FULL DISCLOSURE... ALMOST.

I’ve always wanted to write a journal. Always. It seemed like an interesting thing to have. A testimonial of who you were in that particular time and place in your life. An instant window to your old self. Along the line I’ve known of several people who have been writing their journals and generally I’m curious to see how am I portrayed in them. The last person that I knew about was my friend Tito. I was completely surprised, I would have never imagined that he, of all the people would keep a journal. But he does. So I asked him if he could read me what he had written about me. After some convincing, he did. And regardless of what he wrote, I was thrilled for the opportunity of going back in time, in that particular way.

Not that I’m one of those people who like to dwell on the past, on the contrary, I like the new and improved. Even speaking of my favorite artist, I prefer to hear “hung up” than “material girl” anytime, even if I was there when the older song started having airplay, and even if I like her ever since. So, is not about nostalgia. It’s more about letting go. I know that I have lots and lots of memories in me, I even surprise myself when some of them appear out of nowhere, since they’re not something that I have had in my present state of mind. The point is that they’re there and sometimes I feel like if I do not release them, they will stay and burden me forever. In that line of thinking, that’s why a journal has always been intriguing to me. An easy-archive to my past so that I can go on freely. I know, it’s psychobabble but it works for me.

Then again, if I have the answer, why, oh why don’t I apply it? I’ll tell you why, I because of fear: fear that someone else might read it and learn about some bizarre idiosyncrasy I might have had or have at the current moment. Fear that something I might have said about someone can be heard by that person. Fear that people might know whom have I slept with, you name it. It might seem to most of my friends that I don’t have a problem sharing my life with others, but to be honest, I DO! I have a wide load of things that I would like to keep in a journal, but I’m too afraid to put it in paper, because, as soon as it is in paper, one, is out of me and two, it can be read by anyone. See my predicament?

It can be said that I can be a bit paranoid, it’s true, but the point is that, at the end, is both. I’m paranoid and I have trouble letting go. Friends, lovers, family, relationships, stuff, you name it. Feelings, situations, moods, even pens. And it’s a well discussed topic with my therapist; I have to learn how to let go. But, in order to do so, I have to confront my fear, my fear of exposing myself and who I am, so here I goes: I present to you CUB IN THIS CITY.

I’m a 30 years old gay man from Juarez, who can be called a bear but feels more like a cub. I started coming out of the closet at 20 to some of my friends and at 22 to my parents. Only last year I told my three siblings, and their response was: duhh! Let me explain about that, is not that I’m queer, is just that they’re young, not stupid. In fact, the good thing is that, since I’m very discreet and masculine, I pass under the radar most of the time. Sometimes it works against me because guys that I might find attractive do not think of me as gay. Most of my friends know this tidbit of information, but as a Mexican male, I’m still not so comfortable knowing that anyone can know it. The only place where I’m not out is at work, and I like it that way, since I work in a mostly male environment. I’m sure a lot of people suspect it but they’re prudent and do not ask about it.

I share with you this particular part of my life, because, although I consider myself out of the closet, sometimes I feel sometimes like I need the protection it gives to us queer people. I fear I might be discriminated against if I don’t have that special place to go when needed. It’s a double standard, I know, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get by. But as the need for the protection of my parents, some stuff tends to grow old with time and become a burden. So by writing this I’m trying to come clean with this particular topic and myself.

So there you have it: I’m gay (that’s the good news), I have trouble letting go, I’m a bit paranoid and I hope that, by exposing myself to you in this space I can overcome some, if not, most of my fears. Thank you for the opportunity.