GV: tell us about you.
LUIS:“my name is jose luis cortes and i am an artist. i was born here even though i wasn’t raised here, i identify with the puerto rican community here. i am proud to be from philly.”
GV: how is being a gay latino in puerto rico different from being a gay latino in philadelphia or new York.
LUIS: being in puerto rico is great because everyone is puerto rican. but being gay in a big city is different because people are more accepting, more nonchalant and relaxed about it. in puerto rico i have some hang-ups. maybe it’s just me. you know, when you here straight being say “maricón” and you’re like “but why is that?” the language, the culture is so deep to say “maricón.” so i try not to take it personally sometimes.
the first gay pride in puerto rico was, i think ten years ago. some people marched with masks on. now the gay pride is so huge and they have two gay prides, one inside the island that’s even bigger than the one in san juan.
GV: how has your art impacted your life?
LUIS: greatly. the thing is it’s kept me alive. it gives me a sense of drive. very strong. very important.
THE GRAN VARONES
The Gran Varones is a storytelling project that uses video and photography for Latino Gay and Latino Queer* men. Inspired by Willie Colon’s groundbreaking song “El Gran Varòn,” this project shines a light on what being “out” and “proud” means to us.More you might like
when we started to the gran varones project, we never imagined that the outcome would be a documentary film. in the winter of 2013, with a no money, a few iphones, a flip cam and a shoddy microphone, we began interviewing gay latino men from north philadelphia for a portrait photography project. our goal was to raise the voices of gay latino men in philadelphia telling our stories, the stories that often times get left out of the lgbtq narrative.
in just a few months, we quickly amassed about 20 hours of film. we knew we had to do something with the footage so we decided to download an editing program, and learned how to use it as we edited the footage. The final product is a 55 minute documentary of latino gay men courageously sharing their stories and experiences.
the “our legacy is alive” documentary is a reminder that we must tell our stories. the stonewall movie is a sobering truth that if we do not tell and share our stories, no one will. we hope that you are inspired by the film to share yours . we hope that this film serves as proof that our stories can heal and brief life in our communities right here, right now. our legacy is alive.
project coordinators:
louie a. ortiz-fonseca
anthony leon
sean laughlin
this film and project are dedicated to the courageous varones who have so generously shared their stories in effort to raise our voices.
special thanks: gloria casarez, brent morales, charlotte sahadeo, erika amiròn niz, nikki lopez, elicia gonzales, jaymie campbell, kira manser, samantha dato, raices culturales latinoamericanas, concilio taller puertorriqueño and everyone who has supported the making of this film and project.
“As a Latino, you are taught that blood is thicker than water and to always be there for your family no matter what. When I came out they accepted me for who I was. That doesn’t happen too often in the gay community. Seeing the stigma on gays in society, my family still embraced me with open arms, I am lucky. My close friends are also my family. Growing up in North Philly, you learn the value of loyalty. So when you come across friends with that, you hold onto them.”
Ed Colòn, North Philadelphia
click link in title to read an interview with gran varones creator.
Interview with Louie A. Ortíz, director of the film “The Gran Varones” a storytelling project documenting the stories of gay and queer-identifying Boricua and Latino men.Chequéalo →
in 1997, i found myself
at my first philly pride event when a tall handsome and bearded white
man approached me with a pen and clipboard. i remember rolling my eyes; i didn’t
want to sign another petition for some cause that did not directly impact my
life as teen. i was polite though and entertained him by letting him give me
his spiel about gay marriage, which is what it was called in the 90’s. when he
was done, i immediately responded with, “well, i don’t believe in
marriage”. he didn’t flinch. he nodded his head and replied, “well do
you believe in choice?” i paused then signed the petition. of course i
believe in choice, i did then i do now. it was that one interaction however
that would challenge me to explore my thoughts and beliefs about marriage. it
was that moment, with that handsome, bearded white man i asked myself, were my
beliefs independently mine or those influenced by systematic homophobia?
growing up no one ever directly told me i would never be “allowed” to get married. i assumed by just existing and breathing that the kind of love i dreamt about could only be expressed through sharing monthly utility bills and other such grown up type responsibilities. i unconsciously surrendered to that notion. loving myself and loving another brown man was political enough for me and my mother, who up until her last breath, taught me, told me and reminded me that my kind of love always mattered. so marriage was not something i reached for.
twenty years later, on june 26th, 2015, the supreme court of the united states of america ruled that i now have the right to marry. this is a historically huge step forward for the community i have identified with since childhood. this is worth celebrating and we should, i will, i am. young queer kids can now grow up dreaming of expressing their love and commitment to other queers the same way my straight peers can. no longer will law stop this life altering expression of love. this ruling will serve as yet another reminder of our existence in this society. how we love and who we love matters because we are citizens of this country and deserve equal rights.
as i celebrate this historic ruling, and I DO because it now provides my son an other youth with new possibilities of what love can do. however, i caution myself with the words of gran varòn orlando gonzalez, “… if we have money to paint rainbows on cross walks, then we can certainly find money to house queer youth who sleep on those crosswalks.” i would add, “the will”, to house all the black and brown queer youth who sleep on those crosswalks. the mainstream lgbtq civil rights community must do more with regards to lgbtq communities who continue to be crushed by systematic oppression. some of us do not have the luxury of celebrating this historic moment because they are being held in immigrant detention centers. some of us are not celebrating because we’re worrying about we’re to sleep on the night of such a monumental decision by the supreme court of the united states of america; and some of us will never be welcomed to celebratory parties because of the shade of their skin and/or their gender expression.
all those who worked so tirelessly for a chance at being recognized by our government through the institution of marriage must now prove black lives matter, trans lives matter, poz lives matter, all lgbtq lives matter.
we have not reached the end of the rainbow, not yet, but it still shines, stands and glimmers with hope.
louie a. ortiz-fonseca
“joining the military changed my life. i was accepted and never experienced any kind of bias from my friends. the only hard part about the military was that i was away from my family. i missed them so much and some days were harder than others. but all in all, the experience made me a better and more confident man.” - Jimmy #GranVarones
GV: why do you think it’s important to have lgbtq nights in north phily?
Orlando: because our community is expanding and it’s so much more accepted now. It shouldn’t have to be “accepted,” it should just be.
GV: do you think there is a gay latino community in philly?
Orlando: oh yes. it is actually larger than it’s ever been. it needs a little guidance, much like everything else but it looks like it is going to be strong. I see in the streets, bars, super markets and laundromats. I see it everywhere.
gran varones creator, louie a. ortiz-fonseca reminds us that our silence will NOT protect us and that queer latin@s will NOT be shamed back into closets.
What was it like coming out as a Latino in a city that often times doesn’t make room for us?
Well it was kinda difficult because the way my parents were raised and we lived in a neighborhood where it wasn’t OK to be gay. My dad had me in sports all my life and I played football up until the time of high school. My father always put in my head one day “You’re gonna move out, get married, have a wife and you are gonna start your own family. When I told my parents of my interest in men, they didn’t take it well and I went through a lot of crap to explain to them this was who I am and it wasn’t going to change. A lot of my friends didn’t except me and whenever I tried to join a game they would think I only wanted to play to get closer to them or try and touch them somehow. Eventually I had to make new friends throughout my high school years because I had to fight back so much from all the bullying. That’s when I came out and started a new chapter in my life.
Back then, I didn’t know too many Latinos because by that time we were living in Northeast Philly . I didn’t even know Spanish ‘cause I was hardly around it. I heard about this place called The Attic in the gayborhood. And for a whole year, almost every night I shot downtown after school, trying to find a group for me to fit in. There were never too many Latinos around and if I saw one, it was rare. The groups were It was mostly split between black and white. I always felt like I had to choose between the two and it was hard because my neighborhood was so diverse and I could get along with anyone. I jumped into the vogue scene for a bit, but never found a real warm welcome with that community. I guess you could say I felt the “shade” towards me and for no reason at all honestly. And I chilled with the rich white folks and always felt like I was like at like a “minority” to them. No one ever showed me real kindness or explained to me what it was like to come out, to feel accepted. I felt like I had no one to relate to. I knew I lost all my straight friends and that maybe I was fucking crazy for jumping into this lifestyle. In that whole year my experience in the gay community was very negative and it’s probably the reason to this day why I choose not to get involved much with the gay community. Luckily in that year God had also mended the relationship I had with my family over my sexual orientation. I eventually ended up staying local in my neighborhood in North Philly and met a Latino guy named Jose who grew up in the same neighborhood as my family. Finally, I met someone I felt like I could fit in with, who explained to me their struggles coming out and how they dealt with it and who was also Latino. Someone was there to explain things to me that I didn’t quite understand. I finally felt like I made a friend, and coming out.
Angel Perez
interviewed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca