At 14 years old, I hated who and what I was. With barely one foot in adolescence, I had already marched through miles of hell. In San Diego, my hometown, I had been beaten, sexually abused and propelled into the nightmarish worlds of drug addiction and sex work.
Americans are thinking a lot about mental health. Yet far too often we ignore how hard it is for racial, ethnic, gender and sexual minorities to access quality mental health services.
As a gay Latino, I can see this is a recipe for America — and its marginalized communities — to come apart at the seams.
