ILLUSTRATION BY LOUISA BERTMAN
Exotic. The handsome owner of a popular eatery in Boystown, where I’d been living for about six months, is telling me that back home in Greece, the men would just go wild for me because You, Wancy, are very exotic. And what he’s talking about is my being Asian. I consider my chubbiness, or the lilt in my speech, but what I want to ask is this: Is there actually some place I might be wanted?
In 1997, Chicago’s Boystown became the first officially recognized gay neighborhood in the country, and it coincided with the year I attended my first Pride parade. I was 18 years old, my hair was streaked blond, my ears were pierced, and the rainbow rings strung around my neck jangled loudly as I scurried out the door.