“I only understood sameness, who matched and who didn’t. I just wanted to fit in.” The first time a kid in my kindergarten class asked, “Is that your grandfather?” when my dad dropped me off at school, embarrassment consumed me. My dad didn’t look like the other dads; what little hair he had was silvering, and he had deep wrinkles that sank into his face. I remember the stubborn certainty of being 6 years old and wanting to blend in. “I don’t want you to walk me into school anymore,” I told my