BECAUSE EVERYONE HAS A STORY
WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE PAGE 24
THE TIME IS NOW I decided the time was now to share my story. With so many people trying to take ownership of our stories, it propelled me to create this piece entitled, Because Everyone Has A Story. At first I thought I just wanted to give a quick summary of my experiences. I began by writing about my youth in the mid 80s. I began to discuss briefly how that time was the beginning of me being able to come into myself. I realized that I was glossing over, skipping over a lot of information. Information that might be of use to someone or at least make for an interesting read. What I have been realizing lately is that noone gets to where they are accidentally. We are at the place we are through a succession of events that occur in our lives. In my close to decades long work now of doing media, I have tried to incorporate a piece of me and my life experiences into my works. I am beginning to understand that if you do not speak for yourself, someone else will speak for you. With this new issue that we have entitled “LEGACY: TRANSCENDENCE” we wanted to do something different. I began to feel unfulfilled with the works we were previously doing. I felt as if people were not committing 100% to the projects and the work was suffering. I began to feel that we were only telling half the story. Working at 50%, just phoning it in. I wanted to dig deeper. I wanted to stop making people comfortable and begin to maybe make people a bit more uncomfortable. Disrupt the usual stream of consciousness, that is always seeking the next thing. Scrolling mindlessly, from thing to thing. Rewarding each event on their timeline the same amount of credit. . In storytelling you have to sacrifice “TIME.” Stories do not just tell themselves. Time is probably our most valuable commodity. When I started writing on our Xiomara project, I watched as our project slowly fell apart. A project that started out strong. At the heart of it people were struggling with finding the “TIME”, to make the project work. So we went into a hiatus. Coming out from hiatus is a scary thing because we are well aware of the time commitment involved in telling stories. When we way the options, either let other people tell our stories or tell them ourselves, it really gives us the courage to find the time, make the time. Everyone who is directly associated with our publication and with our social media, knows first hand all that occurred recently with the war between David France, Janet Mock and Reina Gossett over the rights to the film The Death and Life of Marsha P Johnson.
For me personally, the strangest thing that came out of all that, was how irresponsibly people use their social media platforms. People always complain when someone who is CIS gendered and white makes a story about our community, the lgbtq community. They speak about privilege and an unfair system that is set up to favor people of a certain race eg: white and hold back (POC) people of color. I do not know where this people live, on what planet, because POC make films all the time.
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MY STORY BEGINS: BASED ON A TRUE STORY My story begins with me trying to recollect how I first got to the CITY, because that is where my life would completely change. I think everyone's story begins in sort of the same way. You come from a place where nobody looks like you and then enter into a world where everyone looks like you. As far as I can recall, I first learned about a leather bar, The Eagle from a back page ad in the Village Voice newspaper. I had a fake ID from Times Square, that said I was 18. I must have been maybe 15 at the time. So I put on some shoes, a shirt with slacks and a jacket with playboy bunnies on it. Put some gel in my hair. I gave myself a once over and at around 7pm was on my way to The Eagle. After a short train ride, I arrived at the Eagle. I had enough money in my pocket to pay the cover charge and round trip train fare from Brooklyn. The bouncer took one look at me and was like, no kid be on your way, this is not the place for you, have a good night. I took my fake ID and feeling defeated turned around and headed back to my train to Brooklyn. It was in that moment that I seen the first person that looked like me or better still like a more imaginative version of me. The person I seen was named Chrissy. Chrissy, was a very young tall white queer male. He had his hair up in a blown out pompadour style mohawk, a bunch of bangles on his wrist, eyeliner and lipstick. What I remember most . was that he wore this bright neon green outfit. I think it was that neon color green that I noticed first. He was right on the corner of Astor Place and Ave D. I became fixated with him. I somehow knew that wherever he was headed there was an answer to whatever it was that I was trying to find. So Chrissy, began walking west and so did I. Eventually I had the courage to go up to him and ask him, if he knew of any clubs in the area to go to. He said, “yes, come with me.� And so I did. We continued walking down on Christopher St. and Chrissy, began introducing me to everyone, he seemed to know everyone on the street. Coming from Brooklyn, I looked like some of these people I was meeting and I also didn't. I was still very much straight appearing as they would say. So in contrast, many of these somewhat effeminate young men I was meeting that night were somewhat attracted to me. We ended up walking to a place called the Bullet Bar, a dive bar right at the edge of the pier. I remember feeling a
moment of triumph after entering through the doors. Finally, I was in a gay bar, mission accomplished. The bar was practically empty. In the far corner of the bar there were small video screens. My eyes were instantly fixated on the pornographic images and sounds playing on the screen. We sat at the empty bar counter and ordered a Heineken beer. Chrissy, offered me a cigarette and without thinking I took the cigarette. Even though I had never smoked a cigarette before I was able to successfully present myself as a smoker. I inhaled and exhaled the smoke of that cigarette like a pro. Chrissy, said to me at the end of the night, “I guess I will see you tomorrow.” And I said, “Yes, will see you tomorrow.” The following night it was a bit more of the same, meeting people drinking and smoking. On that second night I ran into the person that would become my first “boyfriend.” This person was a big deal, he walked with an air about him. He was very stylish. When they introduced me to him he had two names, a first and a last name. For the sake of this article we will call him Max. He was a very famous member of the Iconic house of Xtravaganza. The house of Xtravaganza was led by Angie and Hector Xtravaganza at the time. Xtravaganza were and still are mostly a latino house that represents style, grace, beauty and fashion https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_Xtravaganza Max, for me was sort of a protective shield for me. He was one of the only people that seen me as a person. He seen deep beneath this veneer of a so called straight looking guy. Slowly as the month's went on under Max's tutelage the real me began to take shape and emerge. I quickly learned from Max, how to develop my personality. I learned from Max, how to be me. Around that same time I had entered City As School, an alternative High . School for youth having trouble assimilating in a standard public school system. It was there that I met my two best friends, who we will call Derick and Carla, for the sake of this article. This was an amazing time for me. Through my relationship with Max, I learned how to express myself. When I met my two best friends it was like my life had begun. Max and I, would inevitably go our own separate ways. Seeing each other throughout the years, always remembering those earliest memories. Max, will always be regarded as a special person in my life, who helped inform the person I became. In the midst of all that was going on, something I did not mention was also happening. The AIDS virus was ravaging our community. I had met my second boyfriend who we will call Sonny. I remember the first time I met Sonny. It was one of those moments you see in the movies. Time stood still, the earth shook, and I came out of my body. It was really that scene at the dance when Tony,
meets Maria. Sonny was killed by law enforcement in 2003. I believe Sonny played a big role in protecting me as well, in some way. For some reason I was always looking for people to protect me. Protect me from what? I am not 100% sure. When Sonny died, I cried for days on end, until I became so sick that I had to pull myself together before I myself would end up in a hospital. In a couple of weeks we will be visiting Sonny's grave and documenting our visit. It has been about 10 years since our last visit to his grave. This time his sister will be joining us and visiting her brother's grave for the first time. When Sonny, died I knew my life would be forever changed. I said at that time to my best friend Carla, “my life has changed.” Around that time I went back to school as an adult and finished my degrees. I also met my third boyfriend. I had created a new life for myself. I met a man who was not from the world I knew. I met a man who was distinguished, well to do, successful. And he was interested in me. I think by this time in my life I really no longer was a child. That child that needed protection so many years ago, was a distant memory. I think that child, that innocent child died, the day Sonny died. I realized that the world was a very tough place and that noone was safe. I learned that I needed to take care of myself. It is ironic, the thing Sonny, would always say to me was those exact words, “take care of yourself.” The years after Sonny's death were a difficult time of transition for me. It was not until I met my third boyfriend who we will call Darius, that the turmoil I was experiencing subsided. Darius, encouraged me to seek out things in the professional world. He was the first person that encouraged my photography. Darius, and I have remained friends. He said to me, “we will always, be friends.” After 10 years we also went our own separate ways. . GAZE Magazine has been so many things to me. It has been a platform to assert myself, which seems to be something I have struggled with all my life. GAZE Magazine has been a vehicle for me to express myself. A place to share with people. A place to celebrate people. I do not know what it is about life, that makes you want to live it so hard. With this issue, we are asking people to remove their veneers. Let us stop pretending to be so cool and so great. Let us show more of our humanity. Strip the layers. Show the things that bind us instead of those that separate us. Everyone has a story. Every voice matters. No one voice has more weight than the next. Treat people with dignity because you do not know a person's story. Because you see a person standing before you does not mean you know anything about their life. We hope to bring you many new stories in this issue. We want to share the voices of as many people we can. We want to amplify their stories. To anyone
who has ever felt as though their story was not being heard, know that you have a home here at GAZE Magazine. We will never and have never discriminated against anyone. Bias just does not exist in the fabric of who we are. We have never forgotten all the people who have come into our lives. And this issue is a celebration of just that, people. May, you never stop opening your heart mind and soul to one another. And may you always continue to challenge those who seek to oppress another human being. LEGACY: TRANSCENDENCESPECIAL ISSUE 10
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