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Thank you for Loving out Loud, Femme:

a conversation about coming out and coming home

By Sur Ren Dirt (she/they)Published 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 29 min read
Thank you for Loving out Loud, Femme:
Photo by Sharon Pittaway on Unsplash

Recently I've been sifting through words I wrote in college and high school. Yes, I'm one of those folks that have saved every journal, and most papers I wrote during recent past lives; I'm so glad I did. Finding words from my younger selves has been like finding little brass keys, which unlock doors to portals that lead me home.

One of the particularly well-loved and worn-in keys exists in the form of a final paper for a "Gender and Sexuality" class I devoured junior year of college. I found myself chuckling at times, holding my breath at others, feeling the range of emotions from excitement to shame to anger to delight as I was taken back to the winter of 2005 when I wrote these words.

Fun fact: my professor asked me to present this paper at the annual Women's Studies conference that Spring. I agreed and spoke the truest version of my coming-out story that I knew. It was terrifying. And freeing. And everything in between.

It feels like an honor to my 21-year-old self to amplify her words on the screen here. What follows is a conversation between her and me, as I listen and take in what she knew then, and infuse it with what I know now. My current day words are italicized to distinguish between speakers.

From this point forward, I will disengage from the conversation with you, dear reader, to allow you to learn about 21-year-old Dirt's story, to witness our dialogue, and to hold space for it all. Thank you for entering this portal with us.

By Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

Why Cut Out Half the Population?

A Glimpse into the Bi-World:

I never realized how much stigma is attached to the term "bisexual" until I decided to come out four months ago. At the beginning of my freshman year of college, just three years ago, my roommate told me, "Ren, you like girls." Ever since then, it's been a long journey to figure out exactly where I fit in within this new world that I had discovered. At the time, I simply laughed at Alicia in my drunken stupor and proceeded to pull her in for another kiss.

You see, my life up until college had been filled with men. I was the boy crazy teenager looking for love in all the wrong places. Ironically enough, my ex-boyfriend from senior year had just come out as gay. I beat myself up forever, telling myself that I had turned him gay when really deep down I know this is not possible. It's an individual decision, and if anything, he and I helped one another discover another aspect of our own sexuality. I should really thank him one of these days.

Thanks for the reminder, babe. Just thanked him, 16 years later. I think it is never too late for gratitude to surface and express.

When I first kissed Alicia, she unlocked a door that had been closed my entire life. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy my time spent with the men in my life; I just had no idea how much I was missing out on. There was another half of the population out there that I had been cutting myself off from for so long because I thought that's what I had to do.

Oh, love, I am excited for you to meet and fall in love with the variety of different humans you will come to know throughout the years. Question gender and binary systems; there are particularly special keys waiting in this curious space, but you might have to dig deep in the Dirt for them. Keep going, femme. I believe in you.

Now I had the tools. I had my newfound knowledge and desire, and I was ready to use them. But why was it that I had to be under the influence of alcohol every time I hooked up with a girl? Why hadn't I shared this information with anyone else? Why did I write off all of my intimacies with girls as a "drunken hook-up," and why did that feel so wrong? Why did I suddenly throw myself at every boy that walked by my door? And why did it still feel something was missing, or out of place?

My fierce love, this is a long and painful, at times exciting and adventurous, path you will have to travel. I cannot give you the answers that you will inevitably need to learn on your own. What I can tell you is that there is light at the end of this tunnel: journey on, stay hydrated, kick some ass, and find time to re-charge. You are stronger than you think.

I moved to the west coast in August of 2003. It didn't take me long before I stumbled upon a charming young man ready to sweep me off my feet. I'll take him, I said. We had been seeing each other for about a week when Allan decided to announce over a candlelit dinner that he was bisexual. I quickly responded, "Me too." The words had barely escaped my lips when I realized just how huge my response was. This was the first time I had ever admitted my sexual preference to anyone besides Alicia and my sister. He went on to tell me of his relationship with a man during his senior year of high school. He finished by saying, "You know, I'm actually quite surprised at your response. Most of the other girls either slapped me or walked away."

Our conversation continued in bits and pieces over the course of the night and throughout our relationship. I remember that I even asked him the very same questions that I have been plagued with since I came out. "Well, when you're in a relationship with a man, does that mean you can be in a relationship with a woman as well?" He said, "No, I'm faithful to my partner when I'm in a relationship, regardless of whether this individual is a male or female." Then he ended with the phrase that I have caught myself repeating to the people who question me. He said, "I just love everyone." I think I was desperately trying to put him in the gay or straight holes that society has created, while at the same time trying to figure out just where I fit in.

I remember him, love. He was the first one you ever thought about marrying. Your love is real, and what you are learning with him will stick with you for years to come. Also, I am so into your curiosity about non-monogamy. Follow those questions, babe. They will lead you to where you need to be.

I learned a lot from Allan. However, when my relationship with him ended this past January, I still felt so unsettled. I indeed had relations with other girls throughout my time with Allan. However, I also classified these instances as "drunken hook-ups" as well as another popular category, "ménage a trois." When Allan ended our relationship, he told me he had to find himself, or some bullshit like that. He eventually found himself in another woman's arms. However, this only happened after a couple of weeks of exploring the other half of the population. He was becoming more open with his sexuality, so I decided to take my next big step and do the same with my own.

I met an attractive girl at school a couple of months later. Stacy was tall, with creamy white skin, almond eyes, chestnut hair... and very sure of herself. We spent some time together. She would meet me after work, her boyfriend at her side. We also had a couple of coffee dates, just Stacy and me. At this point, I was still a bit hesitant because I hadn't fully recovered from my yearlong relationship with Allan. Furthermore, my uncertainty about my sexuality didn't help. Finally, I invited Stacy to my house to watch a movie. After an hour and a half of Zoolander, we retired to my bedroom. "You don't mind?" she said, as she slipped off her skirt and changed into her pajamas. There was no denying it; I was attracted to her, and I couldn't blame it on the alcohol this time because there was none. This was me, Ren Dirt, completely sober, head over heels for a beautiful woman. It scared me and excited me at the same time.

Substance-free love is such a precious gift, sweet one. Polyamory, too. I had no idea that this was one of the places where it all began. Thank you for this reminder, for bravely exploring with Stacy, and for feeling those raw, sober feels. Also, your words are like butter; I practically slid off my seat and drowned in the memory of her as I read your truth here. Keep writing, even if you never share it with anyone else. It is how I will eventually find my way back to you.

She lay down in the bed next to me, turning her body to face mine. "You're beautiful," she said, brushing a stray hair from my face. Stacy pulled my chin up to hers in one smooth, gentle motion. I quickly pulled away and turned my back, drawing the covers tight around me. This was too real, and I wasn't ready; I knew this much. But why? Why wasn't I ready? All of the feelings, the emotions felt so completely right, so what was stopping me? She rested her hand on my shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. "Goodnight Ren," she sighed, and then rolled back over. "Goodnight, Stacy."

I think at this point I was still afraid to admit that I was different from society's view of the "normal" heterosexual girl who was going to grow up and marry prince charming, and live in a house with a white picket fence with three children... you get the picture. No, I take this back; I had already announced my bisexuality to most, but when it came time to actually carry out these desires, I would freeze up. I knew that by committing to these actions, I would ultimately be confirming my sexuality because otherwise, it was just a label. I don't think I was ready for everything that came along with the term "bisexuality"; in short, I wasn't ready for the stigma. Two weeks after I turned my back on Stacy, I found myself on a Sunday morning walking away from a strange new house; it was back to the one-night stands for me.

It never occurred to me at the time, but looking back on this situation I realize that I saw this interaction with Stacy not as an opportunity to explore my bisexuality, but rather as a defining moment; in other words, I was scared of the truth of the situation. If I acted on my desires, would I be considered a lesbian because I wasn't with a man? If I made this conscious sober decision, would that make my bisexuality real? Again, I was afraid that the label would become more than just a word, but rather a definition of who I was as a person. I was scared that people would judge me. Maybe I was scared that I would judge myself.

Oh, love, we ARE our own worst critics. Your words feel like little jewels from a not-so-distant yet light-years-away past. I know they are reaching me now so that I may re-member what I needed to hear then, which is exactly what I need to hear RIGHT now:

Does it feel right and good in your BODY? No, not your brain and thoughts, but in your body? If YES, then the rest of it doesn't matter.

Come back home to me when you're ready to learn what an enthusiastic "YES" feels like in that beautiful body of yours. Recognizing the "FUCK NO" body response is equally as important. I'll be waiting here with the light on.

I did a lot of soul searching during my last three months in that Pacific Northwest state. I had decided to work at a camp in the Southwest for the summer of 2005, so I was trying to tie up my loose ends here before moving on. I spent a lot of time alone, which helped me a great deal. It's amazing how much I can learn when I just let myself be. I took inventory of my life up until that point and assessed the various relationships that were present in my life. I examined family, friends, boys, girls, the land, and decided on what level I related to each one. This is when I realized that the most important connection I must nurture before figuring out the rest is my relationship with myself.

Your words are GOLD. Keep going. I'm here. With you. Witnessing.

The desert southwest opened many, many doors for me. I arrived in this place with newfound confidence and respect for myself. I was starting fresh, surrounded by land that I instantly fell in love with, as well as the opportunity for many amazing connections with the other staff members. At last, I was doing things for myself and really began to care a whole lot less about what others thought of me. I was a much freer spirit, and confidence naturally followed. Unattached and satisfied with myself, I set out to explore this new setting. I think this was the beginning of yet another transformation in my attitude towards my bisexuality.

This was your first solo long-distance road trip. I am re-membering this adventure, the spontaneity, and the confidence now. Thank you for this.

You are more connected to the land than most, and I know you can sense this now. There are subtle ways that the plants and animals communicate with highly sensitive people like you; they'll be here to teach you in time when you're ready to learn.

Check out this magick...

Yeah, fall into love with that desert, babe; they are ready to heal you. That land is potent, in different ways than the one I live on now, the one in which I found those wild violet loves just thriving in my backyard. Speaking of, I'm going to take a break from our conversation to step outside now. Thanks for the reminder.

Falling in love was not on my agenda. Drama was not in my plans either. However, I found both in this lovely little camp set in the national forest lands of Central Arizona. I developed my first crush on the very first day of our pre-camp training, although I didn't recognize this until about a week later during a kickball game amongst staff members. It all began with, "You play sports, don't you." I turned around to face a pair of dark shades and a baseball cap cocked to the side, bronzed skin, and an athletic build; badass... I like that.

I was instantly drawn to her. I tried to find every opportunity I could to talk to her after that. However, pre-camp eventually ended and my hopes of developing a relationship faded as she went her way and I went mine. I was a Unit Leader, while she was the camp Wrangler, spending the majority of her time at the barn. We hung out with different groups of people on the weekends, and eventually, I just let it go, dismissing it as a crush. I was on my own anyway, and this was my summer for myself, by myself. Besides, another interesting individual was beginning to spark my curiosity...

Iris worked in my unit the first week of camp. I hit it off with her from the beginning. She was a cutie, and she always had LOTS to say. I heard all about her current girlfriend, and the girl she had a crush on, and her girlfriend before that, and the one before that. Again, you get the picture. Iris liked girls. A lot. Our first connection was made when I overheard a conversation between her and her girlfriend from back home. She said, "Yeah, I think there are a lot more lesbians at this camp than just me, but I'm the only one that will admit it." I interrupted her, "Hey Iris, maybe some of us just aren't ready to be out yet," gave her a wink, and turned back towards my cabin.

Yes, femme. Your playful flirting is one of the many things I love about you.

Our friendship grew strong throughout the first couple of weeks and into the second weekend when we decided to go down to Southern Arizona to celebrate my 21st birthday. Once again, I found myself in another drunken situation with a girl. But it was different this time. I had already established my feelings for Iris beforehand and now was my chance to act on them. We spent the latter portion of the night lying on the dust and gravel in a Circle K parking lot gazing at the stars. Then Iris tried to eat a cactus. Well, not really, but I do have a pretty silly picture of her mouth hanging open above the prickly plant. We wrestled in the grass for a bit, and eventually stumbled back inside.

Again, I found myself extremely attracted to a girl, but I would not let myself act upon it. As soon as we entered the apartment, we dropped to the floor in a drunken mess, our arms falling effortlessly into an embrace. This time I tipped her little face up towards mine and went in for the kill. I ran my fingers through her silky smooth hair and down the back of her neck, pulling her body closer to mine. I was giving in and it felt so incredibly wonderful. I would like to say that this interaction ended in bliss, but alas... we both passed out. Better luck next time.

At one point during that night, Iris looked up at me with her little puppy dog eyes and said, "Dirt, I'm spinning." Me too, I said, although I could firmly feel the ground beneath my feet. I lay her head in my lap and stroked it gently. A few minutes later I asked, "Are you still spinning, Iris?" She barely opened her eyes so that the light hit them just so. "No," she said. What she didn't understand is that she had sent MY entire world into a whirlwind after that night. I now realized that I HAD to deal with these feelings because they were real, and they were intense. I couldn't hide anymore. More importantly, I realized that I didn't want to hide anymore either.

Iris and I grew distant throughout the course of the summer. She moved to different units, as did I. However, this did not stop my curiosity about these feelings. I had them. I knew they were there. Now I wanted to really do something about it. I spent my days running around with the kids and my nights journaling, trying to sort through all of these emotions. I wrote letters to my best friend back in Oregon and told her all about Iris. "I'm so happy for you," she said. "It's about damn time." I was growing. I just knew it. Little did I know that I was about to stumble on the greatest gift that I have been given in my life thus far.

We celebrated a fellow counselor's 21st birthday three weekends before camp ended. We spent the majority of that night at a local campsite. Food, friends, laughter, and fun times. What more could we ask for? Besides a pissed-off camp director who showed up around midnight to break our celebration. The party was over so we all jumped in the designated cars to make the long trek back to camp. I was an emotional drunk that night, as is sometimes the case with me. I rode in the passenger seat of my car because I was obviously beyond the point of control.

My sweet love. This paragraph was hard to read, and also I know that you were exactly where you needed to be in that moment. You have, and will continue to have, a tense relationship with alcohol. If I could go back and change the storyline of our relationship with substances, I would; that's not what I'm here for though. What I can tell you is that your emotions and YOU are just the right amount of magick to bask in. Your high sensitivity is a GIFT, my love. I'm here when you're ready to come inside and take a look at the super-power that lies within us.

This little gem might be helpful in the meantime:

Also, yes babe, follow that instinct to pick up the guitar you will eventually gift that love for her birthday in a few years. It is one of the methods I used recently, in order to find my way back to YOU.

However, in all of my self-pity, I hadn't stopped to take inventory of the other passengers in the car. I felt the softest touch brush my palm and looked down to find a hand resting gently inside of mine. I looked out through my blanket of tears to find the dark shades and cocked baseball cap that had stirred the butterflies in my stomach just weeks before. "Hey," she said. "You OK?" I nodded and leaned my head against hers. She kept my hand in hers the entire ride back to camp, gently caressing. I don't think either of us realized the significance or the power that lay in the simplest of touches. So sweet. So... comfortable. This is good, I thought. I'll take this.

Back at camp, everyone began wandering back towards their cabins to turn in for the night. I started to walk down the path that led to the bridge across the creek, when I heard, "Dirt, where ya goin?" I turned back and there she was, running towards me. "I'll walk you to your unit. You shouldn't go alone." SUCCESS. I pulled a few smooth moves and ended up in her cabin down at the barn. Just her and me. Alone. I instantly threw myself onto the stack of mattresses on her floor, exhausted beyond belief. She moved back and forth about her room, and I watched her. I watched her every move, wanting her, needing her. She finally stopped by my side and knelt down. I felt her strong hands on my upper back and then down to my shoulders, gently massaging, sending shivers through my entire body. "Mmmm," I responded to each intense impression of skin on skin. I like this, I thought. Then I passed out.

That night marked a significant change in me. I was falling for this girl, and I didn't want to stop it. There was drama the next week at camp, which I won't get into; regardless, things worked out for the best. The last weekend of camp was spent in a small town in Northern Arizona, one of the most beautiful places that I've seen thus far. With red rocks and waterfalls and endless open space, it truly was a spiritual place for me. I don't need to go into details about the events that happened there. All I know is that for the first time since I had arrived in Arizona, I felt a connection to another individual that was comparable to my connection with the land. More importantly, this individual was a girl.

I'd like to say that the first kiss was a completely sober one, but alas it was not. This weekend getaway in Northern Arizona was another party time for us counselors and we took full advantage of this privilege. A bottle of 99 oranges and a bottle of vodka led us all to the poolside, and to the hot tub. Lindsay had made it clear by this point that she wanted me, and I was ready to be with her. I was ready to open up and conquer my fears. We were clinging to the ladder, holding one another up, flirting ridiculously when all of a sudden, something clicked. It was one of those "everything just seems right" moments. Our eyes locked and we drew each other into a world that I have not been able to, nor do I want to, escape for the past 8 months.

Lindsay is my world. She made me realize that it's okay to be who I truly am. She understands and accepts things about me that I never thought any other individual would. She makes me feel safe in my own skin. She is my home, my heart, and my soul. I have never felt the feelings that I experienced with her when I was with a man. This doesn't mean that I don't still think about men from time to time, and this doesn't reduce any of my previous relationships, because I was deeply impacted by each and every one. I still consider myself bisexual, and this is what I tell everyone now that I am officially out. This is actually where I first personally encountered the stigma, or outright confusion surrounding the term "bisexual."

Woah. I had to just sit back and take all that in. It's amazing how vivid memories can be. I have some things to say about these experiences, but it's not the time or place to share; I want to let you revel in the good feels right now.

What I can offer is this: These feelings you are having are REAL and powerful; the relationship with Lindsay is, too. There are so many firsts and adventures you will experience when you are young and in love with this one in particular: lean into this life with her, and try to pay attention to the lessons that come wrapped in curious packaging.

And also, will you go back and read the words I bolded in the 12th paragraph you wrote above? Will you re-member what you were bold enough to realize when you left that Northwestern state? If you aren't able to do it now, I'll be here waiting to welcome you home when you do.

I've noticed that you have the ability to connect so quickly and so deeply with others that you lose your Self at times. It will be and has been, a lifelong journey of learning where you end and others begin. Boundaries, babe. I can teach you those, too. When you're ready. In the meantime, I left you another bold little message in the paragraph you wrote above.

My summer ended with a road trip across the states back to my childhood home with Lindsay and another counselor. It was the perfect ending to an amazing summer and I got to spend it with two people that I loved. However, I was homebound. Coming home was a very hard transition for me. I was a completely changed person compared to the girl that left for Oregon just a couple of years prior. I had discovered so much about myself, and quite honestly, I wasn't quite sure how my family would react.

I think my parents tend to have open minds about certain ideas, as long as they don't affect themselves or their children. I've had many gay and lesbian friends whom my parents have met, and they love them. They accepted my friends because it was easier to. With me, it's different. I'm their daughter. They have to live with who I am. I told them the day before I came back to school, and needless to say, they were shocked. I think my mom was in denial, while my dad just didn't quite agree with it. However, they both told me that they love me regardless, and that is more than I could ever ask for. They're slowly coming around, I know it's been tough for them to swallow. It just bothers me that there needs to be any concern about my choice of sexuality in the first place, but this is the society in which we live. We are taught to sneer at or question people like Lindsay and me.

Family of origin is complicated, yeah? Some queers have had it much worse than you when they came out, and others have had much better experiences. Both.

YOUR experience is real and valid, and the anxieties you felt leading up to, during, and after are completely justified.

From where I sit reading your words today, I can tell you that mom and dad have come even further with each new curveball you've thrown them; they are still here, loving and supporting you to this day.

Also, our chosen fam is queerly the best.

Keep living out loud, femme.

Now that I was officially out, I decided to try on this new identity with people I had never met before. First came my roommates on campus here. I found it kind of comical at first when we would all sit in the room and talk about guys and sex, and my roommates would look at me like, "What do YOU know about sex with guys?" I think they held that common view that if you're a lesbian, you always have been and that's all you know. However, I gently educated that besides the fact that I don't identify as lesbian but rather as bisexual, I have in fact spent the majority of my life with men, and I just happen to be in a relationship with a woman at the moment.

Similarly, when I began seeing a social worker on campus, she asked me, "Now when did you realize you were a lesbian?" I was taken aback by the inquiry because I had never told her that I was a lesbian, but rather that I had come out to my parents. This goes to show how quickly people in society will polarize sexuality into two distinct categories. I think she figured that since I wasn't heterosexual, that I must be a lesbian. However, just as I explained to my roommates, I educated my social worker as to my sexual preference as well.

A good friend of mine from back in Oregon provided a breath of fresh air amidst the confusion. She and I are like-minded in many of our views of the world, so I wasn't surprised when her first question for me was, "I don't want to sound rude, but do you consider yourself a lesbian or bisexual?" Finally! Someone who had not automatically placed me on the lesbian end of the spectrum. I responded to her, "I'm so very glad you asked."

So here I am, sitting in my dorm room finishing up what was supposed to be a research paper, but actually turned out to be a recap of my life for the past three years. It's been quite the journey for me, and I'm so glad that I've finally made it to this point. I am the happiest I've been in a long while, and I have confidence in myself that I never knew I could possess. I'm still uneasy at times when I mention my sexual preference, or when people that I've known my entire life ask me that gut-wrenching question, "So... any new boys in your life?"

However, I know that by educating each individual that I come in contact with, that is one less person that is walking around assuming things about me that aren't true. At first, I was angry at all of these people because they didn't know or understand my sexuality. I won't lie, I'm still a little irritated, but I've tried to turn this anger into motivation. Motivation to educate. Motivation to accept myself as well as other people around me, and to illuminate an entirely different approach to looking at the world. I try to use simple terms and concepts that people understand when describing my sexuality. However, I always find myself resorting back to Allan's words, I just love everyone. And besides, who wants to cut out half the population anyway?

First, a gentle reminder: stay curious about the binary, babe.

Also YES, your anger is and was absolutely justified. It should not rest on the shoulders of marginalized folks to educate others about our experiences. Again, come find me when you're ready to talk more about boundaries and consent; they are incredibly important tools for highly sensitive people.

It also feels great to see you transmuting anger into motivation; these two emotions are undoubtedly linked. Thank you for re-mind-ing me. Here's another fun way I've learned to release anger before it settles into this body. Wanna try it sometime?

I'm proud of you, femme. We've made it to the end of this particular story together. It feels good to re-connect with you, to re-member this life through your words; thank you for leaving the key.

Did you know that I got to reconnect with many people mentioned in this story while re-writing it with you? The process felt incredibly healing and I am grateful for this. Your life is full and abundant, and many of these folks will stay connected with you in some way in the future.

We were born to love, babe. To connect. To share. To reflect. To heal.

Thank you for loving out loud, femme.

P.S. It feels important to leave this here right now: Little Love Notes. I created this recently for you and all of the younger selves that live within. It is my gift to you (and also YOU, dear reader). You have my permission to save it and come back to it from time to time. I'm editing as I get to know and understand you better.

When you're ready, will you meet me HERE?

Until then, I'll still be here, loving, witnessing, holding space for, and reflecting with, ALL of you.

By Tim Hüfner on Unsplash

Hello again, reader. Thank you for journeying into the portal with 21-year-old and current-day Dirt. Welcome back. My hope is that our conversation was a playful, honest, communicative, and loving one for you to witness. If you feel called after reading this story, I've created some questions for you to consider*:

  1. Have you checked in with younger versions of your (queer, if applicable) Self recently, on their terms?
  2. Do they have important information to share with you?
  3. Are you ready to listen to and receive this information?
  4. Is there a message that you need to communicate to your younger (queer, if applicable) Self?

Note to my Future Self: Will you re-member to respond to these questions as well? I know that neither of us has all of the answers, but maybe together we can figure it out.

Reader, if you feel comfy, I welcome your answers to any of the above here: SurRenDirt Instagram

You can answer by "following" and message me directly. At very least, I'd love to just share this moment of connection and re-membering with you, and bask in the wisdom of our truth(s).

At most, I'd love to share your responses in my stories and posts, only with your enthusiastic consent, of course! Eventually, I might use some content to add to the ebook I am creating, which is written in a similar format to the above conversation you just witnessed. I will not add any names or other identifying information unless given explicit permission from the person(s) who share it with me. Priority will be given to folks who are in my Patreon community. Click HERE to join.

Stay tuned for more pieces like this one!

*Though I have personally benefited from IFS (Internal Family Systems) therapy and much of my writing reflects this, I am not a licensed practitioner and these questions do not replace any formal therapeutic relationship.

By Steve Johnson on Unsplash


About the Creator

Sur Ren Dirt (she/they)

Write now I'm plaaaying with words.

And also, I need a little support:

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