When I was born, I came out of my mama the wrong way. I came out backwards. I didn’t come out as a fresh-skinned baby, with ten perfect toes and fingers, ready to be taught how to pluck the strings of some delicate instrument. I came out as a howl. Think of me as a deep, guttural, throaty vocalized desperation for freedom. I was the flesh and bone manifestation of a scream frightening enough to crack skulls…

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