Javier Morillo - Ricardo

 

August 2015. There wasn't a hint of resentment or awkward self-awareness, when I accepted the invitation to join the Facebook group of my 30th high school reunion. And I thought, this time I think I can go. The first agenda of business, the group polls a question, “30th reunion, 2017. Puerto Rico or the United States?” Most of the class of 1987 now lives on the mainland. Maybe out of a sense of duty or nostalgia, we've all left as part of the brain drain on the island, but it surely can use our tourist dollars. And so, we decide all together that it will be there. 

 

I joined the group without even thinking about it. I could barely even remember why it felt so stressful to even contemplate attending any of the prior reunions. On the Facebook group, our back and forth is interrupted for a second. You may wonder like, what's my role in this? Where did I fit in this? So, I was the bilingual kid who considered himself very, very deep. [audience laughter] The kind of kid who read 1984 in 1984 without a hint of irony. [audience laughter] Everything was very, very serious. As serious as my Flock of Seagulls inspired haircut. [audience laughter] 

 

I was a tortured teenager, and my torture was important as important as Morrissey lyric. Yes, I listened to The Smiths, and The Clash and The Cure. So, we are going back and forth on the Facebook group about where to have the reunion and such, when all of a sudden, it's interrupted by a screech, a primordial scream, all caps, “FUCK YOU ALL, YOU DAMN HOMOPHOBES. [Spanish language] ALL OF YOU HAVE HURT ME. I HATE YOU CLASS OF 1987. A BIG F U. ALL OF YOU, EXCEPT BRENDA AND MAYBE ROSEMARY AND A FEW OTHER. BUT THE REST OF YOU, A BIG F U.” [audience laughter] 

 

Meet Ricardo. Ricardo's Facebook page did not have any pictures, not even an avatar to suggest who he is, but I know who he is. We all do. We all knew that this rant, which seemingly came out of the blue, actually made perfect sense. He was this kid who, even though he'd gone to Antilles his entire schooling since elementary school, he never was comfortable in English. He didn't get good grades and didn't have a lot of friends, and all of them were girls. That's what I knew about him, but it wasn't much. A very long time ago, I had decided to not know a lot about Ricardo. 

 

Now, as long as I had known him since the 4th grade, Ricardo could never do what I could when I felt scared, just make myself invisible or blend in. Ricardo always stood out. Even when we were like eight-years-old, kids would call him Pato. In Spanish, Pato just means duck. But in Puerto Rico, and only in Puerto Rico, it's also a slur. It is the slang word for faggot. And Ricardo--

 

I think about it for a second and comment on his page and I say, “Ricardo [Spanish language].” But I think it's important I say this publicly. I thought about you so much these many years since Antilles, because I too am gay and I think about all those times when I saw people being unkind to you and I feel deep shame that I never spoke up. I then sit back, and retreat to adolescence and waiting to see how many likes my comment will get. [audience laughter] 

 

People, there's a lot of activity on the page. People start apologizing to Ricardo Ramon, an army brat like me. He apologizes to Ricardo and then to me. He says that he regrets so much how he treated us that he now has taught his kids to stand up for others who are being bullied. Ricardo messages me privately and says that I have nothing to apologize for. He says, “You were always kind to me.” We remember things differently. I think as I recall all those times that I saw him being bullied and walked in the other direction. Our reunion is next year in Spring. I messaged Ricardo and asked him, “Will I see you there?” “We'll see,” he says. Thank you.