

Eddie Renz shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Good morning Eddie, we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Recently I started mentoring high school students that are at Guyer High School in an incubator entrepreneur program. Me and a friend have been paired with three students to help them put together a business plan and present a product in a “Shark Tank” style competition. The program lasts for the entire school year and we have wonderful students to work with.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, my name is Eddie Renz, and I’ve always loved creating things that spark joy and excitement. My business, We Print This City, actually started right here in Denton, Texas. I was traveling one day and noticed how many cool city prints and posters were out there for places like New York, Chicago, and even Tokyo. Funny thing is, I had a Tokyo print hanging on my wall… but I had never even been to Japan!
That’s when I thought, why don’t we have something like this for Denton? I love this city, and I wanted something local, something that felt like home. So I started designing Denton posters, and people loved them. From there, I branched out into shirts, mugs, and other fun products, but the posters quickly became the fan favorite. That’s when I decided to double down, streamline the business, and focus on creating bold, modern city prints for places people love to call home.
Today, I’ve expanded beyond Denton to Waco, Dallas, and Fort Worth, but Denton will always be where it all began. At the heart of it, my goal is simple: to make art that celebrates the places people love most.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
When I was a kid, I didn’t dream about football; I wanted to be a rock star. I loved to sing, dance, and create. Music, poetry, art—anything creative drew me in. But the world around me kept nudging me toward football. I was always a big kid, and now, as an adult at 6’5” and 270 pounds, people still ask me, ‘So, did you play in college?’ The truth is, I played in high school, but it was never who I really was.
Instead, I followed the practical path. My parents encouraged me to get a business degree—something safe, something that would give me options. And while that was useful, deep down I knew I wanted to create. I just didn’t know how to turn creativity into a career.
Fast-forward to 2009. I was laid off from my business analyst role at Texas Instruments. That moment could have felt like a dead end, but for me it was the turning point. I took what had always been a side hobby, designing websites, and turned it into my first real business. I didn’t know everything about web design, but I knew I loved it. And that passion turned into a company that went on to earn three times what I was making in my corporate job.
That was the moment I stopped listening to the voices telling me to play it safe and started leaning into the creative person I always wanted to be.
When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I didn’t come out until I was 43 years old. Growing up in a very conservative household, I was taught from an early age that being gay was wrong. I believed it so deeply that I tried everything to change myself. I spent six years in group therapy. I earned a master’s degree in theology. I prayed, I studied, I begged God to make me different. I jumped through every hoop I thought might ‘fix’ me. But nothing ever changed—because there was nothing broken.
For decades, I carried the crushing weight of trying to be someone I wasn’t. It was exhausting. Every day felt like I was squeezing myself into a box that was too small, compartmentalizing parts of myself just to survive. My life was cramped, suffocating. And then, in March of 2019, I finally told the world who I was. I came out.
And my goodness—it changed everything.
Living authentically felt like stepping into sunlight after years in the shadows. What people don’t always understand about the closet is the cost: the constant hiding, the endless second-guessing, the fear that someone might discover the truth. It drains your soul. And whether you realize it or not, people can sense when you’re not being honest—with them or with yourself.
But the moment you stop hiding? That’s where freedom begins. It’s like unlocking a superpower. Suddenly, I could embrace the things I’d always loved—floral prints, bright colors, dancing, singing—and do them without shame. Before, I was terrified of giving even a hint of who I really was. Now, I live out loud.
Yes, coming out meant losing people who only loved the version of me they wanted to see. That was painful. But their absence made room for something far better: relationships with people who truly love me for me.
And that has made all the difference. I’ve never been happier. I’ve never been more myself. And if my story can encourage anyone else hiding in the shadows—it’s this: freedom is worth it. You are worth it.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
What my friends would say that really matters to me is that I care about others. I genuinely love people. I enjoy meeting new people and then helping them become the best version of themselves. I serve as the board secretary for Serve Denton, I’m on the board for the Renewal Center, which is a nonprofit located in Shanghai, and I am the HOA president in my community. I am also a mentor for high school students. And I like to support local charities with my time and money. But personal relationships are also deeply meaningful to me.
Relationships are an investment and I believe they always pay back what you put into them.
Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope that when I am gone people will say, “He loved others well.” I hope my funeral is filled with people whose lives I touched in a meaningful way. I want the people who exist around me to feel like the light of my presence was sun that allowed them to fully bloom in safe spaces. I hope people say, “I could be myself around Eddie without any fear of judgment.” And I hope they also say, “That Eddie was a really good cook!” I have a saying, “When my table is full, so is my heart.” Because I like to cook and feed the people I love.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.weprintthiscity.com
- Instagram: @weprintthiscity
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/eddie-renz/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/weprintthiscity
Image Credits
All images are my own.