This. The closet was nearly my casket.
We express ourselves with writing, and many of us don't choose to write about queerness; it comes out in the work. To strangle that is to strangle the art, and then what is the fucking point? To lube up bookshelves with frictionless tripe? To hell with that.
"Authors and editors also described self-censoring—some have stopped writing or editing queer books in anticipation of them being challenged."
I don't even know how to do this. I censored myself my whole life. I cannot go back in a closet. That will be a violence done to myself.