Dear Joseph

“I departed from the way she told me to go. And the departure saved my life.”
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and something burned. Outside, Christmas lights blinked red, green, and gold against the wet pavement. Inside, a four-year-old boy sat at a table and learned that joy required permission — and that permission had been revoked.
That night was the first lesson. It would not be the last.
Raised in a small Southern church where obedience was holiness and doubt was sin, Joseph grew up under a mother who wielded scripture like a weapon and a father who stirred his coffee and said nothing. By eighteen, he had perfected the art of disappearing — until a dormitory fire shattered his body and burned away every certainty he had left.
What came after was worse, and then better, and then worse again: addiction that dragged him to the floor, recovery that refused to be rushed, the terrifying act of coming out in a world that had taught him silence was survival, and the slow, stubborn work of building a life no one in his family had imagined for him.
Dear Josephis a memoir told in two voices — the boy who endured it, and the man who finally found the words to speak back. Written as a letter across decades to his younger self, Alexander Thompson traces the distance between two Decembers: the one that stole the lights and the one that gave them back.
This is a book about religious trauma and the scars it leaves on the body as well as the soul. About queer identity forged in silence. About fire — literal and otherwise. About a faded teddy bear named Red who sits on a shelf like a veteran of a war no one else remembers. And about the single, devastating realization that changes everything:
You were never the problem.