Baldwin had such a punishing ability to rake out these little aspects of the human condition we don't want to face. It genuinely boggles my mind sometimes.

Through the sickening and suffocating societal pressures he brings forth many ugly truths, though most poignantly in this story is that the only thing queer men learn to hate more than each other is themselves. All the more horrifying is how women are seen as empty shells to carry the burden of their hatred until they just can't take it anymore, and then they're discarded.

May we someday find that love need not be confined to rooms where they're shielded in shame but that we can share it proudly with the world, and more importantly, ourselves.