I grew up in a predominantly white, heteronormative town in a household eclipsed by a parent who struggled with alcoholism. As a child of immigrants seeking to understand his own sexual identity, I watched classmates — many of them friends — debate a California proposition that banned same-sex marriage; faced the same jeers at the noodles my mother packed me for lunch that many other Asian American kids face; and returned each day to a home punctuated by silent meals, averted gazes, and long, spiraling lectures lasting well into the night.