I would like to say that I am done using my confessions and history as the springboard for my legitimacy, that I am done crafting the painful and pleasurable memories of my childhood and family into turning points of a critical think piece, or pivotal junctures in personal statements designed to garner me fellowships, grants, and above all award money to keep me in the miserly student lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed. I would like to say that I am refusing to cheapen my stories. I would like to say that I accept them as knowledge production in and of themselves, standing as such without the relentless hedging and prefacing and prologue-ing we think is necessary anytime we dare to mention our bodies or, heaven forbid, our hearts and, tenure forbid, our souls. I would like to say a lot of things.