from boríken to hillcrest: finding my queer familia away from la isla
a love letter to the neighborhood that rebuilt me
hillcrest: it's more than a place—it's a pulse.
a vibrant thrum that echoes through the streets. this neighborhood isn't just a backdrop for daily routines; it's the canvas where my most vivid life moments paint themselves.
that summer of 2021 was one of the hardest, a whirlwind of heartbreak and new beginnings. i had just left washington, dc, my life in shambles after breaking up with my partner of 7 years. the apartment we'd shared, once a home, became a minefield of memories. that's when my brother gus and his wife julia stepped in, my guardian angels in human form. they opened their home in san diego to me, a safe harbor in the storm of my life, while i tried to piece together what the hell i was going to do next.
it was a terrible time. the kind where you question everything you thought you knew about yourself and your life. my papi - my father - served as my rock. he flew all the way from grand rapids, mi to washington, dc. to help me and together, we filled a u-haul with the remnants of my old life. it was a bittersweet and thankless task that felt like packing away pieces of my heart. those 12 hours driving back to michigan were a blur of tears and silent understanding, my dad holding me together with nothing but his presence and unwavering support.
i cried more in that truck than i thought humanly possible, mourning the end of one chapter and terrified of the blank pages ahead. but life has a way of pushing you forward, ready or not. after july 3rd, i knew i had to leave the midwest, to find a place where i could rebuild myself from the ground up.
that's how i ended up on a plane to san diego on july 4th, independence day – ironic, considering i felt anything but free. i was scared, broken, but somehow, deep down, hopeful. little did i know, hillcrest was waiting to pick up the pieces and show me what real independence – and community – looked like.
that first step onto university avenue in 2021 wasn't just a step—it was a leap into a new life. it was pride weekend in san diego, but not the raucous, glitter-soaked celebration i'd imagined. instead, i witnessed something far more beautiful: a community bound together not just by rainbows, but by resilience.
masked faces moved through the streets like a river of determination, each person a testament to the unbreakable spirit of our queer family. in the shadow of a global pandemic, hillcrest showed me that pride isn't just a party—it's a defiant heartbeat, a rhythm that pulses on even in the face of adversity.
my brother gus and his wife julia, my anchors in this strange new world, led me through the vibrant streets. their presence was a balm to my battered heart, a reminder that family comes in many forms. we found ourselves at the alibi.
it's here, amid the pulsing music and swirling bodies, that i found family and love and acceptance—forged in glitter, cemented by shared stories of coming out, coming up, and coming home.
in the span of a conversation, laughter bubbling up from a place i thought had run dry, i felt the pieces of my shattered heart begin to shift. they didn't mend, not yet, but for the first time since leaving dc, i felt like maybe—just maybe—they could.
if you've never been to hillcrest, let me paint you a picture. imagine urban mo's on a sunday morning brunch. laughter flows as freely as the ron (don't tell mi abuela - and not because it's bad, she's 82 and would get really bad fomo, haha). the twinkling lights reflect off drag queens' sequins that would make walter mercado proud and jealous.
then there's candypushers, a sweet tooth's paradise that mixes childhood nostalgia with grown-up indulgence. when homesickness for abuela's dulce de coco hits, i find solace in their rainbow array of candies. it's a reminder that sweetness can be found in new places, too.
standing at the intersection of university and normal ave., i often gaze up at the towering pride flag, for me it’s a beacon of hope and belonging. in 2023, when i saw the non-binary flag raised for international non-binary day… that was a little, beautiful, personal moment of triumph. oh, i had nothing to do with it personally, and thank god! hillcrest is just the one place where its community would actually organize and proudly raise this flag.
i was in love.
i shed a couple tears and they soaked into my shirt. i felt truly seen and celebrated and cherished. i realized: this is what home feels like.
and right across the street from that powerful symbol, rosemary & thyme beckons with the promise of the best-kept secret brunch in town. owned by alex marin, a gay latino man with a heart as big as his culinary skills, it's a testament to the beautiful diversity that hillcrest celebrates.
for those sweet moments of celebration, starry lane bakery is my go-to. every birthday, without fail, they craft vegan cupcakes that taste like joy and look like edible rainbows. it's more than just sugar and flour—it's a yearly reminder of how far i've come, how much i'm loved.
and when comfort food calls, crest cafe—my favorite neighborhood diner—welcomes with open arms and fare that feels like a warm hug. oh and those home fries, god. no matter how sober or hungover i am, they will always sooth and heal whatever ails me. this, this must be noted.
let's talk about massachusetts mike's too - hillcrest's late-night savior, serving up slices bigger than my dreams and twice as satisfying. (i’m vegan so i can’t partake… but i can’t help but to cheat once in a while, lactaid in hand!) but the real MVPs? the garlic knots. dios mío, these little garlic-infused clouds are straight from carb heaven – crispy outside, soft inside, and potent enough to ward off vampires for days.
and let's talk about gossip grill for a hot minute. this place? it's not just a bar, it's a goddamn institution - one of america's few remaining lesbian bars, and honey, it shows. the energy here is electric, intoxicating, and pure magic. the dj's at gossip drop so many reggaeton and puerto rican bangers, i swear i feel like i'm back on la isla. it's like they've tapped directly into my soul, i'm telling you. and for my sober squad out there? fear not! gossip serves up some of the most delicious mocktails in town. you can party all night long without touching a drop of alcohol, and trust me, you won't miss it.
now, if you're feeling a bit more... clandestine, slip behind barrel and board to &bar. this speakeasy is the hidden gem of hillcrest, serving up craft cocktails that'll make your taste buds dance. the best part? both spots (and gossip grill) are owned by a badass lesbian entrepreneur. talk about putting your money where your mouth is when it comes to supporting queer businesses, am i right? between gossip and &bar, you've got your night (and your queer agenda) totally covered.
one of my proudest and most fulfilling moments of my life was winning the hillcrest honors award in 2023. that honor really shook me to my core in the best, best way. rick cervantes and benny cartwright, the people behind the hillcrest honors, are two men i deeply admire and respect. i felt truly seen. to receive an award from them? that's like getting a gold star from your heroes! (and let's be real, getting that award from rick? swoon. i mean, have you seen that smile and hair? but i digress...)
in that moment, i wasn't just edgard the activist or edgard the writer.
i was edgard the queer boricua who found his voice 3,000 miles from where he was born, being recognized by the very community that helped him find that voice. talk about full circle.
this love for hillcrest is deeply woven into the activism and volunteerism that fill my days.
it's a love that compels me to give back, to weave my own thread into the community fabric. in every event, every festival, every moment spent enriching this neighborhood, i find a piece of myself—a fragment of my soul that resonates with the vibrant, inclusive spirit of hillcrest.
in the faces of the resilient marchers, in the kindness of a stranger-turned-friend at the alibi, in the unwavering support of my brother and sister-in-law, i saw a future i hadn't dared to imagine. i initially would only be in san diego for a few months - until october of 2021, at which point i’d move back to michigan permanently.
as october 2021 approached, i kept thinking of that day. the streets of hillcrest humming with quiet pride. i had made a decision that would change the course of my life. i wouldn't run back to michigan. i would stay here, in this vibrant, resilient, beautiful community. i would carve out a new path, write a new story, find a new home.
little did i know then that hillcrest wouldn't just be a chapter in my story—it would become the setting, the backdrop, the very essence of my new life. and as i look back now, i realize that first step onto university avenue wasn't just the beginning of a weekend—it was the first step into the rest of my life.
hillcrest, to me, is more than a neighborhood. it's a declaration of love, a continual commitment to the values we cherish and the community we strive to uphold.
hillcrest’s where my heart has beat the loudest, amid the hustle of life and the moments of connection - and yes, even all the grindr and sniffies notifications.
so, to hillcrest, i write this love letter. may we continue to grow, to challenge, to embrace, and to celebrate the beauty of diversity. may we remain a beacon for those who seek a place to call home, a place to be themselves, a place to love.
thank you, hillcrest, for everything.
with all my heart,
edgard 🌈🇵🇷❤️
p.s. to my fellow misfits, dreamers, and rainbow warriors: if you're feeling lost, come to hillcrest. we've got a family waiting for you, and trust me, our welcome parties are legendary.
Now you've made me crave a slice from Massachusetts Mike's!