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Anthony: So where in this area did you grow up?

Miguel: I was born in Orlando, but raised in Mascotte, Florida. Mascotte itself is a very small city. A large population of that city is made of Mexican immigrant/migrant farmers. The people who are actually in power are White. The businesses, the schools, the teachers were all white. It was really challenging because I grew up in city where people who looked like me grew up in poverty. It was hard to be proud that I was Mexican. I rejected it a lot for that reason.

Anthony: So what was it like growing up in Mascotte?

Miguel: It’s a small community. It’s a very small city. Growing up gay in that community was extremely difficult because, ya know, it was a very conservative part of town. You drive down the city and there is a church on like every other street. I had a lot of pressure to stay in the closet because the area was crazy Baptist. I also hid in religion as a way to define some excuse to why I didn’t date women or date period. I would say “It’s not the right time for me. It’s not in God’s plan.” That’s what I did. I just hid for a long time. It was tough.

Anthony: So when did that change for you?

Miguel: I didn’t come out until I moved away. I moved away when I was 19. I moved to Orlando. I kinda already constructed this idea that this would be my coming out. I knew that was going to be my opportunity to reinvent myself; new city, new people, who had no idea of who I was. And in a lot of ways, this was my opportunity to be my most authentic self. When I came out, I came out to my mom after my first relationship ended. It was strange because ta that point I was living with him. So when we broke up, I went back home. I remember, One weekend, I did nothing and stayed in bed. My mom knew something was wrong and approached and said “what’s wrong I can see that you are down, talk to me. What’s going on?” And I wanted to tell her so badly but I was paralyzed by fear. You know cuz you’re afraid of the rejection or family disowning you. I built up the courage to tell her “I’m gay and I just broke up with boyfriend and I am really sad.” And in that moment she just broke down and she held and she cried with me and told me that everything will be ok. She told me that she loved me. It was really powerful.  

So I honestly think when I got my lip pierced at 17, I remember she asked “Does that mean you are gay?” I think my mom, I think a lot of our moms know we are gay at a young age but for her to see me with a lip piercing and to think that I am gay and her reaction to it was ridiculous. She fell to the floor and started crying. I think for her, she was scared for me. I think she associated gay with dying of HIV and living a challenging life. She is a great mom, she is crazy but she is great mom.

Anthony: So we met you last night at the QLatinx meeting. How did you get involved with them?

Miguel: I learned about it through Christopher Cuevas. He and I worked together. He messaged me one day and asked if I would be interested in meeting with a group from California and New York to talk about ways they can support the community, ways that we could create safe spaces for people to come together and just kinda heal together as a Latinx community.

Anthony: How has the experience been for you?

Miguel: It’s been really great. Chris said something really powerful at our last meeting that was like, “One of the best ways to heal is to heal through community.” The group has been an outlet for me to express myself, do things that are essentially really rewarding.

Anthony: How does it feel to have a community that’s so important and a part of your identity attacked?

Miguel: I felt guilty in one way because my experience with the Latino gay community is that there was just no relationship. I am sure as you have toured around, the majority of the population is Puerto Rican and it was hard for me to identity with the culture and the customs. Yes, of course we have shared languages and shared experiences but it’s just totally different. For me, a Latin Night isn’t necessarily like Reggaeton. I remember Latin Night growing up, being taken to dance were all – it was just Mexican music. I also struggled with embracing my heritage. Because of the people in school and the person in my community that were in power and had high social status were white and I knew that I wanted to go to school, I wanted to go to college, I wanted to do something with my life and that is how I paralleled myself. I was like let me associate myself with the white kids and let me get into the AP courses with them and let me try to like be part of this group because I already grew up as an outcast as a Mexican. I remember being like the token Hispanic student in a lot of groups. So after Pulse, I felt guilty that I didn’t make an attempt to connect with community, I didn’t make an attempt to put our differences aside and embrace the fact that this is where I live and this is what Latin night is.

Anthony: How that changed how you forge relationships?

Miguel: Absolutely. Everyone who attends the QLatinx meetings are Puerto Rican and I for the most part have befriended all of them. Going out with them, sharing the music, sharing our history and out stories has really have broken some walls. It’s like, why didn’t I embrace this earlier. Why didn’t I connect with people earlier because it fed a part of my soul that I neglected for a long time.

Anthony: How does your soul feel now?

Miguel: It feels more complete. I can be this version of myself.

- Miguel Naranjo Cortez, Orlando, Florida

Interviewed by: Anthony Leon
Photographed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca

special thanks to QLatinx for their partnership and support during our trip to Orlando, Florida. Thank you for making us feel at home and for helping to coordinate Gran Varones interviews.

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Geraldo: When I was 16, I identified myself as bisexual. I remember one time, my mother went to go use our Windows 95 laptop and I was sitting on the bed shaking. I was shivering. I wasn’t sure how she would take it. So I said “What would you say if I told you that I was bisexual?” What I got wasn’t the typical answer, it was “We’ll talk it about.” She left the room and we never spoke about it. But we didn’t need to because every time people came over, (my mom would be like) “Oh my god, this is my son Geraldo, he’s gay and I love him.” I kinda always knew that it was going to be okay because I have two gay uncles. Growing up, I never knew that being “straight” was how how you were “supposed” to grow up. Being gay was normal to me. It was never “wrong” in my family; it was always accepted.

Louie: How about in school? Were you teased there or made to feel different?

Geraldo: I was teased for being overweight. I was belittled. I was teased for being gay. I was teased in elementary school until high school. I was called the “F” word, I was called “fairy boy.” The whole nine yards, you name it – I was called it.

Louie: Did you tell teachers?

Geraldo: I never really told teachers. I felt like every time something was brought up to a teacher, they would never really handle it so, I just kept it myself and I didn’t really share it with anybody else.

Louie: How about your mother? Did you ever tell her?

Geraldo: I didn’t because I didn’t want her to worry about me. I knew I was really strong and I knew I could handle it by myself. I made a game plan for myself. I was always the happy one. It was always “Talk to Gerlado, he’ll give you the support.” Having people come to me for support was leverage for me. I didn’t have to tell anyone because I was always dealing with other people’s issues and stuff. So that was like my break.

Louie: Did school ever get better?

Geraldo: It did. After 9th grade, I guess everyone just realized that I was “normal” guy who just liked guys. Everyone saw me as Geraldo for once and not just the “gay guy.”

Louie: What is the greatest lesson you have learned that guides your life right now?

Geraldo: I think the greatest lesson that I have ever learned is to live life but not in the moment. In life, we always live in the moment, we never see what is around us. I always tell people – come out your box. It’s so easy, just lift the top up and you really look at what life has to offer you. You look at the past, you look at the present and you also look at the future. Inside our box, we are so enclosed in our surroundings, we can’t see what’s beyond and what’s before us and we cannot add those perspectives. Gain knowledge from the pass and use that for the future. Be open minded and not bitter. Living life is an experience.

Geraldo Oyola, Philadelphia

Interviewed & Photographed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca

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Louie: So tell me a little about yourself.

Derec: I was born in Colombia and I came to the US when I was one years old. I was adopted and I have two white parents. I grew up in Chicago, Humboldt Park area. Then we moved to Philly. My parents are involved with urban ministries. They came to Philly when I was a sophomore in high school to do some ministry work here. They have been doing it all of their lives. They still do it. They have worked with kids and communities and families. It’s really grassroots organizing.

Louie: What was that like for you growing up?

Derec: It was good. Overall my childhood was very good. I was always known that I was adopted. My parents made me aware of my culture as a Colombian. We were a close family. I struggle sometimes with my Latino identity because I am not bilingual. I feel disconnected sometimes. But I have been able to go back to Colombia a few times and that’s been helpful. I wasn’t able to visit family but I was able to visit the orphanage that I came out of. Now the orphanage is now an elementary school. The school now models the same kind of work my parents do. Its very community based. I still had questions because I wasn’t sure exactly where in Colombia I was born. So one of the ladies at the orphanage, who was there when I was there as child, because of her, I was able to go on a local radio station to be interviewed and then asked their listeners to call if they had any information. A TV show even came to orphanage to interview me. I just said “Mom, if you are out there, I hope you are doing well.” I would probably burst out crying if I met my birth mom and dad. It would be surreal.

Louie: Wow. thank you for sharing that. Now you work in adoptions and with families, right?

Derec: I was adopted and it just so happened that I got into adoption and social work by happy stance. It wasn’t until my job when I was working in foster care that I moved into adoption work. It just happened. It’ stressful at times but it is gratifying. I am learning new things about people, about me, about society. The main thing is that I want the best for kids and families.
Louie: What was the toughest thing to deal with as kid growing up?
Derec: I always felt different as a kid. I always knew that part of me and I knew that was something my parents would not accept or be open to. I didn’t come “out” to them. I was forced “out.” I told someone in my church thinking it was in confidence because I actually attracted to this person and instead of him keeping it to himself; he said that he needed to tell leadership. I was like “hello, that’s my father!” This was my senior year of college and that summer was hard. They were like “we’re gonna get you help.” That was their response. I was revered highly prior to that. I was really involved with the church and then my father said that I couldn’t do certain things. That created an awful feeling in me. But once I was forced “out,” (the “closet”) to my family, that was it; there was no going back in. 

Louie: So are things now with your family?

Derec: Fast forward 25 years, I am a loner. I’m happy overall. I’m still close to my family but when it comes to my sexuality, it’s still hush-hush. We don’t talk much about it. I do go to openly gay church that helps a lot with my faith. I turn to prayer for everything. It keeps me grounded. It allows me to learn how to love. It gives me encouragement.

Derec Baker-Gutierrez, Philadelphia

Interviewed & Photoghraphed by: Louie A. Ortiz-Fonseca

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so you’re a rising star in dance. what was your family’s reaction at first when you chose dance as your career?

at first my family wasn’t so into me dancing. they kinda saw it as a hobby, just something to do, something to let time pass. i started to see it as something more than that. they didn’t realize the effect that it would have on my body; physically and mentally. they didn’t realize how much was going on in my head and they didn’t realize that dance was actually taking me away from that hard place. it was keeping me safe.

how do they feel about it now?

my parents love it now. my mom comes to most of my shows.

MARK FIGUEROA
dancer and choreographer

interviewed by: anthony leon

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FROM PHL TO THE ‘BURGH

This past weekend, we screened our documentary “Our Legacy is Alive” on the opening night of Café Con Leche’s “Orgullo!: Pittsburgh Latin@ LGBTQ Pride”. This event was the first of its kind for the city, providing a platform for our project and for the always magical Bamby Salcedo, who spoke about the experiences of Latin@ Trans* Immigrants. We knew that we had been invited to take part in something amazing, but we had no idea we would wind up making history.

photo by armando garcía

A few months ago, Tara Sherry-Torres, owner & operator of Café Con Leche, reached out to GALAEI to build community. When GALAEI connected us to Tara, we could not have been more grateful for her invitation to participate in “Orgullo!,” which formed part of the larger movement in Pittsburgh to re-create and re-reclaim Pride.

louie a. ortiz-fonseca & tara sherry-torres

You may have read about the long history of discontent that queer and trans* people of color and allies have had with The Delta Foundation, the agency that sponsors Pittsburgh Pride Event. For many years, community members have voiced their concerns about Delta Pride not being inclusive to black, brown and trans* folks. This year, those concerns echoed even louder when Iggy Azalea, who has been known to use her platform to post both racist and homophobic comments, was announced as the headliner. Community members, who have already organized alternative Pride Events, the most notable being Trans* Pride and Black Pride, courageously and publically stated they would boycott this year’s Delta Pride. This inspired others do to the same. This is huge because it now challenges not only Pittsburgh’s LGBTQ community but all queer communities to acknowledge the inequities both within our communities and also within event that is designed for LGBTQ people to celebrate our pride.

bamby salcedo, louie a. ortiz & armando garcía

While we were there to screen our film, we were provided the incredible opportunity to build community with others who are committed to creating visibility for LGBTQ people of color. We shared time and space with fellow warriors who understand that our collective liberations are inextricably linked to one-another, and that we must challenge all systems of oppression even when those oppressions are wrapped in a rainbow flag. We cannot express just how humbling and inspiring it was to be part of such a powerful and historic event.

pittsburgh’s lovely community leaders and louie a. ortiz-fonseca 

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I was 18 and she was 24 when we met. We were both sitting and waiting to be interviewed for a position at a short-lived agency that we would later promise each other to never speak of. This was the living in a community house – Kensington welfare rights organizing – hipster Gloria. We both got the jobs we interviewed for and that made us co-workers. The love and friendship that followed would make us family.

We were two of the few queer* Latinos working and advocating for youth in Philly’s LGBTQ community. I would say that we were fearless but honestly, we were young, hopeful and driven by our fear of not being seen and heard. We’d sit and share battle scar stories. She shared the struggle of balancing her privilege of education and community organizing. I shared my struggle of growing up in a house with crack-addicted mother and wanting to break free. This made us each other’s confidant but the love made us family.

Gloria provided me opportunities to see a world outside of North Philly. She would pick me up from 9th and Indiana to take me to art shows and to restaurants that I never knew existed. Through her I discovered the music of Ani Defranco, Björk and The Roots. I discovered hummus, purple tortilla chips and black olives; things my Puerto Rican mother never purchased! It was through Gloria that I discovered my magic. This made her my mentor but the love made us family.

When I experienced my first heartbreak and lost my mind, she took me to a bookstore and said, “Pick out any journal book you want. It’s my treat.” When I was a dancer and had no way of getting to the airport, she woke up early on a Saturday morning and drove like a bat outta hell to make sure I didn’t miss my flight. When I turned 21, she said “Wear your Friday night outfit, I am taking you out to get blasted!” When I had no place to go on Thanksgiving, she took me to her family’s house – for several years! When my brother died, she rushed to my side and said “Get dressed. We need to get breakfast.” On the day my brother’s murderer was found guilty and his family threatened to harm my mom outside of the courthouse, Gloria rushed over and dropped my mother to a safe place. After, she took me out to eat. Now that I think about it, we spent a lot of time together in her car – all of her cars. We spent a lot of our time eating, laughing, bitching, debating and drinking. We spent a lot of time loving and admiring the people we both had become.

The last time Gloria and I had lunch, we worked on the text that would eventually make it on the Gran Varones postcard. We chatted about the next wave of our revolution. We talked about the future and all that we would become.

Gloria was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. To most she was a fearless activist, community organizer and fierce leader. Those things made her legendary, but to me, she was my sister who did what we set out to do – change the world!

I miss you Gloria. Rest in power, my sexy dreamer. —

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