but was unsuccessful. Becca Roskill, a junior at Columbia and an organizer with YDSA, toldTeen Vogue I was very fortunate that my mom pays close attention and was smart enough to give me a creative outlet — acting — as a way to make friends who would accept me for who I was and where I would be welcome to act out (literally) anything I needed to in a healthy setting. She used to say “save the drama for drama.” She was right. In middle school especially, it felt like there was nothing but drama. That Sunday was the first time I recall feeling an anger toward my family that I didn’t quite understand. I couldn’t pinpoint what had upset me. It’s not as if I were educated about the trans community or LGBTQ+ issues as a sixth grader in a small, deeply conservative, former sundown town in 2004. But allowing that woman to be publicly humiliated rattled me. The rift between myself and my conservative family broke open for the first time that Sunday, and their stance on LGBTQ+ issues continues to serve as the heart of the social and political differences that keep us distant to this day. For our five-person clan, distance has made us stronger. The less we see one another, the more willing we are to listen to each other when we’re together. And the more I speak my truth, the better the dynamic becomes. My dad’s come around to climate change and installed solar panels on his RV. My brother doesn’t care if women get abortions. I, at the very least, watch the weird YouTube videos my brother sends me and have candid conversations with my dad about the inherent corruption in politics. Middle ground stretches farther than you’d expect in middle America.