“A poet, Audre Lorde,” I say, which is what my mom told me years ago. “Yes, but there was a quote I found of hers, when your mom was pregnant, that made me want to name you after her. ‘If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched up into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.’” He recites it smoothly from memory. “I knew I wanted you to be a kid that always felt free to be yourself, since I never did.
