What do you think?
Rate this book
High-Risk Homosexual
This witty memoir traces a touching and often hilarious spiralic path to embracing a gay, Latinx identity against a culture of machismo—from a cockfighting ring in Nicaragua to cities across the U.S.—and the bath houses, night clubs, and drag queens who help redefine pride.
"I’ve always found the definition of machismo to be ironic, considering that pride is a word almost unanimously associated with queer people, the enemy of machistas. In particular, effeminate queer men represent a simultaneous rejection and embrace of masculinity . . . In a world desperate to erase us, queer Latinx men must find ways to hold onto pride for survival, but excessive male pride is often what we are battling, both in ourselves and in others."
A debut memoir about coming of age as a gay, Latinx man, High-Risk Homosexual opens in the ultimate anti-gay space: Edgar Gomez’s uncle’s cockfighting ring in Nicaragua, where he was sent at thirteen years old to become a man. Readers follow Gomez through the queer spaces where he learned to love being gay and Latinx, including Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, a drag queen convention in Los Angeles, and the doctor’s office where he was diagnosed a “high-risk homosexual.”
With vulnerability, humor, and quick-witted insights into racial, sexual, familial, and professional power dynamics, Gomez shares a hard-won path to taking pride in the parts of himself he was taught to keep hidden. His story is a scintillating, beautiful reminder of the importance of leaving space for joy.
"I’ve always found the definition of machismo to be ironic, considering that pride is a word almost unanimously associated with queer people, the enemy of machistas. In particular, effeminate queer men represent a simultaneous rejection and embrace of masculinity . . . In a world desperate to erase us, queer Latinx men must find ways to hold onto pride for survival, but excessive male pride is often what we are battling, both in ourselves and in others."
A debut memoir about coming of age as a gay, Latinx man, High-Risk Homosexual opens in the ultimate anti-gay space: Edgar Gomez’s uncle’s cockfighting ring in Nicaragua, where he was sent at thirteen years old to become a man. Readers follow Gomez through the queer spaces where he learned to love being gay and Latinx, including Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, a drag queen convention in Los Angeles, and the doctor’s office where he was diagnosed a “high-risk homosexual.”
With vulnerability, humor, and quick-witted insights into racial, sexual, familial, and professional power dynamics, Gomez shares a hard-won path to taking pride in the parts of himself he was taught to keep hidden. His story is a scintillating, beautiful reminder of the importance of leaving space for joy.
304 pages, Paperback
First published January 11, 2022
About the author
Edgar Gomez
6 books90 followersEdgar Gomez (all pronouns) is a Florida-born writer with roots in Nicaragua and Puerto Rico. A graduate of University of California, Riverside’s MFA program, their debut memoir, High-Risk Homosexual, was called a “breath of fresh air” by The New York Times; named a Best Book of 2022 by Publisher’s Weekly, Buzzfeed, and Electric Literature; and received a 2023 American Book Award, a Stonewall Israel-Fishman Nonfiction Book Honor Award, and the Lambda Literary Award for Gay Memoir. Their second book, a memoir about growing up poor in early 2000’s Florida titled Alligator Tears, will be out in 2025 from Crown.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 170 reviews
September 25, 2021
Giving this book five stars because I feel sorry for the author.
February 11, 2022
Real Rating: 4.5* of five
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: What makes a memoir worth reading? This is not an idle question: I don't read many memoirs because, when I ask myself what makes *this* memoir worth expending some of my ever-shrinking supply of eyeblinks on, the answer is "not this" more often than not. Coming-of-age novels get the same call and readerly response. I, too, was a tacky young slut...do I need to know how that felt to you?
Turns out I do. This time.
We meet young Edgar in the back seat of a taxi in Nicaragua, riding along to wave his mother goodbye as she flies back to Orlando, where he is from. He's thirteen. He's clearly figured out he's queer, even if the details are...a bit hazy. But what isn't hazy, at all, is the rage and loathing that "being queer" will subject the young man to, so he does what so many do: He shuts himself, his full authentic real self, into a sealed, invisible space and just powers through whatever bullshit awaits him.
Think about that. Just stop posturing and sit with the reality that you, either through homophobic action or indifferent inaction, are requiring children, teenagers, vulnerable dependents unable to save themselves, to endure the mental-health-destroying reality of sealing away a part of themselves simply in order to survive in this world they did not make. (Yes, you did and do make the world, you adult about to click away, every time you say or silent agree with some asshole's homophobic crap.)
Edgar Gomez survived by making his sealed prison an egg, a seed, where his flamboyantly feathered and exuberantly sexual self could gestate and form. How many whose strength isn't as adamantine as his fail at this? What's the suicide rate among teens? Those are closely linked. And thankfully less often, what are the rates at which the fagbashing culture produces mass murderers? Omar Mateen? He could have, given a different amount of strength, been Edgar Gomez. The similarities between the upbringings of the two disturbs Gomez, he says explicitly.
About explicitness...the title of this memoir probably makes many of y'all wince and cringe. Now...imagine that title is instead A DIAGNOSIS and applies to you when you seek PReP meds like Truvada, potentially life-saving means of not contracting HIV. The way not to die? Be officially sick...this is the world that laughing at fag jokes and failing to challenge laws that don't apply to you because you don't much like the people they *do* apply to leads to. Failing to vote for politicians whose mandate included equal civil rights for all has led us to a place where court-mandated rights are under threat because the scumbags have finally got their pet judges, the ones who let idiotic laws like the Texas Bounty Hunter Enabling one stand, onto the Supreme Court. This is the world that a title like this one, its in-your-face "this is my reality and you no longer get to pretend you didn't know" like some 1930s German, has urgency and necessity multiplying the force of its legitimate demand for your eyeblinks and dollars.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: What makes a memoir worth reading? This is not an idle question: I don't read many memoirs because, when I ask myself what makes *this* memoir worth expending some of my ever-shrinking supply of eyeblinks on, the answer is "not this" more often than not. Coming-of-age novels get the same call and readerly response. I, too, was a tacky young slut...do I need to know how that felt to you?
Turns out I do. This time.
We meet young Edgar in the back seat of a taxi in Nicaragua, riding along to wave his mother goodbye as she flies back to Orlando, where he is from. He's thirteen. He's clearly figured out he's queer, even if the details are...a bit hazy. But what isn't hazy, at all, is the rage and loathing that "being queer" will subject the young man to, so he does what so many do: He shuts himself, his full authentic real self, into a sealed, invisible space and just powers through whatever bullshit awaits him.
Think about that. Just stop posturing and sit with the reality that you, either through homophobic action or indifferent inaction, are requiring children, teenagers, vulnerable dependents unable to save themselves, to endure the mental-health-destroying reality of sealing away a part of themselves simply in order to survive in this world they did not make. (Yes, you did and do make the world, you adult about to click away, every time you say or silent agree with some asshole's homophobic crap.)
Edgar Gomez survived by making his sealed prison an egg, a seed, where his flamboyantly feathered and exuberantly sexual self could gestate and form. How many whose strength isn't as adamantine as his fail at this? What's the suicide rate among teens? Those are closely linked. And thankfully less often, what are the rates at which the fagbashing culture produces mass murderers? Omar Mateen? He could have, given a different amount of strength, been Edgar Gomez. The similarities between the upbringings of the two disturbs Gomez, he says explicitly.
About explicitness...the title of this memoir probably makes many of y'all wince and cringe. Now...imagine that title is instead A DIAGNOSIS and applies to you when you seek PReP meds like Truvada, potentially life-saving means of not contracting HIV. The way not to die? Be officially sick...this is the world that laughing at fag jokes and failing to challenge laws that don't apply to you because you don't much like the people they *do* apply to leads to. Failing to vote for politicians whose mandate included equal civil rights for all has led us to a place where court-mandated rights are under threat because the scumbags have finally got their pet judges, the ones who let idiotic laws like the Texas Bounty Hunter Enabling one stand, onto the Supreme Court. This is the world that a title like this one, its in-your-face "this is my reality and you no longer get to pretend you didn't know" like some 1930s German, has urgency and necessity multiplying the force of its legitimate demand for your eyeblinks and dollars.
March 4, 2022
I liked this memoir about Edgar Gomez’s coming of age as a gay Latinx man. I felt that he showed us the effects of his growing up in a lower socioeconomic status as well as how he faced pressure to appear as more masculine and less flamboyant. He writes with honesty both about his struggles with femmephobia and classism as well as the joy and resilience he cultivated as a gay Latinx man, through developing pride in his identities and what makes him special.
I give this memoir three stars because I wanted Gomez to go a bit deeper at times, both with his analysis of himself as well as the emotional impacts of some of the events he describes. Toward the very end of the novel he writes about cultivating self-worth, though I wish that had been integrated more consistently throughout the novel – how specifically did he reckon with femmephobia, for example, to come to accept himself? I also felt uncertain about the inclusion of his various romantic and sexual encounters: while they came across as honest to his life experiences, I wanted to read more about what these relationships meant to him, as well as how he interpreted them in the context of his own identity development. Even though I wanted more from this memoir I appreciated Gomez’s courage in being himself despite forces such as homophobia and heteronormativity.
I give this memoir three stars because I wanted Gomez to go a bit deeper at times, both with his analysis of himself as well as the emotional impacts of some of the events he describes. Toward the very end of the novel he writes about cultivating self-worth, though I wish that had been integrated more consistently throughout the novel – how specifically did he reckon with femmephobia, for example, to come to accept himself? I also felt uncertain about the inclusion of his various romantic and sexual encounters: while they came across as honest to his life experiences, I wanted to read more about what these relationships meant to him, as well as how he interpreted them in the context of his own identity development. Even though I wanted more from this memoir I appreciated Gomez’s courage in being himself despite forces such as homophobia and heteronormativity.
May 21, 2022
Edgar Gomez bucks the trend of subpar queer memoirs with his unique and interesting voice in High-Risk Homosexual.
Edgar was raised in Orlando, FL and struggled from a young age to suppress his femininity and fully embrace his sexuality. The book opens with young Edgar in Nicaragua visiting his uncles who run a cockfighting ring and who, after making Edgar bet on cockfighting, lock him in a room with a woman in what is a clear attempt to make Edgar not gay. From this moment Edgar grows up and opens up to his mom who, who though accepting still struggles to come to terms with his sexuality. But Edgar's sense of self and sexual identity that he has built finds itself confronted with deep-rooted trauma stemming from the shooting at his favorite gay club, Pulse in Orlando. Edgar escapes to California where he confronts this and many other traumas that populate his past.
I often find myself bored and underwhelmed by the plethora of gay memoirs that seem to come out every year, which is why I had prepared for the worst when I picked up this book. But High-Risk Homosexual, though a gay memoir, has a unique voice, a unique perspective, and a reflective tone that makes it resonate in a serious way. Gomez is a fantastic writer who is able to probe his own life for stories that move readers intellectually and emotionally. And High-Risk Homosexual will make any queer person stop and think about who they are and how they got there.
Edgar was raised in Orlando, FL and struggled from a young age to suppress his femininity and fully embrace his sexuality. The book opens with young Edgar in Nicaragua visiting his uncles who run a cockfighting ring and who, after making Edgar bet on cockfighting, lock him in a room with a woman in what is a clear attempt to make Edgar not gay. From this moment Edgar grows up and opens up to his mom who, who though accepting still struggles to come to terms with his sexuality. But Edgar's sense of self and sexual identity that he has built finds itself confronted with deep-rooted trauma stemming from the shooting at his favorite gay club, Pulse in Orlando. Edgar escapes to California where he confronts this and many other traumas that populate his past.
I often find myself bored and underwhelmed by the plethora of gay memoirs that seem to come out every year, which is why I had prepared for the worst when I picked up this book. But High-Risk Homosexual, though a gay memoir, has a unique voice, a unique perspective, and a reflective tone that makes it resonate in a serious way. Gomez is a fantastic writer who is able to probe his own life for stories that move readers intellectually and emotionally. And High-Risk Homosexual will make any queer person stop and think about who they are and how they got there.
September 16, 2021
Edgar Gomez is the chaotic queer hero we both need and deserve—with humor and charm, they tenderly lead us into night clubs, bathhouses, the backseats of cars with anonymous men, asking us to examine our current place in the world amongst the lonely and brokenhearted, the ones who dare live our truest lives. For anyone whose coming out and coming of age is messy in all the ways, let High-Risk Homosexual be a road map.
February 1, 2022
Gomez has done the near-impossible: written a queer coming of age tale that feels entirely fresh and unique. Not only does their prose sparkle with the sort of deliciously dry wit that can't be bought or taught, it displays a level of insight highly unusual for such a young author.
October 15, 2021
4.5 stars. High-Risk Homosexual is a humorous and emotive memoir of Gomez's coming of age into his identity: gay, femme, and Latinx, which comes with a lot of hoops to jump through between culture clashes and self-discovery. Edgar takes us through puzzling teenage relationships, difficult family ties, and tackling the somewhat unrealistic expectations that sometimes fall apart in new adulthood. Gomez manages to keep moving forward despite life's hardships, and in telling his story, shines light and hope on the future state of LGBT communities-- even if a kind, safe feels out of reach at times.
March 30, 2022
Not to be ANNOYING, but the reflection on sexuality in the context of a masculine/machismo cultural background was really interesting. The contrast between Orlando gay clubs and Nicaraguan cockfighting stuck with me. I appreciated the author's directness and humor. Good stuff. Maybe even good stuff for brave straight people?!
July 9, 2022
It was a pleasure to read Edgar Gomez's memoir and to speak with him in (virtual) person at VINE book club last month. Gomez's High Risk Homosexual, stands out in a crowd for its nuanced take on what it's like growing up at the intersection of multiple marginalized demographics. Even though this book represents a the life of a Latinx nonbinary person raised in a world that wanted him to be a toxically masculine straight man, it is relatable to me and I would assume to most people on various LGBTQ continuums. While many of us grew up in a variety of communities with varying levels of acceptance and shame, I believe this sort of thing is deep inside all of us. The euphoria we can experience when we have moments of letting go is shared as well but is not simple or easy.
One topic that ended up taking up a lot of space at the book club was Gomez's relationship to the oppressed other than himself. This extended to other animals as well. A particularly intense scene involves cock fighting rings and a forced conversion situation simultaneously (which I won't describe in detail so that you will go read it yourself.) People react in a variety of ways to traumatic experiences in childhood, but what grips me a lot about Gomez is how he empathizes with everyone around him, including the women dealing with their own set of struggles, the roosters forced to fight, and the hens used as bait. It is saddening to think of a child so sensitive feeling so many things, but in the end, that child grows into a kind and considerate adult without losing all of that gentleness. Many people cannot say the same.
This story also involves the horrendous tragedy that was the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub. Gomez's account captures just how debilitating and far reaching collective trauma goes, even if one is not on the scene when it happens. Moving through this trauma as well as slowly but surely going from ashamed to shameless is an intense reality that all too many people face.
Regarding the title, it is kind of poetic how all of the shame that family and community instilled in Gomez, all of the self hatred and fear he was taught to absorb, and all of his careful maneuvering throughout gay life still led to him being labeled a "High Risk Homosexual" in a medical setting. In some ways, these trappings are devastating. No matter how "good" and "careful" one is, their mere existence can be stigmatized. But, on the other side of the coin, we might as well be free and enjoy ourselves if they're going to step on us either way. Easier said than done, but an important realization nonetheless. Even if Gomez was taking part in "high risk" activities, he would still be deserving of respect (and appropriate medical care for that matter.)
The only critique I have of this book is the organization- particularly in regards to timelines. The book often jumps backward and forward in time without anything to orient the reader as to how far back or forward one has jumped. I found myself saying, "wait a minute..." and going back to previous chapters thinking I completely misunderstood a story before realizing the non-linearity of the story line. Nonlinear writing is perfectly fine and often an entertaining tool, but in this case, I needed more organization to fully follow the story.
The end leaves us with some nice grey area, which I appreciate. This is not a bury-the-gays story line nor is it an it-gets-better story ine. It is grounded in reality while remaining hopeful of the future, and that makes it all the more believable and important.
This was also posted to my blog.
One topic that ended up taking up a lot of space at the book club was Gomez's relationship to the oppressed other than himself. This extended to other animals as well. A particularly intense scene involves cock fighting rings and a forced conversion situation simultaneously (which I won't describe in detail so that you will go read it yourself.) People react in a variety of ways to traumatic experiences in childhood, but what grips me a lot about Gomez is how he empathizes with everyone around him, including the women dealing with their own set of struggles, the roosters forced to fight, and the hens used as bait. It is saddening to think of a child so sensitive feeling so many things, but in the end, that child grows into a kind and considerate adult without losing all of that gentleness. Many people cannot say the same.
This story also involves the horrendous tragedy that was the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub. Gomez's account captures just how debilitating and far reaching collective trauma goes, even if one is not on the scene when it happens. Moving through this trauma as well as slowly but surely going from ashamed to shameless is an intense reality that all too many people face.
Regarding the title, it is kind of poetic how all of the shame that family and community instilled in Gomez, all of the self hatred and fear he was taught to absorb, and all of his careful maneuvering throughout gay life still led to him being labeled a "High Risk Homosexual" in a medical setting. In some ways, these trappings are devastating. No matter how "good" and "careful" one is, their mere existence can be stigmatized. But, on the other side of the coin, we might as well be free and enjoy ourselves if they're going to step on us either way. Easier said than done, but an important realization nonetheless. Even if Gomez was taking part in "high risk" activities, he would still be deserving of respect (and appropriate medical care for that matter.)
The only critique I have of this book is the organization- particularly in regards to timelines. The book often jumps backward and forward in time without anything to orient the reader as to how far back or forward one has jumped. I found myself saying, "wait a minute..." and going back to previous chapters thinking I completely misunderstood a story before realizing the non-linearity of the story line. Nonlinear writing is perfectly fine and often an entertaining tool, but in this case, I needed more organization to fully follow the story.
The end leaves us with some nice grey area, which I appreciate. This is not a bury-the-gays story line nor is it an it-gets-better story ine. It is grounded in reality while remaining hopeful of the future, and that makes it all the more believable and important.
This was also posted to my blog.
December 24, 2021
HIGH-RISK HOMOSEXUAL by Edgar Gomez is a great memoir!! I was so intrigued to learn about Edgar and couldn’t put this book down. I finished reading this book in two days. Edgar shares candidly his experiences as a gay Latinx man. From his coming out story to his first sexual encounters and coming of age while discovering his queer identity this book took me on a journey of heartbreak, finding community and hope. While reading I was wishing for a HEA ending for Edgar just like in his fave J.Lo rom com. I loved the brutal honesty in this book as Edgar discusses his fears, tensions with his family and trying to find love. I’m so glad to have read this book!
.
Thank you to Soft Skull Press via NetGalley for my advance review copy!
.
Thank you to Soft Skull Press via NetGalley for my advance review copy!
February 17, 2022
HIGH-RISK HOMOSEXUAL is a memoir from writer Edgar Gomez. I listened to the audiobook, read by the author, over the past few weeks. This memoir is smart, tight, and expertly explores the riskiness of being gay. I highly recommend it.
Some memoirs start with a bang and then fade. This memoir builds and gets better with each chapter. Each essay expands the central theme, probing what we gain and what we lose for being gay, all through the author’s life. It’s brilliantly crafted and returns again and again to the themes of risk, without being heavy handed. The narration is honest and introspective, seeking meaning to events that are inexplicable. From coming out, to casual sex, to stripping, to the shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, these essays are a kaleidoscope, with each turn changing the perspective, looking at the dangers of being gay in society that doesn’t accept us and at best tolerates us. Parts of this book were funny with brilliantly added details. My favorite was when the author says he’s a “love camel” when wanting his brother to say I love you, storing love like a camel stores water. It’s heartbreaking and relatable and so perfect. The Orlando native writes about the tragedy at Pulse, a place he frequented, while also investigating the live of the shooter who took 49 lives. From drag queens to PReP to cock-fighting in Nicaragua, this memoir is lively, vulnerable, and so well written.
I thought the performance of the audiobook was really good. I was blown away by the writing. Edgar Gomez is a writer to watch for in coming years and I can’t wait for what he writes next.
Some memoirs start with a bang and then fade. This memoir builds and gets better with each chapter. Each essay expands the central theme, probing what we gain and what we lose for being gay, all through the author’s life. It’s brilliantly crafted and returns again and again to the themes of risk, without being heavy handed. The narration is honest and introspective, seeking meaning to events that are inexplicable. From coming out, to casual sex, to stripping, to the shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, these essays are a kaleidoscope, with each turn changing the perspective, looking at the dangers of being gay in society that doesn’t accept us and at best tolerates us. Parts of this book were funny with brilliantly added details. My favorite was when the author says he’s a “love camel” when wanting his brother to say I love you, storing love like a camel stores water. It’s heartbreaking and relatable and so perfect. The Orlando native writes about the tragedy at Pulse, a place he frequented, while also investigating the live of the shooter who took 49 lives. From drag queens to PReP to cock-fighting in Nicaragua, this memoir is lively, vulnerable, and so well written.
I thought the performance of the audiobook was really good. I was blown away by the writing. Edgar Gomez is a writer to watch for in coming years and I can’t wait for what he writes next.
March 26, 2022
When a friend gave me this ARC I thought, here we go again, haven't I read this kind of memoir before. But the quality of the writing, the structure, the juxtaposition of elements made for a very enjoyable experience. One minute it's laugh out loud funny, the next very poignant.
And bravo for the brutal honesty. Gomez never turns away or glosses over the embarrassing or disappointing elements of his story. As I was reading, knowing this is the author's tale, I was amazed even more by what he has accomplished, that his talent and drive persevered. Well done!
And bravo for the brutal honesty. Gomez never turns away or glosses over the embarrassing or disappointing elements of his story. As I was reading, knowing this is the author's tale, I was amazed even more by what he has accomplished, that his talent and drive persevered. Well done!
May 2, 2022
I'm not the most frequent memoir reader, and I have to be honest, I'm often left wondering if the memoir I'm reading needed to exist. Sometimes they feel padded by non-events without much backing them up. This book, however, is sharp, funny, emotional, troubled, sad, and has a direction. This book needed to exist. It needed to be written. It's beautifully shaped. Charming. Serious. I loved it. I felt so much when I was reading it. I'm happy it exists.
January 6, 2022
This book slaps! Deeply funny and touching. Plus a little sexy.
March 24, 2022
There's something to be said for finding yourself as a young, queer, Latinx man in the world.
Edgar Gomez’s reflections on trying to protect himself from so many externalized forms of violence and his thoughts around the Pulse Nightclub shootings were painful but felt real and understandably conflicting. His moments of first love and first distancing, deep friendship, and friendship breakdown were poignant. I feel better having engaged with his thoughts, musings, and experiences.
There was quite a bit of discussion of sex in this book. It was interesting and simultaneously awkward at points.
A couple of standout moments to me in the book:
Big thanks to Netgalley for letting me read this book for free.
Edgar Gomez’s reflections on trying to protect himself from so many externalized forms of violence and his thoughts around the Pulse Nightclub shootings were painful but felt real and understandably conflicting. His moments of first love and first distancing, deep friendship, and friendship breakdown were poignant. I feel better having engaged with his thoughts, musings, and experiences.
There was quite a bit of discussion of sex in this book. It was interesting and simultaneously awkward at points.
A couple of standout moments to me in the book:
re: the complexities of coming into yourself - "If I could have done it with a knife, I would have. If I could have forced my body to do what they needed it to, I’d swear to like it. If they would listen to me, I’d apologize. I was so sorry. I didn’t mean to be like this.” — 9% in High-Risk Homosexual by Edgar Gomez
re: finally getting there - "I’d spent so much of my life trying to be palatable, trying to stay safe, and now I was in a city where survival wasn’t my number one priority, but I didn’t know what to do with myself. Eat gay cookies? Read gay books? Listen to Lady Gaga? Those things were fun, but were they all the last two decades of my life had been leading up to? Was this really everything that was waiting for me, for us, at the end of the rainbow?” — 95% in High-Risk Homosexual by Edgar Gomez
Big thanks to Netgalley for letting me read this book for free.
March 10, 2022
This just made me want to tell any queer person I encounter or know that they must write their story or at least write it for me. Because there really is so much community building that happens within a person when they are able to share their story with others in their community. Gomez’s coming out story and coming-of-age-into-self feels like something our queer youth needs to read in order to know that things do indeed get better. Not in the sense that everything is perfect but in the sense that there is peace to be found within living your most authentic life. I got to interview Gomez for Nuevas Pagina’s - check it out, in case you missed it!
https://lupitareads.substack.com/p/ri...
https://lupitareads.substack.com/p/ri...
January 30, 2022
Rounding this up to five stars because that's what I think I'd give it if it were described as an essay collection or even a "memoir in essays". The book as a whole doesn't quite have the cohesion I wanted/expected, but otherwise it's a thoughtful, emotional read. Gomez asks questions that he doesn't have answers to, but they're big necessary questions.
June 17, 2021
I was shocked at how fast I read this book! It was heartbreaking and inspiring, and it felt brutally honest. One of the best coming out stories I've read. I hope Edgar Gomez keeps writing, because I want to keep reading.
April 10, 2022
Edgar Gomez is a force. This new voice in CNF is so necessary and powerful! There is an aching vulnerability, blistering insights into the tense landscape of racial, sexuality, gender and family dynamics. I'm am honored to know this author. His book is a landmark!
January 6, 2022
books AND looks
March 23, 2022
Gomez leaves it all on the table and doesn't care what you think of him, and I am so happy he did. The candor and honesty with which he discusses his life, his relationships, and the uncertainty in his head made me feel at ease with my own uncertainties. Unpacking masculinity, familial relationships, and the social constructs of both heteronormative and gay culture with direct language and bravery he tells it like it is.
From his childhood up until his 20's, Gomez takes us along for the ride as he puts together the pieces of identity and self. He picks up new pieces and discard old ones that no longer fit as he changes and evolves into the person he is today (or at least when he finished the memoir). Pride and ownership win out over fear and shame, which is incredibly important for gay men the world over.
If you like a candid view of intersectional queer and Latin culture look no further and read this book!
From his childhood up until his 20's, Gomez takes us along for the ride as he puts together the pieces of identity and self. He picks up new pieces and discard old ones that no longer fit as he changes and evolves into the person he is today (or at least when he finished the memoir). Pride and ownership win out over fear and shame, which is incredibly important for gay men the world over.
If you like a candid view of intersectional queer and Latin culture look no further and read this book!
April 9, 2023
High-Risk Homosexual: A Memoir, by Edgar Gomez is a strong-voiced, astute and direct story by a Latinx gay boy growing up in Florida. In FUCKING Florida where it is now illegal to say the word GAY; and where Pulse nightclub was blasted by a repressed gay man with a AK-45 in 2016; and where a true education is being repressed by a facist governor.
Gomez grew up in the wake of the AIDS war, in a homophobic society. But first he was in "...Nicaragua, where homosexuality was illegal until 2008," so how could his mother understand his gayness? In fact the book opens with his uncles taking him to a cock-fight and then to a bar where they set him up to have sex with a young woman. To man him up. He shows us this world of Latinx men. How does a young gay boy escape machismo? To live a true life one must escape. Will he? And he still get the family love he needs. His brother, distant when they meet in person, his mother because he is a mama's boy. We want to see him do well, to be loved, to escape, to become who he is. He shows the journey in rich detail.
Pulse was the nightclub he knew, but he wasn't there when it happened, he had moved away. On a family visit his brother drove past the club, with no words. The night of the shooting, far from his home in California, he hoped his brother would call him to ask how he was doing. He called his brother, left a message. "I don't know what I was thinking. Of course he didn't call. I'd never told him I was gay. It's one of the few things I assumed he knew about me without me having to say it. Him reaching out would have been a breach in our unspoken contract about not discussing my sexuality. Perhaps he though he was doing me a favor. I would have been as uncomfortable with it as him. Yet, in the hours between the shooting and my voicemail, I'd had complete strangers embrace me, acquaintances I hadn't spoken to in years offer their condolences. None of it meant anything if the person I knew the most and the longest couldn't be bothered. After Pulse, more than ever, I needed Hector to say the obvious thing out loud: I don't care that you're gay. I love you. Once would have been enough. I am a love camel. I would have made that last." A text came the next day: Sorry, dude, I thought you were okay. In the car he thought/hoped, his brother might be making up for that night? But no, they kept driving in silence past the club.
He examines the life of Omar and Seddique Mateen, the shooter at Pulse and his father, writing, "If at that age he was interested in men, he would never told his father. Like me he would have been terrified of telling anyone at all." A boy of Afghan descent, who was bullied, in a Muslin family, a father firmly against homosexuality, with high expectations for his only son. Any gay traits would have had severe penalties. Gomez writes, “I’m curious, knowing the way minorities are dehumanized in this country, what it means for an elementary school student to lack remorse. What would have been the appropriate response to terrorism for a child who must have understood that the images flashing onscreen would ruin the lives of so many in his community?”
The title "High-Risk Homosexual" comes from the wording on his PrEP prescription written by his doctor, Dr. Chen. "Will people think I’m one of the good ones? Careful? Sexless? Or that I’m reckless, and I’ll sleep with anyone who’ll have me? Because being perceived as good doesn’t feel nearly as important to me anymore as feeling good?" These stigmatizing beliefs still persist.
On the meds his liver tests come back abnormal, elevated. “HIV is treatable. It is, I’ve heard people say, no worse than a cold, when you consider all of the medical advancements that have been made. A very, very expensive cold. Nonfatal, so long as you have insurance. There is medicine, you know. There’s PrEP.” But the AIDS meds still have long term effects. And there is the other side of the coin, "For the uninsured, for those whose bodies reject the drug, in many parts of the world, fear is not irrational. I can’t shrug off the prudish, pre-PrEP version of myself and hide him somewhere deep in my closet like a gaudy old outfit I used to adore way back when."
This is an important book that examines the emotional cost of being one's true self in a society filled with hatred. He writes his own story. "Though I hated being reduced to a narrative of victimhood, my counselor wasn’t wrong to assume I needed help. The truth was that I couldn’t have afforded to go [to college] without aid, so I put my pride aside and applied. And it was this same truth that I was learning again years later: my story wasn’t just mine; who I was resided somewhere between how I saw myself and how everyone else—my counselor, the organizers of those scholarships, Dr. Chen—did."
Gomez shares his journey of growing into his true self. He got his degrees. He keeps his mother's love. Hopefully there will be more books coming from this emotionally wise and talented young man.
Gomez grew up in the wake of the AIDS war, in a homophobic society. But first he was in "...Nicaragua, where homosexuality was illegal until 2008," so how could his mother understand his gayness? In fact the book opens with his uncles taking him to a cock-fight and then to a bar where they set him up to have sex with a young woman. To man him up. He shows us this world of Latinx men. How does a young gay boy escape machismo? To live a true life one must escape. Will he? And he still get the family love he needs. His brother, distant when they meet in person, his mother because he is a mama's boy. We want to see him do well, to be loved, to escape, to become who he is. He shows the journey in rich detail.
Pulse was the nightclub he knew, but he wasn't there when it happened, he had moved away. On a family visit his brother drove past the club, with no words. The night of the shooting, far from his home in California, he hoped his brother would call him to ask how he was doing. He called his brother, left a message. "I don't know what I was thinking. Of course he didn't call. I'd never told him I was gay. It's one of the few things I assumed he knew about me without me having to say it. Him reaching out would have been a breach in our unspoken contract about not discussing my sexuality. Perhaps he though he was doing me a favor. I would have been as uncomfortable with it as him. Yet, in the hours between the shooting and my voicemail, I'd had complete strangers embrace me, acquaintances I hadn't spoken to in years offer their condolences. None of it meant anything if the person I knew the most and the longest couldn't be bothered. After Pulse, more than ever, I needed Hector to say the obvious thing out loud: I don't care that you're gay. I love you. Once would have been enough. I am a love camel. I would have made that last." A text came the next day: Sorry, dude, I thought you were okay. In the car he thought/hoped, his brother might be making up for that night? But no, they kept driving in silence past the club.
He examines the life of Omar and Seddique Mateen, the shooter at Pulse and his father, writing, "If at that age he was interested in men, he would never told his father. Like me he would have been terrified of telling anyone at all." A boy of Afghan descent, who was bullied, in a Muslin family, a father firmly against homosexuality, with high expectations for his only son. Any gay traits would have had severe penalties. Gomez writes, “I’m curious, knowing the way minorities are dehumanized in this country, what it means for an elementary school student to lack remorse. What would have been the appropriate response to terrorism for a child who must have understood that the images flashing onscreen would ruin the lives of so many in his community?”
The title "High-Risk Homosexual" comes from the wording on his PrEP prescription written by his doctor, Dr. Chen. "Will people think I’m one of the good ones? Careful? Sexless? Or that I’m reckless, and I’ll sleep with anyone who’ll have me? Because being perceived as good doesn’t feel nearly as important to me anymore as feeling good?" These stigmatizing beliefs still persist.
On the meds his liver tests come back abnormal, elevated. “HIV is treatable. It is, I’ve heard people say, no worse than a cold, when you consider all of the medical advancements that have been made. A very, very expensive cold. Nonfatal, so long as you have insurance. There is medicine, you know. There’s PrEP.” But the AIDS meds still have long term effects. And there is the other side of the coin, "For the uninsured, for those whose bodies reject the drug, in many parts of the world, fear is not irrational. I can’t shrug off the prudish, pre-PrEP version of myself and hide him somewhere deep in my closet like a gaudy old outfit I used to adore way back when."
This is an important book that examines the emotional cost of being one's true self in a society filled with hatred. He writes his own story. "Though I hated being reduced to a narrative of victimhood, my counselor wasn’t wrong to assume I needed help. The truth was that I couldn’t have afforded to go [to college] without aid, so I put my pride aside and applied. And it was this same truth that I was learning again years later: my story wasn’t just mine; who I was resided somewhere between how I saw myself and how everyone else—my counselor, the organizers of those scholarships, Dr. Chen—did."
Gomez shares his journey of growing into his true self. He got his degrees. He keeps his mother's love. Hopefully there will be more books coming from this emotionally wise and talented young man.
June 5, 2022
I finally finished an actual book that is not an audiobook or a kids’ book. Lately, I’ve just been in a rut. I’m still very behind at work even though I’m basically thriving there. But I’m also in the middle of 10+ books. I wanted to start my ‘finish all the books I’m in the middle of’ era with this one just because it’s easy on the eyes, it’s engaging, and it’s insightful.
Anyway, when I first read the first hundred pages of this book, all I could say was that I felt seen by the book. I felt representation. I don’t know how to explain it or articulate it well but Edgar Gomez reminds me of myself even when we’re different people (I know, confusing, right?). It feels like I would make the same decisions if I was him and he would probably be too if he was me. I write like him in a sense.
I wrote on my notes that there is always a tension in this book: either short anecdotes of a hate crime and the impeding doom of that, the fear of not belonging—inadequacy, and the feeling that people will not understand you.
But the male stripper chapter was really empowering for me. It was just a fun chapter to read and to visualize. There are a lot of shining moments like that in this book, maybe when he starts realizing he’s sexy, or when he encountered other gay men and processed those experiences really eloquently. I feel like that there’s a lot of power writing this book and it’s infectious. I find myself smiling to the book in the library, a hot guy on my left looking in my direction probably.
Anyway, when I first read the first hundred pages of this book, all I could say was that I felt seen by the book. I felt representation. I don’t know how to explain it or articulate it well but Edgar Gomez reminds me of myself even when we’re different people (I know, confusing, right?). It feels like I would make the same decisions if I was him and he would probably be too if he was me. I write like him in a sense.
I wrote on my notes that there is always a tension in this book: either short anecdotes of a hate crime and the impeding doom of that, the fear of not belonging—inadequacy, and the feeling that people will not understand you.
But the male stripper chapter was really empowering for me. It was just a fun chapter to read and to visualize. There are a lot of shining moments like that in this book, maybe when he starts realizing he’s sexy, or when he encountered other gay men and processed those experiences really eloquently. I feel like that there’s a lot of power writing this book and it’s infectious. I find myself smiling to the book in the library, a hot guy on my left looking in my direction probably.
February 21, 2022
This isn't a book I'd usually go for. It's also not the sort of book I enjoy. While reading this, I was confused. How was I so hooked when I usually hate memoirs written in this style? But it was so engaging, so interesting. I feel like this is the sort of book that needs to be read multiple times. There's so much going on, so many layers that deserve to be analyzed and dug into by the reader.
January 6, 2022
Edgar gets it! That's what I felt when I first came across the talent evidenced in this book. With a voice so uniquely his, Edgar writes with confidence and vulnerability. Great read
December 7, 2022
I was quite absorbed in this all the way through, but was especially struck by the chapter where Gomez writes about the Pulse night club shooting, which was visceral and real and hit me hard. Gomez is from Orlando and spent a lot of time at Pulse, and the way he talks about the pervasiveness of reminders of that shooting, while also being aware it will soon fade from the public consciousness, was an indictment of our culture of amnesia around unthinkable tragedy. I look forward to what he writes next.
November 23, 2023
One of my favorite reads this year. It was a lovely read, great storytelling, and the last few pages made me feel like my heart expanded. I love memoirs, and this one was perfectly executed, you really feel like you get to know the author. I want to read everything by that Gomez has written/will write!
January 8, 2022
This queer memoir felt different from others (not that I’ve read a ton) in that it’s much lighter—sure, bad/weird stuff happens but it’s not driven by trauma. It’s also more observant of the gay world we live in on top of the personal experience. Can’t wait to see what the author writes next!
January 23, 2022
This book is a breath of fresh air and I inhaled the whole thing in one sitting. Edgar Gomez is an exciting new voice and I feel so privileged to read this powerful story. Gomez has written what I am sure is going to be my favorite book of 2022. Growing up Gomez always felt a sense of otherness be it in his mostly white high school or his own home. Gomez never fit into the mold that was prescribed to him by society. He was always told he was never enough or he was too much. In this memoir told in essays, Gomez explores all the ways he was told his existence was a transgression and all the ways that shaped who he is as a person. He was too latin for his white school, too gay for his family, too femme for his boyfriend, too promiscuous for his doctor, too prude for the men at the bathhouse. In this aching memoir Edgar unpacks all the ways he let others define him and finally sets himself free. In the intro, Gomez speaks of how there were very few representations of queer Latinx people growing up and how he hopes by telling his story he leaves a little something for future queers. As a queer Latinx person myself who was assigned male at birth I felt this deeply. If I could gift this book to young me I would. My heart swells knowing that this book is out there for another young Latinx person who finds value in the expectations of others. Another young person who is held hostage by the hyper-masculine gender expectations and rigid views of the world that are ever-present in the Latinx community. In the end, Gomez discovers maybe not being the right kind of anything is the point of it all. We will never be enough or we will always be too much but as long as we measure ourselves against the wishes of a world that wishes us harm we will never be free. I don't know who said it but it bears repeating that every day queer people go out into the world loving ourselves it is an act of revolution and High Risk Homosexual is a clarion call to that revolution.
January 17, 2022
This was the memoir I didn't know I needed to read. Edgar Gomez's memoir is at times hilarious and at times a punch in the gut, but so often I found myself thinking, "Oh, I'm not the only queer person who's felt this way." Being a Nicaraguan-American 20-something from Orlando and being a white bi lady from Seattle are wildly different contexts to be queer in, and I love queer memoir because I learn so much every time I read another person's account of how they've survived or thrived or gotten to a point in their journey where they at least felt they could sit down and write a book about it. But my god - the ache to have the straight people you love call you after Pulse to check in, the sterile doctor's office where a disinterested professional who doesn't know a thing about your life labels you "high-risk" without telling you that - I've never read anyone writing about those particular experiences of being a millennial queer. Gomez is gifted in his ability to keep the mood of the book readable throughout - there's plenty of trauma but no wallowing, and so much to think about. His reflections on being the post-AIDS generation of gay men are especially salient: "To go from “If you sleep with someone, you’ll die” to “Just kidding! Be a hoe!” was such an earth-shattering shift that I still couldn’t believe one pill a day was all it took."
Displaying 1 - 30 of 170 reviews