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The Anomaly

Operating as LGBTQ+, Latino, and First-Generation in Rural America

By Brandon CorralesPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 18 min read
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The Anomaly
Photo by Olivier Guillard on Unsplash

Harlan parked the truck in the lot located about a mile from the cabin. We were in the deep valleys north of Allentown, Pennsylvania, miles away from family, friends, and the Pastor who told me to maintain “self-control.” It was Harlan’s idea to come here; I knew no one would suspect our intentions. I just wanted one weekend where I could let go and be free for once. I reassured myself that it wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t going to go to Hell.

I glanced at Harlan with a smile on my face, but my smile faltered as I began thinking about our time together. Deep inside the pit of my stomach, I knew this wasn’t just a quick getaway trip. There were things we needed to discuss—especially about college—and the thought of it made my heart ache.

But it didn’t overshadow the excitement I had coming here. I exited the black, years-old pick-up truck and headed straight for the hills.

“Slow down, Santiago!” Harlan shouted.

I slowed down as I let him catch up, kicking the rocks between my feet without a worry in the world. Lightness settled in my chest, and my feet bounced with every step I took. When we reached the woods, I was hit with the smell of earth as I entered the foliage of the trees.

“Oh wow,” I muttered, crinkling my nose.

As a rural man, I should be used to the scent, scenery, or just nature itself, but I wasn’t like my brothers, friends, or neighbors. In fact, I was never able to fulfill what was expected of me. As my feet dug into the mud, venturing with the person I loved, the other men in my town were all at their full-time, blue collar jobs. The construction workers, janitors, car mechanics, and landscapers prove their superiority with their occupations. Apparently, their labor deemed them to be real men. Their use of a wrench, ladder, or lawn mower proved their gender more than my infatuation with a computer keyboard. It took some time for my parents and siblings to stop making fun of my new job at the IT department. I guessed they got bored. But they were still critical of it.

I supposed the cabin was the exception to this rule. It wasn’t foreign to me, but rather familiar.

So at least I was safe for now, or at least I told myself that. I didn’t hear anyone, only the melodies of the birds, the river crashing into rocks, and the wind flowing through the branches. But I glanced around my surroundings. The idea of someone seeing us heightened my vigilance. Harlan grabbed my hand, his lips forming a reassuring line. The rough texture of his fingers caressed my palms, eventually intertwining themselves with mine. Heat flushed my face since I wasn’t the type of person to rely on comfort from others, but Harlan rubbed my thumb with his.

“You’ll be okay,” he said.

“I know,” I said. I controlled my breathing, quietly hoping to find the cabin quickly.

About ten minutes later, the short but wide structure comes into view. Long grass and wildflowers grew around the base of the cabin. Behind the building, the ground sloped down to a massive, empty grassfield. A few steps next to the porch sat a fire pit, a circle of rocks surrounding soil where grass should be. It would be a great place to watch the sunset. As the leaves rattled in the wind, I saw nothing but only the cracks and dust on the window; everything else was untouched. The chimney looked brand new, standing about thirty feet high in the air, and completely unbothered in spite of the decades worth of fires that must have been started beneath it. The building was apparently constructed fifty years ago, and it still looked good.

Thankfully, there are no other cabins around it. While the building was privately owned, the person we rented it from never bothered to turn the land into a massive camping sight. Only the structure, fire pit, river, rocks and skinny trees were in the vicinity. It was a perfect place to disconnect from the world.

My family used to live in the area near the cabin. As a child, I came to the cabin bi-weekly and explored the woods until my family decided to move elsewhere and buy a farm, where they currently live. Being here again, I couldn't remember a time where I truly felt free. The unfulfilled expectations, anxiety, and disappointments of my adolescence and early adulthood made living on the farm misery. My brown skin, curly, messy hair, and “articulate” voice already set me apart from my neighbors and peers. I was even different amongst my family members, whose white-passing appearances made assimilation possible. Realizing that I was gay was the cherry on top.

I know my parents moved so we could have a better future, but the rest of my loved ones barely had to make an adjustment after moving to the farm. Obviously, moving to a more rural area meant being in a homogeneously white community. I endured years of invasive questions regarding parts of myself that are out of my control. “Why are you brown?” “No, where are you actually from?” “You seem pretty smart for a Latino!”

I did whatever it took to control myself as I stared at the building.

“This place brings back a lot of memories,” I said.

A tentative smile crossed Harlan’s face. “Oh, good ones I hope?”

“Of course,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Ok, well if that’s all… let’s start a fire.”

We crossed the treeline to gather some sticks. Tall trees rose out of the earth and brushed the yellow sky—the leaves a deeper green as the clouds continued to move in. I let out a peaceful sigh. Birds calling to one another, squirrels chattering. It was easy to acknowledge that neither the past nor present existed in the woods, where I could just be. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of petrichor, mixed with a hint of mint and other wild herbs, and I imagined the air going down my throat and spreading throughout each space in my lungs. The woods may not always be the place for me, but this specific place was the exception. I could wander and gaze and let nature engulf me with the childhood memories that have a special place in my heart—and not feel so different.

At the firepit, I placed the sticks down and carefully squatted down on a tree trunk as Harlan began taking the contents of his pack. As I started the fire, Harlan prepared a whole picnic. Salami, ham and cheese sandwiches, grapes, chocolates, and beers. I couldn’t help but watch him and took note of how fluid he moved, the crease between his eyebrows. It was as if everything he did was careful and calculated. I smiled to myself.

As we began eating, the sky above us melted from orange and yellow towards the west, as the sunset became someone else’s sunrise. On the other side of Harlan, the small top piece of the sun gave out what light it had left before it completely set, his profile outlined in gold, warming his pale skin.

He looked up, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. My heart skipped as I smiled back.

But his smile became unconfident, and I looked away. We still needed to talk about our plans for the future. Though my stomach lurched at the thought, it was a conversation we had to have. I would prefer to just stay quiet.

“So, are you planning on leaving?” he asked.

I took a second to respond. “I don’t know. I just won the scholarship, and I can use it for any college I get into. I’ve already gotten into Oberlin, Columbia, and Brown. With the scholarship, I don’t have to pay a penny. I may be a few years late, but it’s a great opportunity.”

“Really?” He squirmed in his seat. “I thought you were a bit on the fence. Don’t you like your new job a lot?”

I took a bite of my sandwich. “I do. It took me four years to get my associate degree, and though my job pays well… but with a bachelor’s, I can double my salary and get the hell out of the farm.”

Harlan’s head dipped down to the ground and he started picking at the paper towel the sandwich was wrapped in. “So that’s what you want? To leave the farm, your friends, your family…” He paused for a moment. I knew what he was going to say next, but I didn’t want to hear it. “And me?”

I took a moment to respond. “No, that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just that—” I took a deep breath and put my sandwich down on my lap. “Why should I give up an opportunity that a handful of people around the world get? I’ll be able to get my bachelor’s for free.”

Harlan nodded, his eyes still on the ground.

“This is a chance for me to maximize my potential,” I continued. “It’s an opportunity for me to be free for once. They are all in accepting areas.”

Harlan bit his lower lip.

Harlan always did this. He pretended like the inevitable wasn’t coming, but deep down, he knew that my ambition to leave the farm and progress my professional career drove me for years. And I didn’t want my exhaustion and energy wasted for nothing.

But I have to escape. The judgment I got from those around me—about my skin, and about my intellectual pursuits—pierced my skin like a million needles. “You’ll become a liberal,” they said. And even though Harlan didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want me to go either. He didn’t want me to leave him.

“Anyways,” I said, breaking the silence, “If I do get into the University of Pennsylvania, I can be close. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop seeing you.”

He sighed out of his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

His response placed a stone in my stomach. I scooted closer to him, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. His attention was on the sunset, face splashed with orange and yellow. “Then why don’t you come with me?” I asked, placing my hand on mine. “The scholarship is enough to cover an apartment of two. There’s also couples housing. This doesn’t have to be the end of everything. Leave with me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m afraid of big cities,” he responded.

“You’ll get used to it,” I assured him.

Harlan didn’t say it, but it wasn't the big cities he was afraid of. Because of the community we came from, he was afraid of operating as an out man. The idea scared him so much. “I’m okay with being confined to the borders of our town,” he once told me.

I broke out of my thoughts, and I squeezed his hand. “You can’t always live like this. At some point you’re going to have to live your truth, and it sure as hell is not going to be on the farm.” I placed my forehead on his shoulder. “Just come with me. I can study; we can find you work. It’s a whole different world out there. People won’t look at us the way they do back home. We won’t have to hide like we are doing right now.

“You’re telling me to drop everything so you can go to school?”

I raised my head up. “No, I’m telling you to come with me so we don’t have to live like this anymore.”

He rubbed my hand with his thumb. Harlan’s family were religious people who went to church twice a week on Sundays and Wednesday night Bible study. They were the kind who wouldn’t like me, not just because I was gay, but because of where I came from. They were the type who believed that I was “taking up space” in their country and “using up all their resources.” And they were the type who would proudly tell me to go back to my country. I knew not all religious people were like this, and I knew that they only represent a small portion of their religion. But they weren’t helping their church’s presentation by having this kind of rhetoric.

But I was lucky to have been brought up in a more accepting household. My parents, who fought for their freedom to come to the U.S., were probably the most progressive people I knew (at least in terms of personal identity and not job descriptions). So when I came out to them a couple years ago, they were supportive of me. I wished I could tell them about Harlan, but Harlan told me not to. He didn’t want to risk any information about his identity to go back to his family, even though I assured him my parents would keep it a secret. But I understood.

I could only imagine how his family would react if they found out that their gay son, a white man, was dating me, a person of color from an immigrant background.

“Why do you keep acting like it will get better?” I continued. “It won’t. Our friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, and everyone will never change their minds about people like us. Why do you try to assimilate to appease them? Please look at me.”

Hesitantly, Harlan turned his attention to me, one side of his face painted by the setting sun, the other side shadowed by the incoming nighttime.

“Why do you want their approval so much?” I continued. “There’s literally no point. And now we have the chance to get out. We have the opportunity to make a fresh start, but you’re giving so much trouble about it.”

“Santi…” he said, doubt in his voice.

“This will likely never happen again.”

“I know,” he agreed. “It’s just—”

The frustration I’d been holding back bloomed in my chest. “And just so you know, I’m leaving no matter what. I’ve worked my ass off for years to get a chance like this, and I won’t throw it out.”

Harlan’s eyebrows met in the center, and held his stare. I wanted to look away. But I wouldn’t let him defeat me.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” I responded. “You know how I feel about you, and that will likely never change. But I refuse to live like this, and I can let you go if you try to stop me.”

Harlan kept his eyes on me, and though I enjoyed looking at him, I desperately wanted to look away. Finally, Harlan nodded, his lips pursed, and he removed his hand from mine, and the space between my fingers was replaced with cold, dark air.

#

After our discussion, what was meant to be a fun weekend trip turned into an awkward one. Harlan wouldn’t talk much, not that he was much of a talker anyway, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding me. Even his text messages became sparse when we got back home. I tried hard not to keep texting him in fear of being annoying, so after a couple of days, I decided to give him some space.

I sat at my desk this late Wednesday afternoon making a pros and cons list of all the schools that accepted me.

The list didn’t include the University of Pennsylvania.

Regardless of where I went, I knew they were going to offer me a great education, so it came down to some certain things like campus culture, food, and weather. Still, it would have been great to have Penn. Thankfully, I have UCLA.

My phone vibrated on my desk. Harlan’s name appeared on my screen. A sense of relief blanketed me after not hearing from him in days. I answered the phone. “Hey, what’s u—”

“Santi, my parents know.” Harlan’s voice shook. “Mom started going through my phone and saw my texts with you. She said she thought something suspicious was going on.”

The warm relief quickly dissipated into a fearful coldness. “What did they say?”

“They immediately brought me to the church. They had me come out to the pastor and everyone attending service. It was humiliating as hell. My parents are pissed, and my siblings look at me with disgust. And—” his voice cracked. “Dad wants to send me away to his extended family. He’s trying to marry me off to a random woman.”

Panic thrummed in my heart. I nearly buckled over. “Can you meet me at the coffee shop? Now?”

“I—”

Please, Harlan.”

“Okay. I’ll go now.”

I grabbed my keys and sped my way to the coffee shop where Harlan and I always went. The thought of his family forcefully marrying him off to a woman left my mouth dry. Tears began to fill my eyes. After I parked my car, I hurried into the coffee shop, the smell of caffeine and sweetness hitting my nose, and found Harlan sitting in a booth.

I fought off the urge to hug him, to kiss him. Just to show him he was going to be okay. But I sat on the other side of the booth, and I reached for his hand under the table, even though there was hardly anyone around save for the people walking past the coffee shop window and a few people eating pastries in a nearby booth. Harlan, his hair and clothes disheveled as if he lost a lot of sleep, closed his eyes in relief upon my touch.

“Come with me,” I said, my voice low.

Harlan’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Come with me to California. I got into UCLA. Come with me.”

Harlan’s lips parted, and he shook his head in confusion. “What about the University of Pennsylvania?”

A lump formed in my throat. “I didn’t get in.”

Harlan blinked. It took him a couple seconds to say something. I desperately wanted him to say something.

“Santi—” he began.

I nearly slammed my fist on the table. “What exactly are you scared of at this point? Your family knows now. They’re basically humiliating you, and Jacob—sorry, your dad—wants to marry you off to some random girl knowing it would make the two of you miserable.”

A shuddery sigh escaped his mouth.

“It won’t be fair for either you or the woman.”

“If I go,” Harlan started, “they would disown me. I won’t have any family left if I leave them to go with you.”

I gripped his hand harder under the table. “You would have me. I will be your family. And not just me. My mom, my dad, my brothers and sisters. My family will support you no matter what.”

“But you don’t understand,” Harlan retorted. “You have no idea how much my family means to me. My community. I can’t see myself leaving them. It’d feel like I’d be betraying them.”

The light hanging above us spotlighted us as if we were being interrogated. “But they already think that you betrayed them when they found out,” I reasoned. “Look—”

Harlan let go of my hand and wiped the tears sliding down his face. “I’m scared to start over anywhere else.”

“So the hell what?” I almost yelled. People in the booth nearby glanced at us, but I didn’t care. “I’m just as scared as you are. But we won’t be too scared if we have each other.”

“I know my family isn’t perfect,” Harlan said, his face looking defeated, “but they offer stability.”

“So will I,” I said.

Harlan chewed his lower lip. “But I feel like I would hold you back.”

My mouth agape, I gave him an incredulous stare. “What?”

“You’re right, I’m scared to move to a big city. I’m scared to come out as gay man elsewhere. But I’m mostly scared that I would get in the way of the things you want to do in life.”

“You won’t.”

“But even if my family hadn’t found out, I had asked you to stay. Because I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Harlan, I….” I hesitated.

“I have way too much baggage for you to deal with.” He combed a hand through his hair. “Besides, I was already thinking about breaking up with you before you left.”

My shoulders pressed to the seat cushion, I let out a sigh of disbelief. “For how long have you been thinking about it?”

“When you told me you didn’t get into the University of Pennsylvania.”

I placed my head in the cups of my hand. “We can escape together…”

“No,” Harlan said. “You can. I can’t.” He chewed his lip. “I’m bound to be here.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true, Santiago,” he argued. “You’re meant to go elsewhere. You’re too different.”

My head snapped up from my hands. Heat radiated off my skin. “Fuck you, Harlan. I heard that way too many times growing up, and you know how much I hate it.”

“But it’s the truth.” Harlan’s voice softened, as if exhausted from talking. “Just go. I’ll stay here.”

“Please.” I grabbed Harlan’s hand, not caring who was looking. Not caring that Harlan didn’t like displays of affection in our town.

But he slowly pulled his hand away.

“I’ll work it out with my family,” Harlan said. He looked out the window, at the busy street, at the cars passing by. The window reflected back his forlorn eyes. “I love them a lot, believe it or not.”

My vision began to blur. My eyes stayed on the surface of the table. “So you’re just going to let them marry you off to a random woman?” I asked, my voice shaking.

I didn’t need to look up from the table to know that he had left.

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