A MI MANERA

"A Mi Manera" is perhaps the most difficult story to tell about myself. The journey has been anything but easy.

I grew up in a family deeply rooted in Catholicism and tradition, where the idea of homosexuality was out of the question. As a child in Colombia, I had little to no reference points—no queer icons to admire or aspire to be like. It was like swimming into the unknown. My first crush was at age 10, a boy from my all-boys Jesuit school. We developed a pictographic alphabet, sending each other secret notes during class. It ended abruptly when he moved to another class. I was devastated. Every night, I prayed, thanking God for everything I had, but also asking to be healed—to stop feeling attraction to boys. It never worked.

Coming out at 18 wasn’t easy. My parents were blindsided and sent me to the family priest—the same one who had married them. For weeks, I sat with him, hoping that through conversation and faith, my identity would change. Yet again, it didn’t work.

Deep down, I was okay with being gay. But I struggled with what I thought being gay meant. I didn’t want to be associated with what I perceived as stereotypes—the hypersexualized imagery, the nightlife, the resistance to marriage and family. I didn’t see myself reflected in the narratives I encountered.

Studying law felt like a safe choice, despite my passion for the creative arts. The discipline liberated me in unexpected ways. My studies exposed me to legal theory, philosophy, and human rights, opening my eyes to leaders who changed history. I organized protests, advocated for human rights, and sought to shape the world around me. Yet, I still felt different from the "average gay." I wanted to be something else—someone others could look up to, a figure who could redefine expectations.

My journey with love has been equally complex. Dating closeted men meant navigating relationships where love and attraction existed, but external factors—fear, shame, societal expectations—prevented a happy ending. Each heartbreak left invisible scars, shaping the way I see intimacy and vulnerability. At the same time, I have also grappled with the nuances of my own sexuality—an attraction to women that, while not as strong as my attraction to men, is still present. This fluidity speaks to the spectrum of human connection, resisting rigid categories and existing outside the binaries imposed upon us.

"A Mi Manera" is a deeply personal exploration of these internal conflicts, but it is also a visual narrative that speaks to a broader, universal experience. The history of queer representation in art is layered with tension—between desire and repression, visibility and erasure. From the coded expressions of queerness in Renaissance portraiture to the defiant rawness of artists like Peter Hujar and David Wojnarowicz, art has long served as both sanctuary and battleground.

Yet, contemporary queer art often leans into liberation, focusing on the removal of shame. My work takes a different approach. It visually narrates the struggle—the weight of societal expectations, the complexities of attraction, and the fight to carve out a space where identity is not dictated by external forces but by inner truth. Using vernacular photography and collage, I reconstruct memories and emotions, blending the intimate with the historical. The layering of images mirrors the layering of identities, bridging the past with the present, the personal with the universal.

Through this work, I seek to challenge imposed narratives, reclaiming sexuality as an essential and natural force—one that shapes how we create, love, and see ourselves in the world. "A Mi Manera" invites viewers to engage with the fluidity of identity and the transformative power of facing inner truths. It is a testament to the beauty of self-discovery, the resilience of love, and the ever-evolving dialogue between art and queerness.