I want to hold Stef’s hand, but I decide not to, I get mad. Mad at the people who might want to hurt us, but mad at myself, too, for not standing up to them.