a major organ.
A lot of my unease probably had to do with the fact that I was seventeen years old, and like most boys my age, I felt I was at a crossroads in my life. I was faced with a series of grown-up decisions, but I was facing them with the mind of a child. Ironically, while the time in Menudo forced me to grow up and learn things at a much faster pace than normal, on many levels I was still a child. From age twelve to seventeen I never had to make a decision for myself (my clothes, hairstyles, music, and itinerary were all decided by someone else), and that is how I functioned: doing what was expected of me, always trying to please everyone else. So when I took control of my own life, I felt completely lost: I did not know where to look or what to do. Emotionally, I was starting to feel I wasn’t grounded, and I was confused. After my first experience with a girl I also shared some experiences with men, and though I did not want to confront it, my sexuality was something I was very much aware of. Inside, I felt that I was battling contradicting emotions, but the terror I felt in the face of discovering—never mind admitting—my homosexuality was such that I didn’t even give myself the time to seriously stop and analyze what I was feeling. Culturally, I had always been taught that love and attraction between two men was a sin, so instead of facing what I felt, I buried it because it scared me.
Another issue when I returned to the island was that I had to face the chaos in my family. Before Menudo, my parents’ divorce had never affected me. Despite the fact that they lived separately, I had a very happy childhood. Their separation was never a source of pain for me, as they always made an effort to maintain a certain balance, which gave me peace and tranquillity. But when I got into Menudo, I felt the pain for the first time. The fact that I separated from my family at such a young age had a profound impact on my family. The divorce that until then had not affected me suddenly began to affect me. While I was enjoying being part of one of the most recognized bands on the planet, traveling around the world with screaming fans everywhere, my parents began fighting more than ever. Their relationship, which had until now been harmonious, became irreconcilable; and I was stuck in the middle of the storm.
On the one hand, my return home meant I would get a break from the pressures of the group, the promotional tours, and the constant stress of work. On the other hand, it was hard for me to face all the anger and resentment that had built up in my absence. And I am not just talking about the anger between my parents; I am also referring to the resentment I had toward them for putting me right in the middle of their battle. Because of their conflict, I was forced to take sides—which is something no child should ever have to do. Every visit to Puerto Rico was a nightmare. It was ridiculous and also very painful. Deep down inside me I began to develop a profound spite toward both of them because they were forcing me to choose between the two people in the world I loved most. When you’re young, the concept of God is taught to you by your parents. But as you try to understand the abstract concept of “superior being,” the ones who play that role in your day-to-day life are your mother and father. When Mom and Dad (or God, as it were) make mistakes that end up hurting you, you have no idea how to forgive them. What seems crazy is that I grew up in a religion where I was the one who had to apologize to God for my mistakes, but here it was God, aka Mom and Dad, hurting me by making me choose between them.
There are many children in the world who go through this type of situation, and it breaks my heart to see that parents don’t realize the damage they are doing to their kids. Even though my parents had their reasons for fighting, all I could think was, “Why do their issues have to affect me?” I worked like crazy
A lot of my unease probably had to do with the fact that I was seventeen years old, and like most boys my age, I felt I was at a crossroads in my life. I was faced with a series of grown-up decisions, but I was facing them with the mind of a child. Ironically, while the time in Menudo forced me to grow up and learn things at a much faster pace than normal, on many levels I was still a child. From age twelve to seventeen I never had to make a decision for myself (my clothes, hairstyles, music, and itinerary were all decided by someone else), and that is how I functioned: doing what was expected of me, always trying to please everyone else. So when I took control of my own life, I felt completely lost: I did not know where to look or what to do. Emotionally, I was starting to feel I wasn’t grounded, and I was confused. After my first experience with a girl I also shared some experiences with men, and though I did not want to confront it, my sexuality was something I was very much aware of. Inside, I felt that I was battling contradicting emotions, but the terror I felt in the face of discovering—never mind admitting—my homosexuality was such that I didn’t even give myself the time to seriously stop and analyze what I was feeling. Culturally, I had always been taught that love and attraction between two men was a sin, so instead of facing what I felt, I buried it because it scared me.
Another issue when I returned to the island was that I had to face the chaos in my family. Before Menudo, my parents’ divorce had never affected me. Despite the fact that they lived separately, I had a very happy childhood. Their separation was never a source of pain for me, as they always made an effort to maintain a certain balance, which gave me peace and tranquillity. But when I got into Menudo, I felt the pain for the first time. The fact that I separated from my family at such a young age had a profound impact on my family. The divorce that until then had not affected me suddenly began to affect me. While I was enjoying being part of one of the most recognized bands on the planet, traveling around the world with screaming fans everywhere, my parents began fighting more than ever. Their relationship, which had until now been harmonious, became irreconcilable; and I was stuck in the middle of the storm.
On the one hand, my return home meant I would get a break from the pressures of the group, the promotional tours, and the constant stress of work. On the other hand, it was hard for me to face all the anger and resentment that had built up in my absence. And I am not just talking about the anger between my parents; I am also referring to the resentment I had toward them for putting me right in the middle of their battle. Because of their conflict, I was forced to take sides—which is something no child should ever have to do. Every visit to Puerto Rico was a nightmare. It was ridiculous and also very painful. Deep down inside me I began to develop a profound spite toward both of them because they were forcing me to choose between the two people in the world I loved most. When you’re young, the concept of God is taught to you by your parents. But as you try to understand the abstract concept of “superior being,” the ones who play that role in your day-to-day life are your mother and father. When Mom and Dad (or God, as it were) make mistakes that end up hurting you, you have no idea how to forgive them. What seems crazy is that I grew up in a religion where I was the one who had to apologize to God for my mistakes, but here it was God, aka Mom and Dad, hurting me by making me choose between them.
There are many children in the world who go through this type of situation, and it breaks my heart to see that parents don’t realize the damage they are doing to their kids. Even though my parents had their reasons for fighting, all I could think was, “Why do their issues have to affect me?” I worked like crazy
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