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Queer Joy! at the Bra Store
How the lingerie boutique where I worked as a bra fitter became an intimate space for shared queerness.
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Credit: Rommy Torrico.
My male boss and his assistant, a woman about 40 years my senior, sat me down at the private Evangelical Christian college library where I worked and studied in my early 20s. My multiple dress code infractions, most of which applied to the visible cleavage that rose over the necklines of my t-shirts, were a stumbling block for men, they told me. How could any man maintain pure thoughts and a clean conscience with such ample flesh on display! As a library employee, it was my responsibility to set a good example for the rest of the student body.
"Well, then," I said, taking a deep breath and standing up, "I guess I'm not a library employee anymore."
I walked out before I could hear their response. I wondered what they would have said if I countered with what was really going through my mind, voicing a truth about myself I'd only just started being comfortable sharing with my nearest and dearest of friends:
"Well, I'm a lesbian, so I don't really care much what ideas men have about me."

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