who am i here for?
for varones!
all of them.

the ones on the way wide
surviving life marginalized
the ones who celebrate their GEDs
and the ones hanging up PHDs
who stay giving me the side eye.
i am here for them too.

i am here for the ones
living with HIV
and beautifully thriving
i am here for the ones
who stay stigmatizing
but even don’t know it.
i am here for all of them.

i am here for the ones
who can read
and the ones who read.
i am here for the ones that heal
and the ones that continue to make us bleed
gawd dammit, i am here for them too.

the ones who are undocumented
and go on unaccounted for in pride parades
the ones who are not afraid to parade
up and down hood streets daring
and threatening to beat
any muthafucker who tries it
i am here for them.

i am here for the ones
who only speak and dream in spanish
and those who have not mastered the language
but still understand it.
the ones who can’t roll an “R”
but can the roll the hell
out a blunt,
i am here for them too.

who am i here for?
varones!
all of them.

i am here for the ones
who raise their fists
as an act of resistance
and the ones who use
their public assistance
to feed more just their kids,
more than just themselves
i am here for them.

the ones that come in peace
and that are in pieces of rage
the ones that have been taught
to deny pleasure and desire
and so they sex shame
i am here for the ones
who get to workin’ by posting
their pretty asses on backpage
i am here for all them.

i am here for the ones
who under and over achieve
the ones who are so willing to love
with their hearts on their sleeves
i am here for tending to battle scars
who stand on constant guard
because life as a varon has made them hard,
i am here for them.

the ones who are at close proximity
to war and grief,
the ones who are standing in possibility  
and the ones who can’t make believe
to believe in the make believe
because dreams were not made for all us.
i am here for them
because gawd dammit,
they have been there for me.

No one spoke of the beautiful boys
But you did while others kindly whispered
Ugly words that made me shiver
And unkindly delivered my esteem hung on a branch.
I grew deaf to beautiful words
Because I believed that they were lies
The lids on my eyes remained closed
Because I wanted no one to know
Just how often I wanted to die.

No one ever speaks of the beautiful boys,
Ones that move as fancy unfolds
And a graceful stroll
On blood stained concrete,
The boys that made flowers grow
Even in December.
But you remembered our beautiful traits
When the beautiful world just couldn’t wait
To label us the “the tainted ones”
Who painted suns
On bedroom walls to light the nights
When our beautiful bodies were used
For a monster’s delight.
No one teaches beautiful boys
How to fight,
So we never spoke of molestation
But you did.
You looked me in my beautiful eyes and stayed
And said “I believe you. We will be okay”
Reminded me that other boys who understand
The violation of human hands.

I used to let these secrets mold the man
That got scared whenever the lights were dimmed
I smoked the beautiful green earth to forget about him
But you knew and you exhaled
You knew in detail the rhythmic dance
Of feeling ugly, dumb and fat
But you held my body and not for pleasure
And I felt the beauty of peace forever,
You made it better
Because you cried when I cried
The monster beneath my bed finally died
You took my beautiful hands
And we walked across the beautiful sky
Of mercy bound
And our feet never touched the ground
We floated and I noted the clouds we touched
As we roamed
I didn’t realize just how close I was to home
And the beautiful sights I could behold
No one told the beautiful boys that they were
But you did.
You still do.
You still say “I believe you.”
I know of beautiful truths
And beautiful boys because of you
You are the proof because you give
A space and place where the beautiful boy
Can go to live
And we thank you.

a few days ago, i posted this picture. the response i have received has not just been amazingly supportive but it has helped make the little boy inside of me who still struggles with his body in the dark, feel heard.

since then, i have received tons of messages from other men sharing their stories and experiences with sexual abuse. words cannot described how humbled i am that strangers from all over trusted me enough to share something that, for some, requires every bit of courage our bodies can conjure up.

this poem is for us. for those of us who told. and for those of us who didn’t. i believe you.

(A poem for Latino Heritage Month)

I wonder what it was like
when my ancestors prayed:
amid the chorus
of the misty rainforest
to the lonely god
on the cloudy mountain peak.
I wonder what it was like
on the sands of the beach
where they prayed to the sea:
its waves coming and going endlessly-
the same waves
breaking against my stomach
as I wade into the
sea of time
filling my palms with salty water
murmuring mantras
an offering for the Sun
an offering for the sages and
an offering for those same ancestors who
stood where I stand,
swam where I swim.
I let the water
seep through my hands
time flows like water
a current like
the warm blood flowing in me
carrying the spirits of countless mothers and fathers |

My family feels as if
I have turned my back on my history
trading as it were
the church for the mandir,
Spanish for Sanskrit.
but I know my ancestors
reject neither the water I offer
nor the rice I feed them.
my blood is their blood,
the sea their god and mine also ||

_______________________________________________________________________

Yagnaram Ramanuja Dasan is a queer, Latino Hindu blogger. He studies at Temple University, where he is earning a BA in Religion. He is also in the process of becoming a Hindu priest. He is the founder of LGBT Hindu Satsang, an affirming worship space for LGBT-identified Hindus. He blogs at his personal website, Jnana-dipena.

Raised in a Roman Catholic household, he later converted to Hinduism in high school after reading the Bhagavad Gita for the first time and finding an immense amount of spiritual fulfillment in it. Due to his religious conversion and coming out as queer, he has felt at odds at times with members of his own family. He struggled to find a place where he truly belonged, never really seeing himself represented anywhere. Through writing, traveling, networking, and finding his voice, he has managed to build a family of his own that celebrates all the various parts of his identity.

When he is not in school or doing work with the Satsang, you can catch him taking photos, going on meditation walks, or making a batch of tostones.

You can follow Yagna here:
on his blog: jnanadipena.wordpress.com
on Twitter: @YRD108
on FB: facebook.com/YRD108
on Tumblr: yrd108.tumblr.com

They waited for rain at night
And watched for the beauty
Of colors to strike
Because the hike from rock under
To knee deep in wonder
Can be a mutha fucker.
But they climbed
The more society’s time
Tried to melt them into the past
Hoping they’d grow mute, dumb and blind
Their shine was sublime and magnificent
Evident of all the praise, magic and glory
Because the children of the rainbow
Those that color now, tomorrow
And the ones who colored before me.
I can breathe life to countless stories
Of those who challenged
Governments bigger than satan
Refused to live a life full of grays
And stay complacent
They had peripheral vision
Not afraid of facing
Trials and tribulations
That stood adjacent
They carved a space in Stonewall
So that now the stones still fall.

We now stand in the streets
Cops threaten to beat
And burn the soles of our feet
I call Sylvia Rivera
Lead us to the revolution again
And guide us to the brink
Teach us to rethink all that we think we know
Help us find the strength
That we have so frivolously spent
Trying not show that all that we are in our totality
This ain’t no formability
But our single human right
To fight and guide the quality of life
Set and rest, colored and re-colored
By those who let their magic flow
Like water, in and outside the rainbow
Bless the children who taught us
To the let fear and pain go
And never surrender
But live and speak with tongues not censored
Honor to those who waited for rain to break
To run into the wet street grass to play
With brick and steel
Combat boots and heels
To scream, vomit and speak of all the things
That no one will ever take away again.

Salute the screaming queens
Who were brave
Enough to save
their sanity and live beyond boundaries
Sylvia, surround me
Fill my raised fist with bang
Raise my voice and chant
Up and down Babylon
In red yellow fire, Sylvia!
I call you and all of the others
Who did not wash out with the rain
But stood in dresses and pants
And seized the moment and chance
To take a stand on the opposite site blue
And demand the respect that was due
Bless the children who fuckin’ broke through
Night sticks that painted them
And continue to paint us black and blue
Allow that resistance to run through
Our blood when we march, celebrate and parade
Praise the days and all of the ways
That children of the rainbow paint.

written by: louie a . ortiz-fonseca

in celebration of the stonewall riots, the birth place of the transgender, gay, lesbian, bisexual and queer revolution.