I spent the first twenty-odd years of my life doing everything I could to hide myself. Talk to just about any queer person over the age of twenty-five, and they probably have a similar story. It wasn’t until my late teens that I started tottering toward self-acceptance.
Unfortunately, my first relationship put this journey on hold for another ten years, as once again I found myself trying to get by living in disguise, trying to make myself into someone different for my partner’s approval. Living a life you don’t want is no life at all. So, getting a divorce was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Marrying the love of my life in August 2023 was another one—and so was spending the first year of our married life together in Wales.
When I reflect on this past year, the word that comes to mind is regeneration. Or, put another way: a second chance. My life had been in absolute disarray. Besides my cat and two dogs, there was nothing in my life that made me want to get out of bed in the morning. All of that started to change when I met my husband, Juan. Where I feared rejection, he met me with understanding, patience, and love.
Because my husband is from Argentina, he arrived in Bangor a bit after I did. (I started a master’s program in September.) As it so happened, it turned out to be the day the Pumas beat Wales in the Rugby World Cup. I told him that for the next week, if anyone asked where he was from, he should say Chile.
Together, we’ve worked through and experienced a lot this past year. As I’ve pursued a degree in Arthurian studies, he has been taking online courses in graphic design and illustration. Of course, Argentina and Wales have some unique connections, so everywhere we go, people are eager to talk to Juan about Y Wladfa in Patagonia. Musician Gwilym Bowen Rhys even bought us a round at Tafarn Y Glôb last fall, which we hope to repay in Argentina if the occasion presents itself!
Pursuit of a master’s degree in my family’s ancestral homeland is a project all of my own making, but it’s an experience that’s been much better lived together. I smile every time Juan adds a bit more Cymraeg to his vocabulary. He has indulged my sometimes fanatic desire to see and experience as much as possible in a year, including rugby matches, a slew of Welsh-language concerts, cross-country trips to the Powys Archives, and a bus ride to meet a stranger (turned friend) to talk about the ancestry of the Merediths in Radnorshire. But best of all, we have supported one another through our self-doubt and talked each other out of the dark recesses of our minds and into the light.
Wales is, and will always be, a place that we are both tremendously proud to call home. While we head to Argentina later this winter to spend time with Juan’s family and friends, we are already planning to come back next year for the 2025 Eisteddfod and to see the second run of Michael Sheen’s remarkable play Nye on the life of Aneurin Bevan—hopefully with Meredith family members in tow.
Ernest Hemingway called Paris a moveable feast. I call Wales a global family, with a tune, a laugh, and a warm embrace always at the ready.