Category Archives: Los Angeles, California

Homo Riot, Street Artist, Los Angeles

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Photo provided by Homo Riot

Photo provided by Homo Riot

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Homo Riot

photo by Homo Riot

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo provided by Homo Riot

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Homo Riot, in his own words: “I never thought I would be as comfortable with being gay as I am now. I grew up an only child in a very conservative community in the South. I was raised Southern Baptist and attended church three days a week and could spout off bible verses like a televangelist. But like so many gay and lesbian people, I knew from a very early time that I was gay. My problem was there were no positive gay role models for me. The only men who I even had remote contact with who were gay were the church florist (a married man with three gorgeous football player sons who was ultimately murdered by a gay hustler in a hotel room), and male hairstylists who worked at the salon where my mother got her hair done. (Ironically, most of my boyfriends have been hairdressers and florists) I was embarrassed by these effeminate and flamboyant men. I was a pretty astute kid so I picked up quickly that there were certain traits and behaviors that were desirable and others that were not acceptable. As an adolescent I was always dressed sharply, smiling and shaking hands with adults and holding doors open for old ladies. I molded myself after motivational speakers and ministers. As a teenager I was rebellious, but just to a point. I was the president of the student body, prom king and dated all the right girls. It wasn’t until I was a senior in college that I realized I couldn’t put up this front for ever.

At 25 I finally came out to my family. That was when I learned that my maternal grandfather, a man I had never met due to an ugly divorce before I was born and who died a decade prior to my coming out, was a homosexual. That rocked my world for a few weeks but in the end there was something really therapeutic and healing in that knowledge. I think it gave me strength and a sense of place within my family that I had only pretended to have before because my gayness wasn’t as foreign and “unknown” to my family as I had grown up imagining it was. My TRUTH became a badge of honor for me and I gradually began to open myself up to everyone around me. It was and continues to be an amazing and rewarding journey. I really embrace it now and obviously through my art I advocate and celebrate it.

Ultimately my homosexuality has given my art focus and direction. I’ve been a compulsive artist all of my life. I’ve felt at various times that my compulsion to create was like a sickness. My creative life has been full of manic episodes, tremendous highs and deep dark lows, and like a drug addiction, my drive to make art has disrupted my personal and professional life repeatedly. However, for the better part of my life I created art in isolation. Even as a street artist twenty years ago (before anyone called it street art) I was spray painting and bedazzling street signs and overpasses and trying to communicate with my community but always anonymously. It wasn’t until I hit the streets as Homo Riot, putting a gay spin on my work that I gained any recognition and found a framework to build from. Now my art is two fold. One side is activism and propaganda, encouraging dialogue and promoting pride, courage and strength through street art. The other side is more fine art focused, moving my street imagery in to a gallery setting, merging it with my own internal struggles, comments on life and sex and society. Maybe my art and life can be the role model for some kid today that I never had.”

Abdi, Rumi and Evie, Writer, Los Angeles

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Abdi, in his own words: “When I was ten years old, I became obsessed with old movies. I’m not sure what the other kids were doing, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t having Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe, and Joan Crawford movie marathons by themselves. At the time, I had no idea that my interests were in line with a larger gay community, and I’ve always been fascinated by how and why I sought out these gay icons before I had any comprehension of sex or sexuality. Honestly, the first time I remember really understanding the concept of a gay community was when I saw Madonna’s “Truth or Dare.” Watching her and her dancers at a Gay Pride parade opened my eyes to a whole new world.

I came into my sexuality as men were dying of AIDS. As a result, I equated being gay with death. This seems to be a pretty common correlation in my generation of gay men. We were the generation that came too late to lose many (or any) friends to AIDS, but came too early to brush off the disease. We really internalized the safe sex messaging and frightening imagery in a way I don’t see in previous or subsequent generations. In college, a friend of mine was doing a sociology study and asked classmates to envision their future. None of the gay men saw life past forty.

Of course, all this changed drastically in the subsequent two decades. Once I became more confident and comfortable with living as an out gay man, my focus shifted to starting a family. I always knew I wanted to have children, but I never knew what it would look like. Part of the difficulty of living in a heteronormative society is the lack of role models. It wasn’t until I spent time with one of my best lesbian friends and her children that I felt comfortable taking the plunge into fatherhood. She and her family represented a version of family life that resonated with me in a way heterosexual families didn’t.

I didn’t grow up wanting to get married, and I still don’t. I support the marriage movement, and marched through Los Angeles when Prop 8 passed, because I believe fervently in equal rights. But marriage was never part of my vision for my life. I guess I prefer making up my own rules rather than accepting somebody else’s. I think people see that I have a partner, two children, a dog, and a house with a white picket fence, and they immediately think that I’m living a version of the heterosexual American Dream. But that’s really not how I see myself at all.

I was at the Long Beach Pride Parade this year and there were floats for Wells Fargo, Ralph’s, Jet Blue and a slew of other corporations. The emcee was shouting “When I say Wells, you say Fargo. Wells…. Fargo. Wells… Fargo.” I was appalled. Someone told me, “Well at least they support the gay community.” To which I say, it should be a given that major corporations support the gay community. That doesn’t mean they deserve a float in our parade. My version of gay pride is celebrating all the things that make us different, not where we bank and buy cereal. I like the rebellious side of gay culture. I like pushing the boundaries of the mainstream.

I’m really hopeful about where gay culture’s place in our society is going. That said, I also miss gay culture being more of a hidden secret. The internet has really made counterculture obsolete because it’s hard to know what the dominant culture is anymore. We have become a demographic. I know this is progress, but I can’t help but miss the more subversive and radical side of gay culture. One of the greatest experiences I ever had as a gay man was in Havana. The gay scene there consisted of meeting outside a movie theater called the Yara and waiting for someone to circulate the information of a secret party, which was held in a different spot each night. Drinking and dancing together at these parties felt like a meaningful act of rebellion, without any interference from Absolut promotions and Britney giveaways.

I’m really lucky to live in Los Angeles. There are elements of gay life in Los Angeles that are imperfect: lots of body fascism and a lack of socio-economic diversity. But on the whole, Los Angeles has been great to me as a gay man. It’s a city of artists and dreamers who move here to create a new and better version of themselves, much as most gay people must do. It’s important to me to live in a city where I can send my children to a school full of modern, unconventional families. People sometimes ask me whether I care whether my children are gay or straight. I don’t. I believe we come into the world with much of our nature in place, and it’s the parents’ job to help nurture that nature. Chances are, by the time they grow up, we won’t need any pride parades anymore. Perhaps no one will be debating the validity of anyone’s marriage and there will finally be a cure for HIV/AIDS. Perhaps there will be no one left quoting “Mommie Dearest” to each other as some kind of secret code. That would probably be a happier world for gay people, though that won’t stop me from being nostalgic for the good old days when we were chanting “We’re Here, We’re Queer, Get Used To It!” instead of “Wells Fargo!”

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Aldo, Photographer, Los Angeles

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

photo by Kevin Truong

Aldo, in his own words: “Kevin, I have been out for such a long time and feel so comfortable with being gay that thinking about what being gay means to me is as strange as asking a straight man what being straight means to him. There was a point early in my life where I spent a lot of time and energy struggling to accept my attraction to men. It was not an easy process – coming from a Catholic background and all. But with the help of gay organizations and good friends, I finally got to a point where I could say that I truly love being gay and would not change it if there was a pill to make me straight.

I have learned to accept my gayness as a true gift and blessing. It has allowed me to weed out those people in my life who should not have been there in the first place and has attracted friends who can truly accept me for who and what I am. What does being gay mean to me? It means living my life with honesty and integrity. It means loving myself enough and having the inner strength to overcome anything the world throws at me. It means expanding my worldview to realize that we are all in this together.”