Orlando and Rito Ruiz didn’t let tradition get in the way of their happiness
(Photo by Aracely Aguilar and Ileana Sarai)
JACOB REYES | Special Contributor
GLAAD News, Rapid Response Coordinator
Rito Ruiz grew up believing marriage was not an option for him.
An Oak Cliff native with Latino roots, Ruiz’s upbringing was a contrast to the love and desire he felt inside. He remained closeted until he was 30 years old, forcing himself into a life he knew wasn’t for him; a life to his liking simply wasn’t an option.
As the eldest son and with a brother living with Down syndrome, there was an expectation in Ruiz’s family he would not only be an eventual patriarch, but would have his own wife and kids, adhering to the traditionalist mindset many Latinos still follow today. He dated women and shunned a lot of his feelings.
His parents divorced, but that didn’t stop his mom from encouraging him to eventually marry — a woman, of course.
“I always had it in my mind that I had to keep this family going,” Ruiz said. “There was a lot of pressure.
Eventually, though, Ruiz came out. His mom didn’t understand why he’d want to live a life that, in her eyes, removed the possibility of having a family. Still, life felt easier, Ruiz said. The first guy he dated opened his eyes and heart to what romance truly can be.
His father had concerns. How would it look for a man, a masculine Latino man from the heart of Oak Cliff, to be gay?
Still, Ruiz continued to date and speak to other men. But Orlando Aguilar was different. His forward approach and persistence were a stark contrast to Ruiz’s reserved nature. Yet, despite awkward interactions that included a confrontation by Orlando inquiring about his quiet, almost deadpan expressions, Rito knew he found the guy he was ready to spend the rest of his life with.
“I didn’t know what love was until I met him,” Rito said.
Orlando came out in high school, embracing the freedoms of being a queer person comfortable with their identity. Extroverted, Orlando loved being around people, engaging with members of the community in his volunteer work and hosting dinners and parties for his friends.
Rito’s outward appearance was a contrast to everything Orlando was. Still, soon after meeting, they began dating. Despite his reserved nature, Rito found Orlando to be the person who could break him out of his shell.
“He gives me the reassurance to live my truth,” Rito said. “We pick each other up when we’re down.”
Seven years later (with a break in between), Orlando asked the question: “What are we even doing?”
Getting married is something Orlando always wanted, but he let Rito think his question over.
Eventually, what never felt like an option for Rito turned into one.
“When he brought it up, there was no question,” Rito said. “Of course I’d marry him.”
Two months later, during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Orlando, Rito and a few friends vacationed in Fredericksburg. What was supposed to be a grand proposal with “Halo” (Orlando’s favorite Beyonce song) playing in the background turned into an unconventional moment when, accidentally, “Single Ladies” (Orlando’s least favorite Beyonce song) blared over the speakers.
And so while lyrics of being single and empowered roared through the cabin, Rito, who once believed he was destined for a life outside of love, proposed to his now husband.
Their wedding was a celebration of both of their stories. Two men, two Latinos, defying traditional and often overly masculine norms by simply embracing each other, by falling in love.
But it’s a love that, despite marriage equality’s legalization 10 years ago, is under attack.
Earlier this month, the Texas Supreme Court reiterated its decision that judges who do not perform same-sex weddings for religious reasons will not face consequences, siding with a North Texas judge who is seeking to overturn marriage equality altogether. Justices confirmed their October decision that stated rules on judicial impartiality are not violated if religious convictions are part of their decision.
But the controversies surrounding not just their marriage, but marriage for all same-sex couples do not worry Orlando and Rito Ruiz. “We can’t live our lives scared,” Rito said. “Even if they take our rights away, that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to stay together.”
That defiance is something Rito learned from Orlando — to be unapologetic in his queer identity, to be empathetic and be proud. He’s since encouraged his sisters to go out, meet folks of different backgrounds and identities and to learn more about them. His parents both attended his wedding, with his father being openly emotional and proud of not just his son, but of his son’s husband.
The courts, machismo culture, homophobia and growing rhetoric from elected officials won’t stop their union, Orlando pledged.
“Nothing is gonna stop this. A piece of paper is not gonna stop what we have,” Orlando said.
“I want people to have the same experience we have and the love we have. A piece of paper doesn’t change that.” n
With attacks on marriage equality at the state and national levels, visibility is more important than ever. We need to show the world that our love is real, our marriages are strong, and our community is not going anywhere. GLAAD wants to celebrate you. To submit your love story, visit GLAAD.org