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

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.

Lately, Mami’s eyes have been so dark, I don’t like looking into them because I’m afraid I’ll fall in.

Are Latino-Americans white? Black? Other? Illegal aliens from Mars? Or are we the very face of America?

If Aphrodite chills at home in Cyprus for most of the year, then Fez must be the goddess’s playground

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.

The things that come to us easily, our propensities, are carried on a deep subconscious level into our next life. There are no coincidences.