History, Culture & Community Storytelling Through a Black Latinx Queer Lens
I forgive myself.
I forgive that child that didn’t know he just wanted his momma to say she loved him at 10.
I forgive that child for not knowing it wasn’t his fault his daddy–who was drug dealer to the hood–didn’t know how to love his queer child.
I forgive that child that just wanted to watch MASH with his grandma and go to Lubys for that classic Lu’ann platter but decided to play with the boys outside and be the only one having to dodge the ball.
I forgive myself for thinking that loving him more than I love myself would make him stay.
I forgive myself for not going home when I know I should have.
I forgive myself for being too hard up when he just asked me to open.
I forgive myself for not loving me enough on those cold winter nights when my own thoughts told me “I don’t matter,” I forgive myself for thinking drugs felt better than human love, I forgive myself for When I thought I didn’t deserve intimacy, just deserved to be empty.
I forgive myself.
I forgive my future self for the mistakes that I will make to that person that decides to love me.
I forgive my future self for still processing that I am HIV positive but my diagnosis doesn’t define me.
I forgive my future self for not knowing when to just listen and not react.
I forgive my future self for not really telling my friends why I’m crying.
I forgive my future self for not realizing I am magic, and that I am going to make my ancestors proud!
Ryan West @inthegardenofryan (They/Them) Gran Varones Fellow Austin, Texas
I wasn’t around when AIDS was known as GRID (gay related immunodeficiency). I wasn’t around when hospitals were stacked with sick and dying bodies because no one knew what to do. When the president at the time chose to ignore how this epidemic was effecting a particular demographic of this country.
I live in a time where PrEP and PEP make HIV not a big deal. Where random hookups are okay and my sexuality and identity as a gay man can fly freely. Where I am not tending to a dying loved one with lesions all over their body.
We are liable to forget this history because of our privilege. Today is not just a day to promote HIV testing and “remember” the ones who have died. Today is a day to remember that people were here and gone too soon. That people fought even when they were too weak to live. That the gay community was left to die and that people (gay and straight) fought back.
Today we remember those that have passed and we recognize them and the fact that their stories ended before they ever got a chance to start. We remember those who fought for the right to give us a fighting chance. We celebrate that we did not let them put us back in a closet. We appreciate the medical advancements and the lives it has saved. And we work so that we don’t ever have this kind of loss again.
To my generation and the generations to follow, please do not forget. This is a part of our rich and powerful history.
So I had been having trouble with adrence and I was like maybe I should start this new page on World AIDS Day as a little campaign to remember to take my meds. And that where the handle @takemymeds came from.
Before, if I forgot to take my meds, I wouldn’t know if I forgot. I would have ot dump out my whole bottle of pills and count them. So the page serves as a reminder for me to take my meds.
That was it’s purpose but then after however long, people would send me messages like, “Oh my god, you reminded me to take my pills. “ Or they will send an image through instagram messenger of them taking their pills. Like from all over the world! I love it so much.
The pictures of me was a way to connect with people with the same experience. I didn’t really announce or “promote” the page. I just used a whole bunch of hashtags. So anyone who found the page found it because they wanted to. They were searching for something.
There is community of folks that are looking for that. So its been great and I have to be tranpsrent as possible ont that page. Some days, I forget to take my meds and if I do that, I have to tell folks that and I say, “This what you can do to take your meds. Put it in a keychain or have a pill box. Or find a way to add it to your routine like brushing your teeth in the morning or at night or whatever.
It also serves as a platform for me to release other forms of art that I have been doing through that instagram page. I would be able to show my followers different art pieces that deal with self-expression. Like decorating my medicine bottles so that they look super fierce and make me want ot take my medication everyday. Or usuing old expired meds and replacing the numbers and letters on them with my initals because I am not the number of the pharmaceutical companies I take every day, I am me.
So I do things that med adherence visually appealing for me and the followers too.
Carlos, He/Him/His
Los Angeles, CA
happy two year anniversary to the @takemymeds instagram page!
interviewed & photographed by: louie a. ortiz-fonseca
How Afro-Latinx Queer Non-Binary Artist is taking control of their Musical Destiny
The musical landscape has changed drastically since my days of buying cassette tapes and consuming music via BET’s Video Soul. Lawd, I still miss me some Donnie Simpson and Sherry Carter!
We now exist and thankfully so, during a period when artists can create art on their own terms and share it with their fan base and the world on their own terms. This has been the journey of Kareem. The Lancaster, Pennsylvania based Afro-Latinx Queer Non-Binary singer, songwriter, and producer, Kareem, who uses They/Them pronouns, is taking full advantage of how we consume music in 2018 while pushing the envelope of what is represented in music.
I met up with the magical Kareem a few weeks ago to talk about their journey, their healing and their new album, “Silhouette of a Black Queer.”
Louie: So when did you get the inkling that you could sing?
Kareem: I started singing when I was five and actually it was discovered by my aunt. She was a singer as well and I look up to her so much. She is a gospel singer. I grew up in the church and that is where I got my singing chops. One day in church, I was singing and mimicking her, just making fun of her and how she sang. I didn’t know that she was behind me. So I turned around and she was like, “What are you doing?” I thought I was in trouble but she took me to the youth pastor had me sing for him. That’s when I realized I had a gift.
Louie: Did that experience give you confidence?
Kareem: I was always very uncomfortable with it because I didn’t know what it was given to me for. Because I was very uncomfortable in my own skin, I was bullied a lot. I was told that I was ugly. I was told many things about myself. I had a low self-esteem. I was very depressed. I didn’t look at myself as worth anything or with any talent. It wasn’t until I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, who would say some nasty shit to me like “Kill yourself.”, that I really began to search for what I really wanted for myself and music was a way to cope with a lot of the feelings I was dealing with. I channeled all of it into music.
Louie: So your first EP, “Zesty: The EP” was released just a little over a year ago, 13 months to be exact, what was that like for you?
Kareem: I did the whole project on my iPhone 6. I didn’t have the resources so I was just like I am gonna utilize what I have and make something and it turned out to be better than what I expected. With this project, I talked about what it’s like to be an Afro-Boricua, non-binary. I talk about sexual assault. I talk about sexual liberation. I talk about stuff that is very important to me. A lot of the times when I was growing up, I was locked in this fuckin’ box and I had to conform t everybody else’s standard of what they wanted me to be. And I dealt with that in very unhealthy ways. But looking back, I see my growth. I appreciate who I am as a person. It has made me fall in love with my community more and more and has made we want to be more active and be somebody that can reach out and pull somebody out of that space.
Louie: Falling in love with ourselves can help to save our lives sometimes.
Kareem: I look in the mirror and I am very comfortable in my skin now. I will throw on a full lace front and pump out in public! I would have never imagined at 16 that I would be out here with full bundles! It feels great to out and actually be myself. I get looks and I don’t give a fuck. If you have a problem, I am right here! Come say something to me!
Louie: What has been the toughest part of your musical journey?
Kareem: I was in talks with Atlantic Records, that fell through because they tried to have too much control over me as an artist and they were trying to make me do things that were out of my morality and wanted me to stop doing the type of music that I wanted to do. We could not reach a middle a ground so they just x’ed it out and I was devastated because I thought that we could make something work.
Louie: Fun fact, I have a similar experience. Almost got signed to one of the largest Dance Music labels and walked away when they wanted me to be something I wasn’t. I’ll do a twitter thread about it one day. But that was in 1997 and back then, the thought of creating music on a phone seemed like science fiction. That’s why I love artists like yourself. You are manifesting your own destiny and that is fuckin’ inspiring.
Kareem: That makes me feel very good because I never saw myself being like this at all or doing anything like this. Having people rooting for me, I don’t take that for granted at all. It makes me feel good because I wanted to make music that was authentic, that expressed what I have experienced, what Black queer and trans people go through. I know what it’s like growing up and not seeing myself.
Louie: Is that what inspired the title of the album?
Kareem: It’s called “Silhouette of a Black Queer.” Knowing that there’s not enough representation but I also know that my experience may not be exactly like everyone else’s. We may have similarities. Two of the big things we have are, Blackness and we also have our queerness. So that why I call it Silhouette of a Black Queer. I came up with while I was at the club. I took a picture and I was like “what do I wanna caption this?” and it just came to me.
One of my favorite tracks on the album is a song called “Nasty Queer.” It is everything! I love it because I have never been free to able to talk like that. I did wonder, “What are my parents gonna think when they hear this shit?” But I gotta not worry about what people are gonna think and I gotta have fun.
Louie: If I was a recording artist my sound and visual would so be like Janet Jackson. That is because as a kid, she was the epitome of the perfect Popstar. Who was your “Janet” growing up?
Kareem: Beyoncé! But I get a lot of influences from Black women because they are the ones that I listened to when I was going through all my bullshit in high school and they grace me all my courage and they have been the ones to always root for me and I appreciate that so much. Black women have always been at the forefront of my success. My sister and my cousins have helped me to get to this point and I am always going to elevate and support them. Black women!
Louie: Is Beyoncé to you what Mariah is to me?
Kareem: Yes but I also gravitate toward different artists. There’s Phylis Hyman, Aretha Franklin, Patti LaBelle, Gladys Knight, Mariah Carey, Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, There are so many artists that I listened to, that I grew up on. Their music has stood the test o time and now I’m trying to pull from their sound – give me some of this, give me some of that and make it my own. And you hear those influences throughout the album.
Louie: I am so excited for you and excited to listen to the album.
Kareem: I am really happy about this project because it has taken many months and setbacks. I wrote every single song. I produced 80% of the album myself. The backing track of “Sprung” is produced by my 13-year-old Puerto Rican cousin who lives in New York. I remember going to visit him and he was like “let me play you some of my stuff” and I was like, “Oh shit! What the fuck!” I was like in a trance, I was like I need this, hand it over! I love seeing young people doing artistic stuff. Because for me, I suppressed a lot of that stuff because of my issues. If I knew that this could be an outlet earlier on in the game, I know I would have been further along. But I am good and getting to where I need to be. This is a good body of work. it covers a lot of things I advocate for and things that I am going through.
I feel like people are seeing a growth of me from the beginning of my career until now. I am actually very relaxed about releasing this album. I don’t have anything to critique about this. It’s perfect as it is.
“Silhouette of a Black Queer” is available on all music streaming sites.
Interviewed and Photographed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca
Today is World AIDS Day. Today I am alive. Today I still fight.
I went to the edge and made it back because I’m lucky. Because I had family and friends that gave me the time and space to grow strong. To learn and to become motivated. I was wayward before diagnoses. I was an addict and a victim of intimate partner violence. AIDS was the fire that sparked my engine.
However, my story is not in any way like other survivors’. Not everyone lives to tell about their two week stay at a hospital and their 20 TCell count. Not everyone is afforded the luxury of a support system that will not allow them to become stigmatized because the general population and mass media are too lazy and scared to educate themselves and others.
AIDS is still a very real thing. I want you to remember that. Queer Latinx people often pass away withing the first year of diagnoses because we waited too long before getting tested. Because homphobia won’t allow us to talk about our sex. Because transphobia makes us targets of systemic and interpersonal violence. Because racism puts us at a level of disadvantage that prevents us from seeking medical attention.
I want you to remember all this.
Today is World AIDS Day. Today we are alive. Today we must still fight.
on this world AIDS day, we lift up and pay homage to the gran varones who have passed and we stand in loving solidarity with all the gran varones who continue to live & thrive.
check out a clip of ricardo’s story. he is one of the gran varones featured in the full length documentary. here he reminds us and the community that the truth can sting at first but then it heals.
In 1989 in response to the worsening AIDS crisis and coinciding with the World Health Organization’s second annual World AIDS Day on December 1, Visual AIDS organized the first Day Without Art. A Visual AIDS committee of art workers (curators, writers, and art professionals) sent out a call for “mourning and action in response to the AIDS crisis” that would celebrate the lives and achievements of lost colleagues and friends; encourage caring for all people with AIDS; HIV education; and finding a cure. More than 800 arts organizations, museums and galleries throughout the U.S. participated by shrouding artworks and replacing them with information about HIV and safer sex, locking their doors or dimming their lights, and producing exhibitions, programs, readings, memorials, rituals, and performances.
In 1997, it was suggested Day Without Art become a Day With Art, to recognize and promote increased programming of cultural events that draw attention to the continuing pandemic. Though “the name was retained as a metaphor for the chilling possibility of a future day without art or artists.
The AIDS crisis in the 80’s and 90’s STOLE so many brilliant minds, hearts and spirits from our communities.
i discovered poetry when i was about 15 going on 16. i was a good kid. i’ve always liked books but i was really bashful. i was super shy. i was dealing with the fact that i was growing up in this neighborhood. no one really understands me. i’m growing up in extreme poverty. coming to terms that i’m queer. i’m coming to terms that i am undocumented. so it just feels like, “damn, can you throw something else?”
i was always told that being feminine was bad. for me, being feminine was in everything that i do. it was even in how i spoke. it’s in my vocal cords. you can hear it. it not like i can hide it.
i remember that it was the other boys constantly policing me and saying, “you’re a fag cuz you talk like that” or “why do you wanna be a girl?” we would play video games and i would always pick chung lee or sonya or kitana. i was like, “yaaasss!” but it was something innate. it wasn’t something that i could hide.
even in our community as gay people, feminine people are viewed as something that is not desirable. for the longest time, i was like, in order for a guy to like me, i had to act a certain way, dress a certain way. but that’s not me. i’m a nerdy bitch.
i’m taking ownership of that femininity and being like, “yo, this is how i am.” if me being feminine intimidates you, there’s nothing i can do. i’m not going to change.
these are the common social pressures that we all face but nobody’s admitting it publicly. even the most butchest person probably feels like, “i have to perform this masculinity in order be desirable.” i don’t want to replicate that in my own community. i should be allowed to express myself the way i want to and not feel like, ya know, i’m gonna kiss dick just because i like kitana.
Catiria Reyes, widely known as Lady Catiria, was a Puerto Rican trans woman born in Bayamón, Puerto Rico. Like many young queer and transgender boricuas, Lady Catiria grew up idolizing the beloved, campy but glamorous Puerto Rican entertainer Iris Chacón. Known as “La Bomba de Puerto”, Chacón’s flamboyant, revealing outfits, coupled with elaborate and sleekly choreographed performances, made her a sensation across Latin America in the 1970s.
Chacón’s unapologetically sultry performance style became the template for a 19-year-old Lady Catiria when she began her performance career.
By the mid-1980s, Lady Catiria was captivating audiences at La Escuelita. Located in midtown Manhattan, La Escuelita was also one of the very few clubs where Latinx drag performers had an opportunity to shine and be celebrated.
This environment would not only prove successful for the club, but it would make Lady Catiria. Much like her idol Iris Chacón, Lady Catiria’s performances were part exhibition, part pageantry. It was this combination, along with her ability to dance and perform the hell out of a song, that struck a chord with the queer and transgender Latinx who saw her as their very own Iris Chacón. She was undoubtedly the queen of La Escuelita.
Lady Catiria entered the 1990s with her sights on competing and claiming a title on the national pageant circuit. It wasn’t long before she was crowned Miss Continental Plus in 1993. Determined to compete and win the coveted pageant title of Miss Continental, Lady Catiria’s preparation for this journey required both physical and financial sacrifices. Lady Catiria would lose 30 pounds and spend upwards of $20,000 to bring her vision of being crowned Miss Continental to fruition.
Lady Catiria would go on to compete and be crowned the 1995 Miss Continental. It was a historic win, as she was the first person to win both the Miss Continental Plus and Miss Continental pageant titles. The woman who dazzled audiences at La Escuelita was now traveling around the country and leaving audiences in complete awe with her performances. She even landed a cameo in the 1995 film To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar.
Although Lady Catiria was managing a rigorous schedule of appearances around the country during her reign as Miss Continental, she struggled with the societally imposed shame that many people living with HIV experience. She would courageously share her struggle as a trans woman living with HIV as part of her farewell performance at the 1996 Miss Continental Pageant.
On that night and on that stage, while garbed in a beautiful black dress with an AIDS ribbon in sparkling rhinestones as the collar, Lady Catiria solidified her place in queer and AIDS history. She used her platform, decades before it was a celebrated thing to do, not only to share her story but to defiantly declare that farewells can be rooted in love and vulnerability, not shame and stigma.
Over the next few years, Lady Catiria continued to perform, using her platform to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. In February 1999, she received a moving farewell tribute from La Escuelita, the place she helped to make into a utopia for Latinx transgender and queer people. Lady Catiria was unable to attend the event due to health complications, but she was able to phone in and thank the community for making her their queen.
Lady Catiria died from AIDS complications on May 3, 1999. She was 40 years old.
original written for and published in December 2019 for the body. Special thanks to Mathew Rodriguez for their support with this piece.
pioneering and creating history is never easy. it is often only celebrated when revisited decades later and/or in remembrance of someone we lost. as a community, we sometimes struggle to give all of the roses to the icons who exist in plain site. that will not happen on this holy and joyous day! because today, we celebrate the 70th birthday of the The High Priestess of Love, The Queen of the Shameless Plug, The Empress of Pride, The Goddess of DC, The iconic, the legendary, rayceen pendarvis!
you may be wondering why so many titles and monikers - well when you have been part of the development of the historic house of pendarvis, an aids activist and community leader amplifying black queer art in washington, d.c. for almost four decades- and of yeah, when you are as loving and fabulous as rayceen, you are introduced in only the most iconic ways!
born and raised in the nation’s capital, rayceen was one of the founding members of the dc chapter of the house of pendarvis which became a place of solace and refuge for black trans and queer young people during the height of the aids epidemic.
long before “influencer” became a word in our everyday lexicon, people were drawn to and inspired by rayceen’s spirit and energy. in 1991, rayceen was invited to host the inaugural dc black pride. the event in now one of the largest black prides in the country.
rayceen, with the love and support of iconic mother avis pendarvis, became one of dc’s most sought after commentator, moderator, host and emcee. expertise that rayceen continues to leverage to create space and opportunities for black & brown trans & queer artists in dc.
rayceen pendarvis has received numerous honors, among them being recognized as a captial pride hero in 2016 and being a finalist in the mayor’s arts awards for excellence in the humanities in 2017. rayceen is the host of the monthly live event “the ask rayceen show,” where audiences are provided live performances, art and opportunities to network and build community.
today, we celebrate rayceen pendarvis and express our deep gratitude for the work, love and joy rayceen has so generously provided generations of black queer& trans people in washington, d.c. and beyond.
psa. if we’re mutuals, we’re automatically friends. u don’t need to say things like “sorry to bother” or “sorry im annoying” bc ur not. ur my friend. u can come to me for anything. u need help? im here. wanna chat? hmu. just wanna gush abt your muse? go for it. we’re friends. ily.