CHAPTER 22. IN THE SOUTH, I AM
BLACK
The best gift I received at my Bar Mitzvah was the trip to the United States. I had never been on a plane before, so it was quite an adventure. I had no idea where those magical cities like Mexico, Washington, and New York were. I thought that as the planes took off, these cities inhabited the clouds since no one had told me that what goes up must come down. But maybe I wasn’t completely wrong. According to quantum theorists, there are floating cities in the clouds that belong to parallel universes.
The journey was exciting, and the twin-engine plane moved like a coffee maker. Since I didn’t know what turbulence was, I wasn’t scared, but if a plane moved like that now, I would parachute out. Mexico City caught my attention. Mexico City, also known as Ciudad de México, is a vibrant and bustling metropo-lis located in the central part of Mexico. With a population of over 9 million people and counting, it is one of the largest cities in the world. Mexico City is rich in history, boasting a fascinating blend of ancient Aztec ruins, colonial architecture, and modern skyscrapers.
Mexico, like San Jose or Buenos Aires, has had a long history of gay bars and parties. The Mexican Movie Los 41, also known as the Dance of the 41, refers to an incident that took place in Mexico City 78
in 1901. The “41” refers to the number of men who were arrested during a raid at a private gathering in a residence. These men were participating in a same-sex ball, and the raid was seen as an attempt to suppress and stigmatize homosexuality. The incident stirred significant public controversy and created a legacy as a noteworthy event in the LGBTQ+ history of Mexico.
This same year, El Diario de Costa Rica reports, a similar raid occurs in San Jose, following the steps of its North American counterpart. The similarities would disappear during the fifties when San Jose would start developing a much broader bar scene than Mexico. By 1970, San Jose would have more gay bars than Mexico City, Buenos Aires, Madrid, Paris, and New York, a phenomenon that no one has been able to explain.
My mother chose the Hotel Vermont near Insurgentes Avenue: sordid, small, and dark. However, it was so cheap that soon other Costa Ricans, like Elena, who came to leave their children at the Mexican university, joined us; the march had nothing to envy to Moses’ crossing of the Red Sea. “Do they include as many eggs as you want for breakfast?” - Doña Marisha inquired at the reception, while calling Doña Henchita on the phone: “Come here, it’s a metsieh (bargain); you pay half of what you pay at the Regis, and they even give you up to three eggs.”
My anonymity came to an end: I would open the elevator door, and Doña Ofelia would come out, 79
bringing her offspring to study medicine; I would sit down to have breakfast, and Doña Clara would appear, shouting at Gori, her son, to stop eating but-ter because he would turn into a pig. At the reception, Doña Rosa was making a call to Costa Rica: “Say yes, big shmuck!” - she asked her husband on the other end, who had no idea what a collect call was.
Mothers were sacrificing themselves by leaving their offspring in this enormous country to obtain a harvest of doctors who would be the answer to who knows how many incurable diseases. “I’m sure Julio will cure cancer,” predicts Doña Esther, forgetting that her son got his high school diploma by cheating.
In the face of the invasion of my hotel, under the supervision of the Costa Rican Mossad, I couldn’t have any contact with gay life. I noticed that more men were looking at me, and they did so unabashedly, without the concerns of small towns. Just by walking along Insurgentes Avenue, it was easy to detect the looks of men. Also in the cafeterias, it was visible that many gays gathered in them.
For this trip, I had grown quite a bit, and the ugly duckling had turned into an attractive teenager. I look at my photos of Mexico now and realize that it wasn’t so bad, but I didn’t feel that way at the time.
The looks from men confused me because, not considering myself handsome, I didn’t understand what they wanted.