I’m From San Pedro Garza Garcia, Nuevo Leon, Mexico.

by G. Heron

Google Earth Satellite Image of Nuevo Leon Mexico
I’m From San Pedro Garza Garcia, Nuevo Leon, Mexico.

I came out to my sisters and friends when I was 17. It came as a shock but they accepted me and loved me for who I am.

I’m American but was born and raised here in Mexico because my father lived here before he met my mother. It’s hell to live in a place like this even though I might sound ungrateful and spoiled. Most of the time I got things that I wanted and drove a fancy car but being in a Catholic private school all my life and having a homophobic mother, family and ex-friends is not something to be jealous about.

I learned how to hide who I am since I was in the 3rd grade, wearing a mask since then because being gay is something “sinful” and wrong. I was told daily that gays where only welcomed in hell so I lived with that fear.

Once I came out to my sister a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders but not my sister’s. The person I told everything to is now studying in Utah and I need her each and every day because my mother hates me and surprisingly so do I. My mother has bombarded me several times during the past years with homophobic comments. The first was when we were watching the news and saw that in UK they were going to approve a tax on divorce. “That’s an excellent idea! Couldn’t agree more, lets see if they think twice once they file for divorce, this will teach them not to divorce a year after they get married, or like gays that they file for divorce after ten days.” I don’t know where she gets her information.

Another example was when we were in the car, I thanked a car for giving me the chance to pass with a hand gesture and she said, “Don’t move your hand like that, men don’t do that. You look like a girl or worse a ‘fag’.” Those words hurt more than they should and my friends tell me I should stop thinking about it, that she’s not worth my love nor my time. But it hurts, it hurts that the person who is biologically programed to love you hates you for something you didn’t choose to be.

And even though I’m closer to my friends and sisters than ever there’s something missing and no matter how hard I try to fill that hole with friends, booze, drugs and sex (I know that’s not an excuse but it’s an escape), I feel lonely, I can’t find someone to love me here. No matter how hard I try or how many gay friends I have no one seems to love me. Some have been close but in the end no one stays. And I feel depressed, afraid of loneliness and no one seems to notice, no one seems to see that I’m going insane and I need someone to save me or maybe they do see it but they just don’t care enough. Now I’m only waiting for the next two years when I transfer and go study to California or New York and forget this godforsaken town.

I fear I’ll never find someone, someone who makes me eager for the future and makes my day every day. I also fear not being here on family dinners because of those too cold-hearted to associate with gays. And each night I wonder, will my so-called mother still love me if I told her, will she come to my wedding, cry when I leave? Or would she thank the “god” above? For finally letting me go, the person she pretended to love.

So for now I’ll wait wait to get out of here, wait to be loved, wait to be free.

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