Red Ranger Crush

Looking back at it...young me definitely had something for hunks! :) Go Red Ranger go! #I'mTrash

It's June 1st! Happy Pride Month to all- even those who aren't for us...I'll think of ya'll when I'm doing some hella queer things this month. :) 

As promised to myself...I want to open up and write down pieces of my own journey of owning my queer identity. Doing this during PRIDE is something I hope helps ground me but also celebrate how far things have come and give love to all those who helped make the journey a little less scary. 

Understanding my journey means understanding the moment when I first knew something was different for myself. Growing up the youngest of four brothers I was often bullied by my siblings for any given reason at any given point of time. I always understood it as being something that just happens amongst siblings. The bullying, name calling, whatever you want to call it almost always centered around me being feminine or not masculine enough. I was called "faggot", "sissy", "queer", "cocksucker" "maricon", "joto",etc. All of these words have a sting to them till this very day...even queer which I now actively use, was a word that made me feel a certain way until recently. Hearing these words thrown at me at any given point at such a young age angered me. It frustrated me that no matter what I did, it was always "gay" amongst my siblings. There were moments where I knew I couldn't keep my anger in and I would blow up at my brothers- the whole water works and at times punching them because of how angry I was. 

Combining the name-calling with my self-realization that I was indeed different hit me when I was 6 years old or so. I remember watching the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers with my siblings and we all had a ranger we loved. What was different though was that they all had an obsession with Kimberly, the Pink Ranger because of how "hot" she was...while yours truly had an obsession with Jason, the Red Ranger. At 6 years old, I already knew that something was different for me, I had an attraction to another male, while I didn't know what exactly I was attracted to, I knew it was something that felt normal and natural to me. Of course, none of this was something I could ever share with my siblings, they couldn't find out that my supposed liking of the Pink Ranger was all a lie. I would continue playing along with my siblings that I would watch the Power Rangers not because of the cute Red Ranger, but because of the Pink Ranger. 

Of course, a young child reaches his breaking point and it must have been a harsher name-calling roast my brothers were having on me when I remember snapping and crying because I was tired of being tormented and being called a "sissy" or "faggot". Mind you, my parents didn't know English so well...I give my parents grace for not knowing that I was being bullied or teased as they had no idea what these words meant or how deep they could cut. As I cried in this specific occasion, I remember going to the kitchen where my mom was making dinner. I remember crying to her that I was tired of them making fun of me, that I would do nothing and they would still tease me. Of course, a brother in particular I remember responding telling my mother, "if he wouldn't do gay things, we wouldn't call him gay." Mind you, I think back now and wonder, what the fuck was I doing then that made me "gay" to them. I had thier hand me down toys, their clothes, I knew of no one who was gay, nor did I have a remote idea of what it meant to be gay at the moment, yet it was something my brothers were not ok with and teased me about it. 

My mother knew that whatever was happening wasn't ok. I was desperate for affirmation and for an end to the teasing and my mom responded in a way that left me shocked and would forever remain with me as I grew up and continued to figure stuff out. She responded to my brother, "Si asi lo mando Dios, que quieres que haga? (If that's how God sent him, what do you want me to do?).

Maybe it was my mother's intuition that made her aware that something was indeed diferent with me. Maybe it was my mom's attempt at just shutting us all up before my dad got home from work as she made dinner. Regardless of what the reasoning was, I was too afraid to ask what she meant, and yet it became a source of comfort for me in the long years to come. 

To my mom, our relationship would grow and have it's moments of anger...where assumptions would shake us and make us both fear of what the future might look like. At such an early age, while I didn't know then what made me different, your words brought me calm, that whatever it was that made me feel different, that it was something that couldn't be bad...that made me feel that who I was could be yet another natural human design by God. 

To my brothers, your words hurt me so much when I was young. There is a reason why I am hella sensitive nowadays to a lot of what is said about LGBT folks. This is the reason why I have no issue blowing up and physically fighting ya'll because I don't want to be disrespected or made to feel like who or what I am is wrong in my adult life. I also know ya'll have come a long way and trust me when I say that I am grateful. Perhaps it was the teasing at such a young age that has given me the grit to live and work in places I never thought I would...whatever the case, I do know that who I am and what I do is impacted and empowered by what I lived. Each of ya'll have, granted on your own timelines, shown me a love that I know is there. 

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From left to right: Eddie (second oldest), me (living for the yellow shirt), my beautiful mother, Maria Esther Perez Lopez, Freddy (third oldest), and Andy (oldest of the four brothers). I imagine I was around 5 years old here? This was either a December or summer in Mexico. Based off the chair...I would guess this was my grandparent's home in Zaragoza, Coahuila.