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Personal Narrative-Thank God Sunny Bono

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I remember watching your face as we drove, the radio discussing the recent coming out of Chaz Bono. You said, slapping your hands on the steering wheel and raising your voice in a tone of righteous indignance, "Thank God Sunny Bono is dead so he doesn't have to see what his daughter is doing to herself!” Turning to watch the passing scenery of a Chicago neighbourhood, I sighed softly. It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for. I knew I wasn't a boy by the time I was five. Soon after, you knew too—though, this is something I wouldn't realize until some time later. It really wasn't so bad at first. It felt almost like a game; some secret that only I was privy to. Sure, everyone thought I was a boy now, but in the end I'd grow up to be like all the
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