My Letter to Matthew.

Dearest Matthew:

You don't know me. You never did. But, here is my letter. I begin with an introduction. I am Carlos. I was 26 at the time of learning your story. Your life was tragically brief, but it was the wake-up call I needed.

At the time of learning of your short, but tragic life; I was a lost, wayward man living in Atlanta, GA. I was shy, quiet, ignored and mistreated. I knew nothing of you at the time and at that time, the struggle to accept my sexual orientation was very real and it was treated more as a phase, than a blessing. I was raised to be ashamed of who I was due to my fundamentalist Christian background. I was pretending to be anyone and anything other than what I truly was. A gay man.

To let you know, I still knew very little about you even as was I writing this - In fact, I had to watch a YouTube video to get a better sense of who you were in life. I'm only halfway done with "The Laramie Project" which was the documentary that told your tragic story. Your brutal murder at the hand of two straight, merciless thugs, was all the news in October, 1998 and became the turning point in my life. I had fought long and hard to deny my very authentic truth and my very nature. You see, I could never get anyone's attention (neither men nor woman). I was assuming, far from attractive (so I believed at the time). I didn't consider myself as a viable and worthy person enough to be loved and accepted by any person. To have to accept that I was "gay", would never even been acceptable to me. The upbringing I had; had convinced me that it was abominable, an abhorrence and unnatural under God.

I was willing to stay quiet for fear of being open. At that time, the HIV/AIDS crisis was still very newsworthy and active. I still lived with my parents in my early-20s. I figured the very notion of being attracted to men was futile and that no one would want me. I was after all, a Christian (a lapsed one at that, at that time). I was supposed to be pure in the eyes of God. I was supposed to be chaste. I was supposed to be either a virgin forever or perhaps married only to a woman and have children. In essence - I was supposed to be miserable.

Then, I heard about your unconscionable, horrible and needless beating and how you were left to die. Looking like a scarecrow out of a horror movie. What got me was the fact that it had nothing to do with you being the victim of a robbery-gone-awry. It had nothing to do with just a set of tragic circumstances that often happen that we sadly cannot control. It was all because you were gay.

I couldn't fucking believe it! Why? What was so fucking threatening about you? I don't usually indulge in profanity and it seems tactless and tasteless, but it seems almost perfect in my question as to why did you have to die; just because you were a young, homosexual man who was just seeking friendship, company and maybe perhaps, companionship. What was the fear of your murderers: Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson? That you had some sort of magical power to convert their questionable heterosexuality to full-on gayness? You could've been their friend. They could've been educated and they could've been our allies. They could've just let you be and even kept their bigotry more of a private joke between them. Or they just could've just gone to another bar. They chose you, simply because you were you.

It was then, I made a decision. If being me (a gay man) was worthy of death; then, I would gladly go head and feet first. I came out as a homosexual. My decision was one of elation, relief, confusion and even hope.

Here's the surprise. Not much changed after that.

Yes, I had accepted my authentic self for the very first time in my life. I had sought out gay groups to be a part of. Atlanta was supposedly a haven for progress and for progressive thinking. There were bars and clubs as diverse as Blakes, Backstreet, Hoedowns and even a bookstore named Outwrite that was very gay-centered. I got to know many men through a gay men's social chat group, many of whom were very kind and even receptive to me. Unfortunately, what I also learned, was that being gay wasn't going to roll me out any red carpets.

I was still vastly ignored by men. I remember a gay pride parade down by Piedmont Park where most of the attendees were men who were muscular and scantily clad. While I certainly didn't have a problem with men expressing their more sexual side; it seemed a little bit odd to me that that was the only thing they were choosing to show. I also had to be privy to a very unfortunate lesson and that is - if you are gay, but do not have amenities, such as a car, a home, a wealthy set of friends, a lifelong gym membership and even any reason to have sex at will - you were pretty much useless. You were a pariah. You were viewed as too "pink" or too virginal. I actually wondered if that was all the community had to offer. Just sex and no deep emotional connection. It didn't help matters that one friend at the time was even emotionally and psychologically abusive to me.

This so-called friend even had the audacity to lay it all out for me; of which I regret, I took at face value:

"You're poor. You live at home with your mom, You don't even drive a car. What the fuck do you have to offer?"

Apparently, I felt and sometimes still feel being gay is a cross to bear. An even heavier one sometimes, if you are below poverty level. I learned that the unfortunate side effect of being authentic, was that there was (rather is) high expectation. Expectation of putting out and being more noticed and accepted in the community provided you have some degree of clout. Being gay means a lot of things to many people. Many can be themselves more freely. Many don't have the financial hang-ups I did and still do to this day. Many can enter any gay venue and suddenly attract the best of the best people. The expectation was that I still have to be financially stable and be viable to any and all men. It seems the upbringing and my need to be accepted by everyone was negating my happiness. But, I assure you - I will get there!

For years, I battled depression, anxiety disorder, PTSD and suicidal ideation. From what I extrapolated in researching your life; I got that you didn't have it easy either. Yes, your parents gave you love and support in the midst of you coming out - but, that didn't quell the many challenges you faced. Saddest, was your time in Morocco when you were the victim of anti-gay violence and sexual assault. A defining moment for you, I'm sure. But yet, your fighting spirit and your need to unite all human beings, regardless of race, body type and socio-economic level, was what made you a force for good and had it been that you were never taken from us that horrific October night in Laramie, Wyoming - one wonders what might've been.

In conclusion, I just want to say that it angers me what they did, even to this very day. 1998 versus 2021, many strides made including the inclusion of gay marriage and more visibility to the law in regards to legislation against anti-gay violence and hate crimes. Your mother, Judy, is a true pioneer and warrior, becoming a force for good and for creating The Matthew Shepard Foundation; her non-profit created with the purpose to bring light to accepting all those who are different and that they receive the same fundamental right to be loved, accepted and respected as all human beings deserve. I hope one day I can meet her. I am still here and while I know you may never know me; you were and are the reason I chose to come out. You are the reason I choose to accept my authentic truth even when I am not accepted by either the straight, religious, far-right and even the very few bad apples in our now-christened LGBTQIA community.

As I've heard often said: "May his death be a blessing", may yours be a light to those who see only dark. You were yourself. We should all be the same.

Best regards and with the hope we meet someday,

Carlos.

Here's the link to the Matthew Shepard Foundation if anyone who reads this wants to make a donation. https://www.matthewshepard.org/