By Gabriel Lopez Kafati
It was upon reflecting on each one of the stages of my life, up to now, of course, that I realized that each stage is like a layer. Like the layers of a cake or a sushi roll; like the rings of a tree. I can actually view the entirety of my life just by picturing each stage layered upon each other. I was further fascinated by the realization that each layer builds on the previous one, and at the same time, each layer supports the next one.
I think the first of my layers is very easy to identify as it is marked by my cradle. Not much I can or would actually want to do about that. I was born and raised in a small country in Central America. Growing up, I always detected something about me was different; but then again, aren't we all supposed to be different? Yes; I know that now, that I can see the entire cake, sushi roll, or tree. However, that was not always the case. Having been diagnosed with a hereditary retinal degeneration was the eureka, not just for myself, but for my family. I was different because I couldn't see the world in the same way as my cousins and friends; therefore, I was more sensitive, more artistic and less driven to sports. Yup! There was the answer. Was I happy to know that I was going blind? No. Was my family happy with this reality? No. Nevertheless, we could all feel a sense of relief, because as humans, we did not like the answer, but we were content to know that there was an answer.
As I grew older, I noticed that my next layer was marked by a few themes. First, my fascination with a better life, a more equitable society, and a more just government system. Throughout this process, my admiration of the United States grew fonder and my dreams of migrating grew stronger. On the other hand, my strong ties to family and the protection that came along kept holding me back. The other theme ruling my life was the realization of my same-sex attractions, and the fact that my few girlfriends had been more like best friends. I will always look at this stage with great pride, because I could have stayed in Honduras, married a girl, and enjoyed the protections afforded to me by virtue of being part of my family; however, I chose the more difficult, the less comfortable, yet more authentic, of the crossroads.
As I decided to become a part of this great nation, the first layer I had to deal with was my blindness. I had to, if I was to re-create my life under my new circumstances. Learning assistive technology, mobility, braille, and independent living skills were the priority. I devoted myself with great passion and dedication to studying everything I could. Along the process, I was exposed to amazing role models and subsequently organizations, like the Florida Council of the Blind (FCB) and the American Council of the Blind (ACB). I also learned about other organizations that, well, let's just say I didn't care for that much. At the same time, I was faced with something that, up to that point, I had not experienced in my life -- freedom! I was free of judgment and preconceived notions of what or how my life should be. In short, I experienced what is commonly known as "coming out," and I never felt better. It was then when I found the place that I call home -- Blind LGBT Pride International (BPI). For the first time in my life and from there forward, I felt that all of who I am was represented in one place.
All of these stages were what I now refer to as "the layers." Each one building upon the previous one, each one supporting the next one. All were necessary for me to become my authentic self. Some of the layers were filled with happy memories; some with huge challenges. Many of the layers consist of happy memories; many others are filled with bitter tears. In times of fear, I have wondered if I should have just stayed in Honduras; it would have been easier for sure. When I visit, I think to myself: "No wonder I left." Today, I understand that I am where I am meant to be -- physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually; and, rather than being content, I am happy.
Many people have described me as a very giving person. I would like to gift you with something. I would like to gift you, the reader of this piece, with a slice of that cake or that sushi roll, with a carving of that tree trunk. I must warn you though: Should you just try a crumble of the cake, you may find it dry; if you try just a piece of the sushi roll, you may just get the harsh wasabi; and if you only take the outer core of the tree trunk, you may find it to be dented by the elements. In order to enjoy the fullness of who and what I am, I must invite you to experience all the layers with an open mind and a welcoming heart. You may be surprised. The overly sweetness of the cake filling may be the perfect complement to the dry layers; the fresh salmon may soften the strength of the ginger; and the entirety of the rings may be the most beautiful and authentic artwork from nature. After trying every layer, you may well decide that you do not care for me; but please, do not make that call before you give all of me a chance.
I must close with a warning: While I am still alive, layers will still continue to form; so I will surely extend the same invite a few layers later. Who knows? That layer from the future may be the icing you needed to understand all the layers enclosed.