I spoke with Ana Ortiz and Mark Indelicato who both starred in Ugly Betty as well as Judy Reyes from Scrubs.
On the topic of the accusations against Harvey Weinstein and sexual assault, Reyes said, “I think we’re all literally haunted, constantly every day. It’s been a hard reality in our lives, all of our lives, particularly people of color.”
Ortiz added, “Especially women and anyone in the LGBTQ community.”
It is a reality that women are disproportionately victims of assault, but particularly women of color and those in the LGBTQ+ community, like transgender women who are often killed or brutally assaulted.
“I’m [. . .] happy that action is being taken, and that it’s been swift, and that so many people continue to speak out; [there’s] strength in numbers,” Reyes said.
Ortiz said, “I think it’s our turn to feel emboldened. I think the predators have felt emboldened for so long, and they have [gotten away with it]. And now I think we’re seeing that they can’t if we recognize our own voice and our own power. And I think that these people who are coming forward and tonight is a testament to it that we’re not going to be quiet, we’re not going to be silent.”
From left: Judy Reyes, Mark Indelicato, me, and Ana Ortiz
America Ferrera, star of the eponymous show Ugly Betty, recently took to Instagram to reveal that she was assaulted at the young age of nine. Her former cast mates told me that they are “of course” supporting her.
“She’s so eloquent, so well-spoken; she’s such a good spokesperson for whatever it is that she puts out there. She’s just one of those people that you want to watch and stand next to, and hold her hand,” Ortiz said.
They said that we need people like Ferrera be the foundation of acceptance and support for our future children and the next generation. Reyes and Ortiz, whose children are friends, admit that they try to instill these values in their children, especially when it comes to accepting our transgender peers.
Recently, on Good Morning America, Blake Lively (Ferrera’s BFF and fellow Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants alumna) said that we can’t just tweet about sexual assault; we need to be actively supportive of victims. “But it’s more than just like we’re talking about it and we’re supporting it; it’s action. Everybody says that they stand in solidarity, but you have to show that you stand in solidarity.”
Indelicato said besides tweeting, “being an ally is as important as coming forward, and those that are coming forward have nothing to gain and nothing to lose, and they have to know that they have a community around them that is standing in solidarity with them. I think that that is what emboldens survivors or victims to come forward." He added, “I think that having a strong community to stand in solidarity [with], that’s really the kind of crux of all of these social movements that we’re seeing today, the idea of standing in solidarity with one another [and] strength in numbers.”
This week, I'm going to be talking about something pretty serious and personal to me. I was going to do Part II of the HOW I GOT INTO UCLA this week until I realized that there was something more urgent I felt I should disclose to you.
TRIGGER WARNING
5 Years ago this past Thursday, I attempted suicide for the last time. I had thought about killing myself throughout several months of my attempts and I was finally over life. It seemed that there was no possibility of things ever getting better.
Where do I start?
Well, I wanted to kill myself on my 14th birthday, but when things became abundantly clear that I did not want to even have another birthday and celebrate another year of hopeless life, I decided I wanted to get the job done before my birthday.
My suicidal thoughts were not concealed from my peers. Luckily, they knew because if it were not for them, I probably would not be alive today. It is because someone told the school administration what I was going to do to myself that I was restrained from harming myself.
At the time, I was mad at whoever told the administration. Now, I'm grateful for the anonymous person, whoever he or she was. I remained in the front office after school hours and had a profound conversation with my band instructor, who sedated me from my anger. I am too grateful for this interaction between the two of us. My parents arrived, concerned, as I might imagine. How could their youngest child ever do this?At the time, I thought, Great, I'm giving them another burden, another thing to worry about. Jesus Christ, if I were dead, then I'd stop being such a disappointment to them.
Several hours later, after police arrived, I was discharged to a hospital in Alhambra, I believe. Alhambra was probably the furthest I had been from my family at the time; this would be my last adventure, I thought. I mean, seriously, how often do you ride in a police car without the possibility of getting incarcerated?
Anyways, my parents followed suit, my sister (who was in nursing school at the time, and thus, did not have time to be distracted from her studies) eventually came while my other siblings stayed home (as it was a school night) and there were several silent exchanges between my family and me. They told me to be honest with the investigators, nurses, etc.
The fact of the matter was, I didn't want to see my parents anymore. Ugh, parents. Who needs 'em? Well, I did. Although I probably would not have wanted to admit that, I needed my parents. They fostered most of my best memories. They were always there for me and raised me and to kill myself would beyond slap away the hands that nurtured me.
I don't claim to know what the "afterlife" is like, but I just know that if I had killed myself, there'd be a lot of lingering guilt. A part of me knew that my parents and siblings would not recover just as I know that if I somehow die right now or in the near future, they will experience a lot of anguish, turmoil, depression, and maybe anger.
I went to a mental hospital and was obviously in the pediatric ward. It was fun and free. It didn't go without its limitations, obviously, but I had fun. I met an adolescent, now young gay man for the first time (not including my brother) and many people with very complex, technicolor issues that I was only beginning tounderstand more and more. In other words, I met people who do hardcore drugs for the first time, the second time of which was several weeks ago when I started at UCLA. I guess you can tell that I don't do drugs. Anyways, at the heart of this community, I was among people around my age, people of different backgrounds, people with different and immature quirks. People who almost snapped and reached the borderline, like me.
I actually did celebrate my birthday (yes, at the hospital), but it took several years to begin to appreciate birthdays and even New Years again. I was still unhappy but all I was thinking about at the time was making it in time for drumline practice Friday afternoon. I eventually went and bragged about my experience as if there was anything to brag about.
Now that I think about it, the hospital food was 5 STARS!!!! And the movie-watching privileges were great! So many options. It was like I was on vacation from school during the school year. This is just a side-note. Carry on!
There is so much I would not have experienced, so many ups and downs (and realistically, more ups than downs than I could probably give credit for), so many people I would not have met, and yeah, a lot of disappointed. Admittedly, I'm still depressed, but thankfully, I am not suicidal. I have dreams to strive for, but I'm just not where I want to be in life, not even close, as if getting what I want validates any happiness I will feel. There remains so much disappointment I harbor and cage in something as reflective of a Golgi apparatus that stores and ships all of my emotions and feelings outward.
We look at other people and see their successes, but we don't consider what these people see in themselves, because, well, we can't. We don't know what these people are insecure about themselves or what they like and hate about themselves because these qualities, these questions we don't and shouldn't consider are non-visible, intangible, introspective. I put a smile on and gave several jolly laughs and was still suicidal. No one could have suspected me of being depressed unless they saw me on the inside or even just witnessed my interactions with my family. I was miserable; a part of me still is. But now I can distinguish between the misery then and now and I got to be honest, it was unbearably crushing. Now, it's manageable; some good days compensate for those that are less than fulfilling.
To this day, my family still does not know all the reasons of why I was suicidal. Yes, many reasons had to do with my rapidly changing views of what it was going to mean for me to be publicly transgender and transgender in general. I will not share all of those reasons with you either as they are personal and I do not want to revisit the eating disorder, the idea of growing up male when I felt female, and the idea of not being a kid anymore. I will also not disclose how I tried killing myself. Please respect this.
I was bullied, though that was not a factor in my suicide. If anything, with my death, I actually wanted my bullies to feel guilty, though that was it, like in 13 Reasons Why. I did not want to kill myself because I was bullied.
To think that there was a time when I was at my absolute lowest is unimaginable now when there's so much to live for, so much I've wanted to experienced, so much I will experience. Then, I didn't have any goals in life, nothing long-term. Now, I have so many goals in life that it's all so overwhelming! Five years later, and I'm happier, more fulfilled, and excited for the future! Five years later and I want to celebrate life more. Five years, half a decade. That was only a fraction of my life. I will not be able to express how much I would have missed it that was only a fraction of my life ago.
My advice: find the resources you need to get help. Please call the Trevor hotline at (866) 488-7386 or text "Trevor" at (202) 304-1200 or simply visit The Trevor Project, reach out to your school counselors, get therapy, and please, Please, PLEASE call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255; it's an anonymous, 24/7 phone line that will get you the help that you need.
To finish this off, my roommate showed me this song regarding suicide. It's very empowering and hopefully, you find your outlet, your hope through it.
Okay, this is going to be a dense subject post; I'm just going to start off by saying that.
TRIGGER WARNING!!
I do discuss suicide, eating disorder, and several other subjects that you may not be comfortable reading. I want to provide a safe space to you all, but I don't want to leave anything unsaid or sugarcoat anything because this is my reality as a transgender woman and my story as a human being. But first, in order to establish a well-grounded safe space, I need you to trust me, know who I am, what I've gone through, what I am all about and hopefully you can relate, but hopefully you may never have to see anyone go through anything like I have or experience any of this yourself. I will acknowledge that I have faired in better conditions than most trans-women and trans people in general and I am fortunate for not only that but also the fact that I have survived and that I pass, while many of my trans fellows may not.
Additionally, I have never come out, but I also come out almost on a daily basis to strangers that I meet around campus. Though I did not feel that it was necessary to reveal to my family about my transgender identity and hopefully the future generations will follow. I mean, most people don't have to come out as cisgender or straight, so I feel I didn't have to reveal that I'm transgender.
I wanted to address an important issue regarding identity, multi-ethnicity, and ethnic ambiguity.
What do you think of when you see me?
Lemme guess. You probably thought that I look Indian.
Here's the problem: The problem is not that I not Indian; it's more so the fact of how people ask me what my ethnicity is.
Before I include a couple of the most questions people frequently ask me, I think it's important to note the differences between ethnicity, nationality, and race.
Ethnicity refers to a localized group of peoples that share cultural traditions, beliefs, values, etc. For example, African American refers to people who are from Africa or are descendants of African immigrants that are American citizens.
Nationality refers to one's country of origin. When I say I am American, it means that I am from, well, America.
Race has a lot to do with biology and the biological characteristics that people are inherently born with. For example, Asian people are most likely born with black, straight hair among other qualities.
Where are you from?
This question is pretty vague, This question is common, too. Many people are from different parts of the world and travel about. Understandable. It's also semi-insulting to me because my appearance makes it seem that I'm somehow foreign or not from here. By here, I mean this country. I half-expect people to think me from another nation. That is not the case; I've been born and raised in Southern California. In fact, I have never left Southern California, which makes it seem all the more frustrating to hear this question.
What are you?
I find this question especially offensive. If there is any way to ruin someone's self-esteem and de-humanize them, this is the simplest thing you could ask them. This is the question I get asked the most and even random strangers approach me, saying, "I'm sorry, I can't stop trying to figure out what you are." I'm a mystery to others, a question mark. And just because you apologize for going out of your way to ask me such a disparaging question does not make it any more appropriate to do so. I'm sure people mean well and I 100% know what about me they are referring to, but I think this question arises from ignorance, so I simply tell them "I'm human," as if assuring that I was not human before they asked me what the hell I am.
Haha, no. I mean what's your race?
This feels very true. Race and ethnicity were never
anything I saw or cared about in a person; they weren't
noticeable until people started noticing and pointing
out my differences.
I know what they mean. I do. I just proceed to tell them patiently that the way they ask them is considered impolite and that if they would like to ask for someone else's ethnicity, the should ask What do you identify as ethnically? because most of the time (even when people as for another person's race), people respond in terms of ethnicities. Or, say, Do you mind if I ask you what your ethnicity is? But seriously, What are you???? What the hell! This question is so ambiguous, probably as ambiguous as my ethnicity, that it alienates me and makes me feel like the "other".
This is the struggle of being a minority--not only as a transgender woman born in a big, multigenerational, lower-middle class family, but also as a multi-ethnic person. And by the way, I am Hispanic, Caucasian, and African-American.
If you have any questions regarding my ethnicities or if you disagree with anything I said, feel free to let me know in the comments!
