In my guts I felt a terrible churning shame, the sensation that I had backed myself into a corner, barking dogs bounding ever closer. Yes, I wanted to say, that’s all very nice, but these are my people. They are my people. Yes, I am glad that I am here in this country, for a thousand reasons, including the latitude to hold your hand in public and kiss you on the forehead, but the people of this country are not my people, and most let me know every day.
