I was born and raised in the Bronx in the 1970s and 1980s. My childhood was, in many ways, a classic Nuyorican postcard snapshot—quenepas, Fania, abuelos, familia—but that comfort and familiarity changed as I came to accept profound truths about myself in my later adolescence.
In 1988 I left for the West Coast, spending most of that time in Portland, Oregon, and some in Southern California and Rosarito Beach, Baja Norte México. Those experiences were crucial fuels for my curiosity and creative drive and were inspiring beyond words. They’re still with me, and I feel their impact every day.
I came out in Portland in 1992 at the age of 21 to a fellow young man I had feelings for. We began dating and were together for two and a half years. From there, I continued to date men and never stopped. It’s who I am and what feels right. Coming out was a spiritual relief more than anything else.
During those same years, I drifted away from my family and roots. I felt I couldn’t be openly gay and a good Latino son, grandson, or nephew. Time marched along, taking my grandparents and others I’d grown up with most of my childhood and teens, to the great beyond before I could face them with my truths.
I was ashamed and fearful of their rejection—sensing they might have known about me by then—and I let them slip away. I didn’t know what else to do, especially after my father disowned me when I came out to him. This misunderstanding and lack of awareness about LGBT issues, and my fear of rejection, came directly from that experience.
So I made underground music and gay culture my homes. Those subcultures (there were still subcultures in pre-2001 America) taught me many amazing lessons as a burgeoning artist; I met unforgettable people and learned about experiences that hadn’t been available to me before. I learned about other possibilities, human, spiritual, and artistic expansions.
I felt that the LGBT community was more accepting of me as a gay Latino than the Latino community was back then. At first, that was the case as long as I wasn’t perceived as too “Latino” (I’m so light-skinned that people often forgot). I realized this while talking to a Mexican kid in a gay bar in Portland. He spoke no English, and Spanish was our best option.
People I knew came up to me afterward and said, “Speak English.”
When I moved back to New York in 2006, something unexpected happened: I was able to navigate through my original culture as an openly gay man with little or no complication. It was a sense of profound relief since “latinidad” was the first thing I knew. Although I enjoyed learning about many things during my exploration years, nothing was more sacred to me than my roots.
Post-2001 New York City had changed considerably. A class of newcomers from all over the United States and the world moved into lower-rent neighborhoods, altering the character of many communities over time. Rising costs of living led to displacement for many longtime residents, who were gradually replaced by young professionals with greater financial resources.
Combined with shifting social dynamics and changes to everyday community life, the city I grew up in more realistically exists only in memory. This transformation also impacts the LGBT scene.
After hearing a couple of remarks about Puerto Ricans at one popular Brooklyn gay bar, I started going to a mixed lounge and bar that offered more diverse music including house, reggae, and salsa. It’s also very popular with straight Latino men. I’ve gotten to know many of them. They know I’m gay, and the focus is on shared interests. A circle for me was completed.
My intention here isn’t to criticize the gay culture that shaped me as a young artist and thinker, but to show that LGBT communities reflect the societies in which they exist. They inherit everything around them: the good, the challenges, the humor, the popular culture, liberalism, and even biases.
I never thought I’d see the day when people could be disrespectful toward Puerto Ricans and other working-class folks at a so-called hip gay bar, but I have. I also never expected to mingle comfortably with straight Latino men who have reconsidered traditional views about sexuality, but I have. So while some may prefer the typical gay bar music, I appreciate a cold beer and classic New York salsa any day.
I’m home. This is New York.
glad to see that you are happy.