I grew up in a small town in the desert, wedged between the base of the mountain and the edge of the canyon. 200 people lived in this town and they all knew who I was and where I lived. I was allowed to roam because my parents knew that in every direction I went there was someone in a house at a certain point who would turn me around and point me back home.
I lived in a small adobe house. Across the street was a rock shop and a petting zoo, next door was a horse named Silly and on the other side of him was the snail house. It was called the snail house because if you saw it from the sky it looked like a snail shell.
My childhood was full of magical people. I lived between the gypsies, the motorcycle gangs, and the circus people. It was the town where the outsiders of the outsiders came and found their place and everyone accepted everyone else.
While other little girls my age were starting Ballet, I was starting belly dancing, I was given bells and jewels and taught how to dance with snakes. Other children learned that when a man and a woman came together babies appeared, I learned that if two people loved each other and they wanted kids, they got kids. I never knew it was wrong to be one thing and right to be another.
I am as white as it gets. Blonde hair, pale skin, blue eyes, some people would joke that I am the picture of the white supremacy ideal, but I grew up as a minority. I lived in a place where it was encouraged to stick out, there was only one person like you and that was the way it should be, but that didn't mean you couldn't get along and be friends with the people that weren't like you. Demographically I was the minority, I was the white carnation among a mix of brightly colored exotic flowers.
I was happy here in this small magical town with my fairy godmother, my abuela, the guy who lived in a cave, the crazy artist who paid for services with paintings, but fate had other plans and my family moved to another world.
