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Room of dead names

Room of dead names

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He sat there, interrogating me, asserting his authority, periodically flirting while questioning my motives. The entire exchange reeked of chauvinism and the establishment of hierarchy. But after I sufficiently placated his curiosity and allowed him his moment of superiority, he finally relented. He stamped the letter and handed it to me. I took it with a quiet sense of victory. One more step in my journey toward self-naming, toward becoming who I truly was.

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