A Girl from the Midwest

By the time I crawled through the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous, I felt like a minority of one. In fact, I had pretty much always felt that way. I was the first child of a loving family with an extended kin network, so where did all of that fear, doubt and insecurity come from? How did the pretty little girl who made all As and sang in the church choir end up as the only woman drunk on a street corner with the guys? Whatever caused it, it was not that I am an African-American or that I am a lesbian.