The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

“It’s a question of fairness. And apparently it’s also a question of school policy.” Mr. Infante had this really angry look on his face. “My son just called you what you are.” My father didn’t flinch, didn’t skip a beat. “I happen to be gay. I don’t think that makes me a faggot. I’m also a Mexican-American. I don’t think that makes me a taco bender. I don’t think that makes me a beaner. I don’t think that makes me a spic. And I don’t think that makes me an illegal.” There wasn’t any anger in his voice—​or on his face. It was as if he were a lawyer in a courtroom, trying to make his point to the jury. I could tell he was trying to think of what he was going to say next. He looked at Mr. Infante. “Sometimes,” he said, “our sons don’t fully understand the things they say. But you and I, we’re men. We do understand, don’t we?”