On the Upper East Side of Manhattan, one month and two days after incumbent Bill Clinton put the keys to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue back in his pocket, identical twins were born.

I think I'm on the right...so he's on the left...probably. With our dad in the stripes on stripes in the back.

My brother, Andrew Jeremy Dillon and I were not at first specifically unique next to other sets of twins. We dressed in parallelism, walked as if with a reflection and took an interest in typically the same things to varying saturations; we were more or less ordinary bookends. It wasn’t until our sophomore year at a Christian high school in the Bronx that he stepped out of our mirror and told me, wearing dissimilar clothes from mine hanging beneath an anxious and hopeful face, that he was gay.

 Bro'laska, a YouTube show featuringAlaska ThunderF*ck

and her straight brother, Cory. (aka, Andy and me.)

I was not necessarily surprised to at last learn this, however I realized then that a lot of what had previously confused me about my brother suddenly made a lot of sense. His certain mannerisms, female video game character preference, Barbie doll and Nancy Drew story affinity, sympathies to marginalization and adjacency to female friends and family all became different colored crayons in the drawing of our lives as twins. This crayon, which had rolled under our navy blue living room couch was now within my growing 15-year-old arms’ reach — and I began to draw. While I nervously and likely often stupidly found out how to treat him, now carrying this hot pink distinction, I often failed to recognize him as what he has been since the "Comeback Kid" held the highest office -- identical to me.

  Andy (left), our mom (center), and me (right).

Statistically, identical twins often have the same sexual orientation. Beating the odds (and one of our faces with makeup), Andy and I are in whatever that small percentage of twins is that differ there. In fact, we’re opposite poles when it comes to sexuality — he is a drag queen and I can’t walk half a runway in heels (…yet). Andy steals the stage what seems like every other night as Alana Coke. She lip syncs for her life, dances with a lush finesse, and does not rupaulogize for it.

 Andy (left); Alana Coke (right).

I’ve gotten questions about this since its beginning. Isn’t it odd being his twin? Does this mean that he’s your sister now? Doesn’t it confuse you since you’re straight?

Don’t you think it’s weird?

No. I don’t think it’s weird. Him being true to himself is not weird.

If he weren’t his full (sickening) self I would have never watched seven seasons of "RuPaul’s Drag Race," glued to the navy blue living room couch waiting for Latrice Royale to tell some b*tch to “EAT IT!”

I wouldn’t have found myself on the corner of Christopher St. and Gay St. every summer waiting to see Alyssa Edwards (or maybe if we’re lucky Adore Delano). I wouldn’t have been able to hold one high heel and let him lean on me while he gets the other on correctly right after we got off the downtown 1 train before trekking through the crowds.

I would be lying if I said that I expected him to become a drag queen.However, just because our mirror image now has a wig and press-ons on one side I would never trade his lipstick framed smile for a reserved, confined and drag-less frown.

Teflon Bill may have ended his tenure in the White House (at least as President) but during the three administrations that Andy and I have witnessed so far, we watched not only scandals, two of the biggest financial meltdowns ever and the politics of war and terror—we watched gay marriage gain validation through the voice of federal law. Here are some of my pictures of Governor Andrew Cuomo, Mayor Bill de Blasio and Senator Chuck Schumer:

And here she is, Miss Alana Coke. Twice the man you’ll ever be and twice the woman you’re ever gonna get.