The Paris Review - Could The Baby-Sitters Club Have Been More Gay? - The Paris Review
In her monthly column YA of Yore , Frankie Thomas takes a second look at the books that defined a generation. We moved there in , when I was two. I was one of the only children in my neighborhood. In elementary school we had an art teacher who was openly living with AIDS , and every Christmas he had us decorate paper gift bags to donate to a meal service for AIDS patients. When he died, in , I was nine years old and had still never heard the term gay. I was in middle school when I first began to encounter it, but only from classmates, and only as an insult. I was thirteen when I was finally deemed old enough to be told who in our family was openly gay.
This week, a woman trying to decide if she should confess her feelings to her roommate and if she should leave the city : 25, single, Brooklyn. I sit for a really nice family on my floor. The dad is really hot, actually.