Carmen Murguia
Whether you find yourself clapping to the original “I Like It Like That” 1968 boogaloo version by Pete Rodriguez, love Cardi B’s English-Spanish rap mix or find yourself somewhere in between (like me dancing salsa to Tito Nieves’ 1997 hit), the song makes me move and groove. And that’s what this LGBTQ/yours/mine/our column is about: movin’ and groovin’ through life’s ups and downs and all those feelings in between.
My “I Like It Like That!” column will cover topics I’m at least a little familiar with. Coming out to yourself, to the world or to a higher being like I did; being in, like, crushin’, hanging out, sexting and texting, soulmates and sensualidad and loving yourself and others deeply. A good-hair-and-I’m-gonna-own-it day, or an I-really-can’t-get-out-of-bed/I’m-so-sad day. I’ve been there, and I’m going to keep on. “I Like It Like That!” is my way of sharing a weekly peek at life through my lenses with you—the perspective of a Mexican American, woman loving women—a poet born in the Chinese year of the horse who is based in the U.S.
My name is Carmen. You might be saying to yourself, “Well, who is Carmen?” Some of you may have marched alongside me for LGBTQ rights, partied with me at the YP back in the day (way back) or have seen me on stage doing a poetry set, worked with me over the years or simply know my name from around the way. After all, at 52, I’ve earned the title “around-the-way girl.” I’m a person like you, navigating an ever-evolving life.
Noviembre/November
The first few weeks of November symbolize a hard time and a time of hope for me. All at once, I find myself missing my best friend, Juana Gloria Vega, and facing a city on the verge of greatness. 2018 marks the 17th anniversary of the gruesome hate crime murder of Juana Vega, which took place on Nov. 11, 2001—the Sunday of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force Conference in Milwaukee. Her murder happened in the early morning hours in the South Side Milwaukee barrio of 25th and Scott streets. She was shot eight times in her face and body at point-blank range by Pablo Parilla—the brother of her ex-girlfriend, Melodia Parilla. Parilla is currently serving a life sentence.
At that time, District Attorney E. Michael McCann never wanted to have her murder tried as a hate crime—he didn’t want that on his books in Milwaukee County. He disregarded the fact that Pablo was heard by witnesses saying, “I’m going to kill you because you’re gay, and you turned my sister gay,” and that he fired shots at her once before. However, it was Judge Martin Joseph Donald in his sentencing who said in his first breath after hitting the gavel to give order in the courtroom, “I am appalled that this was not tried as a hate crime.” Those words rung true, and tears came down my face, and now it is marked in history in court documents.
There, I wrote it, aloud. Each time I write or say that my best friend was murdered at the hands of someone who hated her for being a lesbian and bisexual, strong and gorgeous inside and out, tenacious, generous, funny and loving, it gets a little easier, just like coming out does. Revealing Juana’s horrific death propels me to give life back to her by making sure people know about our city’s protections and all that’s being done to make Milwaukee an easier place in which to live.
In fact, one amazing symbol of our LGBTQ equality, safety and history that was unveiled on a beautiful fall November morning was the rainbow crosswalk Downtown on North Jefferson and East Wells streets. It was spearheaded by the City of Milwaukee’s Equal Rights Commission, whose acting chair is Chez Ordonez, George and Michael, owners of This Is It! bar and leaders from Milwaukee Pride, East Town Association and 13 LGBTQ organizations. Coming out in the cold to celebrate our community and the diversity within our LGBTQ people is something that makes me say, I like it like that!
