author to speak at GW’s Latinx Heritage Celebration | Today

By Ruth Steinhardt

When Edgar Gomez was 13, their mother took them to visit their Nicaraguan uncles in hopes the trip would mark an initiation into manhood. It wasn’t that simple. In Gomez’s fun and illuminating memoir, “High-Risk Homosexual,” the rituals intended to make him a man instead lead them to examine the complex tangle of love, fear, and violence at the heart of masculinity. built. Ultimately, Gomez embraces a queer, non-binary Latinx identity that watches male chauvinism with more compassion than judgment.

“What I particularly appreciate in memoir is when the writer is honest about his own flaws and complicity, instead of just pointing out how everyone has wronged him,” Gomez told GW Today. . “I’m not talking about self-mockery; I mean self-interrogation. This usually leads to the best lessons.

Gomez will virtually visit George Washington University next Tuesday as part of the Cisneros Hispanic Leadership Institute’s “LatinXpression” discussion series with artists, authors and musicians. Assistant Professor of Latin American and Latin Literary and Cultural Studies Manuel Cuellar and writer Ofelia Montelongo, visiting professor at the Columbian College of Arts and Sciences, will join them for discussion.

“In their coming-of-age memoir, Gomez touches on topics like homosexuality, male chauvinism, relationships and identity with wit and humor,” Montelongo said. “Talking with them about their book is like talking with a long-time friend of life. It will be a pleasure to have a new conversation with them at GW. I hope our students find new inspiration for their writing and their lives.

The Cisneros Institute conversation and series is also part of GW’s 2022 Latinx Heritage Celebration, “A United Community Cannot Be Divided.”

“I’m so excited to talk with the GW students about the book and what it was like growing up as queer in a macho culture during Latinx Heritage Month,” Gomez said.

Community is a guideline in Gomez’s memoir, which opens with their uncle’s blood-splattered cockfighting ring — “the ultimate anti-gay space,” Gomez says — and moves through the heat stimulating queer urban spaces. One such location is Orlando’s Pulse nightclub, where Gomez spent his 18th and 21st birthdays and where, in June 2016, 49 people were killed by gunman Omar Mateen. It was Latin night. One of Gomez’s most powerful chapters delves into the vibrant and uplifting atmosphere of Pulse before filming, as well as Mateen’s story, in which they see parallels to their own.

“I realized while writing this story that a lot of the shooter’s anger was cultivated very early on,” Gomez said. “As a child, he received a lot of racist, fatphobic and xenophobic hatred. These are some of the things this country needs to work on if we want mass shootings to stop happening. Everything is interconnected.

“The question I was trying to answer for myself in the chapter on Pulse was, ‘Why would someone do something like this to us and how can we make sure it doesn’t happen again?'” and being vague wasn’t going to help.I needed to figure out exactly where the hate was coming from, like a surgeon looking for cancer in a body, so I could extract it and study it.

Gomez “hopelessly missed” their community after leaving Florida to get their MFA, and their memoir was a tool to find her. “Writing was a way for me to revisit places like Pulse, the friends I used to go there with who helped me get by in my early twenties. It helped me to feel less alone.

The writing in “High-Risk Homosexual” is visceral and immediate, but Gomez sometimes had to unravel the details of a memory from a single lasting image. “I did research like looking at old photos, randomly googling things like what music was popular in certain years or performing at an event I attended and seeing what memories it triggered. “

Once Gomez moved in and got his first laptop, they started taking more notes, they said, even writing early drafts of what would become chapters in “High-Risk Gay.” But in the tiny home they grew up sharing with their mother, brother and stepfather, “Keeping a diary would have been like leaving evidence of my crimes everywhere.”

“In general, the good memory is one of the main reasons why the book took so long — about seven years — to write,” Gomez said. “I would write a draft and then sit with it for a while until I was absolutely sure I had told the story to the best of my abilities.”

Their confidence didn’t waver, but Gomez still wasn’t sure the post was in the cards. This doubt came from statistics, not from impostor syndrome. Although Gomez knew their writing was good, they were also aware of the overwhelming whiteness of the book industry.

“I didn’t have a huge platform,” they said. “It’s a strange Latinx memoir. And while I’ve since proven there’s an audience for it, many publishing houses don’t see voices like mine as great investments.

But there was an advantage. Gomez’s questionable estimate of the book’s odds “made me feel like I could write with as much vulnerability and honesty as I wanted,” they said. “Because no one will ever actually read the book.”

People read it, especially after a rave review from the New York Times. Now Gomez is working on another. They feel a responsibility to give hope to young gay readers when they share their story – “I didn’t want them to read my book and come out more depressed than when they started” – but a greater responsibility to the truth.

“I’m not a big fan of neat, tidy endings or people coating things on me,” Gomez said. “One of my biggest disappointments as a queer kid was seeing TV shows that made it seem like homosexuality was okay, and when I grew up and entered the world through me -even, having to face this for a lot of people, it’s still not right. It’s not all rainbows. So while writing my book, I insisted on telling the truth, no matter how ugly -she sometimes. It’s both what I wanted to do and also what I felt I owed to the readers. I didn’t want to lie to them and pretend that everything was fine and that they weren’t prepared for the real world .

What if a teenager Edgar Gomez was one of those young gay readers? What would Gomez say to this kid?

“I would tell them that all the things they don’t like about themselves now are what will save them when they’re older,” Gomez said. “And wear sunscreen.”

More ways to celebrate Latinx heritage at GW

Gillian Villarroel, President of the Organization of Latin American Students (OLAS) and Junior of GW, noted that the theme of this year’s celebration “is special because it highlights how important the Latinx community is here on and off-campus with the vast network of Latinx alumni and amazing Latinx teachers”.

“Together as a community, we raise each other’s voices and celebrate our successes,” Villarroel said.

Upcoming Latinx Heritage Celebration events at GW also include:

• “Latinos in Law,” Oct. 6 at 7 p.m. at Jacob Burns Moot Court, 2000 H St., NW
• “Nuestra Belleza y Galán Latine,” October 7 at 7 p.m. in the Continental Ballroom, Third Floor of the University Student Center, 800 21st St., NW
• “Latinx Teachers Brunch,” Oct. 8 at 11 a.m. Students are encouraged to connect and share with Latinx teachers. Continental Ballroom.
• “A Taste of Latin America,” Oct. 10 at 6 p.m. in the basement of Potomac House, 2021 F St., NW
• “The Only Latina in the Room,” October 13 at 5:30 p.m. Four national security professionals will discuss the challenges and triumphs of being Latina in a predominantly white, male profession. Elliott School of International Affairs, Room 602, 1957 E St., NW.
• “La Fiestasa”, October 15. All are welcome at the closing celebration of OLAS – more details and tickets available soon.