Me (26 page)

Even though I felt comfortable with the people closest to me, I think I didn’t want to tell anyone else because I was afraid they wouldn’t accept me. I thought, “My friends and family accept me because they love me, but what about the rest of the world? Will they judge me? Will they still buy my albums? Will they reject me?”

As an artist, one always seeks the acceptance and adoration of the audience, and therefore I was afraid this could affect my career. What would happen if I stopped selling records? What if people stopped coming to my shows? Would I have to stop doing what I love most? Today I realize how ridiculous these questions really are, but at the time I thought they were perfectly valid and important. The world has certainly evolved, and the sexuality of an artist does not have to change the way he or she is perceived. But because I was suffering, I saw only the things that scared me. And since I was afraid of coming out and telling my truth to the world, I filled myself with reasons—irrational ones, of course—not to do it.

A lot of people around me—my family, friends, and colleagues—were also afraid. Even though I know they all want the best for me, many of them were concerned about how this could ultimately destabilize me, not only from a professional point of view but also from a personal one. Many encouraged me not to do it, saying there was no need for it and that my sexuality was my business and no one else’s. And even though they are right on some level, in that sentiment there is also a small dose of prejudice that I ultimately see as incredibly damaging. Despite all their advice and their love, for once I had to think about myself, and listen to what the silence was trying to tell me.

That’s exactly what I did. And I was able to see my true self.

So, from the moment I accepted my own reality, I started trying to find a way to communicate it to the world. I still didn’t know how I was going to do it, perhaps through a concert, a letter, a book, or a song. At the time, I had a phrase that I’d repeat to myself like a mantra: “God, Universe, or whatever you want me to call you, show me the best way to do it.” I would say it to myself every day, and I kept my eyes open. My intention was to try to visualize the moment, and the entire process of this great search gradually brought me closer to my reality.

I started to make some changes. During my shows, on the Black and White Tour, I began to introduce some words and phrases that spoke to my experience. We made one video in particular in which my skin “speaks” through my tattoos, and certain words would appear, such as “accept yourself” or “change your life” or “love” or “discover yourself,” “question yourself,” “forgive yourself.” They were words that were directed toward my audience, as I wanted to inspire these things in everyone else, but also to myself as well. I was going through a process of rebirth, and everything I did was done with the desire to wash away my secrets and anxieties so I could reconnect with the person I truly am.

When Matteo and Valentino were born, I realized how absolutely critical it was for me to find truth and transparency in my life. Even though each day I felt more and more at peace because I knew I was looking for a way and waiting for my moment to come, the birth of my sons definitely accelerated the process. When I first held them in my arms, I not only understood how beautiful and simple life could be, but I also felt the need to be completely transparent with them. I realized that what I want most in the world is for them to be able to live their lives with absolute freedom, and that no matter what, they are always proud of who they are. And to be able to teach this to them, the lesson would have to begin right at home.

I am not going to live a lie with them, and my children won’t, either. I don’t want my children to have to lie for me, or to go through life with their eyes covered. I want to be honest with them, so that they can in turn be honest with the world. Matteo and Valentino are my angels, my little angels, my sons, and because of them I know I’m capable of doing anything. Today, I know I have to live in absolute balance, and I have to be truly happy with who I am so they can admire me and understand that their
papi
loves them with his entire soul. If I don’t do it, I will be teaching them to lie and hide from the world, rather than facing it with all the strength and pride of being themselves.

My children will grow up and eventually go to school, and now I can be at peace knowing they will never have to lie for me. When their friends ask them about their father, they will be able to explain it, without censorship and without fear. I want them to feel proud of their father, just as I will always feel proud of them, no matter what they decide to do with their lives.

This is the world I am creating for my kids—and I know there are a lot of us who are trying to forge a new generation that will know the real significance of acceptance and tolerance, one that will not know the meaning of the word “prejudice.” It is a world where it doesn’t really matter if you are bisexual, homosexual, or heterosexual, and everyone is simply who they are.

WE STILL HAVE a long way to go. If the world has changed, I believe it still hasn’t changed enough. It’s possible that today there are fewer prejudices than a hundred years ago, or even when I was a child, but that doesn’t mean that the prejudices don’t continue to exist and that there isn’t work still left to be done. There is a long and sad history of the persecution of homosexuals, and it is tragic to think about all the lives that have been damaged, hurt, and destroyed by the prejudices of others. I think about the great geniuses of literature, such as Federico García Lorca and Oscar Wilde, who, despite all their brilliance and the amazing legacies they left the world through their work, were persecuted because they were homosexuals. How can that possibly make sense?

Sadly, these prejudices continue to exist to this day. The media often characterizes homosexuals as one-dimensional people with no depth whatsoever, as if a human being could be reduced to his or her sexuality. The very language used all over the world to denominate homosexuals is terribly degrading: words such as “faggot,” “queer,” “dyke,” “sissy,” and others, which only serve to perpetuate hatred and discrimination among the younger generations. Because of the emotional charge they carry, such words quietly create an atmosphere of intolerance and homophobia, in which young people are afraid to be who they really are. I am not going to lie; at some insensitive point in life I also used these words to make fun of people like me. But of course I did it to “prove” to people around me that I was indeed a “heterosexual.” I think you can only hate what you carry very deep down inside you. If not, why would we waste so much time on a feeling so destructive and painful as hate?

Many people continue to say they are staunchly opposed to homosexuality; they reject and repudiate it, saying that it goes against human nature. But is there anything more normal than love? What is abnormal—and infinitely cruel and unjust—is to discriminate against someone because of who they are. What is abnormal is to think that there are first- and second-class citizens, and that we don’t all have the same rights.

That’s what’s wrong. And it is unacceptable.

Generalizations cause discrimination, and as long as there are still people in the world who are willing to label people according to their nationality, race, gender, sexuality, or the color of their hair, there will always be discrimination. That’s why we have to stop it. In the same way that I never let anyone say anything negative against Hispanics, I will never allow anyone to say anything negative about the gay community in my presence. I will always insist that everyone is treated as an individual, regardless of how society may want to “label” them.

I wish I could say that I am a homosexual for this or that reason. But I can’t. As far as I know, no one goes around explaining why they like the opposite sex, why they like blondes, or why they like bald people. One feels what one feels, and to try to explain it is not only futile—but wrong. Attraction does not have a logical reason. It simply happens, and as humans, all we do is react to it.

I have always thought that attraction, like love, is a matter of souls that find one another and collide. Souls aren’t feminine or masculine; they simply find one another, and when there is a connection, when there is something that grabs you and turns your insides, that is when the magic is born along with attraction and love.

Love has no gender. I have been deeply in love with a man, just as I have been deeply in love with a woman. I have felt that visceral connection, that desire to always be with someone, to know everything there is to know about them, that critical need and passion for another person. So does this mean that because I am a homosexual I cannot feel something intense when I’m with a woman? No. I sincerely believe that souls have no gender, and just as I felt that my world was turned upside down when I first fell in love with a man, I have also felt a very special connection and compatibility with women. But my physical instinct, my animal instinct, and my inner desires ultimately drive me toward men. At the end of the day, I follow my instinct and my nature, period.

I remember one day, many years ago, after getting out of a relationship with a man, I said to my assistant: “No one will ever judge me for who I go to bed with.”

My assistant, who was a bit taken aback because he had no idea what I was talking about, said: “That’s it, Kiki. That’s it. You just keep doing your thing.”

Even though my sexual inclinations are not like those of the majority on the planet, I don’t think this should define me any more than my preference for mango-flavored ice cream, or the fact that I have brown hair. In the same way that one should never judge people because of the color of their skin, their religious beliefs, or their ethnic origin, people should never be judged for what they do in bed or who they do it with. Sooner or later, all of us feel judged or discriminated against because of who we are, and for this reason we all have the fundamental responsibility to battle against these prejudices and make ourselves respected for who we are.

In late 2009 I read about several hate crimes that occurred in Puerto Rico and in other parts of the world; this awoke a rage in me that I can’t even express. The cases were so perverse and shocking that I can only feel repulsion, indignation, and a profound desire to move mountains so that things such as this will cease to occur. The anger I felt inspired me to write a letter, which I published on my Web site and later announced via Twitter: