On the morning of June 12th 2016 my mom called me to break the news of the Pulse Gay Nightclub shooting. I could hear her voice break and she described the victims of this tragic event. Queer spaces have a historic track record of being targeted by prejudice attacks, and having recently come out, this particularly shooting scared me then and still haunts me today.

LGBTQ spaces are our spaces in where we can be our authentic self without fear of being judged. The bar and club’s scene are one of our places of refuge but because of lack of understanding or compassion in the 60’s, police would frequently raid our spaces. That all changed in the summer of ’69. When the New York Police Precinct decided to raid the Stonewall Inn, we fought back. The Stonewall Riots are credited as a catalyst to the LGBTQ movement and weeks after the Pulse Shooting, President Obama designated the Stonewall Inn as a National Historic Park. As the Park Service was preparing to celebrate their centennial celebration in 2016, it was fitting that they look at allowing all American History to be told.

Through the designation of Stonewall National Monument, Americas storytellers aka the National Park Service can now fully appreciate and respect those who pioneered gay rights and honors the lost lives of our queer brothers and sisters.  It’s documented through oral history, that a black transgender woman and a Puerto Rican drag queen were those catalyst at Stonewall that sparked the movement and that as Latinos we should be proud about our footprint in history.

Historical events like Stonewall is why I gravitate to organizations like Latino Outdoors. Being gay and a person of color I value the opportunity to celebrate every part of our history, especially when I can identify with those who fought for my right to be present and visible. The organization has allowed me to celebrate not only my culture but my sexual identity as well.

Before Pulse, Pride month was just an opportunity for me to live freely, feel welcomed to let others into my world. Now I have the opportunity to relish in our history and relish in the opportunity that I can play a role in connecting my Latinx community with the outdoors.

~Albert Arévalo, Program Coordinator/ Washington D.C.

Here is Miché piece:

Vanlife as a Queer Latinx Immigrant in STEM: An Outsider’s Journey in the Outdoors

When you are different, people will treat you different. It can be a painful process to learn where you fit in, to find your place in the world. It hurts to become. Survival is this painful process, that sometimes you have to do on your own, so finding your chosen family is crucial to making it through. If you can tough it out and come out the other end without a calloused heart, but savvy and thick-skinned; you might just find the strength to be happy. Congratulations! You’re an outsider.
Now, when the world says, you don’t belong.
I know I have what it takes to prove it wrong.

Hi, my name is Miché and I live in my van,

I am 25 and a first-generation Mexican immigrant working in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math (STEM). As a trans, non-binary queer person, I use they/them pronouns. I have been living in my self-converted, off-the-grid camper van for almost 2 years. I have had amazing, incredibly positive life-changing experiences. However, the vanlife isn’t easy, and there have definitely been equally heart-breaking challenges that pushed me to my limits. I want to share a little bit about who I am and some of my experiences as a queer latinx immigrant vandweller working in STEM. I have no idea where I’ll end up, but I’d like to share some of my hopes and dreams with you as well.

That Queer Kid 

I grew up a “desert rat” in the barrios of Arizona, I fell in love with public lands while exploring the state’s diverse bio-regions and its’ mysterious canyonlands. My passion for the outdoors developed from a childhood love of animals and exploring the Colorado river’s riparian habitats in the Yuma desert. The first in my family to graduate from college, I earned a Bachelor’s degree in Environmental Science from Northern Arizona University.  When I told my family that I was going to live in a van, they were anything but excited for me! They were really upset and I think it’s because as immigrants, they came to the United States with the intent of living the “American Dream.” To them, this meant having the expectations that I should go to school, get married, buy a house, have babies, climb the social ladder, etc. I don’t know how everyone else feels about that, but to me that sounds absolutely dreadful. My family was very poor, my parents divorced, and perhaps as a result of a plethora of unfortunate socio-economic circumstances, we were incredibly dysfunctional. I love them dearly, but I never really felt like my family understood me. I have always joked about being the black sheep of the family, but evidence shows this to be true. Before I ever understood the difference between sex and gender expression, or who I was attracted to, or before I knew anything really:  I was Queer. I was this bratty, strange, tomboy who hated dresses and playing with dolls; I preferred the company of animals rather than people. I was such an unconventional weirdo and I was proudly (and annoyingly) rebellious against the cultural expectations of my traditional familia. I never really fit in. To this day, I strongly identify with the feeling of being an “outsider.” Even as a child, I never really fit into any prescribed idea of what people or society thought I should be, and now I think that’s pretty cool.

Pero like, why Vanlife?

By far the most amazing thing about my life has been the “living in a van” part.

Don’t let those glorified Instagram posts fool you, it has been FAR from glamorous. Yet, I don’t regret giving up over ninety percent of the things I owned and adopting this radically minimalistic and mindful lifestyle. I can say with confidence, after living through some tough ordeals for almost two years, living in a van has been the best decision I’ve ever made.

When I was a month away from college graduation, I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to afford to live anywhere. I could maybe “scrape by” but goddamn it, isn’t having job security and a stable income why I went to college in the first place? I realized it was either scrape by or go back to live with my very complicated family, so of course, I bought a van. I took out a small loan and used the last of my financial aid and scholarship savings on a 1997 Ford Econoline with a high-top. After some clever bartering, it cost me $4,500 – which left me with exactly $68.11 to my name. Trust me, if you had to make that last for a month, you’d remember it, too! I started traveling, finding anywhere and anyone that would let me park my van on their grounds. I saw the most beautiful places and national parks. On my journey, I worked all kinds of jobs – six total, in that first year, while slowly saving up money, improving my van-build, and constantly seeking more work. In Flagstaff, Arizona, I worked at a climbing gym and a Home Depot, where I slept in the parking lot (buried in 2 feet of snow). In Tucson, Arizona I parked my van at a “halfway home” and became a part of a community called “Mariposas sin Fronteras” dedicated to helping undocumented LGBTQ immigrants. Many of them had been recently bailed out, traumatized, from those awful detention centers; I got to welcome them home and help them reintegrate into society. Later, I learned how challenging it was to be technically considered “homeless” in the queer-friendly Bay Area; there was no free parking, it was overcrowded, everything was too expensive, and the cops loved harassing me. In Chico, California I parked at an anarchist queer farm and ate delicious free-range organic eggs every day while working as a wildlife technician. Finally, I found myself in Portland, Oregon, a place that I used to fantasize about living in with my best friend in high school! I found a queer housing co-op that lets me pay for a cheap parking spot as I help them with home improvement projects and community-building.

These opportunities to leave my rather close-minded family and experience LGBTQ communities and visit the dramatic landscapes of the American West; none would have been possible without the sacrifices I made to live in a van. Learning to survive the vanlife is definitely an art form. However, despite all these sacrifices and attempts to “cheat the system,” I’ve struggled financially. I still don’t make much money. Yet, I cannot imagine how unsatisfying and even more difficult my life would have been like without the van. I don’t want to imagine having to pay regular rent and all those bills on top of it, without being able to travel!

 Being a conservationist (right now) sucks (a lot). 

In my conservation career and in STEM in general, I’ve learned some hard lessons.

The outdoors, has historically been really good at excluding people of color, women and sexual minorities through lack of representation in marketing, equity issues in resource management, and society continually preventing them from having the means for gaining access to the outdoors (access to affordable gear, training, safety, etiquette, language barriers, etc). Being a brown face in predominantly White spaces, is uniquely challenging, a sort of dance where you’re always mildly uncomfortable, trying not to stand out too much, but always trying to leave your mark and make a difference.

Countless times I have been the only person of color in a group of activists, environmentalists, a team of biologists, lab assistants etc. It’s fine, I can handle it, but sometimes it gets a little lonely. Sometimes, when I try to share something about my culture or my experience, people have reacted with confusion, pity, or something totally weird and unwelcoming. Generally I feel like people can be more afraid of offending me than they are interested in genuinely getting to know me. I love talking about intersectional issues and a lot of my straight, cisgender, or white co-workers in STEM get really uncomfortable about it, like it’s a taboo topic or something? It’s not taboo, it’s a reality we live in, and I really want to have those conversations. On top of that, literally every single one of my supervisors – the people in power and authority – have been White. Every single one. More than half of them had more conservative beliefs, so if something in the political climate happened that really affected me personally, I didn’t feel safe showing my distress, or expressing my emotions, out of fear of being fired or discriminated against. I couldn’t even dream about coming out to them as a homosexual or talking about transgender issues. I’ve been closetted and misgendered with “she/her” pronouns for the majority of my career. Luckily, I think things are changing, at least for me. In my last job as a Naturalist for the City of Portland’s Environmental Education Department, we had full workshops on dismantling racism in the workplace, and people respected my gender identity and pronouns. My coworkers came from very diverse backgrounds and they would even talk comfortably with me about my personal life. I would find myself thinking, “Wow, I feel like the most PRIVILEGED thing to ever walk on earth!”

That political climate doesn’t just affect how I feel… it disrupts every single aspect of my life. As a conservationist, I depend on finding work in the natural sciences, often working for non-profits, outdoor recreation organizations, and government organizations – all of which need funding to pay their employees. When the president of the country is going out of his way to destroy the infrastructure that makes that conservation work possible, it destabilizes the entire system and makes it unbelievably difficult to find a job. When I first decided to go to college to study Environmental Science in 2012, I had no idea that the political climate would have such a huge impact on my job security. The U.S. Forest Service – with whom I’d worked for two seasons – had a hiring freeze this year, and many environmental organizations have felt the strain of slashed budgets. The nature of conservation work is made more difficult, because of the current political climate. Conservation work is often seasonal, you are often working in difficult terrain, the weather is a constant struggle, it’s physically intense, mentally exhausting, doesn’t pay well, male-dominated, white-dominated, and it’s pretty rare to find a permanent, full-time, position as a recent college graduate. But wait, there are some employee benefits. Like you get to be outside, in nature, all day!

That’s a joke, and I’ve never had them. So as you can imagine, I was in a rough spot. Like many of you out there, I suffer from mental illness, and I really need those benefits; like access to good healthcare, and mental health providers. This year I became incredibly depressed and began to lose hope that my life was ever going to get any better. I regretted going to college in the first place, and all of my sacrifices felt like they had been wasted on a career that wouldn’t help me get anywhere in life. I felt really lost and hopeless. However, I see now, that I was going through a transformation. Once again, I feel the fiery energy that filled my heart when I first stepped into my van. The feeling of endless opportunities and abundance, I stopped feeling hopeless and started asking myself: What the hell do you actually want?

Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

What I want, is more control over my own life and my well-being. I want to travel anywhere at anytime and help people in the places I see along my journey. I want to protect this wonderful planet and the beautiful creatures that inhabit it. I want to work because I want to, not because I’m forced to. Who doesn’t want that? I want to be free from student debt. I want financial independence. I want vanlife to be the first step to achieving this dream. I recognized that in order to have the freedom to travel, one must be able to work remotely. I no longer want to chase job opportunities, and feel trapped in a strenuous job by lack of financial freedom. I want to be able to work from anywhere, while traveling in my van. Earlier this year, I started looking into what sort of career path would be an excellent way to supplement my background in science and conservation. Then I found it, I saw that the growing career opportunities in the Tech industry fit perfectly with my personal values and my changing needs. I’m a really good autodidact, or a “self-learner”. I mean, If I can build a literal home from scratch, and learn carpentry, electrical wiring, plumbing, and mechanical maintenance all on my own: I can probably learn to do anything. I quickly began schooling myself in computer programming, software development, front-end programming, and the practical digitization of platforms for environmental outreach. I would love to connect with other leaders in STEM to create advantageous tools that help obtain conservation goals. I want to to help local conservation organizations use technology in their efforts to save the environment, while becoming more equitable and diverse. I think it’s because of my experiences as an “outsider” that I am so passionate about social justice, and I have a strong desire to assist conservation organizations improve their policies and practices to solve their equity problems. I want to be a bigger part of that global effort that is the conservation movement. In June, I began an internship as an assistant web-developer for the Greater Portland Sustainability Education Network, a progressive non-profit conservation organization dedicated to equity and environmental sustainability in Portland, Oregon.

Devolver Bien por Mal (conclusion)

Really all I want in life is the freedom to travel the world and make a difference. A huge desire I have is financial independence: making money because I want to, not because I have to. For a minimalist who grew up really poor and has no desire to be “rich,” this seems like a realistic and achievable goal. With the van, this is the first time in my life where I feel like I’m heading towards that goal. I feel free to explore different careers in STEM and really focus without worrying about the background noise, like not having enough money to eat or a secure place to sleep. If I can’t afford to rent a parking spot anymore, I can “move out” and live out of my van while I take charge of my life, let things reset, and stabilize my finances. All this while maintaining my autonomy, without the stress of being evicted or getting into trouble with a landlord, and saving (a little) money $ along the way! I am super excited to be branching out in an entirely different direction and teaching myself new tech skills, while maintaining my values and a strong connection to my chosen career path in science and conservation. Vanlife has been an extremely challenging, eye-opening experience, and this is just the beginning! I know what I want, so for me it’s either “Go big or go home”. I’m proud to say, that I’m going BIG and I ain’t ever going home, because for this queer kid, home is where you park it.

 

Happy Pride month everybody!

~Miché Lozano, Ambassador/ Portland, OR

Here is Maricela’ piece:

Estoy Aqui Pero Bi

The human experience is complex, it falls in the grey area and is intersecting when it comes to identity, every person out there discovers who they are, or not. It is one of the many complicated experiences we go through no matter what age. When I think about who I am I see myself as a climber, community leader and an environmental advocate. Today on June 30, 2018, I write something very different about myself something 29 years in the making. For years I did not know how to navigate what I am about to say, actually, I still don’t know but my personal fulfillment was overshadowed by internal cultural oppression that ate away at me. And today I say enough is enough I am bicultural, bilingual, and for the sake of this article bisexual.

But let me tell you, the struggle is real and haunted my sense of self. Being a 1st generation Latina who doesn’t identify as LGBTQ has always been a difficult place to navigate for me. As a Latina, coming out to your family and community comes with its own particular set of challenges. Fear of rejection, ostracized by family and friends, amongst other things. I realize that identity and cultural connection collide with one another so deciding to embrace the duality of my Latino culture and the identity of bisexuality really came from my strength from the outdoors and the communities that embody diversity and inclusion.

When I look back on my life and how my sense of identity was suppressed by patriarchy, strong heteronormative ideals, and religion. Really put a lot of pressure on me and the expectations of how I should live my life. When I truly began to venture outdoors like an onion I began to peel back layers and allowed myself to let go of these cultural pressures. Breaking down barriers of sexual orientation and gender identity because I wanted to climb pretty hard, start a fire, and not take a shower for days on end from a backpacking trip. I want to love how I wanted to love and also, I love myself regardless of my sexual identify and will no longer allow outdated norms and rules indoors and outdoors affect me.

I still feel that there is a lot to learn from the LGBTQ community as Latinos. Accepting LGBTQ identify and appreciate all aspects of their intersecting identity we should see the struggles for equality as the same struggle. Regardless of our heritage, we all share the same pride in Latinx community. After all, we are all humans that deserve support systems that are safe and understanding. Cultivating support allows us as a community to stand in integrity and crack open the nature gap and flood it with diversity as it should happen. Imagine if we all did something to support the LGBTQ community. I speak for myself when I say this… LGBTQ representations matter because we do go outside, we are enthusiasts like the next person out there. A person’s identity should not be defined by how they find their adventure. Like flores lets root for each other and watch each other grow.  I am proud to be Latina. I am she/her/hers. Y Estoy Aqui!

With Kind Regards,

~Maricela ‘Marci’ Rosales

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I want to thank Albert, Miché and Maricela for taking the time to add stories to this blog. I believe that the power of storytelling will conquer hearts and love will save the day.

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Did you know that there is a LBGTQ outdoor summit? Yes, it’s taking place in San Francisco, CA this October. Here’s a link to more info:   https://www.lgbtqoutdoorsummit.com/

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Here are some organizations  that focus on the outdoors and the LGBTQ community:

LGBT Outdoor Community. Hiking, biking, paddling, and more!

 OUT There Adventures (OTA) builds community for LGBTQ individuals through adventures outside.

Camp OUTdoors! is dedicated to helping LGBTQAI+ youth develop leadership skills, work in collaborative ways, and develop a strong sense of self and community!

We are queer (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, intersex) and straight hikers, skiers, backpackers and more. We embrace diversity and celebrate our differences. All orientations, straight and gay, are welcome as well as all genders identities and expressions. Our meetups are focused on building quality friendships in a no-pressure environment. We enjoy each other’s company on the trail and recoup with comforting foods after a great trip.

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The world is a complicated place, but I believe that conversations, acceptance and knowledge can bring a better tomorrow. It starts with you, me, the people around you, family and that stranger you do not know. That’s how communities are build and we are stronger together!

I leave you with some words from our Executive Director, Luis Villa:

Throughout the years, Latino Outdoors’ cohort of volunteers and ambassadors has enjoyed a strong representation from the LGBTQ community.  As Pride Month draws to a close, I would like to thank all our LGBTQ volunteers and ambassadors for your support.  In addition to the time you dedicate to Latino Outdoors, you also contribute in another significant way, by challenging all members of the Latino Outdoors community to value diversity and strive continuously towards a better understanding and respect for all people.  ¡Mil gracias!

Until next time….

~Veronica Miranda, Social Media Coordinator, San Francisco Bay Area North Program Coordinator/ San Francisco, CA