When I was a young child, I created stories to help me feel better about myself, stories where I felt loved and appreciated.When I was a teenager, I dreamed up an imaginary magazine called Sky. As in sky's the limit. It was a magazine for me and about me, a place where I felt loved and appreciated.
Today, I still see a world that still doesn't love or appreciate people like me. When's the last time saw an image where where the object of anyone's affection was someone like me, black, gay and living with HIV/AIDS?
At age 49, I still have to dream up places where I can feel better about myself, where I'm loved and appreciated, where my life experience is valued, where someone like me matters.
If I don't dream of it, who will?
