I was battling mixed emotions and anxieties when I was dropped off at the Newberry Library for the Chicago Journalists Association’s award ceremony. Before walking in, I told myself, “If Chicago journalists didn’t know I was gay then, they’ll know now.”
I was a finalist for the Dorothy Storck Award, an honor given to a “highly respected columnist or commentator.” It was a recognition I coveted but thought impossible to get because most past nominees and winners were over 50.
