The internet was the only place I could explore my identity without worrying about the consequences. My family got AOL dial-up service early—1993 or so—and the chat rooms I navigated through our 14.4k modem started to fill up with people who felt like my people. I understood this world, felt free in it. There were no consequences here. The rooms were full of tinkering hackers, and we’d talk about games or movies in between questions about troubleshooting and coding tips and hardware setup suggestions. Often the conversation would turn to regular life, ideas—it was intelligent conversation of
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