A deeply moving memoir of faith, family, and the search for belonging. Before he knew the language for who he was, Abel Olivas knew the names he was called.

Raised in a Mexican-American family of ten children, Abel came of age in a world shaped by poverty, faith, and the unwritten codes of masculinity. In a home where survival often took precedence over self-expression, silence became both refuge and burden. Yet through it all stood his mother - a woman of remarkable strength and sacrifice, whose love both sustains yet undermines who Abel feels he is becoming.

As he confronts the realities of alcoholism, machismo, and internalized shame, Abel is forced to reckon with the distance between the life expected of him and the life he longs to claim. What unfolds is not only a journey toward self-acceptance, but a tender and complicated portrait of a mother and son learning to meet one another across generations of fear, misunderstanding, and through homophobia.

Don't Call Me Jotín is a luminous memoir about belonging, identity, and the enduring bonds of family. With honesty and grace, it traces the path from self-loathing to self-love, revealing how truth can emerge from silence and how love, though imperfect, can become a bridge toward healing.

At once intimate and universal, this is a story of what it costs to hide, what it takes to be seen, and what becomes possible when we finally allow ourselves to live in the light.