My first T-shirt was white, thin, and hand-sewn by small brown children in foreign sweatshops and sold en masse at Christian bookstore Maranatha Village in Costa Mesa. I vaguely remember it being emblazoned with a message about Being Prepared Because Jesus Was Coming (a long story, trust me), a clunky brown cartoon cross and a white dove. Walking through the halls of my public school as an adolescent right-wing billboard, desperate for the attention of others to validate my sorry teen inadequacies, the images and words drew a lot of stares and snickering but also set me aside from the mainstream, as other Jesus Freak kids in the same lonely... More >>>