BH is for lovers

Every night for several weeks now, I pass by this couple who meet each other under a tree in front of one of the shuttered shops by my building. I know they must come here after work because they're always wearing the same uniforms.

They stand there for literally hours giggling, occasionally making out, talking in low voices or just

sitting close

huddled on the steps.

It moves me to see two people so obviously, so relentlessly in love...

They're young and apparently lower on the socioeconomic chain, so their relationship is structurally disposed to a high likelihood of failure. Marriage is rare among Brazil's marginalized poor, the ability to form a stable family unit seriously complicated by a host of social challenges and insecurities. My research harangues me about all the barriers to resources, the power differentials, the unrelenting poverty that looms over their lives.

But when I pass them, I can't help my smile... and wish them all the best. Seriously, who knows what that bond they are forging can enable them to accomplish...?

Self-reassuring posting

I know, I know, it's been nothing but static on the blogging channel lately. Life has, in fact, settled into a routine. I know the streets in my neighborhood. People know me at the bakery, the apartment building, my work, the supermarket. They are even starting to comment that my speech seems more natural and fluid. Tranquility? Comfort? Ease?

Nay. Madness.

This is just when moving gets dangerous!! You went to Fish Camp. You bought your books (wtf $$??) You ate pizza three days in a row at the cafeteria (becuase I can!). You've explored campus, even attended a few classes (not so scary). The newness of your dorm has worn off (yes, it's that small).

and you're just sitting there.

at the MSC fountain.

all your highschool chums far away.

Well... what now?

The quiet is so scary because you realize so much of your old life was built on transient things. The silence terrifies you because it demands from you... who are you? what are you about? (and worst of all) Why are you worth my time?

Fortunately, I know how the rest of the story goes. You gradually make new friends (some pretty amazing people too!) You find new aspects of your home (You can get on the roof of most buildings on campus). Religious crazies scream at you. You encounter new ideas. You grow. You work really hard. You learn things you never could have imagined. You fail. You join causes. You get in shape. You learn how to manage money. Your perspective changes. Your direction changes. You cry. You make bad decisions. You fall in love. Your heart breaks.

And when you look around your apartment where you made so many memories. When your friends wave good bye while you wipe the tears away on the road to current dreams, you'll look back at yourself (such a short time ago). And smile.

Though I'm pining for the familiar faces and things, though I'm spazzing out wondering what the hell am I going to do next year? I am confident of this: if you put out your hands and open your eyes - wherever you are - life will find you.

The Travesti Who Could

In the previous post, I noted the grim reality that most travestis end up working in prostitution. However, Ricardo told me about a case in the Northeastern state of Ceará about a travesti who managed to graduate from college and even pass the rigorous public exam to work in the school system as a teacher. I looked up the story written by Kalima Fernandes in the January 4th, 2009 ed. of the Folha de São Paulo.

It was so inspiring, I thought I'd share the main points with you. João Filho, or Luma as she prefers to be called, is the first travesti to enter into a doctorate program in Brazil. She also works in the school system managing 28 schools in 13 districts of the state.

Luma is the child of illiterate poor parents. She chose to study to support her family instead of entering into prostitution. In the school system, she was the constant victim of ridicule and physical violence. She tells the story of once running to a teacher for help after being assaulted by a classmate only to be told, "Good job, and who was it who forced you to be this way?" She remembers that the persecution would only diminish around exams when her classmates would ask her for help with math.

Upon graduating, despite her exemplary performance and grades, she was singled out to be monitored for a over a month by the school director. Another attempted to block her assignment all together. In the classroom, she often would face ridicule from her own students.

Now, as she continues her doctorate research, there is no questioning that she is highly qualified. Apart from her professional performance, her own truly heroic struggle against intense discrimination and ridicule to obtain an education and a respectable job is a testimony to her strength of character. Hopefully, her courage will open the doors for other young travestis in education and provide new opportunities away from a life on the streets.

Why face all this grief? Why come out of the closet?

Integrity.

Do what they will, no one can rob you of your freedom and dignity if you are true to yourself.

You go, girl.

City of lights

Preparing to leave, I realized Americans have two ideas about Brazil. First, that violent crime is continuously threatening to end your life and rob you of all possessions leaving you naked and bleeding in some dark alley. The other is that Brazilians are stunningly gorgeous with a smoldering sense of sexuality. Langurous eyes shaded by palm fronds beckoning... I started to get a little nonplused by the constant insinuations that I would soon be engaging in almost constant orgies with the gods.
*wink


Oooookay then... Welcome to Rio!

Soon after depositing my things at some friends' apartment, we set off together to walk down the beach front. Copacabana, Arpoador, Ipanema, Leblon... Rio's mountains draped in surf, a fresh, high sun overhead: Sunday afternoon, the city was out strolling. People trotted next to us on a marathon. Neighbors chatted in bars down the beachfront. Kids on tired old powerwheels and bikes with training wheels cruised through a moving forest of legs. Since it's winter, there were but a few surfers, a few beggers both brozed by innumerable beach afternoons - each in their own way, diehards...

We wound through the cool, tall streets of the Zona Sul. The black and white mosaic sidewalks tinted green under our feet from the light filtered through arcades of trees. Men unloading furniture. The fat taxi driver dozing shirtless in his cab. The bustle of an open-air craft market. Shoppings, stores, restaurants, bars, supermarkets.

Glancing through the hundreds of faces, I thought, to be honest, few Brazilians fit American's ideas of beauty. Most are too skinny, too fat and/or shall I say it? Too dark. Yes, every once and a while a man with the most perfectly chisled body would saunter down the street, a cocky smile on his well-porportioned face. But you would meet more gymbunnies in Chelsea on a single city block. The fact that I even had this thought told me I was looking for support for Americans' Brazilian beauty myth.

No, as much as it pains me to burst your bubble, Brazilians are pretty much like people anywhere... pretty, ugly, big, skinny, hairy, young, old, scarred, trashy, sophisticated, slight, thick... would you really want it anyother way? After all, if you wandered into a room of half-naked underwear models, most likely you would be too worried about sucking in your gut to get a hard on.

I left Rio on a dingy, snuffed out cigarette of a night. Hurtling towards the bus station in one of those wild, off the track roller coaster cars they call taxis here, I was lost in thought about all that I had seen. We careened down a street and turned a corner -

suddenly, between the buildings the black sky was filled with a galaxy of stars. It was so unexpected, it took a moment to realize they were the distant lights of one of Rio's infamous shantytowns precariously ascending up the invisible mountain face before me. Poverty, ignorance, violence, dead ends all transformed into constellations of lives hanging above the fitfully sleeping city.

Beauty.

Spring is best sprung together

Yesterday, Sam and I wandered all over campus, decidedly aimless and wired on coffee. In celebration of Gay Awareness week, we were there to be seen. Was it a political act? Not really... it mainly was just a fantastic day. Texas A&M is ugly and drab in many ways, but when you look down the street lit by spring sunlight filtered through thousands of fresh green oak leaves... there is more than classrooms, more than students, more than even memory.

I do suggest exploring campus:

1. During a school day - People wander about in a daze. It's as though you were watching hundreds of opaque bubbles floating about. I seriously recommend attempting to make eye contact with everyone who passes you. Your very presence as a wild card (even if you're one of the herd on other days) will act as a foil to routine. This will almost inevitably make you feel mischievous and subversive. And who knows where that will take you...

2. At night - You might not think it would provide as rich a source for observation, but the campus at night speaks to me just as much as during the day. It's just that the dialog comes from the buildings and trees themselves. The dark and deserted buildings are intimate and conspiratory.

After sending the night in the MSC and climbing over every square inch of it over the years, I feel like an old friend is passing away now that they are remodeling it. Rudder tower actually complained to me once about all the students that nap there. He said he didn't mind me so much... I don't drool.

3. Pond hopping is a must before you leave. Play in the dirty water, sit on the jets, slide down the steps and proclaim your vitality as a young twenty-something year old.

***

Later I enjoyed drunken tanning with Brittany. We then proceeded to get sexy and model said sexiness in the bluebonnets on the median of 2818. Pictures to follow. Soon we're going to shoplift Aviator style sun glasses from Walmart and more sexiness will follow. Seriously... I might have to post a warning.

Thence to Caffe Capri for long overdue deliciousness and Revolutions to add layer of Irish coffee and self-conscious hippie artsiness. It is possible to be senuous around here; take it for what it is...

Student Socializing - We then shifted gears entirely and revealed in carefree tea drinking, karaoke and awkward head-dancing. This is also known as student socializing. You're not going to have a meaningful conversation (only convo); however, it is genuinely nice to see people you like, hug them and bob your heads to the music together. Besides, the mildly scandalous (and I mean mild) social milieu provides an edge slightly more entertaining than sitting on your couch, watching comedy central and turning in early. Hey, just think about it. OMG, DO YOU THINK THAT GUY IS GAY? NO, DAVID.

We sang "Faith" by Limp Bizkit. Well, Brittany did. Aaron sang the George Michael version and I was just there to look hot, which I accomplished with my sexy stare and sweet dance gyrations (see post to follow!). When the scroll got to the "Get the F*** up!!" part I did join in. Oh boy! I positively love screaming profanities - well, anything really - in public!

I guess this post is really about letting yourself be free to create and find magic... even in such a decidedly mugglian environment such as College Station.





You gotta KEEP FAITH!!