The morning of Christmas Eve 2019 in NorCal started like any other: frosty, sparkly, and bulging with practical anticipation. But the way it ended messed with my mind pride in ways I didn’t think possible. Without fail, every Christmas Eve of my whole life consisted of the same things: nice clothes, hair-sprayed hair, and a calmness about the impending church service.  Cramming into as few cars as possible with aunts, uncles and grandparents, we drove the rainy or snowy roads to a large church and settled in. I was always happy to see people we knew, especially since we smelled great and looked put together.  We chose seats toward the…