Xavier is from Mexico.

No. Xavier is from the US. No kidding. He’s lived in St.Paul, Minnesota and New York City for so long. But he’s also lived in London for 10 years. Is he European? Latin American? Mexican American all too diligent in having teatime? 
Who cares? Not me.

What I do care about though is that this man has seen things. And had he come up with silly ideas, I still would respect his perspective. For he’s seen a lot.
 Got it? 
Imma have you look through his eyes. Cause I got his words. And he’s got my word.

Xavier is the elder of a family of 6 children. When his dad left them, as he was the older son, he should have taken responsibility of his family. But he didn’t. Cause he didn’t have to. Instead, 19 years old Xavier flew to Minnesota for his studies.

Leaving the nest. Taking the world.

He hustled big time to get by. Working, studying, sending money to his family. Didn’t let much time for thinking. About his own life. About how to love. But Xavier didn’t need no thinking. He played it by ear. And year after year, Xavier got it clear.

Clear that life is love. And that love means wait.
Xavier is a late-bloomer. That’s what he calls himself. He sure could have known sooner, but that's why he's late.
Xavier moved to NYC. It felt right away like home. And at home he felt comfy. So why be comfy alone? He met a man. They fell in love. In Canada they married. No darkness above.

But darkness was around.

Although New York sparkled so bright, and brought Xavier new fields to reap. Around, harvesting day and night, was a reaper, a dreadful creep.
Cut the poetry. Get real. This is serious. Early 90’s. HIV has wiped off the ground many gay souls. Too many. New York was still gay, and always will be. But back then, New York felt empty.
Mourn your gay fellows. Mourn them one by one. In Chelsea, watch the sarcoma-dotted skins morbidly parading. Now there is no space left for fear and for loathing.

Xavier found a job as a psychiatrist counselor in the LGBT drug abuse unit of an hospital. While he was getting to know his own sexuality, the people around him, people like him, were real sick or dying. 
What a bleak insight… How not to take fright?

How are you supposed to embrace who you are when who you are means death? Cause back in those days, and thanks to our media, gay too often rhymed with AIDS. 
And for prejudiced fools, it still does.

Having some rest. Taking the sword.

Following his husband, Xavier moved to London for ten years. There he renewed his oath. Helping the helpless. Homeless, drug addicts. Xavier took classes. He’s a therapist.

Since the Supreme Court ruled all love legal, Xavier has come back home, in New York City.

And here again, his cause is worthy. He’s the director of a psychiatric and housing help unit for young runaways. Needless to precise, that in such programs, LGBTI minorities happen to form a majority. 

Runaways from home run for salvation. From anywhere, to a safer somewhere, there are people like Xavier to solve their question. The million questions they’ve been asking themselves. Mindful answerers made it a mission. Full of devotion, patience and wit. Social workers, healthcare attenders, people in the know got the statistics.
And when you got these. Dear righteous mind. I dare you to stay static.

In America, 40% of youth experiencing homelessness identify as Transgender, Gay, Lesbian, or Bisexual.

LGBT kids are vulnerable. Got it? They are more exposed to sexual and physical abuse. Got it? Fleeing corrective rapes. Drawn into prostitution. Fragile mental health. Drugs as the option.

Doing your best. Sharing the word.

Xavier is the kindest. And his words are wise. Now please do listen. Listen through his eyes.
Gay people are like jews. Places like New York City are their Israel. They don’t need no map, no address. There they can belong. There, many long to be.
For human spirit can’t be tamed, since borders only matter for the selfish ones, gays and lesbians, queers, bisex or trans, who value freedom, they’ll do what it takes to find the right home. 
“Give’ em hope” Harvey said. Well, hope is a self-imposed duty. When you are in danger, how well do you know what safer could be?

For the blind to see, and for the deaf to know, it will take people to show them the way. People who might have flown away, but who took a greater burden later in building shelters for those who fly helplessly. Gay runaways. Love refugees.

Well, for them, stands Xavier.

Building a nest. Freeing the bird.




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