My husband, my religion, nor my sexuality define me. I deserve to define myself. Sometimes I don't want to speak for fear, for embarrassment. I didn't notice myself cross a line by holding his hand hands adorned with our marriage bands. But still they throw rocks and hurl judgmental insults. Tell me, God, should I remain quiet, unobjective? Or shall I douse myself in gasoline and make a public display? I still hold his hand around the homophobes, my husband