vein with our Hero Abel, attempting to gather the remains of his late Brother David’s life. Through found letters, journal entries and any clues for who his brother truly was, why was their relationship so thoroughly tumultuous, but even more tragically, was there any infinitesimal remnant, that David had the capacity to love his brother, Abel, at all?
Through Marquez’s Kushner-esque writing we exhume the anger, fantastical, the rage, frustration, guts, bellows, cries, and pain that is transferred from generation to generation of Queer men who are told to fall in line, perpetuating an endless cycle of internalized homophobia, hate, and inauthenticity. Abel, David, Jono, each, are separate men of their time, doing the best that they can, given the puzzle pieces of identity, passed down through a sieve, from their ancestors. When is enough, enough? When do we take control of the narrative and stand defiant in the Queerness of our truth and say, No. More? What happens when we manifest to lead with love and not hate, and grace not shame? This is never a linear journey, as evidenced by my own body telling me to seek shelter from Directing this story and outing myself to all of you. But here we are, taking authority, getting back to our roots, getting back to our names. I am Andrew Rudy Galindo, from my Father’s Galindo and Martinez ancestors, and my mother’s Acosta and Aguilar ancestors, and I am proud to share this declaration of no more and never again, known as, My Brother’s Keeper.
Onwards,
A. Galindo
