Richard Morales
Tell us about you and your work.
I am currently the community partnerships manager at The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Community Center (The Center), where I curate exhibitions and cultural programs. Before joining The Center, I managed public programs and community engagement at El Museo del Barrio, where I worked with Latinx/Latin American artists and scholars to create a wide variety of programs for the East Harlem community.
I am from Brooklyn of Puerto Rican descent and went to Oberlin College (Class of ’05), where I majored in Latin American studies with a concentration on Caribbean literature and fine arts. An Andrew Mellon fellowship enabled me to reached queer Latinx writers living in exile, which brought me to Spain where I also facilitated workshops and conferences with colleges, a national LGBTQ+ nonprofit, and conducted research on writers such as Garcia Lorca, Luís Cernuda, the Spanish Dictatorship and its impact on the queer community, and ultimately “La Movida madrileña.”
2005 found me back in New York, where I worked in an arts education nonprofit before moving to Argentina in 2008, where I taught English for several years, mostly working with artists. I loved Buenos Aires, but I eventually moved back home where I began working with the Pregones/Puerto Rican Traveling Theater in community engagement and where I curated my first art exhibit, “Reimagining America.” This community outreach work eventually brought me to El Museo del Barrio, where I managed their public programming for several years.
I strongly believe that the arts are an agent for change for people of all backgrounds to understand their history better and re-contextualize it. As a result, I've curated several exhibitions and arts events across the city that focus on inclusion and representation, especially as it relates to queer art made by people of color. These programs ranged from a group show at the Hispanic Federation’s annual Fuerzafest to readings at the Leslie Lohman Museum and The Center. I was recently honored to serve on the 2019- 2020 Queens Council on the Arts Artist Commissioning Program, and I sit on the boards of Teatro Círculo, the Clemente Soto Velez Center, and for the podcast Making Gay History.
What inspires you?
The starting point would be my family. My Abuela was an Afro-Puerto Rican that never learned to read or write because she was left with another family that basically treated her as a servant. When she came to New York in the 1950s, she worked as a cleaning lady at an NYC hospital for much of her life. My mother had my sister at a very young age, and most of her life was spent raising her kids and then raising her kids' kids. I definitely learned about hard work through both of these women and about the immigrant experience in NYC.
My drive to go away to school was to experience different parts of the world. Still, I always wanted to work with underserved or underrepresented communities like my own, because as the saying goes, "Because of them, we can." When I say I’m inspired by my family, I think of the legacy they wanted me to leave in conjunction with what I want to be remembered for. My version doesn’t always align with my family’s, and that’s where my chosen family comes in: my friends, partner, and dog. But both families have no problem letting me know I get out of line, how I can be a better brother, cousin, friend, and neighbor.
What does community mean to you?
I think the word community has become commodified. In my mind, I break it up into two parts: commune and unity. I think it’s about bringing people together to have both good and bad conversations. I work to build community on a day-to-day basis. With the pandemic, we’ve had to do that online. Our queer communities have experienced all kinds of loss, not just from this pandemic but also from AIDS, from violence, and families disowning us. We’ve all had bouts of feeling isolated, a lot of us have relapsed, we’ve seen our spaces closed. That’s a lot of trauma. So, we need to stay connected, we need to communicate, and most importantly, we need to check in on each other—especially our elders.
I’ve sat in on some meetings with developers, restaurateurs, and entrepreneurs—mostly cisgender white men and the occasional cisgender woman—and so many use the word “community” as a cover for gentrification. For example, when the state names a multi-million-dollar park for trans women of color at waterfront lined with condos and essentially says, "We want to bring the community together with this project,” I think it’s straight-up bullshit. It begs the question: "What community are you looking to serve when the surrounding neighborhood doesn’t reflect the very person you are naming this park. I doubt a person of Black or Brown trans experience would not feel welcome in that space? I find it mindboggling.
Favorite film
I would have to say that Kurosawa’s "Rashomon" has replaced Wong Kar Wai's "In the Mood for Love" as my favorite film. "In the Mood for Love" is still up there, but I do love any film that has a story within a story within a story, and that's exactly what Rashomon is for me. It reminds me of the "One Thousand and One Nights" tales and more modern films like “Hero” with Jet Li that also use a similar method of storytelling and cinematography on all of these films are all so poetic.
Favorite song
My go-to, whenever I feel like my soul, needs that extra boost, and that would have to be the late-great Mahalia Jackson. I did grow up in a Pentecostal household, but it wasn’t till college that I discovered her. She’s soothed me off many a ledge, so to speak. She was both praised and criticized for songs like "If I Can Help Somebody” because of how she mixed spiritual elements with the blues, which some considered the devil's music.
Runner ups would be “Smile” or anything by Janelle Monae and almost all of the Frankie Ruiz catalog. The last full albums I listened to, no judgment, was the soundtrack for Spiritfairer and Arlo the Alligator Boy. Kali Uchis' Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios) and Bad Bunny's last three albums also have been part of the rotation.
Favorite place
Buenos Aires will always have a special place in my heart. But I visited Rincón, Puerto Rico, right before the pandemic, and now when I meditate, I go back there, on that kayak in the middle of a lagoon with my affianced, Tom.