#joaquin ramos

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Usted merece saber cómo elegir en política

Joaquín Ramos López  – julio 09, 2023 Escoger entre dos cosas, una buena y otra mala, no resulta difícil. Elegir entre dos opciones -o más- políticas a la hora de votar, puede resultar honestamente complicado. Puede resultarnos un dilema  cuando las alternativas están próximas. Si las ideas políticas del elector, por definidas y confiadas ya tienen destinatario, sólo cabe aplicarse a la…

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Name: Joaquin Ramos

Faceclaim: Diego Boneta

Age: 27

Gender: (Cis) Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Occupation: Contracted Carpenter

History: Joaquin never thought he’d leave the city. It was hard growing up in the south side of Chicago. There wasn’t a night that didn’t end with someone getting shot and most nights, he stayed up, listening. Waiting for that crack of gunfire, the squeal of tires. Voices crying for help. Something was wrong with him. He didn’t accept the life that was given to him, one of overcrowded classrooms, fights everyday, bullies in the school, bullies on the streets, cops ignoring everything until they get hungry for blood, too. He never figured out who his mom was.

But, he had a friend. Just one. Saeid lived in a better neighborhood and he knew how to clap back. He also knew how to put ice on a bruise and clean a cut when he was only thirteen years old. Joaquin thought he was the most amazing person he’d ever met, the kind of good thing that wouldn’t stay long in his life. Still, he cherished him. Right until he left for pre-med. By then, Joaquin made the decision to leave, too.

He packed a backpack with the few precious things he owned in his life, took the train uptown and took a bus out of the state. He kept going until he had enough money for a motel room for a couple nights. It was there he met a bunch of builders coming back from their shift and got to talking. He needed a job. Maybe it was a stereotype, the Mexican construction worker, but it wasn’t hard to pick up a hammer and follow instructions. He still got hurt from time to time, but at least he was making something useful. A house. A fast-food joint. A church.

Eventually, he moved into his own apartment and filled it with books and movies and other things he liked. After work, he haunted bars and clubs, trying and failing to keep his eyes of the men around him.