I’m on Fire

I’m on fire and I never ever want to be put out.

My father told me I had to blend in with the mainstream in order to be successful. He told me that people would say terrible things about me if I acted too gay or feminine, if I dressed too gay or feminine, if I was too gay or feminine. “Hijo, you have to be serious.” “You have to be cool.” “You have to be normal.”

These “conversations” resonated with me.

“Para con esa cara de sonso” “Stop with that idiots face”.

“When you take picture you have to be serious”.

I stopped smiling in pictures hiding my beautiful smile from the world in an attempt to be “Normal”.

“You can’t sing in the Choir. Only gays sing in the choir.”

I didn’t sing in the choir limiting my outlets of creative expression in an attempt to be “Normal”.

“Don’t wear those pants. Only gays wear those pants.”

I didn’t by those skinny jeans hiding my sexy legs and fantastic butt in an attempt to be “Normal”.

“Don’t cut your hair like that.”

I didn’t grow out my bangs limiting the versatility of looks I could pull off in an attempt to be “Normal”.

“Don’t talk like that.”

I began lowering my voice hiding my beautiful counter tenor range and hurting my vocal chords in an attempt to be “Normal”.

“Only gays do that”

Silence. I began to silence who I was in an attempt to be “Normal”.

I tried so hard to be “Normal” by my father’s definitions. I tried playing sports. I tried having a girlfriend. I tried dressing “Normal”. I tried walking “Normal”. I tried talking “Normal”. I tried to be “Normal”. But it didn’t work. It never worked.

No matter how hard I tried to be “Normal”, people always seemed to see through my façade. People have been calling me “fag” since the fourth grade. People have been pushing me down since the second grade. People have just straight up not liked me for no reason since the first grade. Father, I know how cruel the world treats those who deviate from “Normal”. I have experienced it with my flesh and bones and with my heart and soul.

No matter how hard I tried to be “Normal”, people always said terrible things about me. People always did terrible things to me. People never seemed to like me.

Then it dawned on me. If I was miserable being that definition of “Normal” and being that definition of “Normal” didn’t stop people from saying terrible things about me, then why be it?

Over the years I have come to realize this — Why blend in when one was born to stand out. I was made to rock red Korean pop star skinny jeans. I was made to sing Mariah Carey at Karaoke Night in some random bar in Baltimore. I was made to dance and strut everywhere and anywhere I choose. I was made to DJ the deepest and funkiest house for a room filled with fabulous queens and a shit ton of glitter. I was made to share my experiences with homophobia and racism. I was made to listen to others, learn about their struggles, and lend a hand to aid them in their causes. I was put on this earth to be fabulous, to be fierce, to be woke af, to be Fonsi.

Simply put, I was made to be me. Nobody can take that away from me.

I am a superstar. Nobody can change that.

I am on fire and nobody can ever put me out.