My stepfather used to refer to me as mariconcito behind my mom’s back. That’s Spanish slang for “little faggot,” and at this age, I was probably just beginning to understand that it was not a good thing.
My mom was responsible for dressing me up in these cutesy little outfits. This teddy bear was my best friend, and I didn’t go anywhere without him. I’m pretty sure everyone picked up on my effeminate ways. Sadly, the religious influence and machismo of my Latino culture made me out to be deserving of much abuse. Nonetheless, I grew up to become a successful writer and turned all of that childhood adversity into fodder for art.
I would encourage queer youth to embrace whatever creative talents they may have and express themselves through music, painting, literature, or whatever gets them through. Sometimes those of us who have been emotionally crippled are capable of creating great art and contributing to the inspiration of others. Even if you create it just for yourself, it’s great for letting go of hurt and moving on in life.
