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.
“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.”
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.
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 →
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.
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.
“faggot”, he said as he walks past me. he followed up with, “he’s just so gay.” then he was gone.
i looked back with my mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. I was
walking in the LGBT neighborhood of philly (the part we lovingly call
“gayborhood”).
this was a few weeks ago and it was easy to brush
off when it happened. However as i’ve had more time to think about it i
can’t shake it. i’ve come to the conclusion that i should not just
“shake it off”.
it’s okay to be
angry. i feel right to be angry and i believe i would be doing myself
and all of my comrades in the struggle against oppression a disservice
by not appreciating this anger. i don’t wish this man any harm but i do
wish for a continued push against oppressive systems and the complacency
that allows for them to exist. i’ve had worse said to me. i’ve
experienced more intense oppression than this incident but it is not
right for me to blow this off simply because it gets drowned out by all
the other injustice in the world.
the justice sought after for
the LGBT community started with a riot. a rebellion led by a riot. the
pressure of oppression found a limit and things changed.“
this coming friday, june 6, we will be screening our documentary as part of pittsburgh’s first latino lgbtq pride event! if you are in the neighborhood, please join us! also, for more info on this event, please visit cafe con leche
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.
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.
