Victor dos Anjos

I was 10/11 years old. I didn’t know as much as I do today about my homosexuality, but I knew what I liked even if the words homosexual and gay were not part of my explicit vocabulary. And I knew there was something that the adults at that time didn’t like to talk about to a “kid”. And I knew, and I wanted some information about this… Going to the important facts to this narrative…

We (I and my parents) were going to a park. Far away from the São Luís downtown. And we could wait for a bus that went straight there, or we could take a bus to the station and take another. I guess we lost the time, or not; this is a thing that I don’t remember. However, I remember that we chose the second option.

A crowded bus. But there were some places at the end. Why? Some people there were smiling loudly, and the others in the bus were avoiding them. My parents found a place to sit, and so did I. My mother or my father—I don’t remember the order—someone sat down behind me, and another on the chair in front of me.

I confess that I was not happy with that place because the guy by my side was visibly drugged, and he put his head out the window. He was not fine. He was high. Terribly. Extremely.

I was scared of this guy, and the bus driver was angry about him and his attitudes. And my impressions about that man didn’t change. He is in this narrative only because he was by my side. But he isn’t the point.

I didn’t like that place. But a little further behind, there was a guy. He was cute, beautiful, and in my children’s mind, he was an enchanted prince. He was dressed in a three-quarter plaid shirt and jeans. There were shades of orange in his shirt. And I remember that I thought, “I would love it if the place by his side was empty”.

I was a child. I thought a lot during that time. I wanted to turn my head. But I didn’t do it. Because in some way I didn’t want the people to know. I was 10/11 years old, and all I listened to about homosexuals was associated with bad words. So I was very excited and scared at the same time.

These guys were so free, or I saw them like this. They were so proud of themselves. They spoke loudly and laughed. And their night was out of home. Clearly. I loved it. Obviously, I wasn’t liking the man by my side. It was a shit to be in that place. And I remember I would love to run away to my enchanted prince arms, and give him a huge hug. I was a kid, just to remind you. So don’t see bad things, because there aren’t any.

We were entering the station. So we stood up, and I turned my head straight there to the man who was wearing a three-quarter plaid shirt. To my surprise, he was looking deeply at me, and he smiled at me. That smile said things that words couldn’t say. I guess he saw me like I was, I am. And that smile meant to me something like “you’re not alone” or “be yourself” or things like this. It was a warm smile. I loved it.

I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I turned to the door, and we got out of the bus. And I listened to someone talking, “Do you see it? He smiled at Victor! Why do he do it?”, and I closed my ears (not literally), because I didn’t want to listen to these things. I was serious. I was frozen. But in my mind I was smiling; I was very happy; it was summer, and the sun was smiling at me.

I guess someone was thinking if the guy was a paedophile. However, he wasn’t. He just smiled. And it was so honest that I still remember that day. And I remember how I felt. Good. Great. Marvellous.