Elicia Gonzales has made an impact on Philadelphia in just a short time here. Since 2004, she has worked as a research assistant, clinical coordinator for Congreso de Latinos Unidos, provided counseling to people affected with HIV/AIDS for COMHAR, worked as an adolescent therapist for The Attic Youth Center and now is executive director of Gay & Lesbian Latino AIDS Education Initiative, which is the only HIV/AIDS education program in Pennsylvania whose primary mandate is to address the needs of Latino sexual minorities. And she can belt out a mean ballad!
PGN: So E, tell me about yourself. EG: I was born in a small town called Broomfield, which lies right between Boulder and Denver, Colo. And was about as exciting as the name implies. I’m the oldest of three. My brother and sister both still live there with my parents. [Laughs.] Wait, they don’t live with my parents! Just in the same town. I tease that my sister is actually the oldest sibling because she bought her house first, had her car paid off first, she has three kids, etc. My brother also has a child and I have my two dogs!
PGN: What was life like in Broomfield? EG: I always felt slightly like the black sheep. Not in a bad way, like I was ostracized or a loner; I just felt I was different than the rest of my family. In many ways, not just related to my sexual orientation. I knew from a very early age that life in Colorado wasn’t for me. I got out of there as soon as I possibly could. And honestly, I think moving away from Colorado helped strengthen the relationships that I had with my brother and sister. We’ve always been close, but we’re much closer now that we’re forced to communicate about real issues versus just sharing space in a house.
PGN: What do the parents do? EG: My mom works for Lockheed Martin. She’s in some sort of secret position that we can’t really talk about, but it’s pretty high up. My dad works for IBM, something to do with imports and exports. He’s been there for 37 years and wishing he could retire and go open up a bar in Mexico or something fun like that.
PGN: Who was your favorite teacher? EG: In second grade, I had Mrs. Smart, who was not only kind and compassionate, she also had a great sense of humor. I especially loved her because of an incident that took place in her class. [Laughs.] I feel I can share it now because I’m finally over it. I was a ridiculously nervous student. I would get geeked out about getting the gold star next to my name. I always wanted to get the best grades and, back then, we had school-wide tests that were timed. One time, just as the test was about to start, I had to go to the bathroom, but I didn’t want to miss the test. It was only a five-minute test but I ended up peeing my pants and this kid Dustin — I still remember his name — looked up and pointed at me and shouted, “What are you doing?” and I yelled back, “I don’t know!” I started crying and Mrs. Smart just gracefully came over and had my best friend take me over to the nurse’s station. She did it all without getting alarmed or making a big deal out of it. She was just very kind and, later that day after I’d changed and come back, she didn’t say a word, just let me blend back in. I always appreciated that.
PGN: When did you leave Denver? EG: The first time was when I was 19. I had a boyfriend who decided to move to Hawaii to pursue a degree in marine biology and I thought it was a good opportunity for me to get out of Colorado. Then in 2001, I moved to New York for about three-and-a-half years before coming to Philly. I came here in 2004 and got my master’s degrees in social work and human sexuality education from Widener University.
PGN: What was high school like? EG: I was a big theater geek. I was in a couple of musicals and the choir, and for a while I thought I had a fighting chance to be a singer. I just watched one of my old videos recently and I think I was terribly misguided. It was horrible!
PGN: What was the worst mishap on stage? EG: So this happened when I was in elementary school. We were singing “The Greatest Love of All” and then did a little skit and, for some reason, I had to have fake boobs, so my mom stuffed my bra with oranges. Right in the middle, an orange fell out and sloooooowly rolled across the stage. It felt like it was in slow motion! This boy that I had a crush on saw the whole thing. I mean, he clearly realized that I didn’t just overnight turn into a size C, but the whole incident was devastating.
PGN: Best high-school memory? EG: I should do a disclaimer: In fifth grade I went from school in Broomfield, which was a predominantly white suburban school, to school in Denver, which was more “urban” — mostly Latino. So when I went there, the kids thought I was “white washed” and then when I moved back to the suburbs for high school, they saw me as a “beaner,” derogatory for Mexican. So I never really fit in either place. But I met a girl named Sarah and we managed to form a really strong friendship. We both recognized that high school was bullshit and we were going to go on to awesome lives. We made fun of the popular kids, even though we probably secretly wanted to be them. But it got us through and we’re still friends today. With her and another friend, Jen, I felt I could just be myself and not have to worry about being enough of any one thing.
PGN: When did you come out? EG: In Colorado, I dismissed the idea completely because the girls I knew to be gay didn’t look like me at all and I wasn’t interested in any of the things they liked. So, I assumed that I wasn’t gay. When I moved to New York I went out to Escuelita and Lovergirl where I found women who I could relate to. My world exploded and I dove headfirst into my sexuality. I soon found my first girlfriend and told my parents. I didn’t feel the need to label myself anything: I simply said, “I have a girlfriend.” My mom wanted to give me the label of bisexual, but I gave her a quick “Queer Studies 101” as to why I didn’t identify as bisexual and that, if I had to choose anything, it would be queer. My dad said, “Well, you were bound to catch somebody with that thing on your arm.” [Laughs.] I have a vagina tattoo on my arm, so they thought it was some sort of Batman signal in the sky that would attract women.
PGN: Back in Colorado, you were a founding board member of the Colorado Organization for Latina Opportunity and Reproductive Rights. EG: Yes, COLOR. A friend and mentor of mine, Melanie Herrera-Bortz, saw the need and brought the group together in Colorado. I’d been working at the front desk of Planned Parenthood and she recruited me to work with her. It was something I was incredibly proud of. They’re still doing wonderful things — advocating for Latinas and lesbians and moms, and all issues pertaining to the Latino community in Colorado.
PGN: Planned Parenthod, COLOR, where else have you worked? EG: Oh boy, it’s a joke in our family. My brother always teases me, so one year for Christmas I framed a list of all my past jobs. There were about 30-40 of them listed. I started working when I was 15 — everywhere from Baskin-Robbins to TJ Maxx to Pizza Hut to Planned Parenthood to Congreso de Latinos Unidos, you name it.
PGN: What was the worst? EG: For about half a day, I worked putting together boxes. It paid better than the fast-food or mall jobs and I thought, How hard can it be? It was awful: You were on an assembly line and you had to glue them but you couldn’t use too much glue or it would seep through, then you used an air-gun thing to blow off any excess glue, then it all has to be folded in a certain way and it all has to be done very fast … At lunch I said, “I’m sorry, I can’t come back, I just can’t do it.” To this day I have a great appreciation of boxes.
PGN: So, moving from Colorado to New York, was there a difference in the air? EG: Oh my God, ridiculous difference! The funny thing is, even with all the pollution, when I came to New York, I felt like I could breathe for the first time. I felt like all my cells came alive with the energy. I still feel that way when I go to New York.
PGN: Name a turning point in your life that makes you smile. EG: Working at Mazzoni Center. I’d been working at Congreso and trying to talk to them about sexuality and LGBT issues, etc., and they just weren’t ready to deal with that yet with everything else they do. I met Nurit Shein from Mazzoni and she suggested I apply with them. I got a job and it was the first time, possibly in my life, that I had a sense of community. I’ve always had pockets of friends, but not a group of like-minded people who were community-oriented and well-intended.
PGN: How did you meet your partner? EG: At a lesbian bar, of course. We met through a mutual friend. Back then, I was at the beginning of diving into my sexuality and I was still dating boys. She had a little crush on me and would see me and joke to my friend, “How’s my girlfriend?” In 2004, I was moving back to Colorado for a minute and having a goodbye party. I had a girlfriend but my friend Jen called and said, “We’re turning this into a make-out party.” I was like, cool! When Amy walked in, it was like a movie where everything else fades away. When I moved to Colorado, we stayed in touch. We had dial-up back then and would communicate with instant messaging, etc. I think it really made a difference in our relationship lasting so long because it gave us time to get to know each other first, almost like an old-fashioned courtship.
PGN: First love? EG: Besides Prince? Jason Hoffman. He lived a block away from school but he would walk five blocks to my house to walk me to school every morning. It was first grade so there wasn’t any smooching going on, but he was my boyfriend. At one time, he gave me a ring that was so big, I couldn’t even wear it on two fingers and his mom called up and said, “Um, I think my son gave Elicia a ring that’s kind of important to the family. He really cares for her, so she can hold on to it; just please be careful.”
PGN: Middle name? EG: Crystál.
PGN: What one rule did you always disagree with growing up? EG: I have a hard time following orders. I’m not oppositional defiant or anything, but things would get me mad. Like when I was young and left the house, I was always told, “Be careful, don’t drive too fast, be home by this time … ” And my brother, who was younger than me, never got the same admonishments. It pissed me off. I was always like, “This is a double standard! How come you don’t tell him the same things!” I think I was born a feminist.
PGN: Favorite artist? EG: Prince. I should have figured out that I would go into the field of sexuality because I was obsessed with Prince. I remember listening to “Darling Nikki” over and over and over on my tape player on low, because I knew that the song was “bad.” I didn’t realize what it was at the time, but I loved the fact that he looked like a girl but was a guy wearing high heels. I was obsessed with him. I even painted my room purple for a time.
PGN: Weirdest gift you’ve received? EG: Back in the day, my parents used to give me these weird mix-tapes. I was about 6 and they’d have songs by Air Supply and Stevie Nicks, which is not the typical play list for a first-grader, but now I’m glad they did.
PGN: College? EG: Three! I started at Colorado State U, went for a semester in Hawaii and ultimately graduated with a degree in psychology from University of Colorado at Boulder. I started in international business, then took a course on human sexuality and changed my major that day. I thought I was going to be the next Dr. Ruth.
PGN: What about the current madness regarding birth control? EG: I have a picture, which I posted on my Facebook page, of a woman holding a sign saying, “I can’t believe I still have to protest this shit!” It’s 2012 and we’re still talking about issues regarding women’s bodies. It’s ridiculous. All men, mind you, talking about women’s bodies. I truly believe that until we get people in power who are our friends, probably women, nothing is going to change. We need to get into positions of power.
PGN: What does GALAEI mean to you personally? EG: In the past, I always felt the need to compartmentalize myself as either a woman, a Latina or queer. Doing my work, I might walk into a room of LGBT people and be the only brown person there, or I may walk into a room of Latinos and be the only [out] LGBT person. GALAEI is a place where I can feel 100 percent at home and I can be all parts of myself all at the same time. It’s not only encouraged, but it’s essential for my job. There’s such a need for organizations like this that I’m humbled and honored to do this work.
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