I first encountered Ryan Berg’s writing as a jurist for a fellowship a few years back. Ryan’s submission blew me away. It was an excerpt from his just-published debut, No House to Call My Home: Love, Family, and Other Transgressions, which details the lives of queer youths of color with whom he worked as a caseworker in a group home. Here was a work both political and narrative, compassionate and scrutinizing.
We laughed at the wedding invitation when it arrived. It wasn’t for the wedding of anyone I knewa cousin of Sam’s, a boy he’d played with at a few family picnics when they were both twelve and mean, one of those swift, short affairs of childhood, when what is kindred changes quickly.