Is there any books on non-monogamy or polyamory written by people of color? 

Voy a contar mis penas: My First Time

It was the day after Valentine’s Day in San Salvador, El Salvador when we met. We weren’t particularly fond of each other I could say. I saw him there, two years my senior looking jet-lagged, visibly annoyed, yet light, making immature jokes about Apple Bottom Jeans and of course, boots with the fur. I thought to myself, “this is my group leader?” I couldn’t understand a word he was saying in his mumbled, low, spanglish-accented, spanish accent. By this point I was really emotionally exhausted having only a day before come out to my peers, uncovered the names of dead relatives on national landmarks, and had been thrust into the ideological political struggles that once forced my parents out of the country.

We were like some human harvest of the Civil War, the diasporic seeds planted in a foreign soil. We were also two queer men, born exactly to the day, two years apart, in the same great metropolis of Los Angeles. These similarities and confinement to close quarters sped up the getting-to-know-you process, from indifference to fascination. We talked until 4 AM about things I could never really remember. Once we couldn’t talk anymore we struggled to find the light switch, so like a lost puppy dog I followed him into the dark. Which is probably the most accurate allegory of our romance, then later turned friendship.

So it was my first romance, and it began my last night in San Salvador. I thought nothing would come of it, though I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t until, under the slumbering effects of NyQuil, I received a call from Miami, another conversation I can’t recall, that marked a fling that would not geographically stay still. From San Salvador, to Santa Barbara, to the San Francisco Bay, to Our Lady of Angels, it was like a giant middle finger from two, young, and infatuated latino men to all the catholic saints on the Pacific Coast. The last time we kissed was at the Wilshire/Vermont Metro station in LA, in public. It was my first time there, not knowing until later what dark place I was descending into. It was over as quick and passionate as it all happened

Once it ended, thus began one of my most painful and gratifying learning experiences ever. I cried for days, I abused NyQuil to sleep, and had not a clue on what to do about my newly added unlimited texting plan. Though before this experience I could never openly cry, experience any real intimacy with anyone, and lacked a lot of self-confidence. Until this happened, I was not completely a person, at least not nearly as complete as the person I am now. I’ve accomplished so many things, in the name of trying to chase or get over such feelings. I’ve felt compelled to write about this years later, because I needed to remind myself that love and even heartbreak can be great catalysts if you let go of your fears and insecurities.

Let met know!

Does anybody know of any Latin@ Queer LGBT youth or student organizations in your city?