When fundamentalists would approach us and tout their decision to rid their homes of television and secular music, our response was chastisement. “How can you preach against the abominable teachings that litter the landscape of this nation if you don’t even know what they are?” my mom would admonish. I cherished the time I spent peering into alternate realities, and each day I’d race through my schoolwork so that I could escape into them: worlds where I had no responsibilities and lives that bore no resemblance whatsoever to my own.
