The Gran Varones is a legacy project that uses stories for Latino & Afro-Latino Gay and Queer* men
Miss Lolita Lebròn is what revolutionary Puerto Ricans are made of. Doña Lolita, as she is affectionately known, became a nationalist hero in 1954 when she organized an assault on the U.S. Congress with her comrades Rafael Cancel Miranda, Irving Flores and Andres Figueroa Cordero.
On March 1, 1954, Lolita and her three comrades calmly entered the Capitol, walked through the lobby and when Lebròn’s group reached the visitor’s gallery above the the chamber in House, Lolita then gave the order, the Nationalists unfurled the Puerto Rican flag, Lolita stood up and shouted “Que Viva Puerto Rico Libre!” and within seconds they opened fire on the U.S. Congress. Five congressmen were wounded in the attack. All four Nationalists were immediately arrested.
Upon being arrested, Lebròn yelled “I did not come to kill anyone, I can to die for Puerto Rico!” The four were soon convicted and given life sentences.
During the social and political upsurge of the 1960s and 1970s in Puerto Rico and the United States, more and more people raised the demand for the immediate release of the four as political prisoners. The campaign received international support in part because of the diplomatic and political support of revolutionary Cuba. The pressure paid off in 1979, when President Jimmy Carter granted amnesty to Lolita Lebron, and the other nationalists, after spending 24 years in prison.
After her release, she continued to be active in the independence called and participated in the protests again the the United States Navy’s presence in Vieques.
Louie: So we have known each other for at for over 20 years.
Angel: Yeah, we are old! LOL
Louie: Almost lol What was it like for you in the 90s?
Angel: We were coming out with respect being ourselves. We had a club
called “El Bravo” and we had so much fun. Everything at that time was on
the down low; very different than how it is now. We had drag shows and
the locas were everywhere but no one fucked with us.
Louie: What is it like now?
Angel: But now we are who we are opening! Atrevido con respect. You
know what I mean? We are out and we don’t care what people say. That’s
good, right? LOL
Louie: But of course loca!
Angel: Gran Varon, I love you.
Louie: I love you too, loca!
Angel Santiago, Philadelphia
Interviewed & Photographed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca
so
former first lady nancy reagan passed away and folks were posting left
and right how wicked nancy reagan was for having once turned her back on
her good friend rock hudson as he lied dying to complications of HIV.
apparently, it has been a slow day because people who consider
themselves advocates for those living with HIV were pissed that this
happened.
ok, let us to try understand this. nancy
reagan, miss say “just say no”, who created the national “just say no to drugs” campaign that helped to
usher in the zero-tolerance policies that laid the foundation for the
school-to-prison pipeline that has impacted millions of young black and latino
students, is monster because she ignored the pleas of a white and
wealthy socialite?
nancy, a woman who is celebrated for fierce
loyalty to her husband. nancy, the wife of the president that watched
as AIDS ravaged communities and did absolutely NOTHING to stop it? a
president that was committed to preventing others from doing shit to
stop it? the president who’s legacy is the deaths of thousands upon
thousands of people? knowing this - we are supposed to be mad and
enraged that she and the president ignored the pleas of a dying hudson?
chyle, are we as HIV advocates that desperate for something to be mad
at? seriously, are we mad because a privileged white, rich and affluent
gay man could not use his privilege to access care that many in our
communities could never and DID NOT get? would we be celebrating miss
nancy if she DID NOT turn her back on him while black and latino
communities were left to their own devices? y'all straight trippin’ boo!
miss nancy did exactly what the US government did in 1985 - ignored
people living with and dying from AIDS. she was only keeping it real and
was like “rocky, gurl, you ain’t hear? i just say no. so, about that
request of yours…chyle, why you playin’ we don’t do that. we don’t do
anything!”
no one should have had to die - no one. it is 2016
and we are still fighting for varones to get adequate care to manage
their HIV. so the shame, fear and helplessness that rock must have no
doubt experienced is something that NO ONE should have to ever go
through. the fact that people still do should been at pisses us not the
how miss nancy turned her back.
y'all need something to be mad
at? peep the latest CDC HIV statistics and how the larger lgbtq
organizations continue to turn their backs on trans women, black and
latino men living with HIV.
Louie: It’s the beard! So how are you liking Los Angeles? How long have you been out here?
Roberto: I have been out here for five years. Things are finally falling into place and I love it. I love it out here.
Louie: What made you move out here?
Roberto: I needed a change. I came out here to visit a friend of mine
and I really liked it. My bae lost his job and it just felt right. I
woke up one morning and said “Let’s do it.” I bought my tickets and said
“Bye Philly.” LOL
Louie: Oh yeah, I do remember you just quitting your job and being like “Deuces!” LOL
Roberto: Yeah, it just felt right and I don’t regret it. When are you moving out here?
salute to everyone on mass transit during rush hour who pull out
their phones to take a selfie! mad love to everyone who snap their
beautiful faces while walking down the street, sitting at your desks at
work, laying up in the emergency room, posing on your bed or flexin’ at
the damn club. there ain’t no shame in feeling yourself in a world that
attempts to trick you into hiding from yourself. don’t let anyone shame
you because your phone is filled with pictures of your lovely face.
celebrate that shit!
happy friday, varones! be beautiful and capture it in a selfie!
if that means having to read every
op-ed posted on facebook written by mostly grad school
educated folks who use words that i have to google,
then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that my real life
experiences will be reduced to particles if my responses to said articles do not meet the king’s english then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means having to explain, demonstrate and prove the pain of hiv positive latino gay men who are still forced again and again to live in secrecy, while processing that shame in
secrecy, then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that i have to burn sage
over lighting blunts, or sipping wine instead of long island
iced teas to heal, to chill or to fill a space in me that continues to be peeled away by
ridicule, then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that i can’t sing along at the top of my fuckin’ lungs as i hit the quan then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that i have to disregard and pick apart varones who are not always equipped or have the words to articulate their contribution to the revolution because breathing and surviving oppressive institutions isn’t impressive for some of us, then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that i have to recite
quotes and passages from books celebrated and hailed by the
“movement” over my ability to quote and spit
lyrics from my fave mariah and nicki song, then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means having to choose my politics over sucking dick and having to present as masculine then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means using “movement” terms only to prove that i have learned that words matter only when popping
off or creating a spectacle but NOT being impeccable with my
word. then yes, maybe i am not woke as
fuck.
if it means just speaking about
social justice action but never following it up with
action beyond the traction of my finger
tips on keyboards to eloquently write out my thesis
for freedom that my mother cannot read, then yes, maybe i am not woke as
fuck.
if it means that my ego is the only
fragile thing that matters over safer spaces used as bait to
shatter the teeth of those who are tricked into the belief that a college degree will add weight to the very
necessary things that should be spoken, then maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means only feeling comfortable
sitting on panels because i can’t handle sitting on
porches and stoops because of how i speak the “truth” stopped being accessible to folks i “speak” for but not speak
to, then nah, maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means that i have to police
the grammar of the same people i fight for and
write for just so academics can celebrate my
work – then nah, maybe i am not woke as
fuck.
if it means celebrating those who
have chosen to get arrested while shaming those of us who live in
arrested development because of the complexities of our
trauma isn’t as beautiful and dutiful as a five-noun political identity then, maybe, i am not woke as fuck.
if it means having to choose between raising my fists over raising my kids, because loving son my with all i have isn’t a trending hashtag, then no, maybe i am not woke as fuck.
if it means overthinking until i am on the brink of losing
connections from the people who provide me
oxygen, then nah, maybe i am not woke as
fuck.
if it means that being a leader requires me to be a constant bleeder
teetering on the edge of insanity to
prove to the next “woke as fuck”
muthafucker that i myself am woke, then nah, maybe i am not woke as
fuck.
so i traveled to philly this past weekend to 1. meet up with a few varones as our project is still based there and 2. to dance my ass off at a 90’s party that was going down. as soon as i get off the train, i hear noise, white noise to be exact. i come up the stairs and i am blinded by the color green and i think to myself “fuck! it’s st. patrick’s day weekend!” so after rolling my eyes, i took a deep breath and prayed that not a single one of those fools curved their thin lips to scream in my face or say some shit that would get their faces smacked.
so it’s about 12.15pm and i walked through about 30 screaming students who are dressed in green and obviously drunk. now this is happening in an Amtrak train station that on any day is swarming with police - ya know, for security reasons. to my shock, i look to see if they are any police around and of course there weren’t any. sadly, i was both relieved and horrified. white drunk people scare me. so i watch these white kids continue to scream and take up so much space and NO ONE bats an eye. why? cuz it’s st. patrick’s day and white kids just wanna have fun.
on the real, i wanted to capture it for my snapchat story but legitimately was afraid that they would perform so i decided against pulling out my phone.
why is this especially problematic? because philly’s new mayor, the one that even black and browns folks praised as the second coming of the messiah, has broken his promise to fight the racist “stop & frisk” policy. a policy that gives the monsters in blue to stop and frisk anyone without probable cause. obviously, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a policy that is used to dehumanize black and latinos in philadelphia, was not used at all during this “festive” weekend.
now, i don’t know about y'all but drunk white people scare me. they do! their behavior is really no different from the behavior of trump supporters. it’s as if being pissy ass drunk gives them wings to say and do shit they wouldn’t “normally” do. and much like trump supporters, they apologize when they are caught. “oh my, i am so sorry. i don’t know what came over me.” this is why drunk white people are scary to me but not to philly police. nope. not them. drunk white people don’t scare them. sober, empowered and politically driven black and brown folks who scream “black lives matter” are what scares them.
