How Weed Delivery Helped Me Come Out to Mom on Her 70th Birthday

Thanks, California

Illustration by Nicole Album

When I was in high school, Mom picked me up from school two hours early for being gay.

“What are you?” she asked me. “Some kind of queer?”

I flinched. We were driving home in the backwoods of West Virginia, where no one used the word “queer” unless some poor sonofabitch was…