Chicago, 1986.

Patrick was outside of the club, in the suit he served for "business realness." He was buffing his nails, blowing off the dust as it came.

Patrick thrived in the underground queer balls of New York. He found them when he was 16, freshly kicked out of his house for the "filth you're into." According to his mother, after she saw him with bandages around his chest sneaking out.

He got picked off the street by a house, a house that presented outfits in the balls and gave him a home and food.

But he moved out of that house and made a legendary one of his own. I mean, mothers were common. But fathers? They were not.

And as he was buffing his nails, outside the ball, he saw this little kid stumble on the sidewalk. They could not walk in heels.