Janet Mock's honest and sometimes searing journey is a rare and important look into la vida liminal, one that she manages to negotiate remarkably well, with grace, humor, and fierce grit. Mock doesn't only redefine what realness means to her, but challenges us to rethink our own perceptions of gender and sexuality, feminism and sisterhood, making this book a transcendent piece of American literature.

A mother isn’t the person who births you; it’s the person who rears you and shows you love.

I wish she'd said something different, but patriarchy is as prevalent around the world as racism and xenophobia are. We can't hide from it, not even here.

I have never bought into the idea that blood is thicker than water. Love and respect are meant to be earned from our children, our spouses, our families, and our friends.

Individually, every grain of sand brushing against my hands represents a story, an experience, and a block for me to build upon for the next generation.

I remember feeling that pieces of me were scattered around the world; I belonged to her, Mother Earth.

For some, excavating the past isn’t an adventure, it’s more akin to tearing a Band-Aid off an open wound.