#4

LAT

-Kāpēc tev nav draudzenes?

 -Es nezinu, mammu.

Es zinu ļoti labi, kāpēc man nav draudzenes. Bet man nav drosmes to pateikt mammai. Es zinu, ka mamma to nesapratīs. Mani neinteresē meitenes. Mani interesē puiši. Es zinu, ka tas ir nepareizi, tā nedrīkst būt. Bet tā ir. Mani meitenes vispār neinteresē. Nē, nu ne jau tā, ka vispār nevarētu sarunāties. Tik daudz var, vismaz ar meitenēm var parunāties pa ceļam no skolas. Savādāk jau nav vispār, ar ko skolā parunāties. Man nav neviena drauga. Ar klases puišiem man īsti nav, ko runāt, viņiem ir sava kompānija, viņi spēlē kārtis, viņiem ir sava grupa, es tur neesmu piederīgs. Vispār manā skolā mācās arī mans dvīņubrālis, bet kopš vidusskolas 11. klases mēs esam atsevišķās klasēs, viņš par to ir priecīgs. Viņam par mani ir kauns. Viņš man saka, ka es esot kā meitene, man vajadzētu padomāt par dzimuma maiņas operāciju. Es neesmu meitene un negribu būt meitene. Es esmu puika, kam interesē puikas. Bet to es nevaru pateikt savam brālim. Viņš ir visu laiku uz mani dusmīgs. Mājās mēs strīdamies katru dienu. Reiz viņš man pat iedūra ēdamo dakšiņu plaukstā. Sadzija. Tas nekas. Es kaut kādā dīvainā kārtā viņam traucēju dzīvot. Laikam esmu kauns tāpat vien, ka esmu viņa brālis, tāds nenormāls. Laikam metu ēnu uz viņa tēlu. Mans dvīņubrālis ir īsts džeks. Viņš jau ir sācis remontēt vecu auto, zaparožecu. Man auto interesē tikai dizains. Motors un dzelži man vienaldzīgi. Vabolīte ir stilīga, brālis to nokrāsoja spilgti sarkanu. Mani pat pavizināja, tieši vienu reizi.

To, ka man patīk vīrieši, es pamanīju līdz ar pirmajām erotiskajām fotogrāfijām, ko varēja nopirkt stendos motokrosā 80. gadu beigās. Varēja nopirkt tikai sieviešu kailfoto. Mani tās neinteresēja. Tad 90. gadu sākumā parādījās pirmie vācu preču katalogi “Quelle” un “Otto”. Tie bija biezi žurnāli kā pārbāzti naudas maki, uz smaržīga plāna papīra tūkstošiem skaistu sieviešu un vīriešu apģērbu fotogrāfiju, arī vīriešu apakšveļas fotogrāfiju. Skaisti muskuļoti vīrieši ar kailu torsu un labi trenētu vēdera muskulatūru smaidīja pretim no kataloga lapām un rādīja savas locekļu kontūras stilīgās apakšbiksēs, tāpat kā sieviešu krūtis, kas likās gatavas izsprāgt no mežģīņotajiem krūšturiem. Sieviešu lapas es šķīru ātri pāri, bet vīriešu lapas pētīju lēni un pamatīgi, īpaši man patika garās apakšbikses. Tie vācu vīrieši ir tik skaisti, žilbinošu baltu smaidu, izteiktiem žokļiem un lieliem krūšu muskuļiem. Tik satraucoši noslēpumaini, tie vācu skaistie vīrieši neklātienē bija ieradušies ciemos pie manis, tālajā mazpilsētā. Man bija 14 gadu. Es smaidīju un jutu satraucošu kņudoņu vēderā. Vai es kādreiz varēšu izģērbt vienu no viņiem? Varēju to darīt tikai sapņos, tad pamosties laimīgs, bet līdz ar sapņiem izzuda arī mana laimes sajūta. Mana dzīves nokrāsa bija skumjas.

Katra mamma savam bērnam vēl laimi. Tikai ne katra mamma zina, ka viņas izdomātā laimes formula ne vienmēr der bērnam. Kādā brīdī mammas pamana, ka kaut kas tomēr nav īsti kārtībā ar bērnu, bet labāk par to nedomāt, nepieminēt, gan jau pāries. Gan jau dēls kļūs īsti vīrišķīgs, darīs visu, kas īstam vīrietim jādara. Viņam aizvien vēl nav draudzenes, nu tas nekas! Gan jau uzradīsies. Viņš tāds jūtīgs un ļoti centīgs skolā. Viņam nav laika domāt par meitenēm. Visam savs laiks! Kamēr lietas nenosauc vārdos, tās nepastāv. Tā var izlikties, ka tas, kas ir, tomēr nemaz nav. Mana mamma ļoti ilgi cerēja, ka realitātes noliegums arī novērsīs nenovēršamo, baiso atziņu, ka viņas bērns ir nepareizs. Gejs. Cilvēks var būt laimīgs tikai tad, ja apprecas un viņam ir bērni! Nekā savādāk nedrīkst būt! Mammas taču vienmēr zina, kas ir pareizi un vajadzīgs bērna dzīves laimei. Mammas to zina tik negrozāmi droši, ka nepamana, ka ar savu dzelžaino pārliecību apklusina savu bērnu. Sarunas kļūst retākas, uzticēšanās izzūd, vārdi paliek skopi. Kāpēc viņš pret mani tāds noslēgts? Varbūt tādēļ, ka mammas vārdi kā asas pātagas ir atstājušas dziļas brūces bērna dvēselē? Mana mamma un es, mēs tā arī neatradām ceļu atpakaļ uz uzticības pilnām sarunām. Visu mūžu es dzīvoju ar mammas slēpto nosodījumu un viņas nosodījuma vārdiem manā apziņā: “kamēr dzīvoju, tikmēr ceru”. Cerēja, ka es mainīšos un dzīvošu kā "normāls" cilvēks. Es nepakļāvos, jo nevarēju būt normāls. Tā starp mums nenovēršami  izauga ledus siena.

​

​

“No skumjām uz brīvību”

Pusaudža gados es ļoti gribēju tikt prom no savas mazpilsētas uz Rīgu, uz ārzemēm, tālu prom. No
mazpilsētas uz Rīgu kursēja tālsatiksmes autobuss, “Ikarus”. Pie pakāpieniem dega zila spuldzīte, tā
bija mana tālā gaisma, vilinoša un daudzsološa kā nojauta par citu dzīvi: interesantu dzīvi,
iepazīšanos, draudzību, pilnu ar gaišu prieku, brīvu no smaguma un skumjām. Es atradu savu ceļu uz
Rīgu, tad ārzemēm un arī atradu savu ceļu atpakaļ uz Latviju. Es vairs neslēpjos. Es dzīvoju kā brīvs
cilvēks brīvā valstī, kā es pats gribu. Esmu brīvs un priecīgs.

ENG

- Why don't you have a girlfriend?

 - I don't know, mum.

I know very well why I don't have a girlfriend. But I don't have the courage to tell my mum. I know mum won't understand. I'm not interested in girls. I'm interested in boys. I know it's wrong, it shouldn't be like this. But it is. I'm not interested in girls at all. No, it's not that I can't talk at all. That much I can, at least I can talk to girls on the way home from school. Otherwise, there's no one to talk to at school. I don't have any friends. I don't really have anything to talk to the boys in my class about, they have their own company, they play cards, they have their own group, I don't belong there. Actually, my twin brother is also in my school, but we've been in separate classes since 11th grade, he's happy about that. He is ashamed of me. He tells me that I am like a girl, I should think about a sex change operation. I am not a girl and I don't want to be a girl. I am a boy who is interested in boys. But I can't tell that to my brother. He is angry with me all the time. We argue every day at home. Once he even stuck a fork in my hand. It healed. No bother. I'm somehow getting in the way of his life. I guess I'm a disgrace for just being his brother, for being such a freak. I guess I cast a shadow over his image. My twin brother is a real stud. He has already started to repair an old car, a Zaporozhets. The only thing I'm interested in cars is the design. I don't care about the engine or the metal. The Beetle is stylish, my brother painted it bright red. I even got a ride, just once.

I noticed that I liked men with the first erotic photographs you could buy from the stands at the motocross in the late 1980s. You could only buy nude photos of women. I wasn't interested in them. Then, in the early 1990s, the first German catalogues appeared, Quelle and Otto. They were thick magazines, like overstuffed wallets, with thousands of photographs of beautiful women's and men's clothes, including men's underwear, on fragrant thin paper. Handsome muscular men with naked torsos and well-trained abdominal muscles smiled back from the pages of the catalogue and showed the outline of their genitals in stylish underpants, as well as women's breasts that seemed ready to burst out of lacy bras. I flicked through the women's pages quickly, but studied the men's pages slowly and thoroughly, and I particularly liked the long underpants. Those German men are so handsome, with their dazzling white smiles, prominent jaws and big pectoral muscles. So disturbingly mysterious, those handsome German men had remotely come to visit me in a small town. I was 14 years old. I smiled and felt a thrilling tingle in my stomach. I wondered if I would ever be able to undress one of them. I could only do it in my dreams, then wake up happy, but as the dreams disappeared - my happiness did too. My life was tinged with sadness.

Every mum wants happiness for her child. Only not every mum knows that the formula for the happiness she has invented does not always fit the child. At some point, mums notice that something is not quite right with the child, but it is better not to think about it, not to mention it, it will pass. Eventually, the son will become a real man, he will do everything a real man should do. He still doesn't have a girlfriend, that's okay! Eventually he will. He's so sensitive and very diligent in school. He doesn't have time to think about girls. Everything has its time! Until things are put into words, they don't exist. Thus, one can pretend that that which is, doesn't exist? My mum hoped for a very long time that denial of reality would also prevent the inevitable, terrible realisation that her child was flawed. Gay. One can only be happy if one gets married and has children! There must be no other way! But mums always know what is right and necessary for the happiness of their child's life. Mums know this with such unshakeable certainty that they do not notice that they are silencing their child with their firm beliefs. Conversations become less frequent, trust fades, words become scarce. Why is he so closed off to me? Perhaps because his mum's words, like sharp whips, have left deep wounds in his soul? My mum and I, we never found our way back to trusting conversations. All my life I lived with my mum's hidden condemnation and her words of condemnation in my consciousness: “as long as I live, I hope”. She hoped that I would change and live as a “normal” person. I did not comply because I could not be normal. And so, inevitably, a wall of ice grew between us.

​

​

“From sadness to freedom”

As a teenager, I really wanted to get away from my small town, to Riga, abroad, far away. There was an inter-city bus, the Ikarus, that travelled from the small town to Riga. A blue light bulb was shining on the steps, it was my distant light, tempting and promising, like a premonition of another life: an interesting life, acquaintances, friendships, full of bright joy, free from heaviness and sadness. I found my way to Riga, then abroad, and I found my way back to Latvia. I am no longer hiding. I live as a free man in a free country, as I want. I am free and I am happy.