When The Moon Is Up

By STUDENTS

With a foreword by H É

FROM ALAIN LEROY LOCKE HIGH SCHOOL

CTOR TOBAR

Published May 2017 by 826LA

Copyright 2017 All rights reserved by the authors and 826LA

ISBN #978-1-934750-82-7

First Edition

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By STUDENTS FROM ALAIN LEROY

With a foreword by H É

LOCKE HIGH SCHOOL

CTOR TOBAR

MENDOZA

TALIYAH PORTER

FOREWORD

Dearest young writers of this book. Scribes and students of greater Los Angeles. I offer you a big and a hearty hug. And my sincerest congratulations. You are now published authors! This work, with its bound pages and its narrow spine, will now occupy a spot on a shelf alongside other great works of literature. Shakespeare, Woolf, Cervantes, Morrison.

Like you, those writers all put their writerly hearts into creating something new. They looked at the beautiful and tragic world around them, and its history, and they told a story of human truth.

In your book, you have tackled one of the biggest events this big city has ever seen. The days in 1992 when the city burned and seethed, and the aftermath of those events. I lived through that “uprising,” that “riot,” or as the Spanish-speakers of the day called it, “los quemazones,” the great burning. I dreamed then of a kinder, more just city—a place where young people believed that words and ideas could be as powerful as rocks, gunfire, and flames. Now that day has arrived. You’ve shown us the Los Angeles that was born from those days of destruction. You’ve told tales of classrooms and family homes, of bedrooms and border crossings, of injustice and ambition. You’ve shown us some of the scary and wonderful things to be found in the places where you’ve grown up. Like any great author, you’ve put a lot of yourself into your work. You’ve written drafts and revised them, and you’ve accepted the wise counsel of editors who’ve helped you find what was there inside you waiting to be born—your voice.

All of us as readers are better off because you believed you had something to say and because you did the work to say it. Thank you for being brave enough to invite us into the worlds you know. Thank you for bringing us along on the journeys you’ve undertaken to get to where you are today. You have made us feel what it is like to be a young person in the first decades of the twenty-first century. One day, in the not-too-distant future, other young people will pick up these bound pages and they will read your words and know what it was like to live in this time. When they read these tales of your lives, they will know what you felt. As if by magic, they will become you. Writers like you who pull off this feat of wizardry are known by a title I am proud to bestow on you. They are called artists.

In closing, dear authors, I’ll ask you the same question I pose to every published writer I meet: What are you working on next?

—Héctor Tobar

EDITORS’ NOTE NOTA EDITORIAL

With each book we publish at 826LA, we understand Los Angeles in a new way. This book is no exception. The students in this year’s Young Authors’ Book Project are from all over: South Los Angeles, Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, México, and the San Gabriel Valley, with very different interests, languages, and ideas. What they have in common is their home of South Los Angeles, a place that has alway been a place of hope and new beginnings.

Two years after the 1965 Watts Riots, educators and community members opened a new high school with the aim of creating more opportunities for their youth. The high school was named after Alain LeRoy Locke, the first African American Rhodes scholar and a seminal figure in the Harlem Renaissance. Since then, economic and political crises caused displacement of multiple countries, driving Central American immigrants into South Los Angeles, people who were also seeking better futures for their children.

On the twenty-fifth anniversary of the LA Uprisings and the fiftieth anniversary of Locke High School, we are thrilled to share the collective stories in When the Moon Is Up, which illustrate how this community is still rooted in perseverance. Although these students had not yet been born, they learned about the 1992 Uprisings and other events caused by the same injustices. The works by Locke students are not direct reflections on the 1992 Uprisings per se; they are stories that depict the modern lives of young people from this place, stories full of responsibility, family, courage, and favorite pairs of sneakers.

Additionally, five students embarked on journeys as journalists and interviewed

Con cada libro que publicamos en 826LA, entendemos a Los Ángeles de una manera nueva. Este libro no es una excepción. Este año, los estudiantes del Proyecto de Libro de Jóvenes Autores en Locke High School vienen de todas partes: diferentes regiones de el Sur de Los Ángeles, Honduras, Guatemala, México, y el valle de San Gabriel, con intereses, lenguajes e ideas muy distintas. Pero lo que tienen en común es que viven en un lugar que siempre ha representado esperanza y nuevos comienzos.

Dos años después de los disturbios en Watts de 1965, educadoras y miembros de la comunidad abrieron una nueva secundaria con la esperanza de crear más oportunidades para sus jóvenes.

La escuela fue nombrada Alain LeRoy Locke después del primer Afro Americano que recibió la beca distinguida Rhodes y fue una figura seminal en el Renacimiento de Harlem. Desde entonces, varias crisis económicas y políticas causaron desplazamiento en muchos países, forzando centroamericanos que se inmigraron a el Sur de Los Ángeles, gente que trajeron una esperanza de darles mejores futuros a sus hijos, también.

En el veinticinco aniversario de los Levantamientos de LA y el cincuenta aniversario de le preparatoria , las historias colectivas de When the Moon Is Up ilustran cómo esta comunidad continúa arraigada en la perseverancia. Aunque estos estudiantes aún no habían nacido, durante este proyecto aprendieron sobre los Levantamientos de 1992 y otros eventos parecidos causados por las mismas injusticias. Las obras de los estudiantes de Locke no son reflexiones sobre los Levantamientos de 1992 en sí, sino que son historias que representan la vida moderna de jóvenes de esta región, historias sobre la responsabilidad, familia, valor, y sus pares de zapatos favoritos.

business owners to learn more about how community activists, artists, scholars, and the 1992 Uprisings shaped their city. To connect multiple LA histories to the high school’s neighborhood, we created a timeline. A further point of connection was the choice to use the words riot and uprising interchangeably. In Ms. Rowley’s English language learner class, students related more to uprising because they had experienced uprisings in their home countries and not in LA. In Ms. McCormack’s senior English class, however, students chose to use riot to describe the events of 1992 because they believed it was more powerful and is how people know the events locally. A quarter century after the events that formed a global snapshot of Los Angeles, this book and the stories within are defined by these students, who are the present and the future of this city in the world’s imagination.

Although South Los Angeles has changed a great deal in the last twenty-five years, the strength and beauty of the people remain. These students’ determination to succeed does, too. These stories fill in any gaps in knowledge or misconceptions about their neighborhood, their countries, and this place we call home. May we step up to support them and ensure their success as they reach for the future for which we all hope.

2017 Young Authors’ Book Project staff

Kenny Ng, Programs

Coordinator

Vickie Vértiz, Site Director, Mar Vista

Además de estas escrituras, cinco estudiantes se embarcaron como periodistas y entrevistaron a activistas de la comunidad, artistas, académicos y dueñas de negocios para aprender más sobre cómo los Levantamientos de 1992 formaron su ciudad. Para conectar las varias historias de Los Ángeles y de la vecindad de Locke, creamos una línea de tiempo. Otro punto de conexión era la elección de utilizar las palabras riot y uprising indistintamente. En la clase de estudiantes de inglés de la Sra. Rowley, los estudiantes estuvieron de acuerdo en que uprising era más pertinente para ellos porque habían sido testigos de levantamientos en sus países de origen. En la clase de inglés de la Srta. McCormack, sin embargo, los estudiantes eligieron usar riot para describir los eventos de 1992 porque creían que era más poderoso y así es como la gente conoce los eventos localmente. Veinticinco años después de los eventos que formaron una idea global sobre Los Ángeles, este libro y sus historias las definen los estudiantes, quienes son el presente y el futuro de esta ciudad en la imaginación del mundo entero.

Aunque el Sur de Los Ángeles ha cambiado mucho en los últimos veinticinco años, la fuerza y la belleza de la gente permanecen. La determinación de estos estudiantes de tener éxito también continua. Estas historias de la escuela secundaria de Locke cambian cualquier falta de conocimiento sobre su vecindad, sus países, y este lugar que llamamos hogar. Hay que apoyar y asegurar el éxito de estos jóvenes para que alcancen ese futuro que todos esperamos.

Equipo 2017 del Proyecto de Libro de Jóvenes Autores

Kenny Ng, Programs Coordinator Vickie Vértiz, Site Director, Mar Vista

LOS ANGELES A Global

City’s Timeline

500 A.D.

The Tongva people (Gabrielino), made up of many tribal communities, have already inhabited the Los Angeles Basin and parts of Riverside County for 7,000 years. 1 To this day, Los Angeles has the largest population of Native Americans of any U.S. city. 2

1781

September 4

A group of Asian, Black, Mexican, Mestizo, Spanish, and mixed-race leaders establish El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Ángeles de Porciúncula. On April 4, 1850, it becomes the City of Los Angeles. 3

1820

Spanish-Mexican settlers receive land grants and arrive in what is now known as Watts. 4

1913

W.E.B. Du Bois observes that Los Angeles’ Black population is “without doubt the most beautifully housed group of colored people in the United States.”5

1942

February 14

President Roosevelt issues Executive Order 9066, which authorized the forced removal and incarceration of over 120,000 people of Japanese descent from the U.S. and South America, during World War II. By the end of the war in 1945, 120,000 people, half of whom were children, had spent time in what even Roosevelt admitted were concentration camps. 6

August 4

United States concludes temporary intergovernmental agreement for the use of Mexican

agricultural laborers on U.S. farms, beginning the influx of legal temporary, low-wage work—a program also known as the Bracero Program—lasting until 1964. 7

1943

Zoot Suit Riots break out in Los Angeles as military men drag and beat Mexican youth dressed in baggy pants and long-tailed coats. 8

1955

Nickerson Gardens’ 1,100 units becomes LA’s largest public housing project and the largest west of the Mississippi River. 9

1963

September 20

Rumford Fair Housing Act in California prohibits the refusal to rent or sell property based on race, ethnicity, gender, marital status, or physical disability. 10

1964

Urban League ranked Los Angeles as the best city in the United States for African Americans in their annual report. 11

July 2

President Johnson signs Civil Rights Act into law, prohibiting racial and gender discrimination in public spaces. 12

1965

The Black population in Los Angeles increases from 75,000 in 1940 to 650,000 in 1965. 13

August 11

LAPD arrests Marquette and Ronald Frey and their mother, Rena Price, in front of hundreds of Watts neighbors after an altercation following a failed sobriety test, inciting people to throw rocks at cars and fight police. 14

August 14

Over 3,000 national guardsmen join the police to maintain order. 15 By midnight, around 13,900 guardsmen are in the area. Three days later, the riots die down. The civil unrest results in thirty-four dead, more than 1,000 wounded, nearly 4,000 arrested, and $40 million in property damage from arson and looting. 16

December 2

McCone Commission Report is released, detailing the riots had been caused by deep and systemic social problems: poverty, inequality, racial discrimination, and the passage of Proposition 14, which nullified the state’s 1963 fair housing law, amending the state constitution to allow individuals to decline to sell, lease, or rent property based on any kind of preferences. 17

1966

Proposition 14 is determined illegal and the Rumford Fair Housing Act is upheld. 18

1967

Alain LeRoy Locke High School opens to provide a safe and secure place for learning—an antidote to the conditions that led to 1965 Riots. 19

1972

The Asian American Drug Abuse Program (AADAP) is founded to help underserved communities with substance abuse issues throughout LA County. 20

1975

An influx of Korean immigrants creates a community of parents with multiple jobs but no community centers. Koreatown Youth and Community Center (KYCC) opens to provide a safe space for youth. 21

Future Olympian Valerie Brisco-Hooks begins her competitive running career at Alain LeRoy Locke High School. 22

1980

Large-scale migration begins to the United States from Central America, as hundreds of thousands of Salvadorans, Guatemalans, and Nicaraguans flee civil war, repression, and economic devastation. 23

1986

November 6

President Reagan signs the Immigration Reform and Control Act, legalizing certain undocumented workers, including agricultural workers, while setting employer sanctions, making it illegal for employers to hire undocumented workers. 24

1988

With the help of multiple community members, Aqeela Sherrills begins brokering a peace treaty between rival LA gangs, Crips and Bloods. 25

1990

In the 1990s, about three-quarters of homeowners with mortgages in Watts are Latino. 26

1991

March 3

Four LAPD officers beat, subdue, and arrest Rodney G. King. The beating is captured on video by George Holliday.

March 15

LAPD Sergeant Stacy C. Koon and officers Laurence M. Powell, Timothy E. Wind, and Theodore J. Briseno are arraigned on felony charges stemming from the beating.

March 16

A store security camera records the fatal shooting of fifteen-year-old Latasha Harlins, an African American girl, by Korean American Soon Ja Du in a South Los Angeles liquor store.

March 26

The four LAPD officers charged in the King beating plead not guilty.

Soon Ja Du is arraigned on one count of murder.

July 9

Formed after the King beating, the Christopher Commission releases a report citing evidence of brutality and racism in the LAPD. 27

October 11

The jury in Soon Ja Du’s case returns a verdict. Ja Du is found guilty of voluntary manslaughter. In November, Judge Joyce Karlin sentences Ja Du to five years probation, four hundred hours of community service, and a $500 fine for the shooting death of Latasha Harlins. State Senator Diane Watson says, “This might be the time bomb that explodes.”

November 29

LAPD officers fatally shoot a Black man, prompting a standoff with more than one hundred residents of the Imperial Courts housing project in Watts.

1992

March 4

Opening arguments begin in the Rodney King trial. None of the twelve jurors is African American. During the trial, Officer Briseno testifies that King never posed a threat to the LAPD officers.

April 28

A truce is reached between the Bloods and the Crips gangs after a multi-year effort spearheaded by Watts residents, among them activist Aqeela Sherrills, football hall of famer Jim Brown, and congresswoman Maxine Waters. 28

April 29

The jury returns not-guilty verdicts on all of the charges except one count of excessive force against Officer Powell; a mistrial is declared on that count alone. The verdict is carried live on TV. Over 2,000 people gather for a peaceful rally at First AME Church in South Central Los Angeles.

Violence erupts. Reginald Denny is yanked from his truck cab and beaten unconscious at the intersection of Florence and Normandie; the incident is captured on video. Mayor Tom Bradley declares a local emergency. Governor

Pete Wilson calls the National Guard. Fires break out over twenty-five blocks of central Los Angeles.

April 30

Bradley imposes a curfew for the entire city, restricts the sale of gasoline, and bans the sale of ammunition. Bus service is canceled city-wide. The Justice Department announces it will resume an investigation into possible civil rights violations in the beating of Rodney King. Retail outlets are looted and/or burned in South LA, Koreatown, Hollywood, Mid-Wilshire, Watts, Westwood, Beverly Hills, Compton, Culver City, Hawthorne, Long Beach, Norwalk, and Pomona.

May 1

More than 1,000 Korean Americans and others gather at a peace rally at Western Avenue and Wilshire Boulevard. Rodney King makes an emotional plea for calm, stating, “People, I just want to say, can we all get along? Can we get along?”

May 2

Clean-up crews hit the streets, and volunteers bring clothing and food into the hardest hit neighborhoods. Thirty-thousand people march through Koreatown in support of beleaguered merchants, calling for peace between Korean Americans and Black people. The next day, the Los Angeles Times reports fifty-eight deaths, 2,383 injuries, more than 7,000 fire responses, 12,111 arrests, and 3,100 businesses damaged.

Although the uprisings are portrayed as Black against White or Korean people, of those arrested, the majority have Spanish surnames and come from immigrant neighborhoods severely hurt by the recession. 29

May 12

Damian Williams, Antoine Miller, and Henry K. Watson are arrested for the beating of Reginald Denny on April 29. Gary Williams surrenders to police later that day. They quickly become known as the LA Four.

May 25

Korean grocers and leaders from the Bloods and Crips meet to discuss an alliance.

May 30

Chief Gates steps down. Willie Williams is sworn in.

December 14

The intersection of Florence and Normandie flares again as the Free the LA Four Defense Committee protests at the site of Denny’s beating.

1993

February 3

The federal civil rights trial against the four police officers begins.

April 17

The verdicts are returned in the federal King civil rights trial. Officers Briseno and Wind are acquitted. Officer Powell and Sergeant Koon are found guilty of violating Rodney King’s civil rights. By August, Sergeant Koon and Officer Powell are each sentenced to thirty-month prison terms.

August 19

The Reginald Denny beating trial begins in Los Angeles. Damian Williams and Henry K. Watson are charged with crimes including attempted murder of Denny and others near the corner of Florence and Normandie. In October, Watson is acquitted of the many counts against him.

December 7

Williams is sentenced to a maximum of ten years in prison for attacks on Reginald Denny.

1994

Voters approve California Proposition 187, denying undocumented immigrants benefits like public education, health care, and other social services. 3o

1996

Model and actor Tyrese Gibson graduates from Locke High School. 31

1997

US District Court judge overturns California’s Proposition 187, ruling it unconstitutional. 32

2000

Many authors of When the Moon Is Up are born.*

The Black population of southeast Los Angeles has changed to 25 percent from 70 percent in 1980. 33

2005

May 17

Ant o nio Vil larai gosa wins elec tion as the first Latino may or of Los Angeles since the city’s pi on eer days. 34

2010

Rose Salseda begins a Philosophy Doctorate in Art History to study the art that was created after the 1992 LA Uprisings at the University of Texas at Austin. 35

2011

August 8

Writer, educator, and activist Katherine Kim publishes Los Angeles’s Koreatown, a detailed history with archival photographs of the neighborhood. 36

2012

June 15

The Secretary of Homeland Security grants temporary deportation relief and a two-year work permit to young adults who came to the United States as children without papers and meet strict guidelines under Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. 37

2014

A record 69,000 unaccompanied children and 68,000 families from Central America arrive at the U.S. border, fleeing poverty, high homicide rates, gang violence, and food insecurity brought on by a severe drought. 38

November 20

President Barack Obama expands Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) and implements Deferred Action for Parents of Americans (DAPA) programs, allowing

parents of U.S. citizens and lawful permanent residents to request deferred action and employment authorization for three years. 39

2016

December 12

Locke High School and 826LA launch the Young Authors’ Book Project 2017.

2017

When the Moon Is Up is published.

NOTE: Parts of this chronology have been reprinted, with permission, from a Facing History and Ourselves study guide to Twilight: Los Angeles 1992 by Anna Deavere Smith.

Copyright© 2017 by Facing History and Ourselves. Used with permission. facinghistory.org

ARIANA LOPEZ

Visual Legacies: An Interview with Rose Salseda

Rose Salseda grew up in South Central by the Florence-Firestone area. She is a PhD student at the University of Texas at Austin. Rose is one out of twenty PhD students specializing in Black and Brown art. She wants people to follow her steps and study Black and Brown art because there’s important history that we can learn from it. In this interview, she talks about her childhood, about Black and Brown history, and also why it is important to connect this kind of history to what is happening today in the world.

AL: My name is Ariana. Thank you for letting me interview you! I have a few questions to ask you. My first question is: What was your childhood like in Watts?

RS: I grew up in this unincorporated area of South Central. Some people call it FlorenceFirestone area, or just the Florence area. There’s also another name for it: FlorenceGraham. I grew up there until I was about twelve. I was born in 1982, and I moved sometime between 1994 and 1995 after the LA Riots. I lived there with my parents and my brother and I lived next door to my grandmother and grandfather. Growing up, my grandma took care of us a lot because my parents worked full time.

I mean, it was a nice childhood I guess, except there was a lot of crime and violence during the ’80s and early ’90s. In the years leading up to the riots, there was just a lot of violence and anything as extreme as people getting shot on the street. I witnessed the aftermath of one of the shootings. During the riots, there was rioting all around. The corner store just a few houses down—half a block away from my house—that corner store got looted.

AL: What led you to study art? Was it a part of your life growing up?

RS: When I was a kid, I was always kind of artistic. My parents put me in dance when I was really young. I think part of their thinking was to keep me and my brothers off the streets

after school. My oldest brother was in and out of prison from the time he was a teenager, and so they put my other two brothers into Judo and Jiu Jitsu, and me into dance. Then I also started taking art lessons from my aunt who’s an artist. Coming from a workingclass family, it wasn’t my intention to go onto college to become an art historian, which is what I am. […] I didn’t want to live paycheck to paycheck like my parents did, so when I went to college—and I was the first person in my family to go to college—I majored in biology. But during that first semester in college, I also took a general education course in art history and I really liked it. But I didn’t switch majors or anything immediately because I was so concerned about my financial future.

Majoring in art or art history just didn’t seem like something that was secure enough. But after several years, I just decided to make the switch and just to do it, and I had confidence that I would figure it out, that I would be able to make majoring in art work.

I switched majors to art, and I really loved it. I had a lot of support from my professors—from professors in the art department, but also professors in Chicano studies. And I started studying history of Black and Brown people here in the US, but also abroad. I also studied the history of African-descended Mexicans. And so I kind of saw those histories as a way

of bridging my experience growing up in South LA and living in Black and Brown communities. Growing up in South LA definitely influenced my educational trajectory. I’m getting my PhD in art history, and I specialized in Latino and African American art.

AL: What inspired you to specialize in Latino art?

RS: Growing up in South LA in a predominantly Latino community—I am Latina […] fourthgeneration Mexican American. And within the discipline of art and art history, there are not a lot of professors who have specializations in Latino art, and so there needs to be more people. If we don’t have people who are getting their PhDs and specializing in Brown art, that means that there aren’t going to be professors to teach it to the next generation. And so I’m getting my PhD because I want to make sure those histories are written about, that they’re recorded and archived, that they’re taught to students like you.

AL: What are you doing to inspire others to get involved in Latino art?

RS: I write about Latino art [and] I occasionally teach it. I also do a lot of advocacy work. I work with an organization based in East and South LA called At Land’s Edge. We’re a radical, pedagogical, educational program. We’re 100 percent volunteer-run, and what we do is offer scholarships to artists and other types of cultural producers, so filmmakers, writers, other types of artists, not just typical painters. We offer them fellowships, which consist of seminars, classes they have to attend, and we pair them with a mentor to help them along the way and we also create public programming for the community about art, and we hold these public programs in South LA and East LA. At the end of the year, our fellows have a composition of their work. And I run that program.

Another thing I do is run this organization called the US Latinx Art Forum. It’s an advocacy group that supports academics and

museum staff—artists who specialize in Latinx art. We create initiatives to support people and we also develop data about the representation of Latinx art at major academic conferences. So it’s more professionaloriented, whereas At Land’s Edge is more community-based.

AL: What is your book and your dissertation about? And what inspired you to write it?

RS: My dissertation is called The Visual Art Legacy of the 1992 Los Angeles Riots. What I do in the dissertation is look at two generations of artists from diverse racial backgrounds who have made work in response to the beating of Rodney King or the ’92 LA Riots themselves. So I’m looking at all types of different artwork— from paintings to print to graffiti—from 1992 all the way to 2012. I look at how artists responded to all the racial politics and all the violence of the time. This is important history because we don’t have any books about the artistic response to the riots. We have some histories about the portrayal of the riots in the media, but we don’t have any other visual legacies to look at in terms of books. So my dissertation is providing the first account of that.

What inspired me to write it is also because I grew up in South LA during the riots, and I experienced it firsthand, and I feel like there’s a lot of history and experiences that are left out of historiographies of the riots. For example, we don’t have a lot of history about the Latino experience of the riots. But some of the artists that I write about are really in tune to that, so through their artwork, I’m able to explore the Latino experience of the riots, and how Latinos were affected even years after-wards. What’s really interesting about the Latino experience is that most of the people arrested during the ’92 LA riots were Latino, and a lot of [them] who were arrested were also immigrants. A little over 1,000 of them were undocumented, and INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) processed just over 900 of them for deportation. That’s an experience that one of the artists that I write about, [Juan Capistran],

is aware of. And writing about his artwork, I’m able to highlight that. I also talked about the Latin American experience of the riots, and I talked about it through the work of an artist, Michelle Dizon. There are all these histories and experiences that are begging to be brought to light because all of these things matter.

AL: Why is it important for young people to get involved in the arts to affect change in society?

RS: I would encourage young people to get involved in the arts because it’s a community of people that need a lot of support. And there’s still so much work to be done in terms of who sees [art]. For instance, I am just one of twenty PhD students who are specializing in Latinx art right now in the […] entire US. Only twenty. That’s crazy. That’s so small. What that means is that in the immediate future, there will not be a lot of professors with that specialization, so they can’t teach that history. So I encourage young people to get involved because there’s so much activism and advocacy that still needs to be done within the art world. There have been a lot of activists in the past and scholars who have paved the way for us now, but there is still so much that needs to be done. And we can’t get it done unless there are more people of color and allies who are applying to college, […] getting their degrees, getting those [teaching] positions within academia, and who are artists who [can] teach the next generation. That’s why I would encourage young people to get involved. To preserve our history, basically.

AL: In your opinion, how does what happened in 1992 compare to what is happening in our country today?

RS: There are activists and artists today who look back to the ’92 LA Riots and the beating of Rodney King. It was one of the first times in history that institutionalized racism, that police brutality, was brought to the forefront of national news and a national dialogue. Today, that’s still happening. Police are still brutalizing Black and Brown communities, and now we have recordings of officers killing Black and Brown men, mostly. Those connections are significant from the past to now. I see them as an ongoing history, and it goes beyond the ’92 LA riots. We had the Watts Riots in 1965, and before that we had the Zoot Suit Riots where white sailors were beating up on Black and Brown people. Before that, we had the Chinese Massacre, where white vigilantes went and systematically hung a bunch of Chinese and Chinese American people in [downtown] LA. This is a long history of racism, of violence, and racialized violence. And what’s happening today is part of all of that.

AL: Why is it important for us to study this history now?

RS: It’s the history of your community, of South LA, of Watts. It’s the history of your people, of Black and Brown people who have historically lived in the area. It’s American history, and it’s important for these histories to be remembered because these histories are comprised of people and their experiences and if we don’t remember their experiences; then their values are erased. And that can happen, especially in light of the political climate today, and the kind of institutionalized and systemic racism that is happening within our government given our educational systems. […] This is really important because we need to keep the past alive because the past informs our present and our future.

About the Author

Ariana Lopez is outspoken, open-minded, and funny. She likes to make other people laugh and make them feel better. She likes to go out to eat with her friends. She is hoping that in the future she will become an engineer.

OLIVER ARTEAGA

Two Lives at an Early Age

The farm was every kid’s dream because it was full of animals, grass, trees, mud, and land—one of the best places to learn to play. But not me because I wanted to learn more than that. The house was cozy, warmed by wood, and the kitchen had the aroma of baking every day of the year, especially in the mornings when the dark coffee was brewing and the strong smell floated from the big olla de barro. Mamá loved to cook. Papá always drank a big cup of dark coffee while he sat outside of the home on an old bench just looking at the farm in the morning on Sundays. The hills were a safe place to play, to explore, to create new stories, and live dreams to the fullest. The kids were never happier than with muddy boots and the wind tousling their hair. Freedom. Of course there were the chores, but that’s how they got to feel important and know they were needed. There was time for work and time for play—a perfect balance. Everything was beautiful like a dream, but everything changed as soon as I finished middle school because I had to work on the farm.

To earn my living when I was just a young boy of ten years old, my father made me work at our family farm. For six years, he made me do this fieldwork. When I was twelve, I had to wake up around five or six to drive a tractor to prepare the land to plant new vegetables. I was young, but at an early age I learned to do most of the jobs that a grown man can do—jobs like cutting, cleaning the vegetables, driving tractors and cars, and preparing the land at my father´s farm. It was just work, but there are some moments that I would love to live again. I would love to smell the combination of dark land, wet grass, and the smell of the green mesquites that the air carries. Every work day in the morning, that smell of wet land changed through the time when the sun was coming out and making it dry. I loved it, but I decided to go searching for something better for myself. On September 20, 2013, I decided to leave my home to come to the United States to study.

When I was leaving my home, I was very sad because I didn’t know anything outside of the farm. Since I moved to the United States, I faced challenges because I did not know the language and I had to work to support myself. As I did not know the language, I decided to go to school to learn English, but working and going to school at the same time is difficult for a young man like me.

I remember the first day whenI came to Locke High. I woke up to get ready for school; the sun was up moving slowly with a few clouds around it. When I started to walk out of my home, I was very nervous, but at the same time curious, too, because I had a lot of questions going on in my head. Questions like, “Who will be at school?” Or, “Will I have friends?” All those questions were making me nervous and I was very afraid, but when I turned the corner and saw the school in front of me, everything felt better because it wasn’t really a very nice building, single story with an old layer of blue paint and some trees on the outside. I stopped by the main gate, and I took a look at the sky adorned with soft clouds around the sun. I decided to go in. After that day everything changed.

I knew I could go to school to realize my dream of becoming a police officer. I like to protect people and make justice, and I wanted to help. I also knew that it would not be easy now that I have a routine to do every day where I have to study and work at the same time. I wake up at seven to get ready to go to school, where school starts at eight and ends at 3:30. Right after

school, I go to bed for three hours if I am lucky. At eight PM I wake up to go to my job in the steel factory where I began as a janitor, and where the day ends at six AM. Right after work I go home to take a shower to get ready for school and repeat the routine again. I lead two lives every day.

In one life, I am a worker as I was on the farm. But now I work at a steel factory. When I go to work, it is at night when the moon is up and shining. When I start to work I have to perform and document routine inspection and do maintenance activities such as wash machines, clean the computer, sweep and mop floors, and sometimes burn metal. To do this job I may use special chemicals or equipment that are dangerous because they are made to destroy all the dirt.

In the steel factory I learned to be a mechanic and I have to fix the machines. After that I feel proud of myself because I learned something new.

Some days I get out of work very tired and all I want to do is to sleep, but I cannot because I have to show up to school. When I am at school, I feel at home because I feel comfortable there and because all the people at school fill out my emptiness. Because with them, I can find the support that I cannot get from my family. Also there are some teachers that are like my parents because they keep pushing me to keep going in school because they believe that I have more opportunities.

As a result, I have to work harder than a normal student because a normal student has to take care of academics and I have to take care of academics and all payments to live.

Thinking about my two roles at an early age as a worker and a student has been affecting my mind. Now I think more like an adult than a teenager. I have adult responsibilities such as house payments, cooking, washing, and clothing, in addition to student responsibilities. This life is very hard for a teenager. On the other hand, I am a student who wants to succeed in life because I do not want to work in low-paying jobs. I want to help my family and all the people around my community because everybody needs help at one point in life. It is very helpful when you have somebody to help you to stand up to keep going. Since I immigrated, I changed in a positive way because now I have more confidence inside and outside of my space. I learned how to effectively work, study, and help others—the ones that need help. This has been a positive change because I learned to do many things at the same time, and this ability would be a benefit to me in life in general because it is a resource that I would be able to use anytime that I need to use it.

Now every day that I wake up, I stand by my window looking at a few sad trees surrounded by hard concrete that limits their space to grow up, something that never happens on the farm because the trees there are surrounded by sweet grass. When the rain comes, I wake up wondering if the streets will be muddy, or if it will smell like the wetland in the rain at the farm. But as soon I open the door and I come back to reality; everything that I see is wet concrete without any smell. Why live two lives? To live two lives isn’t easy, but it is possible when you realize how to combine them together to achieve a dream.

About the Author

Oliver Arteaga was born in México. When he grew up he decided to move to the United States to go to school. He is planning to study criminal justice in college.

ANDREW OROZCO

Knocked Back Down to the Top

My life now is surrounded by the topic of expression: everywhere I go is about being the you that your heart strives to be. I remember watching VHS tapes of a young child in the middle of a group, still in diapers, just bouncing to the music, ignorant to people’s judgement, dancing for his own enjoyment. That child soon ended up growing into who I am now: a teenager at Locke High School at the point of graduation.

At the age of thirteen, on my birthday, I was promised dance classes out in Hollywood. My aunt who is in México actually convinced my mom. After going to my aunt’s wedding and literally pulling people to dance, she noticed I had a knack for it so she advocated for this as a favor. I remember so clearly my first day and how it went. We danced to “XSCAPE” by Michael Jackson; the walls were just a big reflective mirror with people’s hand prints smudged on. In the mirror you have to look forward in order to see the instructor, but that kinda’ just causes your eye to wander in the reflection, so I remember keeping my head down out of fear that I would make eye contact with someone else. We were all taught the same choreography at the same time in the same manner until it was time to go in the middle and show what we’d interpreted from the dance. I soon realized everyone expressed and performed every move with their own form of style. Some with each movement swift as if it was somehow mixed with contemporary, having technique and poise. Others used hard impact, similar to swinging a knife at full force; it’s a clean full-forced move—very casual and even sluggish like they aren’t even trying. These people were actually my favorite because these were the ones who could be doing a full-on routine and have a conversation with you at the same time. No matter in what manner it was done, it showed the confidence everyone had as they didn’t second guess themselves. If they didn’t remember a part, they were able to improvise, making it look like they didn’t mess up as their smirk never left their face; that was the passion I envied as a beginner.

At the time, it was highly intimidating to be thirteen and a Latino in a class full of Caucasian adults. It was scary. I was the shortest one in the room. It felt to me as if I were in a forest alone, with Michael Jackson playing in the background and the trees all really well-dressed in Adidas and Yeezy sneakers, and I’m just there in my Champion brand sweats and a simple blood drive tee. It sounds silly, but just imagine being scared of trees. I would hide in the back, avoiding any form of attention from the instructor or being filmed dancing, even if it was just in the background marking the moves.

Watching everyone else made me feel inferior. They had all the odds in their favor, with their looks and their social status. Most were actually very humble about it, and some were flat out, very stuck-up. Believe it or not, the stuck-up ones were the ones who pushed me further, not because they influenced me but because I’m so hard-headed, I’m so hard-headed I just wanted to stick it to them. I wanted to look at the ones who kind of turned their faces at me in underestimation and look at them now as I’m doing the routine and give them a face as if I was trying to say, “What now? Who’s the one who’s above your skill level?” As the months went on, I started progressing from the back of the class to the middle, then later racing everyone for the front row so that I could see the instructor, so I could feel the hype of knowing I am visible to everyone.

Two years later I decided I didn’t just want to be a progressive dancer in one style; I wanted to grow in different genres, meet different dancers of different countries and forms of dance. That is when I joined Grizzly Dance Company. Unlike the last studio, this one was a team where we were required to audition to see what level we would be accepted into. This being my first time exploring outside of hip hop, I had decided to try and join something linked closer to my heritage, so I signed up for Latin dancing in the genres of bachata and salsa. This was actually the hardest and most confusing thing I’ve ever done. Hip hop is more so a form of free expression where you can be unique and just freeflow with the music, whereas Latin dancing requires what we call technique: “Point your toes!” “Head up and chest out!” You could barely hear these being said, blurring through the music by the instructors as helpful tips.

It was actually a big confidence suppressor to be corrected so much during a tryout, especially since it was my first time meeting the instructors and not even knowing if I was on the team. It gave me a mental idea of how my audition was going, and it wasn’t a good one. As the audition was ending, I sat down, drank my water, laid on my back to catch my breath, and then proceeded to get up and ask the instructor for her opinion on how she felt I had done. Her name was Ashley. At that time I didn’t know she would later be someone I’d hugely look up to, for she is such an inspiration as a person.

I asked how she felt I did. Her answer honestly did not at all surprise me. I was really bad, but she told me I have some potential to move up and go very far. With the way I viewed dance and because my outlook on it was so optimistic, that as long as I knew what I wanted to do, I would have a spot on the team. It was kind of frustrating to be told I was in the lower groups—from being on top in the hip hop classes to being knocked back down to the bottom. Because of that, I truly did push myself to the max. I would stretch all the time to the point where my face would be so red and the vein on my forehead would pop out. I would practice everywhere, and I’m not kidding when I say this: in the grocery store aisles, in my shower, and even while sitting down, which sounds awkward but I was never still. That following December, I was one of the chosen few in the dance studio to be taken to World Latin Dance Cup (WLDC). I was quite surprised they chose me since I was the youngest and they had older and stronger guys on the team, but I decided just to go along with it. Regrettably I knew I would miss Christmas with my family, but I could not pass up this opportunity.

As a dancer new to the Latin dancing world, my team placed fourth in the Amateur Salsa Competition, which to me was a very big life goal I would have never set or thought to have accomplished without my incentives and support for dancing. As of this day, I am in the third level out of four in the studio. I now teach some kids whether it’s at a quinceañera; or if the instructor is running late, I take initiative and take over until the instructor arrives. I now plan to move on again and explore a different genre of dance, once again ready to feel like an experienced newbie.

About the Author

Andrew Orozco was born May 15, 1999. He’s a senior at Locke High School located in the heart of Watts. He plans to go to college and get a bachelor’s degree in marine biology and ecology. Although he can’t swim, he loves the ocean and has a love for everything in it… except for the sand. He can’t stand the sand!

LILY BANEGAS

Leaving Home

I am sitting on the edge of the balcony. In the middle of the night, the stars light my way, the moon keeps me company in its great splendor. The wind blows so hard that my hair starts to move from side to side. The night becomes colder with every second that passes, but it does not bother me because I want to share this moment with anopen heart to the open sky. So I whisper to the clouds, I stare at the blue sky, and I say, “I have to leave my home right now, or I will never be able to leave the things and the people I love. My moment is now.”

I was sixteen years old when I left El Salvador. My mom had told me this day would come, but I didn’t notice when the time began to move faster. I thought I was going to finish my studies, and share a little bit more with my friends. I was not ready to leave, but I had to decide.

Since I was a child I liked to write because in this way I can keep all the important events untouched, no matter how much time passes. I wrote to keep the past always present. It was like having a secret friend who I could trust. I would have liked to improve my writings and read more books, but in El Salvador there were not many places to read books. For a moment, I thought maybe in the United States there were some books I would like to read. Maybe I could go.

A few days before my decision, I was at home with my mom. She was preparing the typical Salvadoran dinner: some platanos fritos with mixed eggs and frijoles refritos. A strong scent from the food spread throughout the house, so delicious that you could almost taste it, and that is not an exaggeration. I was in my room when I smelled it, so I decided to go out to get some, but when I tried to get my food, she stopped me because she wanted to serve it to me. I took a seat and I began to watch her. I thought, “I have the best mom in the world and a good life at home.” Then, I wondered if the food would be the same in the United States; what kind of things could I find in that curious country, and most important, will my mom always serve me some platanos fritos? Are there more books in Los Angeles than in El Salvador? I had too many questions, but I only asked my mom one: “Mom, are there many books in Los Angeles?”

She told me, “Of course, there are many books, and I think you can visit many libraries where you can find some of them.” It was great to know it, but in the United States, people speak in English. I could not speak it at that time, so I asked her if there would be some books in Spanish. I saw doubt on her face.

She was not sure about it. However, with a deep breath, she leaned toward me and told me, “Well princesa, the United States is a big world, and in big worlds you can find many things, like many languages. So I think you will find what you are looking for.” My mom was surprised about my interest in the United States. She wanted me to go with her and my sister to live in Los Angeles, but I did not want to go. In a way, my interest about the books in Los Angeles gave her some hope about my decision. After all, she wanted something better for me. She always looks for something better for her loved ones.

I thought it would be a great idea to go and read all those books. In this way, I could improve my writing with more knowledge. Also, it made me feel happy to know I could still be reading in Spanish. But something was holding me back. It was always pressing on me. Seriously, I did not want to leave the people I love in El Salvador, even if I had the opportunity to live the dream of

dreamers—the American dream—I did not want the same thing. Instead of the American dream, I was dreaming about my own world living in El Salvador, a kind of Salvadoran dream. Although the United States has many books to help me to improve my writings, I thought the things I love could not be replaced by them. I was really happy with my family and friends. I was really happy living at home. The bed that I had for many years is older than me, but it was the most comfortable place to go when I wanted to sleep. The house where I had lived since my childhood that watched me grow up. The air that I used to breathe there. The time I spent with my friends in front of my house, running from one side to another, screaming and laughing at all our jokes while the neighbors scolded us because we were making lots of noise. The sun, the moon, the view of the city that I used to see from my balcony. All the things were going to change in Los Angeles. My house began to fall apart, and my dreams about having a life in El Salvador began to disappear. My mom and sister wanted me to go with them to Los Angeles. I did not want to leave my mother and sister, or my family and friends in El Salvador. One day, I talked to my closest friend about what he thought about leaving El Salvador. Of course, he did not want me to go. He told me, “Your life is too short. You have to take advantage of your life and be happy, staying where you want to stay and doing what you like, no matter what you choose.” I thought the same, but I was still undecided.

One day when I was in my art history class, my teacher said that she had traveled to many places in the world. That was how she acquired knowledge about many things and many people, including their culture and language. She said the classes that she took to become an historian were really important, but travel and knowing things face to face helped her to understand more about them. In that moment, her words were like a kind of signal. I had this opportunity to travel and know other cultures, language, and people. However, it was not enough of a reason to leave because I thought in my country I could know other things too and be successful in my own way. I know some people living well in El Salvador, successful people who did not need to leave their home to have what they wanted. I thought if they achieved many things without leaving their homeland, then why could I not do the same thing and be successful?

This was not enough to make me decide to leave. Not enough, until I met a strange person one night in the church—a young man from Guatemala with his friends. They were just there for a few days. Obviously I had never seen him before, but he saw me as if he already knew me. He stood up on the altar because he was going to preach something about God and the purpose of life. Later, he looked at me with a smile on his face. I felt uncomfortable, and I did not know what to do. I tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible. Then, he said clearly, glaring at me, “I can see a small bright flower here. She needs to make an important decision right now. Do not worry, princesa, everything is going to be okay there. Don’t have fear, this is part of your journey. Trust in God with you all heart. You should go.” At that time I began to cry. He did not know me, but he knew what was happening with me. I wonder how they know these things about people without knowing them. Maybe they just talk about general things that people could experience or live. Whatever, it does not matter because that day I decided to believe it. I believed in all his words, and hence I made my decision.

I am sitting on the edge of the crescent moon, with my feet hanging high and the sky full of stars. I am in the middle of the night, looking at my present and taking a look at my past, too. Suddenly, I start to cry, so I put aside all my emotions to think coldly for a moment, because it is not easy to decide with a heart full of feelings. I have fear about this unknown place and what is going to happen to me, but I want to believe that something good will happen after all. I say to myself again and again, “I have to try it.”

Thus, I stand up on the edge of the moon and take a little breath. I look around me before leaving, and with my fists very tight, full of courage, I jump directly to my room to prepare my bags and get ready for my journey. No matter if I have fear. No matter if I do not want to leave all I have loved so much at home. It is going to be my first adventure, and I will become this traveler with an opportunity to take advantage of my life and learn something more. Maybe I can know many people who will change my life for better, or I can change their lives too. I hope to find writers who help me to improve my writings. I would like to know people with a lot of knowledge in Los Angeles. Whatever comes, it will make me stronger to endure other things in the future, but I must be brave to face them. Like this decision, there will be more, and I think I have to be ready when they come.

About the Author

Lily Banegas was born in El Salvador, the thumb of Central America. She came full of hope to find a new adventure. She hopes to travel to learn about different cultures, people, and places. Then, she hopes to return to El Salvador and use her knowledge for the country she loves.

THEFI JOVEL

Perseverance from El Salvador to Los Angeles

Perseverance is the main tool for success. I believe that perseverance is the secret to success because without it, great achievement is impossible. A persevering person is someone who puts in a lot of effort to achieve his or her dreams. You should know proud I am to be a persevering person because I left everything to look for a way to achieve my dreams. I always give the best of myself, as today could be my last time or opportunity to achieve my dreams. I consider perseverance to be the most important skill I have; I don’t allow myself to give up no matter how big the obstacle could be. People appreciate this about me, because it’s the main tool to achieve each one of my dreams. There are so many examples of people who were perseverant, and because of that could achieve their dreams.

Perseverance to me is the determination of a person to not let anything or anyone stop you from obtaining a goal. It is very important that everyone has perseverance, because most people would not make it in life without it. It makes people stronger and more respectable.

I am from El Salvador, and I arrived in Los Angeles exactly two years ago. The reason I am here is because in El Salvador, there are not opportunities for success, and also the level of violence is increasing. In this country I have my family who protects me, but in El Salvador I was with my grandparents who couldn’t protect me from gangs because they are old and sick. That’s why I took the opportunity this country has given me. Sometimes I get tired of going to school because some other students bully me because I can’t speak English. But then I remember what my grandma told me; she said, “Never give up and never listen to people. Just follow your heart and I know you will make your goals come true.” These words motivate me a lot because I know I can do it. It is only three steps, and those are: hard work, never give up, and don’t listen to other people, only to your heart. I always listen to old people because they speak with experience, and they tell children advice because they want the best for them.

My grandma is sixty years old. I love her with all my heart because when my parents left me to travel to the United States, she was the person who took care of me for about twelve years. I am thankful to her, because she gave me a lot of advice so that I can have a better life. I love her so much; the love I have for her, I can’t explain it. She is like my second mom, and to me she is the best grandma. I’m glad God put her in my life as my grandma; I don’t know what I’d do without her. For my grandma, I would give my life for her. She lives in El Salvador, but on February 20 she will come and visit me. I am really happy.

One day when I was in El Salvador, I was thinking about my future because I was worried I couldn’t finish school. The reason why was that my school was in another town, called Guazapa, that was a twenty minute walk from my town. The problem was that there were two different enemy gangs in the towns, so the people of Guazapa couldn’t go to our town, and the people of our town couldn’t go to Guazapa either because it was prohibited. Two friends who lived in the same town as me and my sister received a warning from the opposing gang. They talked to her and said that if we go into their territory, we would get beat or kicked by them. That day, she was scared so she stopped going to school. But my other friend, my sister, and I, we still went because we wanted to finish our year of school, and also to complete our goals. One week passed, and my friend was beat up by the opposing gang of our town. He was so sick, and he also stopped going to school because he was scared of getting beat up again. Five days later, my parents called

us from the United States and asked us if we wanted to travel to LA to finish school and have a better life. We decided to take the opportunity, and our perseverance helped us to keep going and never give up, wherever the world takes us. We can complete our goals and also make our dreams come true.

However, the day when I realized how much I was persevering was when I left everything to look for a way to achieve my dreams, despite it being the most difficult time in my life. I had to learn English as a second language because it would help me to assimilate to the culture of this country and at the same time be able to communicate with others and make new relationships. However, learning English was not enough of an obstacle to leave my goals behind. I knew that learning English could be difficult, but it is not impossible; and I am still learning because giving up is not allowed. Every action has its reaction, and so with each effort, perseverance has its reward. For a student, it’s impossible to achieve personal success without having a goal; a goal is the main tool for perseverance. I describe myself as a persevering person because I always try to do my best in each of my classes, do my homework, and act responsibly. Despite obstacles, I won’t give up and leave my education; on the contrary, they motivate me to work twice as hard to understand every topic and each day to improve my knowledge of English.

Right now in Los Angeles I live at Imperial and Avalon. My house is a happier place where I feel safe. I don’t want to go back to my country because in the United States I have the opportunity to finish high school. I never lost my faith. I’m a person who never gives up until I get what I want, because in my opinion if you want something you have to fight for it. To be a persevering person means to never give up, no matter what people say about you. For example, one thing that I will never give up on is finishing high school and going to university and having my own job that will help me support my parents and give them what they need. I want to do that, and it’s one of my goals because my parents are supporting me right now and giving me what I need. They feel tired working, but they are doing that because they want a better future for me since they didn’t have the opportunity to go to school.

I always compare myself to a child because a child learns to stand up and walk, even though he or she may try and fall down, but ultimately he succeeds in walking. That’s like the same way I began high school. I did know a little bit of English, and right now I’m learning more. I never lost the faith, and I persevered despite so many people discriminating against and laughing at me because I did not understand anything when they spoke with me. But these were not reasons to give up or leave school; on the contrary, it was motivation to keep following my education. I really like what Steve Jobs said: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it.” I want to continue being a persevering person because I want to go far and achieve my dreams of becoming a dentist. I have many goals that I can only achieve with perseverance, and by always giving my best.

In addition, what people don’t understand about being a student and what they never tell you when you are a student is that you’re also a friend, a responsible person, a helper, a studious person, and a polite person. Sometimes you correct the teachers, you leave early in the morning to get to school on time, you have to listen to the teachers every second, you have to do your homework, and you have to respect the rules of the school. Also being a student means being the girl who always smiles, even when her heart is broken, and being the one who can always brighten up her friends’ days, even if she can’t brighten up her own.

When you wake up in the morning, you have to be ready to go to class, do your work, pay attention in class, and wait until 3:20 PM to go back to your house. Students have to wake up

early to be on time. We feel tired, but we have to go to our class and we have to study really hard so our parents can feel proud of us.

Being a student is an important thing in the United States and in the entire world because it is the only way to be successful and make your dreams come true. My dream is to be a dentist and have a job to help my parents. Also, I want to help poor people with their teeth so they can show their beautiful smile because everyone can show a smile and when more people smile, the world is a happier place. When I finish high school, I would like to go to Harvard University because this is the best university in the United States. This is one of my dreams that I want to achieve. Education is the key to success, and being successful helps us to have a better life and help our parents who are supporting us in this moment.

About the Author

Thefi Jovel was born in El Salvador. Now she lives in Los Angeles, California, with her family. Thefi is fourteen years old. Her favorite hobbies are playing softball and volleyball. Thefi loves to listen to Drake’s music, and one of her dreams is to meet Drake. She is a strong teenager who wants to go to Harvard, travel the world, and become a judge or a dentist.

YULITZA LEDESMA

Life Is More Real Than We See

I’m from México. Guerrero state is a place with many beaches, coconuts, sun, and sand. Now in the United States, I’m a student in high school. I saw many bad and good things in my country. Something important that I noticed was that people hate each other and envy other people; they are unhappy. That is happening in all the world with all people. Many economic and social troubles exist in society. México is a country that is described with violence because people take justice into their own hands, and that happens because the government doesn’t do anything. The police in my community didn’t help anyone.

My mother’s brother was a police officer. One day he and other cops were eating in a restaurant when some men with guns and dressed in black clothes attacked my uncle and other police. Nobody could do anything. I still don’t understand how that happened because it was impossible; the police can’t take them. It is a little town in the middle of the road that has just one exit. In the instant when they took my uncle, they killed him, and we got a call that the police found his body. It was a painful day for all of us. I miss him so much. It is sad because he left three little sons. I don’t think my uncle was doing bad things, but it’s that just people hate the police and if the police don’t do what they want, those people take them and take their lives. All people in my town were not scared of the police. They were scared of those bad men dressed in black. I felt insecure. I was afraid that something could happen to my father and my brothers when they went outside. I felt afraid and I was worried that they wouldn’t be back.

I think the police are not a kind of security for the community. I saw there too was the division between people. People who have the most resources at all times want to feel better than others. It is so sad to see this thing. I have seen people oppressed just for how they look and for the fact that they are so poor, but it is not the most important thing.

There were many deaths. I can remember one day when I was present where people were shouting, and people running and screaming, and I remember dead people in the road bleeding. The police never did anything. The town thought they were in agreement with those bad people. People felt they had the power to do whatever they wanted; if they hated someone or someone did something bad or just said bad things about somebody, they just thought to kill those people. There isn’t respect. I want to say, too, that these bad people are like gangs. They take money from poor people who have a business, and this is unfair for the society.

When I was living there, we couldn’t go out when we wanted because these people were in the street and we were scared. Things seem normal for people because they think this is not going to change. We have never seen anything different, through generations it’s always the same. It is incredible to see those innocent people; they can’t fight for their right to proclaim justice. My past was hard but good in some way because we had our own house; that is, we didn’t have to pay rent. I didn’t have all things that I wanted, but I had what was necessary to live. I was living in a little isolated town; there was no communication, we went to one school, and we needed to get out for food. In my own experience, I was scared to talk with people and I didn’t trust anyone. I didn’t know anything about what we should do. Kids are not supposed to worry about those things, but for me it was so difficult to go to school because we didn’t have enough money and there was no work for people.

Now I can say God has been good with me and my family. In the United States, I can get a job and support my parents. Many people say that the United States is a good place—you can get money so easily and that there is a better life. When I came here, it was totally different. Some things that happen to immigrants have internal effects on them. If you don’t know English, you can’t get a good job and they pay you less. That money isn’t enough for yourself because you have to pay rent, you have to pay transportation, and you need documents for everything, even to go the doctor. Sincerely, it is a frustrating life. The majority of Mexican people come to work. Teenagers start to work and lose the opportunity of education. In my situation, it is difficult because I have to work and study at the same time. Sometimes I can’t concentrate on one thing. I see young people who have the opportunity just to study, and they don’t value that. I’m worried and I’m scared to not have the opportunity to study, and I won’t have enough money to pay the university.

The United States has a new president who doesn’t want immigrants in this country. I’m a student and an immigrant. It is unfair many students like me lose their dreams and are deported or can’t get documents. I live in LA where the majority of people are Latino and people of color. The mornings in The Nickerson Gardens pass so fast with people going to work every day, and children going to school. I don’t have friends in my neighborhood and don’t talk with anyone. There are Mexican people too, and my neighbors are people of color. I think they don’t like us. I heard one time when they were talking between themselves and they said, “I hate Mexican people,” and I thought, “What did Mexicans do to those people for the perspective that they have of us?” In Los Angeles sometimes I feel unsafe when I walk to school and go to my job because people are so aggressive; but bad people are in all places.

The most important thing for me is to be someone in this life. No matter what obstacles will be, nothing is impossible for someone who really wants to make something —to arrive at the end of a career. I have learned new things in this life, which teach me to never give up give the hope that nothing is impossible. The Bible teaches me I’m an important person in this world and that God is always with me, and he will support me and strengths me in each moment. I trust in him, in the person who created all things that exist in this world. I hope to continue with my goals and my dreams, I hope to return to my country again. It is there where I am all that I am. I want to help my people. I want to study law to one day make this world different and help people who need the support of someone.

About the Author

Yulitza Ledesma was born in Guerrero, México, and immigrated to the United States in 2015. She likes to study, go to church, and believes in human rights. The most important thing for her is to be with family. She hopes one day to travel and know all the world.

JAZMIN DIAZ

Perspectives in Two Different Places

I can remember one day in the afternoon: I was fifteen years old. I was with my aunt Aracely down the hill from our house. Our neighborhood had lanes and houses on both sides and in the middle you can walk; it is on an incline. It was a sunny day, the wind in the streets was fresh, and there were not many people. We were taking out a cooking stove, two tables, chairs, and the propane to sell pupusas. Meanwhile, on the other side of the street there was a bus at the bus stop, near the entrance of the other lane. We could see men running away from the bus—running really fast like someone who runs because he or she thinks someone is following them. They were running in front of the bus as it started to drive away. We ran toward a green house that had a gate like a garage door that is open. The house was a little bit big and was nearby for us to hide in. It was four PM. A few minutes after the event, we went outside and someone told us that the person who was shot was a teenager. We were scared, but we had to continue with our business, keep selling pupusas, and then pack up our things.

This is something that happens in El Salvador often. Since I was a little girl, it worried me. I thought it could happen at any moment. They were attacking and killing many youth, men, and also women. In the last two years that I was living in my country, I continued hearing shots near my neighborhood. When my family and I were in El Salvador, there was so much violence. As time passed, this violence increased. We had to leave our country because of this.

I was sixteen years old. You can imagine how difficult it is for a teenanger to change countries. To change her life is like to start a game again. It will be difficult at first, and then maybe a little bit easier. My family and I were born in our country El Salvador. In my family are six members: my aunt, my cousins, my mom, my grandma, and me. I don’t have brothers or sisters. I am the only daughter and sincerely am happy about it. I wouldn’t like to have siblings because I am a little bit jealous.

When you fall in real life and think, “Well, I’m crying and mad with my family because they took me out of my country,” it will not change anything. I will keep living here, so I have to change my behavior and continue my life. It’s what I tried to think when I came to the United States. Then in this new country, we started another life.

Los Angeles is a city with a good economy, but also it is difficult for us to live so far from stores. In our country, almost on each corner and near our home, we have stores. When I walked to the stores in El Salvador, it took about five minutes. The longest walk was ten minutes. I walked down the lane in my neighborhood. There were houses near the stores. In the afternoon when you went to the store, normally there were people outside. They were in small groups at each house, or on some corners, or in the stores. They were shopping or talking with some friend or neighbor. These stores have almost everything people need to get without going to the market. There are chips, sodas, and juice, also shampoo and soap to wash the clothes or plates. There is bread, coffee, sweet bread, eggs, candies, and sausage. Stores in El Salvador look like a little market with many products inside of them. The bosses have all the products like churros, drinks, cookies, and some vegetables like green peppers and platanos. The stores look like a beautiful island with your favorite chips and drinks. It’s like a paradise for young people. These stores sometimes smell like a bakery, a sweet aroma like the flavor of a sweet bread.

Stores in Los Angeles are different because they don’t have the things above. It’s difficult. Sometimes we need things like shampoo in little bags, or some vegetables, and we have to go

to the supermarket because the stores near us don’t have these items. Stores near my home are called “liquor stores” and really there is almost only liquor, and mostly beer. They also have Coke or Gatorade and some juices. There are also many different chips. The inside of the little market stores in Los Angeles are like the living room of a house. Each product is arranged in a vertical line. In one line are the chips. The next vertical line has another product like bigger chips or Bimbo products. Each line is a little bigger than a cabinet like some teachers have at school to put books. At the the back of these lines are the drinks. There are four or five doors: one door with juice, another door with Cokes or another flavor of soda, then another door with beers, another door with water, and sometimes the last door has ice or another drink. I guess it’s easier to see all the choices here.

I noticed Los Angeles has violence, but not as much as my country has. Here I have also heard shots. One of my first days here I was sleeping, and suddenly I heard shots that woke up me and my family. It was between ten or eleven o’clock at night. When we heard them, we jumped out of the bed without turning on the light because if the people who were shooting could see us, they could shoot us or a stray bullet could go inside of the window and hurt us. A few minutes after the shots, we tried to sleep again. People who shoot in this state are usually arrested, while in my country, sadly, people who shoot normally aren’t arrested. Another difference is that here I have heard a lot of ambulances driving outside because there are many car accidents in Los Angeles. The ambulance at night is worse than your neighbor having a party with music of Justin Bieber or metal music. It sounds like a little girl yelling for a candy with her little screechy voice.

I don’t trust in Salvadoran police because many of them are corrupt or bad police officers. They don’t do their work in a right form. I didn’t trust police officers in Los Angeles because I thought all police were the same. But in the year that I have been here, I noticed that police in Los Angeles make me feel a little bit safer because they act a little bit more quickly than police in my country. When I’m walking in the streets or I’m in my house, I can hear and see police cars driving quickly with their siren sounding, trying to get to the problem on time. I also feel a little bit safer because in some places where I have been, I can see police cars taking care of the neighborhood. It’s safer because they are trying to protect the people from some problems and some crime, although you never will be fully safe because you don’t know what kind of police officer will attend to you. In all places there is violence present. Here I also see violent people with bad intentions. Sadly, the police can’t protect all people. But police patrolling the streets makes me feel safer because it’s like a help if I would get in danger.

When I heard the shots in both countries, the sounds were all similar to the sound of a cohete (an explosive). I have seen stores in both places, different but both stores, and buses with advantages and disadvantages when you travel on them. Both countries need more security and more honest police officers to better their security. Both countries are beautiful, each one with their customs and traditions. I love and respect both countries.

About the Author

Jasmin Diaz was born in El Salvador. She immigrated to the United States in 2015. She likes to listen to old reggaeton and rap music. She believes in God. Her dream is to travel to Isla Margarita, Venezuela, and Hawaii.

BREANNA TROTTER

Memories of Los Angeles

In Los Angeles, there are a lot of people to meet and places to go, like the Staples Center and the LA County Museum of Art, for instance. I am a Los Angeles native and went to many different schools, different restaurants, and know different people in LA County and many places. I want you to think of Los Angeles like a city of art—something creative that has culture and color that’s unpredictable.

I’ve lived many places in LA. In 2003, I moved to a Los Angeles area called Mid-City. It’s the west side part of South Central. I love Mid-City; all my friends live in Mid-City. The neighborhood is pretty decent. What I mean by saying pretty decent is that it’s nice. It’s calm, friendly, with not that much gang violence that goes on around in that area. Mid-City was a racially mixed community with all different races living there, which is a good thing. It’s not a separated like most cities. You might have heard of a very famous lawyer named Johnnie Cochran; I attended Johnnie Cochran Middle School. All of my friends who attended my elementary school attended the middle school with me, but I also met new people at the school. I also attended Los Angeles High School, Home of the Romans. Whoever stays in that area will also attend that school and other schools called Venice High, Fairfax, and Hollywood High. In my home in my back bathroom window I can see the Hollywood sign so clear it looks like I’m literally down the street from Hollywood. Los Angeles is a city where people would like to come to get their start or their big break to stardom, like me. My passion and interest was always fashion, acting, and songwriting. My dream is to become a fashion editor for a top magazine one day. My fashion role models are Rihanna, Rita Ora, and YouTube star Alyssa Forever. The very first time I knew I loved fashion and music was when I was about six. Who inspired me were the Cheetah Girls. They were so fashionable, plus one of the girls wrote the songs for the group and styled them. Music was always my second passion. My auntie Pat bought me my own Ashanti CD. When I first got a Cheetah Girls CD I used to play it out every time my family members would come over to my granny’s house. She had a wall that was a full dance mirror in the living room and I used to play that CD and perform. I ended up getting a habit of writing my own music. My momma told me I should keep at it because I was really good.

What I love about Los Angeles is that we have our own style in how we dress, how we talk and act. Los Angeles is a city where we come together as a community and stand up for what’s right. For example at our airport LAX recently, people came together to protest for the rights of people to come here from a different country with their family. People were getting held back at airports and getting asked different questions; they were getting their phone and valuables checked and that’s not right. People should be treated equally no matter who they are and what they do.

Growing up in Los Angeles is pretty cool for me: the weather, different opportunities like modeling agents and dance studios. That’s the good part, but also there’s another part of growing up here that could be rough at its edges with the gang violence. That needs to end in the world for peace. I know a couple of people who died or got shot from gang violence.

But LA has palm trees everywhere you go, and every corner you turn you might see a miracle of an art painting someone drew to represent something or a meaning. Where I grew up in Mid-

City was so close to Culver City and Beverly Hills. My nana used to come and get me and my siblings and cousins and take us to Culver City Park. I have so many memories to tell that I could go on forever, but the the moral of the story is that home is where all your memories are and where you are loved.

About the Author

Breanna Trotter likes cats and the Cheetah Girls. Just like her home city of Los Angeles, Breanna embraces her own unique style and attitude.

JUAN STEVENSON

My Past and Present

I come from a poor family of seven children who would struggle day by day. My dad would do anything to provide for us. At that time, my father didn’t have a job. So it was really hard for us as kids. The years would go by, and things would get better. My dad found a job! He would come home every day with a lot of money, but he would never tell us what he worked on.

We had everything for a while, until we found out the police had arrested him. My mom and I went to see why he got arrested. I was eight years old when this happened; the officer’s response was, “He was selling drugs!” I was disappointed when I heard that; I had to ask the officer what was going to happen to my dad. He said, “It’s up to the judge.’’ My father’s court appearance was in two days, but I couldn’t go because I was too young. So I had to stay home and wait for my mom to get home with the news. I was really nervous. My mom arrived crying; I knew that something bad happened. She told me and my sister, since we were the oldest: “Your dad got deported.” It felt like a nightmare. I couldn’t believe this.

I knew I had to be the man of the house since my dad wasn’t around anymore. We were back to struggling again; my dad had been the one who provided for us. My mom had to start working to be able to put food on the table and let us have everything we need to go to school. Now my mom was a single mom who couldn’t depend on anybody. It was about to be my first year of middle school and I didn’t have my dad to give me advice. My first day of middle school was very scary because the school that I went to had a bad history of violence. I was standing by a building when I first heard a group of Mexican kids yelling, “Riot! Run!” I was in shock because I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I just stood there and watched everyone fight. The police came, security, even an ambulance because one kid got hurt badly. Luckily, nothing happened to me; I was okay. I never actually expected something like this to happen on the first day of school. I went home that day and told my mom I didn’t like my school and asked her if I could change schools. Her response was, “That’s the only school close to our house.” I had no choice but to stand up for myself.

Weeks passed, and I started getting bullied by this one kid in my PE class; every day during my sixth grade year, he would hit me and take my stuff away. In seventh grade, he tried doing the same, but I stood up for myself and actually fought him. I was really nervous because it was my first fight in middle school. I didn’t win or lose the fight, but at the end, the kid was crying. After that fight, he never messed with me anymore. I was a popular kid my whole seventh grade year because of the fight. I started liking fighting, so I had more fights in school. The consequences were never that complicated; we just got a day in detention. At home, my mom wouldn’t tell me anything. If my dad had been around, he would have hit me. By the beginning of my eighth grade year, I was ditching all my classes, my grades were low, and I wasn’t going to graduate.

I thought to myself, “Is all this worth it?” I didn’t wanted to end up like my friends; some of them are in jail or dead. So I made a decision to change before it was too late.

I decided to actually stop being a bad kid in school and do my work to try to graduate, but it was too late for that. I had a D in History, so I couldn’t graduate. For the first time of my life, I was ashamed of myself for what I had done. My dad wouldn’t be happy if he knew I wasn’t going to

graduate. But he wasn’t around to tell me anything!

Instead, I set up a goal for myself. It was: “I’m going to start high school. I’m going to do my best and try to graduate.” My first day of high school, I didn’t see any of my middle school friends. I had to make new friends, but this time I chose to make smart and educated friends who liked school. I found a group of students who liked school and would be bad at the same time. I felt like it was the perfect group for me to hang out with.

One day on my way home from high school, I asked my mom if I could borrow or have money to go out with my friends. She said, “I don’t have money.” I started realizing that if I wanted things, I had to work to get what I wanted. I started working. Since I was twelve years old, I couldn’t depend on anyone. One of my cousins put me with a construction company. I would only work Saturdays and Sundays or when I was on vacation. Things started changing because now I had a job and I could buy my own stuff. I thank God for giving me strength to be who I am. I will never give up on my goals. Now I’m in the twelfth grade, and I’m going to graduate on June 8, 2017. I’m glad I made it; things will be different from now on. Now I will have a better-paying job and I’ll be educated. This is important to me because if all these bad things that happened to me as a child hadn’t happened, I would be a different person; I don’t think I would have liked the person I would have been.

About the Author

Juan Stevenson is eighteen years old. He likes to party, enjoy life to the max, dance, and go out. After graduating, he wants to become an engineer. He doesn’t want to be rich, but he wants to have everything he ever wanted. He has struggled his whole life to get where he is right now. He wants to do better things than what he is doing right now. He is just thankful to God for all the help he has given him and for making him the way he is.

MARQUISE BRADFORD

A Beautiful Struggle

Once upon a time when I was growing up, lots of people used to always get shot by where I stayed. It got so bad that my mom didn’t want us walking to school and my school was across the street. I grew up all my life off of 120th and Vermont, and had plenty of childhood memories where I used to stay. The environment was very nice although we couldn’t go outside and play. I thought to myself that my neighborhood would never change. As I grew older, I started to realize that it wasn’t as bad as how my family tried to make it seem. I was in the fifth grade when I started going outside of my home to explore. Another reason why I started to hang outside more was because I was so used to being locked inside my room that I felt like I didn’t have any friends. For me always being locked in my room, I was an angry child. I started coming home later and later until my mother got fed up.

One day I was walking home late around seven at night. When I finally got home, I was walking in my door when I heard shooting; and after a few seconds they stopped and started shooting again, but I didn’t realize they were trying to shoot me because I was young. When my mom ran out, minutes had passed and I was hiding still. So I came out from the bush and when I looked up, there were bullet holes everywhere in my house. I couldn’t figure out why they were shooting at me until I thought about where I was hanging out with my friend at the park where all the Raymond Crips were. I told my mom the story and she told me they must have followed me because they thought I was from that gang.

Every day I found my way outside, I would see the same gang members, people shooting dice, smoking, drinking, or someone getting arrested. Paying more attention to my surroundings, I started to notice that I was getting sucked into the gang life. My friends became enemies and my enemies became closer. About the time I made it to ninth grade, I started catching cases, having more police contact, committing robberies, and selling drugs. The banging got worse and I found myself going to juvenile hall and fighting at school so much I had to check out of a majority of the high schools I went to. A few years passed and I attempted to fix my life up. I had just turned sixteen! Over the summer I was going to participate in college courses until I got into a tragic accident. Three days after Fourth of July, I was shot three times and nearly died. I lost a friend who was close to me.

As a kid growing up, I had to face many obstacles in my life that I had to overcome. So here I am now at eighteen years old with a starting point of thirty-six college units. Now that I feel that I am in the right position, I can now focus on my life and education. I can now enjoy my life in a peaceful mindstate because I have let go of my past and it is now taking me a long way!

About the Author

At eighteen years old, Marquise Bradford has already lived a million lifetimes. For this next life, he is ready to take on college and see where that adventure leads him.

BIANCA SOTO

Awoken by the Voice Inside

I was walking east down on Imperial Highway to my aunt’s house. She lived five houses down from mine. I heard someone yell, “Aye!” I turned and saw a boy who had a huge grin. This made me smile, so I said, “Hey,” and kept walking. In my head, I was thinking: this boy, I’ve seen him before. But that day, that time, his smile caught my eyes. When I went back home he was still out in front of his house; he stopped me again and asked for my name. I told him and I asked what his was. He replied, “Angelo.” Weeks later Angelo who lived three houses down became my boyfriend. Every girl’s dream… or so I thought.

The beginning of the relationship was all rainbows and flowers. We had so much fun together. Angelo would always come to my house and we would watch movies. When our month anniversary would come we would go to the beach, parks, and sometimes he would surprise me with flowers. I remember when we’d been going together for six months we went to a park close to Manhattan Beach. The park was filled with beautiful kids, and a pond filled with fish, turtles, and ducks. The pool was really nice; people were swimming, and across the street from the park there were tennis courts. I wish I knew how to play tennis. Angelo and I walked so much that when we got to the park we just lay on the grass and relaxed. After a while, we walked to the pond and I saw turtles. I yelled, “Oh my God, turtles!” He started laughing. I asked, “Why are you laughing?” He said, “You look like a little girl.” I started smiling and told him, “I really love turtles; I want one so bad.” He said, “Are you sure?” I replied, “Yeah.” Next thing I know he was bending over the pond and trying to grab me a turtle. He caught one; it was a baby one and I was gonna keep it, but I told him to put it back. We went home because it was getting dark.

Six months later, Angelo and I had been dating for a year. I waited all day for him to arrive at my house. I even went to his house; he was nowhere to be found. Later that day he came to my house but it was late and I was already asleep. The next day he came real early, like about nine or ten in the morning. I said, “So now you remember you have a girlfriend?” He smacked his lips and said, “I’m always with you. I was hanging with some friends.” I said, “I guess.” I told him I had to go inside and shower. “Bye.” Angelo came later on that day and I was wearing some shorts with a spaghetti-strap shirt. He said, “What are you wearing?” I replied, “Clothes, why?” He responded, “It’s too short, go change.” He said it with so much emotion that I got scared and listened. I felt so scared that I didn’t know what to say or how to act. In my point of view, I thought this is how a couple is supposed to be.

For example, my uncle Joseph, who is about six years older than me, he had a girlfriend. Her name was Mary Jane, and she was just two years younger than him. I thought she was a White girl because her skin was as white as a cloud. My uncle, on the other hand, was tall, chunky, a bit dark. They’d been dating for a while. One day, I believe it was New Year’s, she came over to spend it with me and my family. Everyone was drinking and having fun. I guess my uncle’s girlfriend was having a little too much fun. He seemed real upset. He called her over and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he whispered got her upset because she started cursing at him and threatening him. She was making a big commotion; he kept yelling at her to shut up and go inside. She wouldn’t listen. She cursed him out and he smacked her. I gasped and so did everyone else. My uncle’s girlfriend started crying. No one did anything. I thought to myself: Is this the way love is supposed to be? Because after that scene, I saw

them hugging and kissing on each other. This day has haunted me ever since. “Why?” I asked myself. My uncle Joseph was like a father to me; he protected me just as a big brother would protect his younger sister.

I felt that it was okay for a man to treat a woman like that. This is why I thought Angelo was treating me well. There was one time where we were outside just talking and eating Hot Cheetos. I guess I said something that got him really upset. I asked if he was okay, he turned his head and I grabbed it to turn him back to face me. I asked, “What’s wrong?” He said, “Nothing.” I got in his face to try to make him smile by kissing him, but he stopped me and bit my cheek. I smacked him and told him to leave. He came later that night to apologize. He was begging me to forgive him. I remembered how my uncle Joseph and his girlfriend were like in New Year’s, so I forgave him. But I distanced myself more from him and from friends I once had; I distanced myself from family who I was afraid to tell what was happening.

I felt isolated. I had no one to talk to while Angelo would go out with his friends and have fun. I didn’t know what to feel toward him anymore. After the bite he gave me, I was afraid of what Angelo might do next. Months went by where I would pretend to be happy with him.

I was tired of Angelo; I decided to end things. It was not what I was expecting. He said he was sorry for everything and that he was going to change. He even got on his knees and begged for forgiveness; he also had tears in his eyes. I saw he was really depressed, which got me to feel sorry for him, but I couldn’t be in a relationship with him anymore. He got me mad. He started cussing me out. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t go. I walked away but he grabbed me real hard. I tried to pull his hand away from mine. He tightened his grip. I punched him and tried to run, but he caught me, picked me up, and pushed me against a truck that was parked in the backyard of my house. Angelo was 5´10˝ and I was 5´4˝. I felt scared because in front of me was this guy whom I felt butterflies for every time I saw him, and now all I was seeing was dark clouds that were pouring rain. The night ended, thank God. After this incident happened, I began to see the real Angelo; he became more enraged. Anything I would do would bug him. Enough was enough. The relationship came to an end. But Angelo did not understand. I had to speak up.

Why does one use violence to show emotion? The riots remind me of how many people were searching for their identity and how others were getting beaten up. When I saw the videos of the riots, many people were mad, frustrated, and cops were holding guns behind bulletproof glass. People were terrorizing police vehicles. Others had their fists up ready to fight anyone who approached them. I saw posters describing the emotions of those who were hurting because they wanted justice. Chants were being yelled so hard that some were crying. Liquor stores, houses, apartments were burned down. Why so much anger? What do these people want to get from this? Justice? A voice? Do they want others to open their eyes and see the world as it truly is? How is it? The voice inside them started to build up. All the anger had to come out one way or another. The faces of all the protesters were mad, and some even had tears rolling down their faces because of all the frustration of not seeing the world give justice to those who deserve it. Their voice caused by this injustice made them want to yell because writing a letter would probably be thrown away. They needed to be seen, so this was the only way they could think of to represent their voice.

I was like the protesters in the LA Riots because they wanted their voice to be heard. Like them, I had enough; but the violence of the riots was far more brutal than what I went through. Like the time Angelo didn’t let me wear what I wanted or when he wouldn’t listen when I wanted to

break up. He wasn’t paying attention to me and was just ignoring me completely. I would cry; that’s when he listened, that’s when he would know I was around. I was only about fifteen, I was always a good girl. I never was on my mom’s bad side, always asked for permission to go out, and I would take care of my little brother when she would go off to work. I never had a problem that built up for me. My life had always been smooth; I was a happy child. Now, I had to learn how to speak up because Angelo made the frustration inside me build up by controlling every move I would make. All the hurt, the crying, and the violence of the rioters trying to make their voice heard reminded me of how I was capable of being strong, loud, and determined. I learned to be more independent, learned to know what is not important in my life, and learned to value myself. Today I am eighteen years old and the voice inside me will keep growing and making me strong.

About the Author

Bianca Soto was born in Inglewood, California. She loves to listen to all types of music except country and heavy metal. She enjoys going on adventures at any time of the day and night with friends. After college, she will start her career as a social worker and travel the world whenever she has a chance to.

ANDY MENDOZA

We’re Not All like That: An Interview with Sam Joo

In 1992, people all over Los Angeles got tired of not being heard by the government. The legacy of the 1965 Watts Riots could still be felt throughout the city, and decades of anger made African Americans thirsty for justice. As Congresswoman Maxine Waters explained to the congregants at First African Methodist Episcopal Church shortly after the uprisings, “Riot is the voice of the unheard.” And after years of feeling unheard, people throughout South Los Angeles started riots in a call for social justice.

At that time, Sam Joo was a young UCLA graduate who had just started to work at the Asian American Drug Abuse Program (AADAP) on 54th Street and Crenshaw, near the ’92 Riot epicenter. His explanation and understanding of why the riots took place is extensive, and his own personal story of what happened around him on those six days is equally fascinating.

I felt nervous going into the interview, but that went away right after I asked my first question. Sam immediately opened up to me. He was kind, friendly, and inviting, like we’d known each other for a long time. I knew I’d feel comfortable talking to him if I was having a hard time, like one of his clients at the AADAP. Even though we didn’t know each other before the interview, Sam and I had a lot of things in common, from being firstgeneration Americans to being proud Angelenos.

Sam’s hard work and big heart have served him well in his work as the Director of Children and Family Services at Koreatown Youth and Community Center (KYCC) and on the First 5 Best Start Metro LA Community Guidance Body. I felt honored to interview someone who cares about helping the people in his community, regardless of their race.

In this condensed version of our conversation, Sam shares key insights about the tense relationship between African Americans and Korean Americans (a tension that has brewed over many decades), explains how the Korean American community of LA has changed in the years since the riots, and opened my mind to what it truly means to be a Korean American in Los Angeles today.

AM How did you first learn about the riots?

SJ I was actually living in the Valley at that time. I remember distinctly just going home, turning on the TV and the news was buildings on fire and the streets were dark, and you saw just LAPD sirens going off and honestly, I thought it was somewhere on the East Coast. I had no idea this was happening in LA. This was that first evening. [The] first thing I did when I found out it was LA and—at that time we called it South Central—first thing I did was call my work because I worked at an adult residential drug treatment facility so these are clients that actually live there. I wanted to make sure they were okay and I couldn’t get through. No one was answering. So the next day I went to the office and they [said] there was a lot of anger in the community and that luckily there were some neighbors who came out to help. A lot of the residents [or] the clients were on the roof watering down the roof just in case because there were buildings that were on fire near there.

AM When we look back at Los Angeles in the early 1990s, there are several cases of racially charged violence, like Rodney King’s beating and the shooting of Latasha Harlins. What do you think was the primary trigger for the riots?

SJ There were all these issues prior to what happened. And I think that’s really, really important. It didn’t all of a sudden just happen. It wasn’t Rodney King. I think that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but there were all these other issues that were happening and as you guys are studying this, you’ll probably find out. But there were all these telltale signs that the tension, the anger—especially in the African American community—and where Koreans also played a role in that because there was a high presence of Korean American store owners that operated stores, liquor stores, other types of businesses in South LA. So I think it was just a convergence of all these things that happened that escalated.

AM In 1992, you were working at the Asian American Drug Abuse Program. Located at 54th and Crenshaw, the AADAP was in the eye of the hurricane at the epicenter of the riots. Much of the tensions during the riots were between Koreans and African Americans. Did the AADAP feel that wrath on you and your team?

SJ No. Not at all. AADAP has a really interesting history. In the ’50s and ’60s, after the Japanese Americans—they were in the internment camps during World War II—after they were released from internment camps, they couldn’t go anywhere they wanted to. A lot of neighborhoods wouldn’t allow them to move in. So one of the areas that allowed them to move in was the Crenshaw community.

If you drive around Crenshaw, you see certain homes that have these gardens and they’re like Japanese gardens, and these are the Japanese Americans who moved in there in the late ’40s to early ’50s. So when AADAP first started, there was a good representation of Asian Americans in that community. But since then, it’s really drastically changed. So although the name is Asian American Drug Abuse Program, the individuals and the families that they serve are probably majority non-Asian. And so when I was working in that residential program, we were licensed for thirty eight adults. I would say only about thirty percent were Asian. The others were White, Latino, African American. A good number of African Americans.

AM We know that in 1992 the riots were all over the city. There was devastation everywhere you looked, as African American people were in a racial war with Korean American people. How did it make you feel to have to journey every day to the epicenter of the conflict?

SJ I never felt fear for my safety. And people asked me all the time like, “Man, but you’re Asian. You’re Korean. Aren’t they going to dog you?” And there was honestly—the twelve years I was there, I’ve had one negative

comment thrown my way from a community member. Just one. And it was [at] the liquor store [from] the movie called Boyz n the Hood ; it’s called FJ Liquor—I worked right there. And I was going in to get something to drink and someone was coming out, and this is right after the Latasha Harlins case, where that Korean store owner shot the young girl. And the gentleman just said to me, “Would you kill for an orange juice?” But another gentleman just said, “Don’t mind him. We’re not all like that.” So he kind of smoothed that situation, and that was it.

AM Korean Americans suffered more financial damages than any other group of people as a result of the riots. Two-thousand, two-hundred and eighty Korean Americanowned stores were looted, burned, or damaged, amounting to millions in losses. How did the community respond to those damages and how long did it take to recover?

SJ I think we’re still recovering. Like I said, Koreatown suffered $400 million worth of damages. By far more than any other neighborhood. And if you see images from the riots, you’ll see people spray-painted “Black owned.” And so, it was, I believe, targeted. They were targeting certain businesses.

AM What does the relationship between Korean Americans and African Americans look like today?

SJ I think it’s improved, but not enough. That’s my honest opinion: not enough. In Korean, we call this day “429” because it was April 29, so literally that’s what it’s called, Sa I Gu which means “4-2-9.” We don’t call it “civil unrest.” I don’t think the relationship between African American and Korean American leaders has improved to the point that it needs to. And now you’ve actually got a majority in the Latino community in most of the LA city neighborhoods. And so how do we work with that community?

I think what we share oftentimes is that immigrant experience. Although our immigration patterns are very different and

we came here for different reasons—maybe not different reasons but different causes— but I think we still have a ways to go. I think there has been a better understanding of Korean culture, especially through the media. I talk to a lot of young people and a lot of them like K-Pop, so there was a desire to learn about Korean culture and Korean performers and entertainers, so I think that has bridged the gap a little bit. I think as for true social issues, I don’t think we’ve really addressed enough.

AM Do you think Korean Americans are more involved today in the larger Los Angeles community?

SJ Yeah, I do. If anything came out of that period, I think there was this need, like, “We need a pipeline for leadership.” Because Fox TV used to say, “Well we would have interviewed the Korean community, but who?” Now, we have the first elected Korean American city council member David Roo, who just got elected to office, and he’s only one of fourteen. There’s only one Asian on there and he was the first Asian to be elected since 1980-something. I think politically we’re getting more involved and more active. And in that sense, I think that this was a huge wakeup call.

AM Can you tell us a little bit about the work you’re doing today and if there are ways in which your work over the last twenty-five years has been shaped by what happened in 1992?

SJ I always talk about leveling the playing field. I believe that not everyone starts at the same place. I think if you’re poor, I think if you’re an immigrant, I think if you don’t have access to education or healthcare, we don’t start at the same place. That’s why when people say, “You work hard and you have the same opportunities as everyone else,” I don’t necessarily believe that. I feel like first we have to level that playing field.

The work that I do is trying to help level that playing field; I felt that back in ’92, and I still

feel that today. Whether it’s after-school programs, whether it’s counseling programs, gang prevention, housing—whatever our organization does, I really feel speaks to

making sure that it’s not only about opportunity, but to make sure that we get everyone to that starting point where they have the best opportunity to succeed.

As I talked to Sam, he showed me that one of the main reasons why racism occurs is the incomprehension of cultures and styles of living that are different from our own. He taught me that a big problem that existed during the riots and continues even today is a social hierarchy based in the color of people’s skin. It reminded me of my Spanish class, in which we were studying mestizaje in America, a sixteen-caste system created to separate classes of people based on the color of their skin. America has a long history of degrading people of color, and unfortunately the events that led to the ’92 Riots were no exception.

If we just come to understand that race is only a matter of the color of your skin, and that we all have the same value as human beings, there would not be so many conflicts. Sam is a person who understands that skin color doesn’t mean anything, and that the only thing that matters in a person is their heart and their way of thinking. People should be valued for what they do, not for what they look like. The tension between Koreans and Black people before and during the ’92 Riots teaches us about the dangers of stereotyping. The riots could have been avoided if the government had acknowledged that everyone deserves justice and to be heard, regardless of their race. If we treat everyone as humans—not as Mexicans, or African Americans, or Koreans, or White People—but just as humans, we can strengthen our society and finally close the book of racism in America.

About the Author

Andy Mendoza is maybe not the smartest or most serious, but he always gives his best effort. He is going to prove to all the people who never believed in him that he can accomplish his dream of becoming a civil engineer. He is very positive and open-minded, even though he has been through a lot of challenges. If you are looking for him, you can probably find him on the basketball court.

“When

CIRA ALVARADO

You Make Life Be Beautiful

[undocumented] immigrants cross the border, there’s a citizen waiting to hire them and benefit in some manner from their labor.”

–The Pew Research Hispanic Trends Project

In Honduras, I wanted to go to school but I could not go. I did not have the necessary resources like notebooks, pens, pencils, and things like that. Also, the education in Honduras is not very good. Sometimes the teachers do not go to school because the government does not pay them, so they do not teach very well. But also, Honduras has beautiful naturaleza. Sometimes I would go to the river to swim with my friends. I remember when I climbed a mango tree and I saw all the village. There were kids playing soccer on a dirt road under the rain and it looked very fun. I wanted to play too—I love to play soccer, but there were only boys and they did not want me to play with them because they thought that soccer was only for boys. I got mad when they told me that and I went to my house to eat.

I had to walk home a long way because the little forest was away from the village. I had to walk approximately an hour and a half. I got wet when I came back home because it was still raining and I did not have an umbrella. I was so cold and I was shivering, and my fingers were blue and wrinkled. I smelled like wet earth, like after a rain. I liked when it rained. I could see the little drops falling on the earth. When I was home, I changed my clothes because I was wet. Then I went to eat and it was pollo guisado—stewed chicken—with rice, fresh whole beans, green bananas parboiled, and a salad of lettuce. It looked so delicious. When I smelled the food my guts roared; I was so hungry. I tasted the food. It was sweet and I could taste a little acid, too. The rice tasted simple, like it did not have salt, but all together it tasted delicious. In Honduras, I lived humbly and had fun, with a lot of poverty, but I had enough to eat.

Now I am in the United States. My mornings are wonderful. I wake up and I go to the restroom to take a shower. I wait for the water to become hot and then I go into the bathtub. After that, I brush my teeth and I go to my room to dress myself with the uniform of the school. Then I go down to get me something to eat, like one apple or a banana, something like that.

Sometimes, on the way to school, I think about all the opportunities that I have being in the United States. I am thankful to God for these opportunities to study. After school I have soccer practice. Sometimes, for warm up, we do six laps on the field; my breathing is very tired and my tongue is dry. When we finish the six laps we stretch ourselves and drink water. The practice goes from 4:00 to 6:20 PM. I go home to eat. Sometimes I eat beans with cheese and tortillas or I eat fruit. I love fruit. Later, I go to shower myself and then I do my homework. Finally, I fall asleep from how tired I am.

One memory that I have is from when my cousin and I went to see the women of the United States playing against Romania at the Stubhub Center in Carson, California. It was wonderful. The stadium was so big, and I said to myself, “One day in the future, you will be there playing too. Or being a doctor and going to see the women of the United States playing.” The US team won, five to zero. I screamed so hard that my voice was gone. I was so happy and very excited. It was my best day in Los Angeles.

I think when people look at me, an undocumented Latina female, they think that I’m from México. Many Americans think that all Latinos are from México. I am not angry when people ask me, “What are Mexican traditions?” I say, “Oh, I am not from México. I’m from Honduras.” It’s not a bad thing. I am Latina and I am proud of that. Also, I live in Los Angeles which is close to México.

Then, people like Donald Trump, our president, think that Latinos or Mexican people come to the United States to take Americans’ jobs, or that we are criminals. The truth is that we do the work that the Americans do not want to do. The president thinks that all Latinos are from México. In my opinion, the United States without Latinos is going to go down. Latinos work in different jobs. Some work on farms, cultivating fruit and vegetables in the fields. Also the Latinos work in construction, clean rich people’s houses, and do a lot of things. They work to have an opportunity of having a better future than in their countries and to support their families. And some undocumented immigrants are very smart. Some of them are valedictorians. They can become a doctor or whatever they want to, and the most important thing is that many valedictorians are undocumented and Latinos. A valedictorian is the number-one student, the one with the highest grade point average. This is a thing to be proud of, to have undocumented Latinos like that.

The majority of Latinos earn a little bit of money, but they don’t earn enough. Many people only judge the undocumented or immigrants, but Latinos only want to survive. Latinos contribute to the United States economy. According to The Pew Research Hispanic Trends Project, [undocumented]immigrants benefit the United States economy. The report also says there were 8.4 million unauthorized immigrants employed in the United States, representing 5.2 percent of the United States labor force (an increase from 3.8 percent in 2000). Their importance was highlighted in a report by Texas Comptroller Susan Combs that stated:

“Without the undocumented population, Texas’ workforce would decrease by 6.3 percent and Texas’ gross state product would decrease by 2.1 percent. Furthermore, certain segments of the United States economy, like agriculture, are entirely dependent upon undocumented immigrants.”

This shows that undocumented people come to United States to work, not to take American work—but also to benefit the economy of the United States.

The United States is a beautiful country where we can live. It does not matter if I am from México or not, or American. The important thing is that we are all part of the United States of America because we are here. I love the United States because this country gives us a lot of things. In my case, the opportunity to study and to become a professional person. The United States is a country where we can all fit.

About the Author

Cira Alvarado was born in Tela, Honduras, and immigrated to the United States in 2014 when she was fourteen years old. She likes to play soccer with her friend Yulitza. She likes pupusas from El Salvador, and her favorite food is baleadas and pollo con tajadas (a typical food from Honduras). Her dream is to be a doctor or a nurse, and to explore Europe and with her friends. She hopes that racism will come to an end. She is thankful to God.

ARLENE QUINTERO-NU Ñ EZ

Limits and Struggles Won’t Affect Us

“Why is our dad leaving for Los Angeles again?” the youngest of my mother’s siblings would ask their mom. My grandparents did not find the correct way to explain to their kids that their dad leaving to work in Los Angeles was for them to have a good life. After twelve years of my grandpa living and working alone in Los Angeles, he brought his family to follow the American Dream.

“The American Dream I came to pursue is where you can have a roof over our heads and a plate on the table with food that my children would enjoy,” said Lamberto, my grandpa. On the other hand, my grandma’s answer was: “I came to work, in order to help my family have the life they deserve. I want my children to go to a school where they can learn something other than becoming a narco. They deserve to go to school and get an education.” My grandparents gave their kids their all. Some got a career, and some chose to go through the wrong path. Even though some of their kids chose the wrong path, they have found a way to change that and their parents are proud of them. I believe that they were successful because they gave their kids a life where they don’t have to visit the doctors often, an education which they enjoyed, and now they can afford their dreams and have different experiences than their friends.

My American Dream is to wake up in the morning knowing that I have the chance to save another life, have my asthma under control, with no other sickness behind it, and have children of my own at the age of thirty when I can give them what they deserve. There have been some struggles that I have faced, such as living in México at the age of fourteen and losing a family member. My family and I moved to México because they took my dad’s visa away. To me living in México is considered a struggle because I had visited there, but never imagined living there. We moved to our family ranch, which had about ten houses. It was cold and lonely. If you come from a place like Los Angeles you know it’s not easy to adjust. With that adjusting process, it wasn’t just the place but also the language and school. The school was hard because when people find out you come from a foreign country they expect too much from you. For example, teachers would say things such as, “You’re Mexican, you should speak the language.” Or, “People from the United States are smart and learn quickly.” Them saying that type of stuff put me down instead of encouraging me to keep going. There were moments when I wished I could come back to Los Angeles. There were students who would make fun of me for not speaking the language fluently.

My being there helped me realize that I can take living in México as an experience because I learned many things such as the way people from two different countries think. You can get through anything, and those countries are similar in many ways. I never imagined México to be like Los Angeles. The shootings or gangs I would see in Los Angeles I would see there. The people in México see Los Angeles as a great place where nothing happens, but once you live here you start realizing the little things that make it so similar to their country. The people in México believe that everyone in Los Angeles has money or a job, and once they come here they realize there is poverty here too. My parents’ American Dream has shaped mine in many ways.

“The American Dream I have is that my children would get an education, and one day have a job of their own,” said my mom, Laura. She has worked hard to always give us what we deserve. Since my dad left five months ago, she has been giving her all—from not working her entire life until she was thirty-nine, to now being the manager of The Buffalo Spot. My dad did not leave because he chose to, but it still affected us not only emotionally but also economically. When I

asked my dad he said, “My dream is to be able to be with my children, make them happy, and sustain them.” I personally think my dad has never given up on us, and he is giving it his all because he is currently a farmer and has to find a way to send us money. My dad has to wake up early every morning to make sure all the animals have food and water but also has to go around and make sure the crops are fine. We have gone through ups and downs and there hasn’t been a time where he has let us down.

There are many perspectives on how Los Angeles is. People who are not from here see it as a lovely place. My family sees it as a place where you can flourish and I see it as my home. I see a home in which I can be myself and live experiences others won’t get. I see a home where the oppression and limits that Los Angeles sets on the people won’t affect me.

About the Author

Arlene Quintero-Nuñezwas born in Los Angeles, California. She enjoys sleeping, helping others, and playing volleyball. One day she hopes to become a nurse and help save lives. She is the type of person who looks forward to the future.

JEREMEY RIVERA

An Empty Spot in My Body

People see me as a happy and helpful person. When I have baseball practice or games, I give off a good vibe by staying energized and upbeat, helping my teammates improve their form, and stay motivated on what they’re doing. Even if they’re having an off day and everyone else is ganging up on them, I make sure they know I’m on their side and get them to keep going, no matter what. Every time I see someone feeling down or upset, I go up to them and see what happened, or at least try to cheer them up. They feed off of my positive energy. Most of the time, I like being that guy.

I was not always like this.

I’m a leader on my team and with my friends, but I might not have had to be this passionate if my dad hadn’t left. He was a big part of my family growing up, and we all thought that we couldn’t be separated. Then one day, things changed. He said he wasn’t getting treated like he was supposed to. Almost every other day, my parents would argue. Every time they did, my older brothers and I would go in my brother’s room and watch TV or play video games because they did not want us to watch them argue like that. Both doors to our room were shut and the TV was on, but we could still hear the yelling coming from their room down the hall. I was scared and confused. One day, my twin brother and I were playing with our toys and waiting for one of our parents to take us to our elementary school, but they started arguing in their room again. Thirty minutes later, my dad stormed out. His shirt was ripped, and there was blood on his back because he got scratched. His gold chain was broken. He slammed the door, got in the car, and left.

I don’t even remember a specific day he was gone for good. I still try to block it out. It happened over time. He just started coming home less and less, taking some of his stuff with him sometimes. Finally one day, when I was a freshman at Locke, my mom got us all together in her room for a little talk. She told us that my father was not going to come back to the house. After that, we stopped talking to my dad, little by little, until me and my twin brother did not talk to him at all for eight or nine months.

Many things changed when he left. My home did not feel like a home anymore. Suddenly, it just felt like a house I lived in. My dad was the main reason why we didn’t really struggle with money before then because he had a decent job and we could afford certain things. Once he left, we stopped asking my mother for money or to buy us things because we knew that she was already struggling. We only asked her for things we actually needed, not things that we wanted, because I started to realize that she couldn’t even pay for the stuff that we always used to get and need. We got part-time jobs to help my mother. My brothers still help her pay rent so she won’t have to be stressed about having money to pay the bills. Her friend is a mechanic, and we’ve known him since we were young, so he would give me work and show me how to do oil changes and change tires. Since my father was not there to provide us with the things that we needed, I’d use the money I earned to buy my baseball gear.

My three brothers and I are close, and we always have each other’s backs, no matter what happens, so when my dad left, we all got closer, hanging out and spending more time together. My older brothers told us not to worry about him because we all had each other. Every morning back in middle school, my dad would take us to school because my mother had to go to work and needed sleep. Now when we need rides to a game or a friend’s house, my brothers take us instead

of my dad. When we need gear for baseball and my mom does not have money for herself, they’ll sometimes put in money to help us buy it. Even if it’s just getting food, we all try to help each other in any type of way. It’s been hard, but we’ve learned how to take care of things ourselves and always appreciate everything we have.

My brothers and I came to Locke for high school because we wanted to keep playing sports, and there is baseball here. My dad used to come to almost all of our games, but now he doesn’t. Ever since he left, every time I have a game, there is an empty spot in my body, like something is missing and it does not feel the same when I play.

When my dad left, I was angry for a few months. Even though I give off good vibes with my friends, I don’t really like to express my feelings to people because I don’t really trust anyone enough to do that. I’m still disappointed, but I realized that things like this happen. If my dad had stayed, I might not see things as clearly or realistically now. I really work hard because I want to prove to everybody that just because my dad left doesn’t mean my whole life is going to stop or go downhill. I want to live a life he would regret missing.

I use all of this as motivation to keep going and succeed in baseball, to show my dad and everyone else that a person from South Central can make it out and be successful. Before he left, baseball was just an adrenaline rush. My parents made me start playing when I was eight years old because my mom wanted me to stay active. For me, it was something to do other than school. Now, I’m treating it like a job; that’s what you’re supposed to do in college because they’re investing in you. I work very hard on everything I do because I know if I don’t, I’m going to end up regretting it, knowing I could have done better. I’m team captain now and getting looked at by a variety of college baseball programs. My goal is to play college ball, bulk up, then get drafted to play in the minors and, hopefully, in the majors one day. I want to be able to help my mom—and myself. I know many people say it’s impossible for someone like me to succeed, but I think all impossible is, is an opinion.

About the Author

Jeremey Rivera is a member of Locke High School’s class of 2017. A proud Puerto Rican and Salvadoran, he’s a second baseman and shortstop, an amateur artist, and—along with his mother, twin brother, and two older brothers—a lifelong resident of Watts, Los Angeles. This is his first personal essay.

JESSICA CARDONA

Fragments of the Past

I heard my brothers crying so I woke up. I was in our house on the floor, and when I got up my brother Mauricio told me, “He is our papi!” When I saw him, I didn’t know who he was. I was nervous. Then he hugged me. I started to cry. It was weird because I felt nervous and scared. I was crying, and I didn’t know the reason why I was crying. I was six years old in 2007. I didn’t know him because when I was born, he went to the United States. The days passed, and I didn’t like my dad. I was afraid but I didn’t know why.

When my dad was in El Salvador he divorced my mom. That affected me so much. I was just a little girl who only wanted a family that she never could have. I think that all children dream of a family. That was my dream, but it was impossible.

When I was fourteen years old, I came to the United States with all my brothers. We left our mom alone in El Salvador. It was very hard. When I was in the airport with just a few minutes to board the airplane I told her, “Bye, mami.” It was very, very hard. She started to cry a lot. She almost couldn’t talk, but I heard her tell me in a low voice, ‘’Bye, mi niña.’’ It broke my heart in pieces. My mom let us come because she thinks that here we will have a better future and more opportunities to study.

My brothers don’t live with me because our family had problems. My brothers left and live separately. I miss them so, so much. My dad is always working. He doesn’t have time for me.

When my dad is at home, sometimes we talk, but it’s weird when that happens. I tease him because he is small and fat with a big panza, and he laughs very funny like if he were crazy or a maniac. He is so funny. Even if he never has time for me, I love him. I’m here with him, and he works a lot so he can give me a better life. He is a strong man. Even though he is always working, he sends me messages so he can know about how my day is or things like that. Sometimes he thinks that I’m a fool, and he doesn’t believe in me. Well, that makes me feel that I am going to do everything I can to show him that I’m better than what he thinks.

I have lived in LA for two years. I am always trying to make my dreams come true. In the mornings, I wake up and I pray for my family. I pray for my mom because she’s not with me. I pray for my brothers. I pray for my dad because he is always driving and something bad can happen to him. I believe in God and that he is always protecting my family. In the mornings, I tell my step-brother to wake up, and he is always whining and groaning. He is lazy and only five years old. Sometimes I don’t want to go to school. When my alarm sounds, I turn it off. Then my little brother hits me. He tells me, “Jessica, wake up. You need to go to school.” I hit him and tell him to shut up because I just want to sleep. My little brother takes away my dreams. I just lie on my bed and hear my birds singing and the shower turn on. I hate when I don’t find my uniform and my closet is not in order. Then I go to school.

I am sixteen and in high school. This is really different than being a child in elementary or middle school. In high school, it is rare that students get into trouble. I think it’s because they have their brains and their minds more developed. In high school, I have good teachers who always teach me something different. I keep trying to focus on my studies. My studies are the most important thing for me, so I can give my parents a better life in the future. I know that when I finish my studies they will be old, but I don’t care. I do everything for them. When the

day ends, I go to my house, I eat, then fall asleep. I feel tired. To learn something in another language is hard and tiring. At night I do my homework from seven to ten. When I finish my homework, I help my little five-year-old brother go to sleep. Then I go to my bedroom, get my earphones, and listen to music called chillstep. It relaxes me.

Sometimes when I think about the past and the fragments of my life, I ask myself why life so hard. I don’t know the answer. Well, I believe in myself. I hope that my story about my problems and how I overcome them will help some other teenagers. I hope that with the help of my story, teenagers’ minds change how they think of their lives. As teenagers, we have to be positive. We never have to surrender in a little depressed place. We have to go out and explore our lives. I always ask myself what I want for my future. I want to be a psychologist. That’s why I make sacrifices in my life so I can achieve my goals. The past is past. Don’t look back. Our lives are different but we have to choose the better path for us. Our future is in our hands—take it. We decide and create our future. Let’s walk in our path like no one else existed.

About the Author

Jessica Cardona is a strong and brave young woman who wants go to UCLA to become a good psychologist. She wants to have her own business. She wants to travel the whole world to help people. She likes to listen to music called dubstep, chillstep, trance, and trap. She’s a fanatic of electronic music. She is just sixteen years old. She has three older brothers but she lives with her dad, her stepmother, and her little step brother. She loves herself so much, and she does everything for herself and her family.

ALEJANDRA VASQUEZ

After the Storm Comes the Calm

On June 2, 2015, when I was sixteen years old, I came to this city. My first day in Los Angeles, I was happy because I saw my father after nine years. He came to this country when I was seven years old. I do not know why he came to this country. I just know that he left my mother, my brother, and me. Every year I missed him because on holidays all the people meet with their families, and I saw it. I felt bad and sad because it was very hard to see families together and to know that on those days I could not stay with my father. It was so hard because I wanted to feel the hug of my father those days. And not only those days, but all the days. I wanted to wake up to tell him, “Good morning.”

On my first day in Los Angeles, I already knew that my parents had many problems. When we were still in El Salvador, my father called us. We were in our church. My mother talked with him, and when she finished talking with my father she came toward me and I saw she was crying. I asked her, “What happened? Why are you crying?”

She hugged me and told me ”Your father wants to divorce.” I felt bad and I cried with her. I felt blame because I had a boyfriend and my father realized it. For this reason he asked for a divorce. And he said my mother was doing the same thing—that my mother had another person in her life, but it was not like that. I also felt bad because I didn’t want a separated family. I wanted a united family.

After one year my father started with the divorce proceedings. On March 29, 2015, my father decided to bring us to the United States because in El Salvador there was much violence. But he wanted only my brother and I to go. I felt bad because I didn’t want to leave my mother alone. So I talked with my father and I said I wanted my mother to come with us. He told me no, so I said to him, “If my mother doesn’t come with us, my brother and I won’t come.” Then he said “Okay.” In that moment when he told me okay I felt good, but at the same time I felt bad and sad because my parents had problems and I knew it was not going to be easy. I also knew that my grandmother had to stay alone. All her daughters would be here, and my grandfather sometimes doesn’t get to grandmother’s house because he likes to drink beer, and he doesn’t get there when he is drunk. Still I felt happy and excited about the trip because I was going to see my father.

In June 2015, my mother, my brother, and I arrived in Los Angeles. Things with my parents were not good because of their talk about divorce. My father had come to the bus station to pick us up. From the bus I saw two cars in the parking lot. I saw a new car and an old, ugly car, and I thought that the old car was my father’s. We got off the bus and when we saw my father, I gave him a strong hug. In this moment I felt very happy and I saw that he was very happy too. But my brother and I felt sad because my parents didn’t talk to each other. It was so hard to see that they didn’t talk. Then my father took us to the parking lot. The old car was not there and I said to my father, “Daddy, when I was in the bus I saw this car and another car, but the other car was old. I thought that other car was yours.” He only smiled. We got into the car. I was sitting beside the driver and my brother and my mother were in the back. He asked us if we wanted some food and we said, “Yes, we are very hungry.” He said okay and took us to eat at a Salvadoran restaurant where we ate pupusas. I felt weird because I was in Los Angeles and I was eating pupusas, which are typical food in El Salvador. It was funny. My father took us there because he thought we didn’t eat any other food, and also he thought we were picky eaters. Then he took us with our

aunt to buy clothes. I remember we bought them in the Ross in Santa Monica because my aunt lived there. At the end of the day he took us to live at the home of two people from the church. These people are amazing, friendly people. They help people who oame from other countries. Why did my father not take us to his house? Why did he take us there? He did not take us to his home because his home was very small, and until we found a new home he left us there. We lived there for one month. My father came to visit us.

That first day in Los Angeles I felt weird because it was a new place for me. Maybe I had seen it on TV or in a photo. The people are different than in my country, because here there are African Americans, White People, and other types of people. Also there are many Latinos like me, but they have been in this country a long time. The city is different because in El Salvador the city is small, and here there are many high buildings, and the streets are much bigger. Here there are freeways. In my country there are bigger streets like La Carretera de Oro , Calle a los Chorros, and Autopista a Comalapa, but they are not as large as the big streets and freeways here. The language is difficult to understand because here they speak English and in my country, El Salvador, we speak Spanish.

After we came to Los Angeles, my father stopped the divorce proceedings. The problems between my parents were solved. Of course, there are always problems, but the problems now are not related to divorce and family separation. Getting accustomed to a new life and to a new place was difficult for me because there are many new things I have to learn and many things to discover about the culture, the food, the people, and the language here.

These days my family is together. Every day in the morning I see my brother sleeping; I like to see him because he looks like an angel—a baby—even though he is thirteen years old. Every morning I hear my mother tell me, “ Wake up,” and sometimes I hear the alarm. I hear the roosters and birds sing. Also I smell the meal that my mother makes for my father for him to take to his job. Every night when I arrive home, I see my brother doing homework or eating chips, or sometimes playing on his phone or watching TV. Also I clean the house, and while I clean I listen to Christian music. I do my homework. English: “To make a paragraph, read books, or study guides.” Spanish: “Vocabulary, answer questions.” In biology: “CATH, answer questions.” In history, “Answer questions, vocabulary.” After I do my homework, I wash the dishes. I don’t like to but I have to do it. Then I make dinner so when my parents arrive at home they will find a hot meal. I cook fried rice, I cook tortillas, I cook chicken, meat, bean soup. I cook many kinds of meals. My parents, my brother, and I watch two shows. One is called Escape Perfecto, a contest in which people have to answer questions and complete challenges to win prizes. The other show is Desafio India . This show is about three groups that work in teams, and they compete for money. These shows are very funny and it makes us feel excited to know what happens or who will win.

All the people, young and old, who immigrated to the United States have to face many problems. Some are families being separated and have to find a new place to live, and a new language, a job, make friends, and a good school. But these troubles will pass. The unique thing that matters is the reason why we came to this country, whether it is to escape violence, join families, work, or go to school. Nobody says the way is easy, or that it would never have problems. But behind all this there is something good—a better life. It is like my mother tells me when we had problems: “After the storm comes the calm.”

Alejandra Vazquez was born in El Salvador. She came to United States when she was sixteen years old. She wants to graduate from high school and university and work to help her family. Her favorite classes are English and history. She believes that if you want something, you have to fight to get what you want. Alejandra misses her best friends and her grandparents.

Alejandra Vasquez

Storm

ALICIA TERETA VIVAS

Let Yourself Go

When I was little I believed life was easy—that I could do whatever I wanted, that I could go everywhere, and that the money came easy. I didn’t care about anything. I just played alone with my toys and watched TV. I was a happy girl. I had good grades, I did my homework, and my teachers always told me that I was a good student. I was always smiling; many people would tell me that I looked pretty smiling, and I made them happy. But something was missing in my life, in myself.

I was only one when my mother had to go to the United States because she didn’t have enough money to give us a better life, and my father was always working. He didn’t live with us since before I was born. My parents had divorced. My mother had to go work on her own to have something to give us. When it was time for my mother to go, it was difficult for my sister and my brother; they were little when my mother made that decision.

When my mother arrived in the United States, she started to work and would send us clothes and toys. Every year when it was my birthday, my mother would call me and tell me that she loved me so much and that maybe one day we would be together. It made me cry because I needed her to be with me. My aunt showed me many pictures of my mother and would tell me that she always worked very hard for us. A lot of people would always tell me that I looked much like my mother. She was skinny, she had long hair, and our eyes were the same.

I felt empty and alone. I cried when I was without my mother and father. I got angry at them, especially when there were ceremonies at my school; and I always wanted my parents to be there with me, watching me. I was like the others girls. I needed them.

In those years, without the love of my parents, the only thing—the only person—who always made me happy was my sister. She was always with me; she was with me when I graduated from kindergarten, and when they gave certificates for being a good student. I loved her so much; she was my favorite person, and I always did things right because I liked to see her happy. She filled that little empty space that I had inside of me. She was only twelve years old. She couldn’t enjoy her childhood because she needed to be brave for us, her little siblings.

When I came to the United States I was scared because I was going to meet my mother. When I met my mother, I got to see all that she did for us. She would tell me about what she went through because when she arrived to the United States she was alone. She slept on the floor, she did not have enough clothes for herself, and she always gave us more than she gave herself.

Now I don’t care so much about my father, although I missed him very much. He wasn’t with me, even when we were in the same country. He worked every day and that was the reason he couldn’t visit me. Now that I’m with my mother and I see how my stepfather and my mom hug my little brother, I get sad and angry because I didn’t have the love of my parents. Sometimes because of those feelings, I can’t talk with her. Because if I tell her how I feel when I see them giving him their love, I think she’ll get mad or something like that. Those feelings hurt sometimes and I don’t want to hurt them, so I need to keep them inside of me. But I need to accepted the reality that I’m not in my country anymore, I’m not with my family anymore, and I need to let go. I need to start again, enjoy the things I have with my mother, and take advantage of the opportunities I have in front of me.

Every day of my life is a blessing because I have something to eat, to drink, and I still have my family with me; even though some of them are in Guatemala, I’m finally with my mother. Every morning the first person—the first face—that I see is my mother’s. She always wakes me up at 7:00, and she makes me a delicious coffee that smells good. When I have to go to school I give her a big hug and a kiss on her cheek. Sometimes when I wake up I’m scared because I don’t know if I’ll ever see my family in Guatemala again. It’s something that worries me.

When I come home from school I do my homework and I help my mom clean our house. Sometimes at night when we are together in the living room, my mom and my aunt prepare dinner and we watch a movie, or they talk about their childhood. Those times are my favorite because for a moment we forget about our problems.

Life taught me that I need to value the sacrifices that people make for me; my mother always thought of us first. My aunt stayed up late for us and always helped us with our homework. I sometimes saw how my aunt cried, and I asked myself, “Why is she crying?” She was crying because sometimes she felt like she couldn’t go on anymore. She had to take care of us, and it wasn’t an easy job.

We’ve gone through a lot of difficulties in our lives, but we’ve also enjoyed amazing moments with people who changed our way of thinking and taught us to value what they’ve done for us. I have met a lot of people in my life, many of whom have changed it.

About the Author

Alicia Tereta Vivas is a ninth grader who is almost at the end of her school year. She isn’t like other girls who like to put a lot of makeup on their face. She still uses bows and likes to watch the Tinkerbell movie. She is a quiet person and sometimes when she is sad, she prefers to be alone. She always tries to help others and put a happy smile on their faces. Her favorite sport is basketball. She likes to play with her little brother. When she is alone in her house, she puts loud music on and sings while she cleans. At home she does her homework and helps her little brother with his homework. Her favorite color is black. Her favorite food is pupusas. Her goal is to graduate from high school, and her dream is to make her mother happy and to see her brothers again.

CHRISTIAN ANGUIANO

Moving to a “Better Place”

My parents left México because of the many things that were wrong there—mainly the corrupt police force. They abused their power and took advantage of the people in the city, knowing that the civilians could not do anything to the police without being arrested or incarcerated. They had heard about encounters being shared around the neighborhood in which the police force brutally abused their powers as law enforcement to take advantage of people and attack anyone who they believed might stand in their way. They told me that when they went out, they could not make eye contact with the police because they would get beaten if the police did not like their face or they were not getting a good vibe. Many people in my family would fear going out late at night, and in most cases they would lock themselves in their homes as soon as the sun set because it was dangerous; and you ran the risk of having a bad encounter with the police. My dad recalls that every time they heard a police siren, my grandparents would call out for them to go inside so they would know they were safe at home.

When my family fled, they had this idea in their minds that the United States was this amazing place—known as the land of opportunity and the American dream that comes with it. They learned once they got here that television had greatly exaggerated the way the United States worked—such as in movies where the stars become successful in Hollywood as soon as they made it to Los Angeles and applied to become famous actors. My family realized it was hard to make something of your life in Los Angeles, where everyone comes to try and become successful. They were stuck in jobs that required intense physical labor. Their hopes to become successful and live a happy lives here had been passed on to me and my younger siblings. They told us they want us to be happy, to live without struggling to make ends meet, and to have a job that we were happy to work in. At the time I was not aware that they had such high hopes for us, but my dad eventually spoke to me on what they hoped for us to do with our lives in the United States.

Throughout elementary school I had always been told to try in school and get good grades, but never really understood why. Around middle school, when I felt like school got too difficult with classes like Algebra 1, which was the first time math did not come easily to me, I stopped trying to have good grades. I felt horrible because I felt like I had just given up on being successful. When I was on summer vacation in the eighth grade, my dad asked me to go to work with him as a construction worker. I went with him three times a week for the entire summer. He required that I get up early at six and put on any clothes that were old or used for work so it did not ruin my newer clothes. We woke up and ate our breakfast while the coffee was being brewed, and by the time coffee was done, we would have to leave. We took the long drive to his work.

On the way to work, it was sort of like he was briefing me on what we had to do. He explained what tasks we had to do that day to get the job done. After that, we would eat and talk about current events as we made our way to the worksite. It was never the same place because as a construction worker you finished a job and readily moved on to the next one. Once we got there we would dig around the trunk of the car looking what we needed among the mess of tools he stored in there, all while the pungent odor of WD-40, oil, and rusty old tools was being shoved in our faces; and the constant clanking of metal on metal was heard as we foraged for the right tools. Once we were ready to go, we walked in and got to work on anything and everything the architect and site manager told us to do. On one particular day, we were asked to tear out a

concrete patio with a jackhammer and create a frame for the new one. My dad asked me to try it out and see if I could do it, but I saw that this was not going to be an easy task and turned it down. My dad told me it was for the best since he was just teasing me, and he knew I would probably lose control. He used the jackhammer to remove the patio, and I noticed how easily it wore out the guys using it and how much strain it puts on your body having to hold that unwieldy machine down. Later, we had to load all that concrete onto a wheelbarrow so it could be wheeled to a construction dumpster and taken to a yard where they grind it down to be used for other things. We used nothing but our bare hands and shovels to get the large chunks of concrete and rubble into the wheelbarrow. The heavy cement was filled with rebar which made it even heavier, especially since I was a skinny little boy and this was my first time doing actual work.

I did not think much of it until my father asked me if I enjoyed that kind of work, if I liked working hard and making a bit of money to use on myself. I told him that I did not because we had to do some very hard labor in the hot sun without being able to complain about it. He told me he worked in this place not because he wanted to, but because he had to in order to make ends meet and keep a roof over our heads. If he had it his way, he would have an easier job with less risk of injury. My dad told me that if I was not interested in working as hard as he did in a field that requires intense physical labor, then I had the opportunity to get good grades and actually put some effort into school so that I may have a choice on where to work and what kind of work to do for a living . After that, I was more motivated than ever to do the best that I can in school and have the ability to choose a successful career path that I can enjoy. In turn, if I am able to become successful I would like to share my success with my parents because they risked everything coming to the United States to make our lives a bit easier than if we had stayed in México, where even flushing toilets are a hard thing to come by.

When I watch videos about the events of 1992 in Watts and South LA, it makes me think how they were fighting a government similar to the one my family wanted to get away from. It reminds me of my own trips to México when I visit where they are from, and of how the stories about their fear of the police are not just stories. Whenever the police were present, they would tell me to look away in order to avoid being confronted by them. I could see how they not only had fear of the police, but also had hatred toward the police. They were disgusted with how they threatened anyone who dared confront them. To me, this is important because my family was unable to escape all its problems. They traveled all this way, and they continue to run into the same problems. Others who were already here got fed up and decided to fight an equally flawed government.

The correlation I see between the 1992 uprising and my family’s story is that the government and the police were causing all these problems for the country—the police commit crimes, and the government simply chooses to turn a blind eye to their actions. The police force that was meant to protect the people was not actually doing its job. People in different situations expressed their frustration in different ways: in México with fear, and in the United States with anger, as people revolted against the oppressive government they lived in. During the uprising, they fought back because the government has recognized the inalienable right of freedom of speech and believed the people had the right to be outraged. They realized that if they did not act on the unspeakable actions of the police, they were basically giving up one of their rights. On the other hand, in México people decided the police behavior was unacceptable, but many chose to flee rather than deal with the problem. The idea that fleeing was better than staying to resolve the problem is the reason that the Mexican government abuses its power, knowing full well that nobody will intervene or protest. Mexicans have grown up fearful of those meant “to protect and serve”—something seen here as well, but not as prominently as in México.

The American system of government is definitely not the best in terms of safety for the people. It clearly has flaws and issues like police brutality—an issue that is recognized across the nation, and that creates tension between law enforcement and people. The American law enforcement system needs work in order to do its job in such a way that protects the people that officers have sworn to protect when they put on their badge and uniform. Although it’s not nearly as bad as in México, they clearly have a bad reputation for manipulating the system. Maybe the government cannot be reformed entirely, but it can be more selective in who they recruit for their police force. They can hire better police and change the way people view the law enforcement of the United States. As an American citizen, I will be able to vote for such a system to be put in place and hopefully create a better sense of security. Public officials could be more critical of who they trust with the lives of Americans so the United States can continue to progress and develop into a better place for its people.

About the Author

Christian Anguiano is a seventeen-year-old male who does not do his homework but somehow passes almost every single class. He spends his time at home playing video games and watching TV shows on Hulu. He hopes that in the future he will become a successful engineer.

HENRY HENRIQUEZ

Not My Dream

“We have to look for better opportunities,” were my mother’s words. At the beginning, I thought she was not being serious because I had never heard these words before. I said, “I’m not willing to leave everything I have to go to a different country.” I did not even know if I would have a happy life there, a life where I would have the optimism to wake up every day and fight to reach my goals. I totally disagreed with her because her idea could not fit in my mind without understanding where I was going.

Having to leave my country to look for a fair future was not okay for me. I found the idea a little crazy. Growing up in a different environment where I would no longer be connected to my roots was not something I wanted. In my country, everyone lives in their hometown; we have the same language and the same traditions. Everyone goes to church every Sunday, we all eat tamales and pupusas, everyone knows each other, and everyone is really warm and kind with each other. Part of my family was out of the country already. We were not making enough money. Gang members were around our community, people were getting shot, there was lack of opportunities to get a stable job, and we did not have money to pay for university. I was a teenager, sixteen years old, who did not discern what was really going on around me, and I thought everything was fine. Not long after she said these words, she decided that I had to move out of my country. I knew this change would not be easy to adopt because when people think about moving out of the country, the first thing that comes to their minds must be the United States. For me, I thought of speaking English, smartphones, computers, big cities, lots of cars everywhere, and famous people. My mother was in the United States already with other members of my family. Cousins were learning English, uncles had good jobs, and everyone else liked living in Los Angeles. The idea of moving out of my country was making me nervous because I did not know what to expect from a new country. I was confused because I thought I had everything that I needed. My mother said, “In the United States, you will have a normal life, just like the one you are living there: school, food, friends, and a home.” She told me, “Everything will be the same.” I thought about it for a second, and I knew she was lying. From what I had heard, the United States seemed nothing like my home country, El Salvador. But I started to get ready to leave my home. Time passed quickly and two months felt like a week. I had mixed feelings. I was sad because I was leaving a part of my life and excited because I knew I was about to live a new adventure.

First steps out of the plane: everything is huge and not as I used to see in my small town. Parking lots, buildings, and the airport—everything looks fancy and shiny, unlike the old and vintage things we have in El Salvador. I see different people around me—different skin colors, people taller than me. Everybody is dressed casually with girls wearing short dresses and boys in flip-flops, and they do not seem to care. I hear people speaking different languages, and I’m not sure if it is English, Arabic, or even Chinese. There are a lot of people, and no one seems to know each other because they do not greet each other. I wonder, what am I doing here? Where is my small town? Where is everybody? My friends, my house—why has everything gone? Some of these questions are still on my mind. I still wonder why I agreed with my mother to come here if I knew I would not be happy living with her choice and not my own.

Living in Los Angeles is really cool for most people. It is a really huge town with a lot of different people from different countries: El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, México, Perú. In this

community, even though most people are Latinos, we do not share the same experiences. Everyone celebrates their own traditions, including Dia de Los Muertos, Halloween, Christmas, and carnivals throughout the year. All are celebrated differently from what I used to celebrate in my hometown. For example, Dia de Los Muertos is not really a celebration for my people. We just go to the mass and the cemetery to put flowers on graves, while Mexicans make altars and food to celebrate. People come to Los Angeles from different places, and everyone speaks lots of different languages and has different kinds of foods. We can be neighbors, but we do not always communicate with each other. Here, we go out and we see a lot of people managing their own businesses on almost every corner. I see eloteros, taco trucks, and raspados run by people trying to survive and create their own opportunities. Everybody feels free to express themselves, and others might learn from what they do. In my family’s experience, we have learned to do different things that are not from our country; now we eat tacos, quesadillas, and champurrado. I love eating tacos de asada and elotes.

Now that I am here, I try to empathize with my mother’s reasons for living in Los Angeles. Even though I had a hard time adopting this new city, I try to value all the opportunities it gives us. When I came, I was young enough to enroll in Locke High School. This means I will have my high school diploma to apply to a college and the financial support from my mother. I feel lucky because most people yearn to attend school to learn English and get a degree. They do not get that opportunity because they are too old, which means they have to work and make money to support their families.

Although South Central Los Angeles is known in the United States for shootings, fights, and poverty, my mother still likes this area because she feels that I will be safer here than in El Salvador. She feels she can give me a better life and things that I need to be happy since she says jobs here are easier to get and pay fairly, unlike in El Salvador. Here, despite all the mixed feelings I had of moving into Los Angeles, now I love seeing people around fighting for their dream, working hard to create a successful path for their children, and how in the community social problems do not affect their desire to keep going. Now I thank Los Angeles, my new city, for all I have received, and I know I will keep doing the most with what I have by taking advantage of all this community gives to its citizens.

About the Author

Henry Henriquez was born in San Salvador, El Salvador. He loves hiking, sleeping, and going to the beach. Henry is not that friendly, but he is really loyal to his close ones. He has three fish and two turtles.

NOE MOTA

Home at Last

What makes Los Angeles such a hot spot for travelers? Could it be the celebrities? The sights? Maybe just fun under the sun? Despite the problems Los Angeles has had, it is still one of the most visited and successful cities in the country, which is why my family chose to come here in search of a better life.

Los Angeles offered many things my family and I were looking for. One thing that stood out was how incredibly diverse this city was. When we had to leave our home in México to move to the City of Angels, it only felt like a small shift. With so many familiar faces around us, it was like we never left our home. This was a city with a huge number of accents, but one of the most common was Spanish with recognizable slang like “órale” and “quiúbole.” Spanish was the only language I grew up talking until this point in my life.

The smell of foods in the air was just like at home—spices that burned down my throat from every breath, which surprisingly I grew up hating, and all of a sudden it’s my favorite odor. Some of the streets were pretty similar to the ones I was so accustomed to. The smell of pan dulce from the bakery every morning made waking up an easier task. The food most of the time tasted similar to back home, but at times it even surpassed my expectations. The difference that stood out the most was all the technology that was used. My first encounter with this problem was when we first went to a laundromat where the machines clean the clothes instead of elbow grease.

I was born in a small pueblo in Zacatecas, México, but raised in Los Angeles. Growing up in this city has been a privilege to me. I was never robbed of my culture, despite being hundreds of miles away from a place I once called home. It’s hard to lose one’s culture in a city like this because there’s so much diversity. I was able to enjoy the exact same things as my older brothers and sisters did when they were my age, simply because my family was able to keep many traditions alive, giving people like me a chance to understand and explore how things were in our past. From its people to its buildings, my cultures and others’ backgrounds can always be spotted here in Los Angeles.

The main reason we had to leave our home was because we didn’t have the good currency, and we were living in poverty. Our house was like an old factory, where we had a little kitchen, and only one room that had to be shared by my brothers and sisters (which are a total of ten).

We had to watch every step we made or else we faced the danger of stepping on scorpions that always found their way inside. Or we would wake up every night from a torn bed having to exit the house just to use the restroom located in the backyard.

With LA’s huge population comes a huge economy. With so many different jobs in this area, it doesn’t matter what race or gender you are—this was a no-brainer for my family to decide what city to choose. As soon as we got here, my sisters and brothers were immediately offered a job. It was to work in a factory where they added designs to shirts and got them ready for shipping to stores. It wasn’t the best job; I constantly saw them tired. When they came home they looked down and it was almost as if they had to drag their feet across the front yard, but they always managed to smile and make everyone feel like everything was alright. As immigrants, they felt like they didn’t have any rights. So they stuck with the low-paying jobs and made my younger sisters and me go to school and get a proper education so that we could get out of these neighborhoods.

It took me a while to understand why education was important to my family when most didn’t make it past high school. Little did I know that the people who find the most value in education are the ones who never had the chance to get one. Now my view has changed on education and I am determined to be the first in the family to receive a degree in electrical engineering. My mind is set, and I’m going to give my family the life they deserve.

About the Author

Noe Mota is like any other teenager trying to find his way through high school into the real world. Being an immigrant has never stopped him, but motivated him to succeed in life. The best part of growing up in this country is enjoying both cultures in a city where both are welcomed with open hands.

OSIRIS CARDENAS

Bend to LA: A Beautiful Life to Reign in the Sun

It was a windy early morning the day we left Bend, Oregon; a U-Haul was packed with all of our things. Still half asleep, I curled up in the passenger seat in a car following the U-Haul driven by my mom’s younger brother and a cousin. My mother was driving while my brothers and sisters were out, dreaming dreams. My mom was talking about what we were going to do once we reached Los Angeles and how she was happy to see her family. We’d go to Disneyland because they’d never seen it. She missed her mom, my grandmother, and we’d get to experience her cooking, which my mom missed—especially her favorite, chile rellenos. She also missed her cousins, brothers, and sisters, and couldn’t wait to be with them. I was excited to see my grandmother and my cousins. It had been a very long time since we had seen them. My grandmother didn’t even know we were coming.

The reason we came to Los Angeles was because of some really hard thing that happened to me when I was younger in Bend, Oregon. We were going to Juniper Pools, although it was still cold outside. I ran up the stairs to grab something. I don’t recall what it was because two arms reached out and pulled me close. It was my uncle. He pulled me close to him. I was nervous and didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, he and I heard my cousins, his daughters, coming up the stairs.

I never went with them to the pool. I went to my other uncle’s house instead and told my cousin what happened. My cousin told my mom everything and she asked me if it was true; I told her it was. My mother started crying and she hugged me and said sorry that she wasn’t there to do anything. I told her that it wasn’t her fault. After that my mom went upstairs and yelled at my uncle and she wanted him out the house in twenty-four hours. She told me I was going to stay over my auntie’s until he left the house; she didn’t want me to be close to him.

Ever since that happened, I really don’t miss the old me because when that happened I changed. I changed a lot because I used to play with kids that were boys and I would never be traumatized, and ever since that day I just wouldn’t feel comfortable with boys at all. When I moved to California, I stopped thinking about what happened, but I was still afraid of older men. For example, when guys try to hug me and gets their face so close to mine, I start panicking and I push them away. Weeks later after the incident, I moved to California. I don’t really remember much of what happened during the time we were still living in Oregon. But even today, what happened is still a big part of my life. Just being close to older men makes me feel really uncomfortable: I start getting itchy and nervous, and my heart starts accelerating and I can’t breath well. I’ve had guys come up to me and just try to flirt, but honestly I just ignore them and walk away.

The girl I was before was more sweet. I used to trust many more people. Back then I wouldn’t ever think something bad would ever happen to me; but that day changed me. I wasn’t the same person I was before; it’s kind of difficult to gain my trust now. I hate guys who get too close to me even if they give me a hug; I get really nervous and scared just thinking of what happened to me when I was little. I’m actually sometimes mean to people—I really don’t know why. The day after what happened to me I really never wanted to come out of my house at all. In my head I always thought something bad was going to happen to me again. I felt as if I wasn’t safe around any guys anymore.

I’m writing this because I want people to know that they shouldn’t be afraid to speak what they feel inside. It leads to understanding, care, and empathy for people to know that they aren’t alone; even though we aren’t the same on the outside, we are the same on the inside. It’s important to know that we are all the same. Because of that there will be less violence and racism, and younger people won’t feel violated by older people. For example, look at me. I’ve been through alot in my life and I’m still standing nice and strong writing about my darkest secret and letting people know that nothing is ever going to keep me down forever. There is always a time to move on in life.

About the Author

Osiris Cardenas is a very brave girl. She loves math and is very good at it. She was born in Compton, California. She loves eating Salvadorian food, and her favorite dish is panes con pollo.

JONATHAN LOPEZ

A Place in Between

I don’t think people understand what it feels like to move from hell to a place in between, because for me LA isn’t heaven—but it’s also not hell. No place is perfect, but some are better than others.

In 2005, when I was five years old in El Salvador, I got up for school at 7:00 AM. It was a normal day. I took a shower, ate some sugary cereal, and walked to school with my mom. On our way I saw a gang member; I recognized he was a gang member because he had a tattoo on his forehead that said “MS,” or Mara Salvatrucha. Even without the tattoo I knew he was a gang member by the way he walked and how he talked; they have their own way of talking. They use more palabras callejeras (street words) than other people. He stopped us and said, “Qué hay? Para dónde van?” That means, “What’s up? Where are you guys going?” My mom answered, “Vamos para la escuela,” which means, “We are going to school.” We started walking away from him briskly because we were scared.

After school I got home and took a nap. My mom, grandpa, grandma, and I lived together (my dad had already left our family for America in 2000). My grandpa would normally come home from working around 7:00 PM. When I woke up from my nap, my grandpa called me and told me that he decided to come home early. I was outside waiting for him like always, when he came around the corner in his car. A gang member stood in the middle of the street and yelled at him, “Get out of the car.” He had a gun. I felt scared and paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do because I was literally in front of the car watching the gang member holding his gun, yelling at my grandpa. My grandpa screamed at me, “Go inside!” When he screamed I ran in. After an hour, my grandpa came in the house and told me what the gang member actually wanted; he didn’t want the car, just all of the money my grandpa had in his car. From that day on, my family felt unsafe in El Salvador. For that reason, my mom decided to move to Los Angeles and get me out of our futureless city.

A year later my mom traveled to Los Angeles, but she could not travel with me, so she went alone. It took her nine days to get to Los Angeles. She was really scared when she left and thought she might die on the way because some people who go on the trip don’t make it. My mom was surprised it went so smoothly.

It was hard for me when she left. The first week I was completely sad, and I didn’t want to go to school because I missed her. I called her often because I missed her voice, to hear how she was, and I always told her that I missed her, but I knew one day I was going to be with her again.

When I was nine I started to think about my future and my goals; I decided I wanted to be a doctor so I could help people. I don’t like to see people dying from disease. To be a doctor you have to go to college. I want to be the first one in my family to go. I know it will make my family proud. I told my mom what I wanted, and she was happy (obviously!). But in El Salvador, it’s hard to go to college or to have a career you want for two reasons: gangs that control neighborhoods, streets and even people, and secondly, large-scale economic problems. El Salvador is a very poor country; you never know how much your career will cost or if a gang member will kill you. To go to a university is very expensive, and because of poverty, students can’t even go to a college. Once I told my mom about my future goals, she said that she was going to help me get to Los Angeles.

In 2013 (I was now twelve years old), I was playing FIFA on my PS2 when my Mom called and told me, “You are coming to LA.” Instantly I started packing all my stuff! I felt the same way my mom did before she left on her trip north—scared, happy, and excited to see my mom again. On my way to LA I visited a lot of places in México. I got to see for myself what their culture is, what they eat, how much they love tacos. Traveling to LA and leaving my grandparents behind made me feel sad. I still call them often; they can travel now and come to visit us as well. I didn’t know what was going to happen once I got to LA because I didn’t even have friends, and didn’t know about American culture. The only thing that helped me to meet new friends was school. When I started going to school I met new people who taught me a lot about the city.

After five years living in LA, a lot of things have changed. I feel more safe than when I was in El Salvador. I know that gang members are here in LA, but in El Salvador it’s worse.

Here I have opportunities and a feeling of safety El Salvador doesn’t have. I’ll forget the past and all the bad things. It’s 2017 now, I’m about to graduate from high school, and I’m closer to making it to college every day.

About the Author

Jonathan Lopez was born in El Salvador and immigrated to the United States when he was twelve years old. He likes to listen to electronic music, eat Italian food, and feel the speed of a fast car. When he graduates high school, Jonathan wants to go to college and then medical school.

ALONDRA MENDOZA

I Finally Came Home

Traveling calls to me. There are so many places that I want to see and explore. My favorite memory is my family trip to México. I landed at the airport and was surrounded by people everywhere. Everywhere I looked, there were people walking, talking, eating, and laughing. People everywhere, talking loudly and in different languages. I didn’t feel confused—I felt like I finally came home. I was where I belonged, and it all made sense. Where I live in South LA, there are a lot of Hispanic residents, but I don’t feel like this is home forever.

México is special because it’s where my roots are. I have a deep connection to the place and its people. I see my father’s face and mother’s eyes in the people. They are my people. My mom’s almond-shaped, hazel eyes stare into my own chocolate brown eyes. My dad’s right bicep is decorated with my mom’s face. It is a permanent part of his being. “Rosalba” is written in handwriting on his left wrist. My mom cooks the food of our people. Posole verde is chicken on the bone. The green peppers mix with the chicken and lettuce, cilantro, and a mixture of spices that my mom adds just the right amount of. She also makes fresh enchiladas from scratch. She uses chicken and chorizo. When I watch her cook, I watch how she knows exactly how many of each ingredient to add without reading. She learned from her father, who is a chef. My grandfather knows how to cook everything. I grew up with my grandparents because my parents always worked. My grandparents are from Guanajuato, México. I call both my grandmother and mother “Mom.” I have a very special relationship with them.

The last time I was in México, I visited my dad’s family. His entire extended family lives in San Isidro, Michoacán, México. Visiting them was like a big family reunion. My cousin, Bianca, is the same age as me. We are really close. We do everything together. We went shopping, dancing, to bailes, or partying, out to eat, and to watch bullfighting with vaqueros. We stayed out late every night and came back to the house when everyone else was sleeping. The parties went on all night and into the early morning.

Thinking about this time makes me want to go back, and I will this summer. I’m excited because it will be right after a huge graduation party that my parents are hosting. I’m the first in my family to graduate high school, so it’s a big deal. It’s a big deal because my parents have told me that they don’t want me to be like them. I want my parents to feel proud of me and actually be someone in the future. My parents tell me to keep trying hard and not give up like they did. My parents tell me that if they had the chance to go back to school they would. So for me I think that’s a big deal to make them proud of me.

About the Author

Alondra Mendoza was born in Gardena, California. She is a second-generation American citizen on her mother’s side, and first-generation on her father’s side. She is a teenager who loves to go out partying and hanging out with friends on the weekends. Outside of school, she likes to hang out with family and friends. The way she sees her future is going to college to get a

Alondra

degree to become a nurse. Her favorite Mexican plate is pozole; she says she only eats it when her mother makes it.

ALEJANDRA TZOC

Running LA

One of the best experiences I’ve had in my life living in Los Angeles would be when I ran the LA Marathon, which was 26.2 miles. Running the marathon was the best experience in my life, which I will never forget; something I have accomplished that I will always be proud of. It had taught me many things even though it hurt. I was in pain, I wanted to cry, I wanted to give up on myself, but I didn’t. They were beautiful memories because although I was in a lot of pain, I still wanted to reach my goal. The things that would come to my mind were, “Don’t give up, you got this. My family is counting on me to see me cross the finish line, so don’t be sad. Just keep on going and give it all you got.” The pain made me feel stronger because it made me continue running. I wanted to prove something to myself: anything was possible not only for myself, but for the people who didn’t believe in me either. This skill to keep on running was meaningful for me because it has shown me to never give up on myself. This was something for me to learn because before I wouldn’t take care of my actions; I wouldn’t even bother making myself happy. I would always be a follower, but the marathon taught me to be strong and that you could accomplish anything in your life as long as you believe in yourself. If I could run a marathon, anything is possible.

I was introduced to this club at my school called SRLA, which stands for Student Run LA—a club where you train really hard to run one of the biggest races in the world. Many people get to run the marathon to fundraise money to send to charities to help out people in need. This was an amazing experience because not only did we run but we donated clothes and food for people in need. This was important because it’s good to help people that need help from others. The benefit of this race is to appreciate yourself and do something amazing in your life. Most of my friends told me that I wasn’t going to make it through. When they told me that I wasn’t going to make it, it got to me; but I didn’t tell them anything, I just ignored them. They said that I was too fat and wouldn’t handle running for 26.2 miles. The only people who supported and believed in me were my parents and my coaches. I wanted to prove all the people who did not believe in me wrong. I wanted to prove to them that even being overweight, you could still run a marathon if you train for it. I didn’t want to give up because when I first began high school I was overweight and many people called me fat. I wanted to lose weight; that was my motivation and to show people wrong. Sometimes the negativity would get to me. There would be days where I would cry because people made me feel bad about myself, but I always had positive thoughts in my mind while running the marathon to keep on going and not give up. I’ve met new people along the way and made new friendships. I met really nice people around the world. I met this one lady who was from Brazil and she had this funny accent and she was making a conversation with me, asking where I was from and if I go to school, and asking how old I was. She asked me if this was my first time running a marathon and I answered back saying, “This is my second marathon.” She responded back saying, “That is so good. Girls like you inspire me to keep going because I’m old already but I could still do it.” I responded back, “Yes, anything is possible,” and she gave me a hug and told me to keep on going while she stayed behind and I continued running.

I wanted to prove that anything is possible, that dreams are reachable even in completing a marathon. I had self determination fired over 26.2 miles and an overwhelming joy in thinking since the starting line to reach my ultimate goal and make it to the finish line. I had experienced two marathons. My first marathon in 2015 lives in my heart from getting to know my city better,

running in the most beautiful famous streets in Los Angeles, and getting to see new things. I will forever remember the beautiful agonizing moments I’ve had when I ran the LA marathon. I would have a positive mind set, a voice inside my head that would tell me, “Come on Alejandra, you can do it! Keep going.” Left foot forward, now right foot forward. Every crevice in my body keeping me going and staying positive. It began from the Dodger Stadium after circulating around, leading to Chinatown and its Twin Dragons tower gateway. From El Pueblo de Los Angeles State Park to the beautiful Echo Park, to the Hollywood sign and the Walk of Fame to Beverly Hills This memorable experience made me feel a part of Los Angeles because I literally ran LA Without this opportunity, I feel like I would give up on myself easily because the marathon has taught me to never give up on myself. Although there might be rough times in life, anything is possible—even completing a marathon.

About the Author

Alejandra Tzoc is a senior and a marathon runner. She is a teenager who is always motivated. She also likes making new friends. She may be shy at first but then she’ll annoy you.

DANTE RODRIGUEZ

Absurdism in the Air

I have only control of my thoughts and my actions. This is really important because my words and my actions reflect me. So with that being put into place, let’s begin with all of the wounds that heal but only with time. Although time heals, the experience can be memorable or scarring. I made one that cost me my peace of mind. When I broke my leg, it affected me mentally and physically. It altered my schedule and really threw me off. But with little help from my mother and only bugging from my sycophantic sister, I pulled through it with my brother and my friend.

So with everything, I question.

As my leg was healing, I reflected on who I hang out with, and why I look like I do, and how that can be dangerous when I walk home or where I walk around. “My life is on the line,” everyone says. This isn’t a worry for me. The real worry is what I am going to do with my life. I do not worry about when the time is for me to die or go. When I look in the mirror, I do not feel the way I look.

When I “fractured” my leg as the doctor says, I had to wait three long agonizing days until I got my cast. I was begging for Monday to bestow its love upon me because I never stay home after I wake up. I leave for the entire day and do plenty of mischievous things.

The recovery was swift because I pushed through it. But with most of this being said about my leg injury, I always work out at night around 10:30 and I would run two to three miles and do at least 150 push-ups. Once this work out was complete I would always cool down by lying on the playground inside the school where I work out. The hole in the fence is always open. By open, I mean every time they cover up the hole, they cut another. So I would cool down and think of all the questions I had throughout the day, like why I am in certain situations, or why I react in certain ways and have no emotions to most things people flip out about it.

I just recently discovered that I am a person suffering from depression. With all these isms present in today’s society, it is scary to reach out to others and ask for help or offer it. It will always be in the back of my mind with classism still existing. It makes it a struggle for me to reach out and help others without the fear of being “broke” or mistreated, used, abused, and so on. The list can go on and on. The way I was raised was to always have manners, be respectful to all, never discriminate against anyone, and to help others. Others claim to be raised with manners but I am a very observant person so I can say that some people have them while others do not even have the word in their vocabulary.

These thoughts were had when I was laying down all day when I had the cast on my leg. That really changed me and made me realize some things I would not have if I never felt so alone. This hurt me metaphorically because I was being made fun of and bullied to a certain degree because of my mistake I made, and it was by someone I considered one of my closest friends. So I am acting and thinking differently than I did in the past, hence why I am always playful, cheerful, or seem full of life with others around. But once I am alone I reflect on a lot of modern problems that date back to the mid-1900s.

Racism and classism—which are still very present—distinguish people and make them an outcast to certain activities, which affects everyone. With today’s society and its craziness, why do these same

things still exist? There are more problems, but history repeats itself and you can see that in countless events, which is why I do a lot of reflecting so that I will not make the same mistakes as others.

But I am only human and I can only have a perception of perfect. I cannot achieve it. Depression is what I developed slowly. It crept up on me while my leg was broken. I was weak physically and mentally, which I realized too late once its full effect was upon me. And with this, all I can say is, with today’s society, what happened wasn’t completely my fault. I didn’t make all of the oppression and prejudgment and being critical of people.

So with the riots in 1992, which is how the rest of the state classifies them as, people wanted rights that we were born with but are not given, that are stripped away by others who created— invented a hierarchy system. I will leave you with this thought: you can define everything. You can’t just live freely and happily. Yeah, things have definitions, but they all cannot be taken into consideration or used in life. So many things will be pointless when you look back and reflect on what or why you did a certain thing a certain way. So just put out what you want to see, not what you hate already.

About the Author

Dante Rodriguez is a kid living in Watts, California, in South Central and struggling to finish high school with all the problems surprising him along the way. He is very athletic and is extremely well-rounded in the classroom. He is a morning person and only eats breakfast all day every day.

ELIJAH MONTGOMERY

Finding Peace: An Interview with Aqeela Sherrills

Aqeela Sherrills is an activist combating gang violence who started a peace treaty between rival LA gangs the Bloods and the Crips. He began organizing the movement in 1988, and on April 28, 1992, the treaty was struck. It was the day before a verdict was reached in the trial of the LAPD for the beating of Rodney King.

Sherrills started his work as an activist in Jordan Downs and Nickerson Gardens, which are both public housing apartment complexes in Watts. There was a tremendous amount of violence happening in the neighborhood, he says, and he started losing family and friends.

EM Why was 1992 the year you decided to make a peace treaty between the Bloods and the Crips?

AS I’d like to think that we decided, but I think it was the times. They called for it. It was just a tremendous amount of violence happening in the neighborhood. I was losing a lot of friends and family members to this war that was raging out of control in the community. Actually, 1989 was the beginning of the work we started laying the foundation for. So [in] 1992, we actually had been laying work for four years already when we actually organized the peace treaty.

EM Were you nervous when you first started the project?

AS Yeah, I was terrified. Interestingly, we [had already] started a group called the African Brothers Collective, and every Wednesday night we would meet at the house of a friend of ours on the west side of LA. We would talk about how we could actually stop the killing in the neighborhood. So we decided that we would start marching in all of the housing developments —a group of Black men bringing this message of peace and reconciliation and beginning again, resolving our conflicts differently. The first march that we were going to go was in the Nickerson

Garden housing projects. I grew up in Jordan Downs housing projects, which is [in] a Crip neighborhood. Nickerson Garden is [in] the biggest Blood neighborhood in Watts. We had serious conflicts, and I had some enemies over there from being a kid [and] gangbanging. I was a little concerned about what could potentially happen if we ran into the wrong folks.

The day before we went on the march, we had a meeting over at Ted Watkins Park. I was recounting to the team how I had a dream the night before that we went over there [where I] got shot. But we didn’t let that deter us because, again, there were so many people losing their lives in the neighborhood—not just people being murdered, but also people being shot and terminally maimed [as well as] folks being incarcerated for the rest of their lives. I pushed through the fear and we did it. We marched into Nickerson and, of course, the first group we ran into [included] individuals I had conflicts with when I was gangbanging. But I started talking real fast. Interestingly the guy was like, “What you all are talking about is important, and I’m down!”

EM Was there anybody that was close to you who influenced you to join the gang?

AS Absolutely. You grow up in the neighborhood

and, pretty much, you’re guilty by association. So all my partners that I grew up with and ran with—my brothers, my cousins—they were all immersed in the gang culture, and so it was an influence.

EM What did you think about the riots in 1992? Did it influence you to make the peace treaty?

AS Interestingly, the peace treaty actually happened a day before the Rodney King verdict was read. They happened almost simultaneously. A lot of people associate the peace treaty with the civil unrest in ’92, but the peace treaty actually happened first. We [had been] organizing the movement since 1988, and April 28 was the day that it culminated. And I would say the riots were a little fuel to the fire for the work.

EM Who influenced you to start the peace treaty? Who helped you?

AS My brother Daude, I would say, was chief because he was heavily involved with the politics of the hood. He was gangbanging and a very reputable cat in the neighborhood. So my brother Daude and [former Cleveland Browns fullback] Jim Brown, the Football Hall of Fame great and social icon, who has been my mentor and friend for the past twenty-five years. Brown was the first one who really invested in us and our work. Congresswoman Maxine Waters—she worked at a policy level to deal with a lot of the state violence that was being perpetrated against folks in the community. So law enforcement was busting heads and taking numbers and the congresswoman was instrumental in helping us to deal with that. And then there [were] key cats from each one of the housing developments: Donny Juberg and Big Hank from the Nickersons, Tony Bullard, Dwayne Holmes, [and] Sister Souljah from the Imperial Court housing project, and a bunch of our big homies from the Jordan Downs. All of those individuals were really influential in making the peace treaty happen and influencing me.

EM Did you think it would be easier because the protests of police violence in 1992? Did you think it would be easier to start the peace treaty?

AS Nah man, it was a war zone in LA. I mean literally. I didn’t know what to expect. And the truth of the matter is is that I’d love to just take all the credit for organizing the peace treaty, but this was really a spiritual movement. And I just want to name it and say that God gave us the vision for what to do. I mean literally in a vision told us if we brought the Nickersons and the Jordan Downs together, that we would create a domino effect for peace across the city. So we worked on that strategy. Minister [Louis] Farrakhan was the real spiritual leader of the movement. In 1989, he was doing the Stop the Killing tours all across the country. When Minister Farrakhan came to LA, he drew thousands of people to the sports arena, and there was about 1,500 Crips and Bloods from all across the city who went to hear the message. We took about twenty-five of our homies from the projects in Jordan Downs from Grape Street. That’s where I grew up and where I was from. I would have to give a tremendous amount of credit to Minister Farrakhan and [Jim Brown] because at the time they were really the vanguards of the Black community.

EM What were your feelings about the LA Riots and the altercation between Rodney King and the police?

AS It’s so interesting. We were just watching this on the news a couple of days ago and they were saying, “There was a Rodney King trial,” and I always tell folks that it wasn’t a Rodney King trial. Four cops who beat the [hell] out of him were on trial. But [people] always call it the Rodney King trial, and it wasn’t the Rodney King trial, it was the LAPD that was on trial. My feelings were that [police brutality] was happening all the time. The only time I’ve ever been to jail was being attacked by the police in the projects— violating our civil rights. I could’ve been the first Rodney King. I could’ve sued. And this was an ongoing thing. This was happening all the time. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten up out of my bed at twelve o’clock at

night because one of the homies is knocking on our door because the police just gave him some flashlight therapy, meaning that they threw their big flashlight out of there vehicle and bust them upside the head, and would take ’em and drop ’em off at the so-called enemy’s neighborhood. And they make it back to the neighborhood half alive, telling us what happened, and then we get together with them and go down to SouthEast to file a complaint that most of the time fell on deaf ears because, you know, the police was a gang, too. So they would take our reports after we would file them at the front desk and they would throw them right in the trash until Carl McGill, a cop over at SouthEast, told us how to file a report properly. That ended that practice, to a certain extent.

EM Do you think having camera phones helps stop police violence?

AS No. I think that everybody has cell phones. So, I’m highly critical of the city of LA spending sixty-seven million dollars— something like that—on body cameras. I don’t think that we need body cameras. That’s a foregone conclusion. Everybody got cell phones now. So why are we spending all this money on body cameras? They don’t deter nothing—the cops could just turn ’em off, like they’ve been doing.

EM How do you feel about the neighborhood now in comparison to how it was twenty years ago? Do you feel like it has gotten better or worse?

AS It’s absolutely gotten better, I think, as a result of the peace treaty. What was born from it was several individuals started organizations in the neighborhood to look at addressing the violence. The legacy of our work is the Watts Gang Task Force, the Community Safety Partnership. We have thirty cops now, and each one of them is in developments. They happen to be good folks. We had three consecutive years in a row of no murders in Jordan Downs, which is significant. And the city of LA has experienced ten consecutive years in a row of decreases in violent crime and murder. Violence has only been beginning to spike overall in the city in the last year and a half. But if you look at the areas where there are gang intervention programs—that’s about twenty-three areas in the city— violence is down ten percent in those neighborhoods. Watts is a real leader in this movement to [reduce] incidents of violence and violent crime.

My talk with Aqeela Sherrills changed my point of view about gangs because I never knew you could bring two enemies together and make peace. Usually, bringing rivals together fuels the fire. This changed my perspective on gangbangers because this means they are not all bad and some want change.

I felt the need to talk to him because I’ve also seen police brutality and gang violence. Not long ago, a man by the name of Kenny got shot on my block by the police while I was in school. I came home to yellow tape all around my block; I wasn’t able to go home. I was angry because I couldn’t get to my house, but I was also sad because someone just lost their life at a young age. As Sherrills says in the interview, the police were seen as enemies of the whole community. He felt the LAPD didn’t protect and serve; they killed and destroyed families. They destroyed more than they protected. I feel that way, too.

Elijah Montgomery is a seventeen-year-old African American fan of the Los Angeles Clippers, who are the best basketball team in the world. Elijah plays basketball and is the best at the school. He hates reading, especially math. He think school takes up too much time in the day. If there wasn’t so much time consumed by it, he could practice basketball more. Then he would be the best at all schools, instead of just one.

BRAXTON JOHNSON

Thoughts of a Polluted Mind

Kings/Queens, Gold, Land, Blood Sweat and Tears; mud thrown on us, dirt kick toward us. Words strong as steel that damaged us, history that crippled us. Yet we still walk toward a better future.

Angels seen as monsters and monsters praised as heroes. Respect and dignity traded for fame and fortune. Blinded by the suffering for centuries we are now pushed from the path of peace and tranquility toward an explicit path of destruction.

Incomplete knowledge leads us to be committed to half-change, the fear of failing or dying. Leaving everything behind, forgetting throughout history stops us from standing up for what’s right.

When will we take a stand without breaks? Stop being zombified by the media—taking away the dreams we lived for?

The eyes of a young Black/Brown man/woman in the slums or on money to make it out. The sight of drugs, money, and jewels following the shell of murder, gunpowder turns one into the brute you already think we are. Communication breakdown creates confusion that turns into pointless violence. The touch from our loved ones is lost, lack of guidance we try to grow too fast to survive in this cold jungle.

The touch of money to a person who never had it gives us a taste of a paradise they dream of daily, urging them to do anything to get a hold of it.

Sounds of police and ambulance daily driving a person crazy! Feeling targeted every second of every day or worse, making a person comfortable to this daily war we face.

No one tells you how to get to where you need to be in life and sometimes people don’t get informed on what’s right or wrong, leaving a mystery in many hands about the things you’ll face in the outside world.

How would you turn out if the streets were your parents, the people on your block will be considered family, books replaced by the lessons you learn in the streets becoming your everyday school? Any lesson missed, you become lost and people you consider family is all rats, poisonous snakes, and vultures.

The invisible chains we all wear… religion has a strong hold on our lives. Keeping us in order and making one feel or seem superior. When will we take a stand without breaks? Who is the man Jesus that we pray to? Is it the ship that we rode here in shackles or is it a White man with blonde hair blue eyes? White folk. According to the Bible, it states that God is a Brown-colored man. So how come when I search up God in Google, it’s a White man?

Police used as mindless minions. Feeling as though they are here to protect but only keeping us in check for the higher-ups. Not following the sense of their own justice they will state that they are just following orders. Judges are granted the power as gods, choosing if a person should live or die. How can one be granted such a power? The president is only a face, not making actual changes, but causing disaster to others, making foreigners who rebel looking for justice to be seen as terrorists. Us being foolish, we support our state because it’s our state. If we were to live in any other state/ country/place that the United States has severely damaged, wouldn’t we have done the same?

People grow more lazy as technology evolves. The real question is when will we be replaced by technology? Are we really evolving or becoming enslaved by our own inventions?

Our country is corrupted and other countries know that.

There’s no change. There’s more hate because we always lose. People in the position of money and status.

Control is what the “enlightened” ones want, illuminated by darkness, greed at their throats. Consumed by greed, they’ll do anything to keep their power and status.

When will we take a stand without taking a break? That voice will always be the answer to our problem.

About the Author

Braxton Johnson is a senior at Locke High School. A poet and a philosopher of sorts, Braxton embodies equal parts Cornel West and Kendrick Lamar.

GISSELL DIAZ

Life Gives Us Lessons to Recognize Our Mistakes

One day I got mad at my mom and brothers because of lack of communication. I was fourteen years old, and my brothers Angel and Henry were four and five years old. We shared the same room. My brothers and I could not have our own space because my mom and stepdad do not have enough money to buy a house or rent an apartment with three or four rooms. Everything began when I heard my brothers making a lot of noise. I was lying down because after I finished cleaning, I felt a little tired. My brothers woke me with their yells, and I don’t know about you, but when I’m sleeping and someone, without need, just wakes me, I wake up angry. Then when they didn’t let me get some sleep, I stood up, and what do you think that I saw? Well, let me tell you. What I saw was their toys on the floor. They were play-fighting and yelling. I felt frustrated by this; I really don’t like to see things out of place. After I saw what they had done, I felt upset, and sad too because they were not appreciating what I did. I asked them, “Why did you make a mess again after I had cleaned the house already?” They didn’t answer me. Then I asked them again, but this time I was a little more upset. In fewer words, I yelled at them.

My mom was in her room. When she heard me yelling, she came to our room to see what was happening. She asked me what was the matter, and I told her that I had cleaned the house and that Henry and Angel made their mess again. Also I told her that she never punished them, that I always have to pick up all their mess in the house, that they are annoying, and that they don’t like me. The anger made me yell at her. My mom, with a sad look and a sad voice, told me,“If your brothers don’t like you and if you don’t want to live at home with them, you can leave. I will not have you living with us if you do not want to.”

I felt something strange inside me. I didn’t want to yell at her, but I did. I didn’t respect her, and I guess what I was feeling inside me was remordimiento because I didn’t respect her as my mother. After she told me that, my eyes were full of tears. I started crying, but I didn’t look my mom in the face again because I didn’t want her to see me cry. I wanted to demonstrate to her that I was strong and that whatever she said to me would not affect me; but inside I knew that I wanted her to tell me, “Hija, I don’t want you to leave, I want to have all my hijos together.” That didn’t happen.

I put my shoes on and I left the house. My mom didn’t stop me. I guess she let me go because she wanted me to learn from my decisions. When I left home, it was between 6:30 or seven o’clock at night. It was dark and quiet; there were only five or six people walking on the other side of the street. I just heard the sounds of cars driving slow because the street was small and if they drive fast there could be an accident. I thought that one of the cars would stop and kidnap me, or something similar. I started feeling a little scared and lonely. I started feeling that I wanted to cry.

I had no idea about what I would do by myself on the street. Walking, I started thinking that maybe if I had tried to solve things in a good way, talking with my mom and brothers about how I felt when I saw that they didn’t appreciate that I had cleaned the house, talking instead of shouting and blaming them, it could have been better for everyone. No one would be experiencing this bad time. I felt guilty and I wanted to go back in time to fix my mistake. I stopped at a gas station. In front of it was a taco truck. The owner of the truck had Mexican music playing. There were a few people eating tacos. On the other side of the street a few people

were filling their tanks at the gas station. Also there was a public phone. I sat down by it, and suddenly the smell of the carne asada from the taco truck came to me and it smelled delicious. I had six dollars in quarters in my pocket, and I asked myself, “How much were the taquitos?” because I was hungry. But instead I decided to call my grandma in Honduras to ask her what I should do. I decided to call her rather than anyone else in my family because I know that she has had more experiences in her life, that she wants the best for me, and that she would tell me what was best. In addition, I trust her more than any other person because I grew up with her. She is like my second mom, and when I lived with her, I felt safe and loved.

Before I called her, two young Black men dressed in elegant suits passed near me. They saw me sitting by the phone and asked me, “Do you need help?” I told them, “No, I’m fine.” They looked like good men, but I could not accept their help because I didn’t know them and I didn’t know their real intention. They left but then after a few minutes they came back with some food that they had bought at the taco truck. They gave it to me and I said thanks. They just said, “You’re welcome,” and kept walking.

After they left, I called my grandma. She was sleeping. I knew it because her voice sounded sleepy. She was happy that I called her. Then she asked me, “How are you, hija?” I told her that I left home because I had a little argument with my mom. When I told her that, I heard worry in her voice. She told me to go back home, get into my bed, and the next day talk with my mom to fix the problem because we had to regain the time that we had lost together. I had been in this country eight or nine months since I came from Honduras, and, to be honest, I didn’t know my mom much, and she didn’t know me. We had spent seven years without seeing each other, but that’s another story.

I wanted to go back home, but at the same time I didn’t, because my orgullo wouldn’t let me. To not worry my grandma more, I told her that I would go back home and do what she told me to do. When I hung up the phone, a car passed in front of me. I saw my neighbor get out from his dad’s car and walk toward me. He sat down next to me and told me to get in the car to go back home, because it was dangerous for me to be alone in the street. I was already sleepy and I didn’t want to spend the night in the street. I said, “Okay.” We stood up and walked toward the car. When we went to the car I saw my mom driving it. I didn’t know that she was in the car, and when I saw her I felt angry again, but I felt happy at the same time.

I was confused, and I told him that I would not get in the car. He asked me, “Why? Your mom had been worried and has been looking for you since you left your house.” When he told me that, I felt that my mom really cared for me. At this time it was 9:30 PM. Something made me feel that destiny was giving me another opportunity, and I decided to get into the car. My mom didn’t look at me; she was crying, and I felt guilty for her tears. I said, “Mom, I’m sorry for the tantrum that I had.” She gave me a hug and told me that everything was okay. On the way back home, I accepted my mistake; I felt embarrassed and I didn’t say a word.

When we arrived home, we went directly to sleep; both of us were tired. The next day we talked and expressed how we felt and discussed what we can do to not have more fights between us— not to be a perfect family, because nothing is perfect, but to be a happy family. When we finished talking, I started thinking about how the lack of communication makes us fail, and how pride does not let us accept our mistakes.

Now on weekdays I help my mom with my brothers. She works, and her work starts at 4:00 AM. My stepdad works too, and his work begins at 5:30 AM. Then I wake up, and as the older sister, I

take care of my brothers. I wake them to get ready for school, I take them to school, and sometimes when we have time, I make breakfast.

When we walk to school, it is a little cold in the morning, but we enjoy it because we talk, and sometimes we see new things or talk about different cars that we see. On weekends when I wake up, I make breakfast; I like to cook for the family, but to my taste. Also, I still clean the house, but not all the time.

My brothers sometimes make their mess; but now they are a little bigger and they know that they have to pick up their stuff. Henry is the youngest and the lazier one. He is the one who I have more problems with about his stuff, but when he does not want to clean his mess I just tell him, “If you don’t pick up your things, when my mom comes from work I will tell her, and she will punish you.” Instantly he picks up his stuff. Angel is the one who understand that he has to clean his things. I have another brother, Edzon. He is fourteen , but for now he doesn’t live with us. But that is another story.

My mom and I share more time than when I first came from Honduras. We have experienced hard times, but in the end we face and solve the problems that we have. My relationship with her is better; we are more connected. When we feel like something is wrong with us, we talk about it. I still have a little problem with my pride, but then I recognize that I’m wrong. It is not easy for me recognize my mistakes, but I do.

About the Author

Gissell Diaz was born in Honduras and lived there until she was twelve. Now she is sixteen and living in Los Angeles with her mom, stepdad, and brothers. She likes to walk to the beach. She wants to be a teacher or a doctor. She likes to watch scary movies. She likes to go to church, but only on weekends. Her favorite foods are baleadas or pollo con tajadas from Honduras. Her favorite dessert is milk and white chocolate. Her favorite drinks are natural juices or smoothies. She loves to eat tacos made of lengua, asada, pastor, or labio. She loves her family and likes to spend time with them.

RUBEN PONCE

My Past Creates the Present

After the 2016 election, my friends and I organized a small walkout that ended up spreading throughout the entire school. Many kids joined because they wanted to leave school, but I did it because I was angry. Members of my family would be affected because some of them don’t have papers to be in the United States, which means they got into the US illegally. I don’t want them to get deported back to their country. There was a reason they came to the United States in the first place, which was to have a better life; and since I couldn’t vote, I wanted my voice to be heard and to do something with my feelings. Our school counselors helped me organize the timing and to make sure staff were there with us. They told me they were impressed with us. They wouldn’t recognize the person I used to be.

My life has been a struggle. My parents were gang-affiliated and had friends who sold drugs. I lived in a very poor neighborhood called Lennox, near Inglewood, in a small room behind my aunt’s house with my mom. My mom didn’t act like an ordinary mom, but she loved me, in a way. We were very poor. She had to use old diapers so I would have something to wear, and she would use tape to strap me into them. Sometimes my parents would leave me in the car because we didn’t have enough room in the place we lived. One rainy day, my parents rented this hotel room but they left me in the car. I don’t remember crying, but I do remember staring at the ceiling of the car and through the window of the car and seeing the gray rainy sky and rain drops hit the window.

My dad would come along to visit us at my mom’s every day. I didn’t like to go to his house. I wouldn’t even call it a house, due to the fact that it had no kitchen and no bathroom. He had weapons around that little room. I couldn’t name most of them because I was a little kid, but I knew what some of them were because I played Grand Theft Auto. I remember my dad helping me hold a pistol and shooting orange pellets from the gun. (Not with actual bullets.) I didn’t like my dad’s “friends” either. They were covered in tattoos and dressed in long collared red shirts, tank tops, long shorts, white socks, and Nikes. They would try to tell me what to do and use words like “ése” and “holmes.” On the street they would always remind people of the crew they belonged to.

At school, I would get in trouble for cussing or acting up in class. I may look like a typical nerd, but I acted like a bully. I didn’t have many friends in school except the ones that behaved just like me. I would get bullied at school, so I would bully others. All my teachers would tell me bullies bully others because they have problems they haven’t worked out. I would get really mad, but I knew it was true. I would always release my anger with at least a couple punches at the wall. I was a bad kid. I didn’t want to be like my dad for many reasons, but I started picking up his bad habits anyway. I was very young when my parents left me. I had one brother and one sister. (I did have two sisters, but one died when she was a baby.) They gave my brother and sister to my grandparents right away, but I was stuck with my parents for the first few years of my life because I was their first kid. I remember my mom giving my clothes—boy clothes—to my sister because we didn’t have enough money to pay for new ones. My little brother was okay because he was with my grandparents when he was born, and they took good care of him. I had a feeling my parents did drugs because my brother was born with asthma. They had connections to drugs—why would they not use them? They never told me anything. I don’t remember my parents even explaining why I was going to live with my grandparents. I was really young, so for a long time I thought my grandparents were my real parents.

All I remember is that when I went to live with them, my life changed drastically. My grand-

parents bought me clothes and shoes and had food on the table, like arroz con frijoles or caldo de res, ready for me when I came home from school—things my parents couldn’t handle. Like I said earlier, I was a bad kid at school. When I hit the sixth grade, I was a bully and I would get horrible grades and bad reports from teachers. They said I would always misbehave in class and it’s true. I never did my homework. My progress report would be C’s, D’s, and F’s. I was in soccer for an after-school program, and my grades made it so I wasn’t allowed to play on game days.

Just like my parents, I had friends who were gang-affiliated. I remember days when there were fights outside of school with kids from school fighting because of gang rivalry. I would always hop in. I was never part of a gang, but I would always consider myself in because of my friends. I remember I would ditch school just to hang with friends or go to parties. Every time I did a bad thing, I thought about my parents.

I got caught ditching one day in sixth grade by my grandparents and the administrators at my school. I got in huge trouble. My grandma took me out of soccer and took away my Jordans and my PlayStation 2. I love my grandparents, but I didn’t like being yelled at or the feeling of getting in trouble.

My grandma told me I was going to end up just like my dad. I thought a lot about that after that. I figured I would end up in the wrong place or maybe I would even be dead, who knows? I knew that my parents hadn’t finished high school, and I remembered how little money we had. I didn’t want to end up like them. I felt disappointed in myself because all I was doing was wrong. I knew the things I did wouldn’t make my parents happy either, because they want the best for me. I wanted someone to be proud of me, so when the next time came, when my friends asked if I wanted to sell, smoke drugs, or even ditch class, I said no.

By the time I hit the seventh grade, I had changed. I was doing my homework and paying attention in class. I became a 4.0 student. Once, when I made the honor roll, there was a breakfast and my grandma came. She was so happy. I was making them happy and it made me happy.

Right before I started high school, I moved from Inglewood to Watts, but I still stayed away from trouble. Three years ago, I taught myself to record and edit video game clips and set them to music. I started doing edits for sniping teams in the Call of Duty community. I also taught myself Photoshop, and now I make logos and art for them. By the time I organized the walkout last year, I still had a 3.6 GPA. I applied to ten colleges this fall, and I’ve been accepted to one Cal State school already. I realized that I could do so much more for my education and my future than my parents could’ve ever done because they were never determined in school. I dream of coming back to the community I grew up in and giving back to everyone. I want to show that I’m a better person. I was raised to be a better person and to learn from my mistakes. I prefer to give than to receive, and Locke High School would be the first I would help on money issues, such as not enough money for books, clubs, or even sports. That’s where I would step in and give. Almost every day I ask myself: where would I be if I lived with my parents and was never handed to my grandparents?

About the Author

Ruben Ponce is an Inglewood native and future graduate of Locke High School’s class of 2017. He plans to attend Cal State University, Northridge, where he wants to study graphic design in the fall. He hopes to someday have a million subscribers to his YouTube channel Entempt.

NATASHA SARAVIA

Never Give Up

One morning when I was twelve years old, I woke up thinking it was a normal day, but it was actually the day my life completely changed. I remember that the first thing I saw in my bedroom was the clock, it was 9 AM. I took a cold shower, because in El Salvador all the days are hot. Then I went to breakfast in the dining room with my parents. When I sat in the dining room, we started to eat a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with orange juice and bitter coffee. While we were eating, my dad said to me that they had something to tell me. I was really scared. I felt excited but worried at the same time because I feared they would tell me that I did something wrong or something like that. Finally they said to me that we had to leave El Salvador and we had to travel to the United States in one month. I was really surprised and could not believe what they were saying to me. The only thing that crossed my mind was, “What will happen with my life in El Salvador?”

My life in El Salvador was really good. I had everything that I wanted. I studied in a private school and I had a lot friends. In the afternoons I used to spend my time with friends and neighbors. My life was so easy; I only worried about myself and my appearance. I never thought that one day this would change.

In El Salvador my parents had a big farm. At the farm they had hens that produced eggs, and they had tomatoes planted. They distributed these products to the markets. One day my father was driving in his white truck when suddenly three men came up to him and told him that they wanted money. They also said to him that if he did not give them the money, they would kill us. They knew everything about us. They knew where I studied, where we were living, even the license plate numbers of our cars. They wanted $900 each week. That was a big amount of money for us because we had a lot of expenses at our house and the farm. We could not do anything about it. My parents felt that the only solution they had was to escape from El Salvador, because if we did not escape, they would kill us.

Things did not go as we planned and my dad had to leave El Salvador first, and leave us behind. We did not have another option, and we had to pay a lot of money to survive, so my daddy decided to go work in the United States and send us the money to pay the gangs. My dad finally arrived in the United States, but the time passed and he forgot about us. He never sent us the money to pay them. I do not know why he didn’t. I felt very sad and angry at the same time because he was my everything. I could not believe that my dad forgot his princess, his only daughter. Our business needed more money to work, and my mom and I did not have that money or a way to earn it. We did not have another option. My mother finally decided to sell the farm, the cars, and the house and use this money to leave El Salvador.

It was June 10, 2015, when we left El Salvador and started our journey of traveling to the United States. I was very scared because we had to cross a river at the border and I knew that it was a long way that we had to travel, but I felt safe because my mom was with me. She made me strong. I remember that first we passed Guatemala. We stayed almost one week there. We stayed in a house at the seashore. It was very hot there, and I did not want to stay there for very long. Luckily the days passed quickly, and finally we traveled in a fast boat through the sea. I remember that the boat was big and had a big motor. There were almost twelve people in the boat; we spent two nights at sea. Then we arrived in Puerto Salinas, México. When we arrived

there it was nighttime, and I was very cold because I was wet. We walked until we arrived at a street where two buses were waiting for us to take us to Oaxaca, México. Then we traveled in those buses until we arrived at the border of México and the United States. We crossed the border at night; I was so scared. In our group there were two women and seven men. First they all crossed the river, and then us. I remember they said to us that they would come back for me and my mom, but they never did. They left us. When we realized that they had left us, we started to walk in the dark of night. We did not know where we were; we were lost. My shoes were wet. I was cold and I was tired. Finally the border patrol found us and they took us to a detention center. We spent one week there, and then they sent us to Los Angeles.

When we finally arrived in Los Angeles, I felt nervous, but at the same time I was excited to be in a new city with new people and have a new life. In Los Angeles my stepfather was waiting for us at the bus station. I remember when I got off the bus I saw everything differently. I was so excited. Then my stepfather took us to his apartment. The apartment was white and very small, with a brown sofa in the middle of the living room. The living room and the kitchen were very small. I could not believe that we were going to live there. It was so different from my house in El Salvador. That night I took a long, hot shower. During the shower I was thinking about my house in El Salvador, and why my life had changed.

Time has passed and my life in the United States is better than it was before. After three months I started to go to school. The first days were so difficult for me because everyone looked different than my friends, but I made a lot of new friends in a short time. I’m learning English and focusing on my studies. Also my mom started to work, so our economic situation has improved a little bit, and we do not pay money to the gangs anymore. We have started to overcome the challenges of our journey and look forward to our family’s new future.

Today I am seventeen years old. I wake up in the morning on a normal day in Los Angeles at 6:45 AM. The first thing that I smell is the coffee that my mom makes in the kitchen. I take hot showers, because unlike in El Salvador, it is often cold in the mornings here in LA. My normal days in Los Angeles are so different than they were in El Salvador, but now I’m here to achieve my goals, finish high school, and become a professional woman.

About the Author

Natasha Saravia is seventeen years old. Her family is from El Salvador, and she came to the United States when she was fifteen years old. Now she is living in Los Angeles with her mother and her grandmother. She is a high school student who sometimes takes almost two hours to do her homework because her grandmother is always watching novelas and Natasha pays more attention to the novelas than her homework! She is a person who is always smiling. She likes to make jokes. She loves dogs and pizza. Her favorite hobbies are listening to music, going to the gym, and spending time with her family. Her goal is be a professional interior designer.

MICHELLE GRIJALBA

The City of Angels

The city of angels, where everyone wants to be. Growing up in LA, especially in Watts, was a big learning experience for me. My mom always told me that she came to LA for a better life for herself and her children. I never really thought about that. I always thought that South LA was a bad place to be to start a future and begin a better life for myself and my family. How can you have a good life when you hear gunshots most of the nights? You have block lockdowns where you can’t even get out of your own house because there is someone that can harm you, or the police shoot you because they think you’re the bad guy they are looking for. Many bad things come to my mind when people talk about South LA because of the things I have been through. But I can say I have had good memories here that changed my life, like meeting my closest friends and having the best childhood memories—memories that have left a mark in my life.

My mother was twenty-one years old when she moved to the United States from El Salvador. She was young and didn’t really know much when she came here, but one thing she did know was that she came here for a reason. It was to start a better future for herself and her family. She had to leave my older brother and sister back in El Salvador with my grandma because she couldn’t bring them with her. My brother was two and my sister was barely ten months old at that time. They had no clue that my mom had left El Salvador for the United States. My grandma had to step up and raise them while my mom was in the United States. My mom always struggled in El Salvador. She had to work multiple jobs just so that my siblings and grandma could have food on the table. On top of that, she had an abusive husband who didn’t help her at all. He just caused more trouble and stress in her life. She struggled and suffered her whole twenty-one years there. She finally had the courage and money to move to the United States to have a better life. It was hard for her to leave. She was leaving the three most important people in her life, but she had no other option. It was an opportunity for her and her family—she wasn’t going to leave it.

When my mom moved to the United States, she had to live in a little garage and looked for a job so that she could have money for her expenses and save up to bring my family to the United States. She worked her butt off to get what she wanted, which was to bring her family over here and finally be reunited with them. It took her three long years but she finally had enough money to bring my family to the United States. From then on, it was a new life and new opportunity for my family.

My perspective of LA was completely different than what I was told at school. I was born in Mid-City. It is completely different from South LA. I was about six years old when my mom got a house in South LA. It was a new place and I was super excited because it had a bigger place for me to play outside. I was little, so that was one of the things I was really looking forward to. As a young girl, I would always love to play outside with my neighbors and just enjoy our time. Most times we did not have the chance to play outside because of the things that would happen on our block. I didn’t really know much when I was little. All they would tell me is to not play outside because it’s too dangerous. As I grew up, I got a better understanding about what would happen. During block lockdowns, we would stay inside my house the whole day until the police would say it’s safe to go outside. Situations like the ones I have been through make people think that Watts is such a bad place, and isn’t a nice place for a young girl like myself to be raised. I would think that every day because of what would happen in South LA, but there is always some good in the bad.

Living in South LA, my mom always told me to take care of myself because of things and people

she would see around here. She always checks up on me because she’s scared something might happen to me. When I was a little girl, my mom always told me not to end up pregnant at a young age because she sees so many young girls my age pregnant. She doesn’t want me to end up that way. She says that a baby stops you from many things. I believe that is true. I want to go to college and actually fulfill my dreams. A baby at such a young age just stops all of that. It’s like a big bump in the road. My cousin was sixteen years old when we got the news that she was pregnant. I was in complete shock when I heard that. I never thought that would happen to her. What if that was me in that situation? I would have no idea what I would do. That would just stop everything that I had planned for myself and my future. My mom always uses my cousin’s situation as an example. She doesn’t want me to end up like my cousin, and I know where she is coming from. I completely understand. I just want to make my mom proud and not fail her in any way.

There aren’t always bad things in South LA. I have actually had some good memories here. One of the things that I will always remember, being raised in South LA, is meeting my friends. We were all pretty much raised together. We’re like sisters. Being with them just brings joy to each of us. We always have a good time together. It’s just laughs all the time—those are our little memories that I’ll always remember. Having all my family here is also a good thing. I love spending time with them, and it’s always a good time when I’m with them. We have family gatherings every now and then. We make food and play board games and talk like we haven’t seen each other in years. I always get good vibes when I’m with my family. Since we don’t see each other often, we always crack jokes and just remember the good times when we would live together. I’m honestly glad that they live near me and not in El Salvador. If we had to go visit them over there, it would not really be a good thing. It is such a bad place at the moment. Some of my cousins moved to the United States when they were little, so we never really had the opportunity to see them as much in El Salvador. That’s why it’s such a good thing they moved to the United States, because we can just be together whenever we have the opportunity instead of traveling so far just to see them.

People see South LA as such a dangerous place and think that it must be horrible to live here because of how South LA was pictured during the 1992 Uprisings. I mean, if I lived somewhere else and they told me to move to South LA after hearing the story about the 1992 Uprisings, I would immediately say no. Who would want to live here after hearing of the bad that has happened here? But honestly, South LA isn’t such a bad place after all, even after hearing all those stories about it. I’ve lived here for eleven years so far, and yeah I’ve been through some bad situations here, but living here has also taught me so many things. I spent my whole childhood here. I met all my friends here and most of my family lives around here. Crazy to say, but living here is my motivation to continue my education and fulfill my dreams because, when I’m older, I want to have the opportunity to move away from here and get a better place to start my life. People either succeed or fail when you live in a bad community. I want to be the person my whole family looks up to. I just want everyone to be proud that I made it and made something out of myself, even if I lived in such a bad community.

Living in South LA has shown me a lot. In a couple of months, I’ll be graduating high school and attending college to further my career. My mom has been the biggest motivation for me to keep pushing and never give up. Having my mom’s and my family’s support has kept me pushing and made me believe in myself that I can actually make it. I know that living in South LA can be difficult, but having that support can make everything better. Despite all the bad things that go on here, I can say that South LA isn’t such a bad place. I’ll always remember this place as the motivation for my future.

Michelle Grijalba is a proud member of the South LA community. She loves to participate in after-school events and play volleyball.

GIOVANNY CHAVEZ

Going for a Better Future

My life changed when I came to the United States two years ago when I was twelve. Before that, I was in El Salvador living with my family. El Salvador is a little country in Central America that uses the same money as the United States, but life is different there because you can’t find a job with fair pay. The schools in El Salvador are bad. They don’t give free food to the students, and it is difficult to enter a university because it is so expensive to get in. Here in the United States, if you are a good student, the government will give you money to go to a university. The economy in El Salvador is a little bit bad, and because of that, many people leave for the United States. Many people die when they are traveling.

In the United States I don’t have much family. In El Salvador, I lived with my mom, my aunt, and my grandmother. I lived there my whole life. When I was a little kid, my dad came to the United States because he wanted to improve his life. When my dad arrived, he sent for my mom too. He said he wanted to bring my mom because after that he would send for us and all be together. My brothers and I stayed with my aunt and my grandmother. Then my mom decided to come back to El Salvador because she wanted to take care of us. After a year, my brothers and I also went to the United States because my family knew we would have more opportunities there. There were better schools, doctors, and jobs, and it was safer. My brothers are ten and nine years old, and they were more scared at the time because they didn’t understand why we went to the United States.

When we traveled to the United States, I felt both a little scared and a little happy because I knew we were going to a better place where there would be more opportunities. We passed through Guatemala and México. It was a long time to spend on a bus. First we got a bus from El Salvador to Guatemala. On the bus there were not many people. I didn’t know the men in front of me, but I asked them, “Where are you going?”

One man said, “I’m going to the US because here it is impossible to get money and find jobs.” The bus smelled like cigarettes because some people were smoking. Sometimes the bus would stop for the people who needed to go to the restroom, or the people who wanted to eat something. My brothers and I got out of the bus because we were tired and hungry. We bought a plate of tacos, and the men who were on the bus in front of me bought a plate of tacos, too. One of them gave some to me, and I said, “Thank you so much.”

After we ate the tacos, we hurried to go to the restroom because the bus only stops for about thirty minutes and then it leaves. After the restroom, we got back onto the bus to be with my brother. After twenty minutes on the bus, we got to Guatemala. My brothers and I were sleeping, and the men who were in front us woke us up. Then we got out of the bus and got on another bus from Guatemala to México. We spent the night at a house in Guatemala before getting on another bus. No one lived in that house; it was empty. The next day we got on the bus to México. From there, the United States wasn’t far. When we were in Guatemala, we bought things like chips, soda, and food. Guatemala is a good place, but when we got to México I was scared because some people there are part of gangs. The gangs have guns, they dress weird, they use bad words, and they are violent, which made us sad.

After we passed the area with gangs, we got to a city in México. We spent a night in México, too. There we slept in a bed, but there were many people with us. We were packed in tight, and the

bed smelled like old people who slept there. Then the next day, we woke up and cooked eggs. They were all that we ate, and they tasted a little bit bad. Then we got on the bus from México. We felt scared of the police because they took money from my brothers and me. We didn’t have a lot of money, only what our parents had given us when we left. After a few minutes on the bus, we were near the border of the United States and México. The people who took us there helped us cross the river and get to the immigration police. Crossing the river was difficult because the boat was little and the water was moving hard and spilling over into the boat. The water smelled bad and looked black. There was a lot of trash and dead animals in the river, which caused the smell.

We were in Hidalgo, Texas, at the immigration offices. It was horrible because we needed to sleep on the floor, and it smelled like a hospital. It was like a jail; there were no beds, no blankets, and the restroom didn’t have a door. I don’t think they ever cleaned, and there was a camera in front of the restroom. The food the officer gave us was nasty. They gave us bread with ham and juice. The bread was cold. When we got here to the United States, we talked to my family in El Salvador and they said, “We are sad. We miss you.”

And we said, “We miss you too.” We wanted to go back, but we knew there was a better life for us here, where people receive more support. We did see some people who lived on the street in the United States, but we still believe it’s a better place. My dad heard about the people on the street, and he started to explain, saying, “Yes, here is a better place where a person has more opportunities, but you need to have a job to support your life. Maybe that person doesn’t have anyone who supports them. Sometimes that person just drinks alcohol and does not try to find a job. It is easier to live here because sometimes the government supports you, and you have me here to help you no matter what.” I thought about how sad it was for that person who doesn’t have anyone who supports them.

Now, here in Los Angeles, my life has changed. Here I have more opportunities, and I live with my brothers and my dad. My brothers and I go to school, and my dad works. Every morning my dad wakes us up and my brothers and I get ready to go to school. At school I have seven classes. One is English; I need that class to learn the language they speak here. In advisory class we talk about what we like, and we share ideas. Sometimes we play games in a circle. There is also silence at times because the teacher says we need to respect others when they are talking. I feel good there, because I share my feelings and everyone respects me, and I respect them when they share too. All my classes are enjoyable but sometimes we have to do a lot of work. When school ends, we walk home. When I walk I see a lot of cars and people, and I smell a lot of food from the restaurants, like hamburgers from McDonald’s, and Mexican food from the others’ houses. It takes me a long time to get to my house because I don’t have anyone who can pick me up in the afternoon. One day it took me approximately forty-five minutes to walk between my house and the school. Sometime I get tired and I take a few minutes to relax. Once I get home, I eat and do homework.

My life in El Salvador was different than it is now because there I didn’t have anyone to take me to school. The school was far, and sometimes I didn’t eat anything in the mornings. Sometimes I felt bad for not eating at school. We only ate if we had money because there was a store, and sometimes my mom gave us money to take to school. My dad sent money for us too because at that time my dad was in the United States. Christmas time here in the United States is also different than in El Salvador because here it can be boring just to be with your family and eat, but in El Salvador we bought fireworks and made pan con pollo with our family. It was beautiful to see the light from the fireworks, although sometimes we couldn’t see anything because there

was a lot of smoke. In El Salvador the kids don’t receive presents; my dad and my mom instead bought clothes, fireworks, and food. The happiness of kids in places like El Salvador, where we didn’t have a lot of money, came from playing with fireworks.

I think it was so difficult to come to the United States because we had to go through so many difficult things, including things we didn’t like because we felt scared. Some of those were the gangs and the police in México. Getting here took a long time, and my dad made a big effort to get us here. I am going to take advantage of the opportunities that they gave me.

About the Author

Giovanny Chavez was born in San Miguel, El Salvador. He is fifteen years old. He loves to play soccer in his free time and watch soccer games on TV. He also likes to play with his brothers. He loves pizza and sometimes enjoys running. When he grows up, he wants to live in Spain and be the best police officer in the United States.

MAGY IRAHETA

Something Still Worries Me

On a quiet night, I’m in the living room on a call with my mother in El Salvador. I can hear her voice far away on the phone; her voice sounds like sadness because we are talking about the problems that were happening in the community. I feel very sad because there are many people who are feeling pain because they are forced to live with violence.

When she hung up the call, I got lost in my thoughts remembering a moment in El Salvador when I was buying my lunch in the town where the school is located. A boy came to tell me that I couldn’t be there because I was from another town with a different gang—an enemy of the gang in the town where I was buying my lunch. The boy who came to me looked like a normal boy, not like a gangster. He was dressed with short pants and a t-shirt. I couldn’t know if he was a real gangster because not all of them are dressed like normal boys. He came to tell me that I was taking information from them to the gang where I lived. When I told him that it was not true, he started yelling at me, saying many bad things. He told me that if I came to that town the gang was going to kill me. That made me feel really upset. I was so afraid about it. I thought that he was going to kill me at that moment. I just remember that when I left that place and went back to school, I was crying very hard; I was really scared something bad could happen when I went home because I always had to walk alone.

Then there came a time when the children couldn’t go to school because the gangsters were hitting them; the gangsters thought that the children were gangsters too. The women couldn’t go to the market to sell or buy food because some of them had children who were into gangs. It was very bad because the town with the market was the only town nearby. Those bad moments were really sad for some families because they didn’t have money to move to another town or pay rent to the gangster to have a quiet life.

During those dark days, I met my mother’s friend. She has a son that is in a gang, but their family lives off fishing. They have to go to fish each day in the early morning to catch mojarras, tilapias, other kind of fish, and sometimes crab. We were in my grandmother’s home. My mother’s friend was talking with my mother. I remember that I was helping my grandmother in the kitchen, but they were talking so loud I could hear everything they were saying.

I remember her face wet with tears. The woman said that the gangsters in the town where she was going to sell her fish beat her; they didn’t allow her to sell her fish because she has a son in a rival gang. She was crying; her face was very hard with sadness. They are poor and don’t have enough money if they don’t sell their fish. She was holding her apron, and her hair was disheveled. I felt very sad to see her, and to see any other person who is afraid of the problems that they are facing.

At this moment I live in Los Angeles. My life is different. Each morning when I wake up I feel ready to go, without thinking that something bad can happen to me while I’m walking to school. I don’t hear people shooting each other, and that makes me feel safe and very comfortable. Something awesome has happened where I once lived in El Salvador. There has been a great change because a police station moved into town. They helped to protect the community when they made plans to capture the gangsters. They achieved it, and that was very helpful because some gangster ran away. Now it’s different because the gangsters are hiding from the police and

they aren’t hurting people. The people in the community feel safe because police officers and soldiers are walking, making sure that everything is okay.

Some gangsters’ families feel bad because their children are prisoners. Some of them died when facing the police. Many families lost their relatives, or they had to leave their homes. But it’s different because the gangsters don’t hurt people in the same way as in El Salvador. The gangsters don’t force people to leave their homes because of their choice to live in the town. It could be that in Los Angeles the gangs kill people too, but they don’t hate their relatives. Also the gangsters are not scaring people with threats.

Now when I talk with my mother in El Salvador, she says it’s very different there because people think the town is better. The police officers and soldiers are walking around, and the gangsters are quiet, not hurting people in the town. Now people can go out at night because even in the night the police officers are around. Unfortunately not all the towns in El Salvador have a police station. In those towns the gangsters have control all around them. They think they are powerful. That is why something still worries me about my mother and my family in El Salvador. I’m afraid that things in the town will change and the town will go back to the past. It is really sad to live in a place where gangs have control and know they can take your life any time they want.

We know that at any moment things can change. This happened in Los Angeles during the uprising in 1992. Many people were attacked during the riots and some of them lost their lives. Many of them were innocent. But now, as you know, it’s different; it seems to me that it’s a lot better. That makes me think that the town where I grew up can change too, like Los Angeles after the uprisings in 1992.

About the Author

Magy Iraheta was born in El Salvador. She came to the United States when she was sixteen years old. She wants to be a successful person to support her family. She totally believes that school is really important. Her favorite classes are English and geometry. Magy misses her mother, who is still in El Salvador.

MOISES TORRES

Baleadas and Biology

It was never in my plans to move to LA because my life in Honduras was good. I always had what I wanted. I used to spend really good times with my cousins, especially during Christmas. We always bought a lot of fireworks, and we did a lot of stupid things. We went to la feria, an event during Christmas. We always cheated. We were nine in total, and we would go to different games together to bet money. We knew that we had the possibility of winning if we all bet money at the same time. When one of us won, we shared the money and went to play other games. That was our routine every day during the time of the feria.

This was what my life looked like when I was in Honduras. During the week I woke up about 8:00 AM, I ate breakfast, and then I watched TV—a program that is called Inazuma Eleven . It was a program about eleven kids who played on a soccer team and had superpowers. They traveled around the world playing against different soccer teams. This is important to me because it showed the passion, happiness, and freedom that those kids felt when they were playing soccer. That’s how I feel every time I play soccer. I feel free, I feel like no one can stop me, and when I am running further with the soccer ball, I can feel the breeze, the wind on my face, and I can see the faces of the people cheering. That makes me feel like running even faster, and when I leave my rival behind and I score the goal, I see the happiness of my teammates. Believe me, that sensation is really amazing. It makes me feel really special for that moment, like the kids who played soccer on the TV show, who played against other teams.

My classes started in the afternoon at 12:00 PM. I was in sixth grade, class A. Our rivals were the students from sixth grade, class B. We played soccer—boys against boys—to see who would play in the court for the rest of lunch. Most of the time we beat them. There was a big rivalry between us. It was a rivalry like FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. In those games one of them has to win—no tie. One of them has to win. That was the same situation with us. We always felt the responsibility that we had to beat them. That rivalry exists in almost all schools in Honduras. There was always class A versus class B. It was like a tradition in our country.

During the weekend, my dad or my uncle took us to the mall to go shopping, to go to eat, or just to go to the games. I liked to go to a place in the mall that is called Coco Baleadas. Baleadas are a tortilla filled with different ingredients. Coco Baleadas sells baleadas, but not normal baleadas. The ones that they sell there are bigger and you could put whatever you wanted on it. I always ordered mine with frijoles, huevo, chorizo, aguacate, queso, crema, and carne asada. Just with one I was full. I also loved when my dad took me to a restaurant to eat tacos dorados. They were really delicious; they had pollo, curtido, and queso inside.

Even though our lives seemed to be good, the neighborhood where we used to live was really dangerous. It was controlled by gangsters who caused terror in our lives. There was a lot of violence. The gangsters were always outside of my house smoking and drinking alcohol. They had their guns beside them. I saw them almost every day and it was really scary because I had never seen a gun before. I was ten years old when I first saw them. I felt unsafe. It made me think that they were going to shoot me at any moment. The gangsters had different types of guns. Some of them were large like a baseball bat; the small ones were like the iPhone 6—they could not fit in your pocket. They were just like the guns that I saw in the movies Terminator or Rambo. Those guns were fake, but the guns that the gangsters outside of my house had were my reality.

For example, one day one gang member jumped into our house because he was hiding from the police. But how did he jump the barbed wire? It was really interesting because he could have hurt himself. For those reasons my family decided to move to Los Angeles. We wanted to be far away from it all. Even though I had what I wanted, I think it was the best for us—to leave all the past behind and start a new future, start a new life without gangs and violence, without gangsters putting pressure on your family, without the fear of someone asking you to join a gang and start doing drugs. My mom made a good decision when she decided to take us to the United States to start a new life.

In almost four years that I have been in this country, I have never suffered an act of violence from gangs. I have experienced difficult times of racism. When I was in middle school, kids used to make fun of me because I didn’t speak English. I felt sad but at the same time I ignored them and always kept my head up. I joined the soccer team to distract myself.

I played defense and I was one of the best on the soccer team and always started. Now that I’m in high school, I have many friends. There is no racism here because almost all the students are Latinos. Last semester what I did to distract myself was I joined the soccer team, then I joined the marathon, and finally I joined the football team. I played in three different sports in the same semester. It was kind of funny because some days I didn’t know to which practice I should go. This semester I was going to join the soccer team, but I didn’t have time to go to practices. I think I will join the football team again; I need to be in shape and lose weight.

Another thing I like about LA is that we have more freedom. We can go to different places without the fear that someone will try to do something against me or my family. We can know new people and learn about other cultures. Here I want to focus on what I want and what I will do to achieve my goals, which are to go to college and become a biology teacher.

All my life, when I do my homework in that subject it makes me feel intelligent. I can spend the whole day in biology class, and I will not get tired because that is the class that I have found interesting since I was a little kid. Also that is the class where I stand out, and it is the one that I found easy.

One year ago I was in ninth grade. During that time, I just came to school to play around. I didn’t focus on my classes. I didn’t care. But now this semester, I know that I was doing wrong because I was affecting myself. This semester I’m not doing that because I know that my acts have consequences, and if I want to graduate from high school and go to college, I need to have good grades in all my classes. I know that is not going to be easy, but it is not impossible. Everyone can make it. I just need to believe in myself.

About the Author

Moises Torres likes to tell jokes and likes to play soccer. He wants to become a biologist. He feels smartest when he reads biology.

ANGEL RIOS

Watts and Gatts

Corruption was a huge problem in México when my parents lived there. They did not like what the government was doing with the country. Living in poverty was something my dad went through. There were days when his parents gave up their food so that their kids could eat. My dad has told me stories about how he would tell his siblings not to eat all of their food so that they could share some with their parents. This living situation was common everywhere in México. The government knew about it, but they did not do anything. They just turned the other way and pretended it was not a problem. My dad would skip school when he was five or six years old just to go to work and help his family with as much as he could.

As my dad got older, he still kept working hard to help his parents out, whether it was going to the fields to work or going with his mom to the city to get household supplies they needed. He saw that it was the same labor but no progress was being made. They were still in bad living conditions, and he felt bad seeing his dad come home exhausted every day from work. My dad seeked to help his parents from “the other side.”

My father came to the United States at the age of seventeen in hopes of finding a good paying job so that he could help my grandparents financially. While in the United States, my father came across a couple of problems. The problems made him lose track of the reason why he was in this country in the first place. His siblings and family members tried to help him but he pushed everyone away. It wasn’t until he received a wake up call that he stopped. His family called him letting him know that his mom who was back in México was very sick and was in the hospital. My dad felt horrible so he went back to his native country to check on his mom. He told me that he wanted to be by his mother’s side when she passed. As the time went by, my dad kept working in México while his mom was still in the hospital but slowly getting better.

My dad stayed in México longer than he expected because of a lady that he met that would one day become my mom. He felt happiness with her and she felt the same. My mother’s parents were strict and didn’t like the fact that their daughters would one day be leaving the house so they had high expectations for their sons-in-law. When my mother’s parents met my dad, they didn’t really like him too much, but it was the love that he showed for my mother that made them let him date her. My parents spent a lot of time together, which made my dad go back to the United States, but this time his mission was to be able to give a better life to my mom and their future family. My dad returned to the United States and worked several jobs raising money for the wedding that he wanted to have back in México. Once my father married my mom, he told her that he wanted to bring her to the United States with him and start a family there. My mom agreed and they came here. As time went by, they had their first daughter named Juanita and they felt closer than ever. When my older sister was about one, she got sick and not too long after, my dad received a call saying that his father had passed away. It was a sad time for my parents— mourning the death of my grandpa and almost losing their daughter—so they decided to have another kid: me.

After I was born, they wanted to get my sister and me baptized. They took us back to México to get baptized in their home state of Puebla. When we came back to the United States, my dad worked to buy a house so we could live in peace and not get evicted like they had been when my sister was a newborn. With help from family members, my father was able to get a house but in

doing so, he separated me from my best friend. Of course at the time I did not know that moving twenty blocks away was not that far. My cousin and I balled our eyes out thinking that we would never see each other again, but our parents just laughed. As time went by, Gustavo and I still kept in touch, and I considered him a brother since we were born into the same house and were only four months apart in age. We were told that Gustavo would have a younger brother coming to his house. When Andy arrived, I thought he was a little toy. I didn’t understand how someone could be so small. I liked Andy since he was a baby, and growing up, his brother and I took good care of him. Being around Andy made me want a little brother of my own. I told my parents but they asked if I would like a sister and I said, “No!” My older sister and I got into fights over whether we wanted a sister or a brother, and when March 10, 2016, came around we were told that my little sister Mayra had been born to the world. I was mad that it was a girl and that she took my spotlight as the little one. That’s when I got even closer to Gustavo and Andy because our parents thought I should be around the two people who I considered brothers.

Growing up was tough because we had our struggles with money when my dad got laid off. My parents didn’t know what to do. They were confused about whether they wanted to stay in the country or go back home to México. But it was my mother’s brother who gave my dad an idea for a new job. My dad took it, and it helped with providing money for us for some years.

Hearing about these experiences that my parents had made me feel unappreciative of my parents’ sacrifices to get to where I am today. They came to the United States to help me achieve higher success than I would have ever reached living in México with the conditions that they lived in. Knowing what my parents want and expect from me, I wish to fulfill their hopes and dreams and accomplish the goals that I not only set for myself, but also the goals that my parents have for me. Hopefully one day I will have worked so hard and will have accomplished these goals so that my kids may have an even brighter future than I do.

About the Author

Angel

Rios was born in the United States and baptized in México. He follows a long family line of hard-working Mexican Americans, and hopes to continue this success with his future kids.

CRISTIAN GOMEZ

The Great Change

Everything started in México. I was six or seven years old. My dad was a butcher and also he was a taxi driver. He wasn’t at home almost the entire time. He would stay at his job chatting with people or maybe to different women. Sometimes instead of being home alone, he would take me to his job and I remember how he used to look at other girls in front of me. I felt disappointed because he wasn’t being loyal toward my mom. Every time he did that, I felt insulted because he wasn’t respecting my mother even though I was there. It wasn’t right that my dad would disrespect my mom like that because that’s why he married her—just to have eyes for her. He didn’t realized how lucky he was to have my mom as a wife because she always had the house clean, the food ready, and she would do everything to keep him happy, but he never noticed all the effort my mom was putting in to have a great family. I could see all the efforts my mom made in order to keep him happy and feel loved, but I guess he didn’t.

He never spent time with us as a family. The only time I remember I had fun with him was the day he took my brother and me to the zoo. We had to ask him if he would please spend time with us for the first time like a father was supposed to do. When he finally took us to the zoo, he didn’t seem happy about it because we had to ask him a thousand times. I kind of felt bad that he had to spend time with us, like he was forced to take us on a trip. Parts of it were fun because I got to look at the animals and hear the elephants, but the coolest thing was when I got to see the lions and tigers. After that day though, I decided not to ask him for anything I wanted to do or anywhere I wanted to go. I didn’t want him to feel forced to do something for me.

At this point, he decided to run away from us. My mom stayed alone with my brother and me. Almost all of my family from my mom’s side—uncles, aunties, cousins, and grandparents—were here in Los Angeles, California. My mom had to look after us and come up with a strategy to be able to support us. I remember that she taught me and my brother how to cook. I remember I was around five years old when I cooked soup on my own. While she was working, we had to cook for ourselves. I was a little kid and all I wanted to do was to play games. In México, it is hard to buy a videogame or a computer to distract yourself because they are really expensive. I could only play with a small car. I had fun every time I played with it, but the sad thing was that it didn’t have wheels. I remember when I used to put away my toy, it was funny looking at it without wheels. I can’t really remember the color of it, but I remember it was scratched.

My brother is older than me by two years, so he was a little more mature than I was. Once he knew what was going on, he sat down with me to tell me what was happening. At this point I realized that my brother was trusting me. By then, I realized we were in trouble. I had to start leaving my childhood behind and become mature and responsible. I had to learn that by myself or by looking at older people and studying their strategies to be better. I learned how to cook, iron, wash, and the most important of all, to take care of myself.

When I turned thirteen, I started to feel sad and solitary. I felt sad because it was hard for me to be alone without company. My family wasn’t with me because they were having their own problems. Then memories started to come into my mind that changed my life completely. One of the most painful memories was not having my father next to me. It was hard for me not to have my dad with me because while I was growing up, I never had that friend or person to raise me like a real man. I never had a dad to play soccer with, a father who I was comfortable telling

about changes I was going through while I was growing up. When it was Father’s Day, I had to hide somewhere I was able to be alone so I didn’t have to hear or see my friends hugging their fathers saying “I love you” to each other and giving all these presents the teachers made us make in class. I remember not doing them, but the teachers knew my situation and they never forced me to make them. Something inside of me hurt every time it was Father’s Day. It was a pain like a big animal scratching my chest because I still had to hold the tears, and that made it even worse. I had to hold my tears because other kids would be bullying about me crying. Those days were the worst. I never had that father who would sit with me and tell and teach me how to respect a girl or woman. To tell me the words I should say or words I’m not supposed to say, how to treat her, and the most important: how not to raise my hand toward her.

When I was thirteen, I came to United States with my mom and brother. After two or three months, I started to hang out with one of my cousins. At first it was all right. We played soccer, he taught me how to skate and play some other sports, but then time passed and we grew up a bit. We started to hang out with the wrong people that took us to do things we weren’t supposed to. These people would tell us their experiences—about all the times they got chased by the cops for just talking. Some of them never got to know their parents, which we could relate to. That is why we decided to hang out with them. Sometimes I would spent time at the Marina Del Rey beach because of the beautiful rocks and the waves covering them, and that made me calm down. One day, one of guys that my cousin and I use to hang out with asked me if I wanted to hurt myself. I was scared of dying, but I still tried it because he told me it would make me forget even more the pain I had in me. I remember doing all these things while I was alone but of course I was afraid. But in mind, all I wanted was just to forget the pain I had.

When I was with my mom, she used to tell me not to be like my dad in general. She wanted to feel proud of us that we were not like him. She tried to raise me the opposite of how my dad was, but I was so hurt that I never paid attention to her words and everything she had done for me. I ignored my mom a lot of times. I started to yell at her, ignore her every time she spoke to me. When she needed help, I was the last one to go help her. Then she took me to church to hear and to know about God. In church, I learned how to forgive my dad. I learned that when you forgive people, even though it’s hard, it helps you not to feel bad or hurt anymore. That made me realize I was doing wrong and I wasn’t going to have a future because doing things that were not good for me was not going to pay my bills and would probably take me to jail.

I decided to change my life and become someone new. It helped me a lot to forgive my dad because all the pain I had went away like nothing had happened. I started from zero again and put in work—all the words and things my mom had told me. I keep going to church and now I’m the opposite of my dad. I feel proud that I’m not the same because I don’t want my kids to suffer the same way as me of not having a father. Going to church, I not only learned about God, but I learned that He is the one who loves us and He’s the one who guides us to do things right. With God, I learn how to be respectful and responsible. Now a lot of people trust me with their personal secrets and personal things. I feel good and proud of myself that I have people who have a lot of trust in me and of the man that I have become.

About the Author

Cristian Gomez likes to draw cartoon characters. He listens to Christian music and goes to church. He eats all the time, and you might know there’s

something wrong if you don’t find him eating. He plays soccer at the park with his friends because he doesn’t like being on a soccer team. He just plays for fun.

GEOVANNY ROMERO

El Joven Delincuente

On January 21, 2015, I woke up early, like I do every other Saturday morning, to watch television and eat a bowl of cereal. It felt like a normal Saturday to me; when I stepped outside, the weather was beautiful. The same bird that always chirps on the peak of my palm tree was there; the flow of the busy traffic on the corner of my house was still there, nothing out of the ordinary—everything just felt the same. I heard my house phone ring multiple times, but I didn’t answer it because my dad always says, “If it’s an important phone call, they’ll call our cell phones, not our house phone.” So I continued watching television and ignored the call. The phone began to ring again, multiple times, and it started to bother me, so I got up to answer the call.

“Hello?’’ I said. The phone stayed quiet for about ten seconds. I hung up and walked back to the couch. I was just chilling, watching television, when the phone began to ring again. I got up and headed toward the phone, annoyed, and answered it. “Hello?” I say with a deeper and annoyed voice, and all I hear is, “You have a collect call from Daniel Mendez.” My heart dropped and broke into millions of pieces.

I waited for the call with a knot in my throat. I could hear the disappointment in his tone of voice. “I f-ed up,” is all I heard. I didn’t know what to say to him, honestly. I was in shock; my head wasn’t thinking right. I asked him, what did he do in order for him to go to jail? I knew that whatever he did had to be bad because people don’t go to jail for doing the right thing. I also knew that he always gets in trouble, but it has never been this bad, to the point where he has to go to jail. All he said was, “Don’t tell Doña nothing about what I am gonna to tell you right now.” I said okay and promised I wouldn’t tell her. Then he explained the reason why he went to jail: he got caught with drugs. He had gotten pulled over by the police and he had drugs, so he ran away and refused to stop. They sent helicopters and a S.W.A.T. team after him because they couldn’t catch him. Finally, he stopped.

Once I clicked the phone off, I was in complete shock from all the things he told me. I wasn’t stupid; I had known what he was doing. I just used to pretend like I didn’t because I didn’t want him to know that his favorite little cousin knew how much of a terrible guy he really was. Now, I had to think: who was I gonna tell for us to try to bail him out of jail, and how was I going to tell Doña that her son was in jail? I guess I didn’t have anyone to tell, so I told my dad because my dad always has my back. He gives me good advice all the time. When I told him that Daniel was in jail, he couldn’t believe it either. I could see the water in his eyes and the sadness in his face. That’s his nephew. My dad is really close to Daniel, and he told me that he had the money, he just didn’t wanna bail him out of jail and then find out his case was bigger than he thought. Then Daniel would go back to jail and my dad would have wasted all this money for nothing. So my dad had to think through some things to know what he really wanted to do.

Later on that day, my dad got a phone call from my aunty. She was looking for Daniel, so she called my dad to ask if he was with me because he and I are always together hanging out. My dad told her that he had some really bad news for her, and that he would rather tell her in person than over the phone, so he told her to come over to our house. She came in less than twenty minutes, crying on our front doorstep. She looked like she was about to faint, and she didn’t even know yet what was going on. My dad broke the news that her son was in jail. She cried for days. She couldn’t believe her son had to go through this at such a young age.

A few days later, she got to speak to him, and she felt a lot better because all she wanted was to hear his voice. She was able to see him the day of his trial, covered up with heavy chains around his hands and legs and wearing an orange jumpsuit. It was one of the hardest days of her life. He was sentenced to ten years in federal prison. To this day, he remains in jail.

As for me, I couldn’t believe it. I was so upset, tears came to my eyes seeing my older cousin chained up as if he was a dog. The drug that he was caught with means federal time in prison; it’s not like marijuana, where you can get bailed out the same day if you get caught with it. He had the real deal. It’s crazy—so many people respected him, and he always had nice cars and nice shoes and money in his pocket and lots of friends surrounding him.

It’s just hard to believe that all that was taken from him in a snap of a finger. What happened to all the so-called friends who hung around him when he had everything, when he was feeding everyone and had packs of money in his pocket? They’re all gone now, just because everything was taken from him. This is a life lesson to me and my family members, to just make money the right way because when you have everything, everyone wants to be near you, but once you lose everything, everyone switches on you. Once those bars close on you, no one but your mother is worrying about you.

Daniel will be released in 2025. His mother has no choice but to deal with the fact that her son is in jail. She has to sleep endless nights, thinking about her son and worrying about him, and crying all night, but it is what it is. The pain she has will slowly go away, and she will one day be able to hug her son again.

About the Author

Geovanny Romero immigrated from México in 2007. He is now a US citizen, enjoys school, and loves to play soccer. He played four years straight for his high school soccer team. His dream goal is to graduate from college and be successful in life.

ANGEL REYES

Views: A Fictional Interview with a Citizen and Police Officer

Interviewer After the unfortunate events of horrible acts of police brutality, there stands a police officer who wants to share his point of view as a person who only wants to make the town he lives in a better place for everyone. We also have a young man who wants to express his point of view about the vicious acts made by the police. We called these two here on The View news station to discuss these problems.

Interviewer [To the police officer] How does this all make you feel? These accusations?

Police Officer It’s all just sad to see the people we grew up with, who we shared our dreams with, the people we protect, come against us all as a police unit.

Interviewer [To the citizen] Why do you believe the police are a problem?

Citizen They’re all just a bunch of racist pigs who enjoy beating on and harassing minorities. They get a kick out of it and when they’re caught, they get no punishment for their horrible actions.

Interviewer And from where are you getting these claims?

Citizen In the past couple of months me and my brother were victims of this unfair brutality. It was a bright warm day and me and my younger brother were walking to a nearby liquor store to buy styrofoam cups for a barbeque we were gonna have. We were just making little knock-knock jokes to each other to keep entertained on the walk, but it wasn’t until we heard sirens go off behind us—and, I mean, we knew we did nothing wrong but yet we were scared senseless ‘cause we heard the stories and saw the news of police beating on people of color. Two young Black kids walking down the block alone with no one around to see—it was a golden opportunity for something bad to happen. We were shouted at to freeze for no

reason. At that point, my little brother began to cry. I turned around and saw that the officer and his partner had their guns pointed at us.

The moment I turned around, I knew it was a mistake. I was tackled on to the floor and was crushed by the two police officers, both two times my size. I tried pushing them off me so I could help calm my little brother, but I was too weak. I could barely breathe. Yet they had the nerve to yell at me to stop resisting, their knees on my neck and back. I shouted and cried that they were hurting me but their demands to stop resisting got louder. I could hear my little brother yelling and crying until I saw the sight of him, only ten years old, being slammed to the ground by the police officer’s partner. I was too weak to help him.

We were then put under arrest and taken to court the following week. The officer told us we fit the profiles of known, wanted gang members in the area. We were outraged. We were charged with resisting arrest, but we had done nothing. Their dash cameras could prove it. The judge found us guilty. We had to spend a couple of months in a juvenile detention center. We saw the officers laughing at us, pointing at us after the verdict was reached. Their use of excessive force against children went unnoticed. This isn’t just me. I hear about other horrible actions like this and that go completely unnoticed.

Police Officer I understand where you are coming from. I truly am sorry for what happened to you, but one experience shouldn’t justify how you feel toward someone else or, in this case, a whole group of people. Why assume the worst of me? You don’t know me or how I handle myself during my job hours… I’m not like that, I don’t jump the gun when I have no solid ground to stand on, especially with minors.

Citizen But you all look at us and assume the

very worst in us. That because someone is Black or Latino, they are automatically a gang member or a criminal or something awful, in general.

’Cuz I’m Black, you can treat me like a worthless dog, kicking me when I’m down because I can’t fight back. We don’t even have a fifty-fifty chance at being safe, either. If I fight back, you pull a gun on me and end my life. Or I take the abuse and still get thrown only because the police officers thought I was a criminal.

Police Officer Fine, yeah, because you’re Black, you are a criminal. You’re right.

Citizen What did you just say? You can assume that of me just ’cuz of my skin color?! You’re just another racist cop.

Police Officer [Says in anger] But why not?! You’re having fun, running on about how I shouldn’t judge you because of who you are and the color of your skin, but you have no problem judging who I am because of the uniform I wear.

Citizen [Looks down at the floor]

Police Officer [Laughs] You see! You stay quiet because you see the hypocrisy. I understand that you don’t like what’s going on with law enforcement. Believe me when I say I hate it, too, but you can’t go around slamming all police officers, just like we can’t assume every person of color is a bad guy. Tell me something, aren’t there Black and Latino police officers?

Citizen Well, yes.

Police Officer So, are they racist, too? No, of course not. Don’t ever get the situation twisted. Racist people are racists, criminals are criminals. No generalization will ever apply to only one group of people. Black people and Latinos are not all the same and police officers are not all the same. Judge by the contents of someone’s character, by who they are mentally, not by who they are physically.

Citizen [Still looking down at the floor] You’re right.

Police Officer [Begins to cry] Do you know what it’s like growing up with no one to support your dreams? I always wanted to be a police officer but because of the judgments placed on them, no one supported me, my dream. The people I’ve sworn to protect and serve look down on me and see as me as a problem. It hurts. I understand your pain.

Citizen How can you understand my pain?

Police Officer Because when I was a kid, I had to witness my Latino friend get beat so viciously by a police officer. The fear on his face and mine overwhelmed both of us. Tears flooded our eyes, but I was too weak to help him. And it was all for littering. When it was all over, he had gotten no justice for what had happened to him. No sense of peace for what that officer did.

Citizen I’m sorry, I didn’t know. If you went through it, why choose to become someone who scared you and your friend?

Police Officer People have lost their faith in the police as a symbol for justice and protection. In the hate, I found love—the love to keep pursuing my dream of becoming a police officer to make sure nothing like that ever happens to anyone. So I can be the change I hope to see in the world. That maybe one day people can look up to us and not shame us. So they see reassurance and justice, not fear and hatred.

Citizen Wow, I’m sorry for what you went through. You know, me and you are not so different, but we are still not the same. You found love while I found hate. I thank you for what you’re trying to do and the good person you chose to become.

Police Officer No, thank you for finding the time to listen. I understand your hate, I don’t blame you or where you get your viewpoint from. I’m sorry for what you went through, but I am thankful for you listening to me.

Interviewer I would like to thank you both for the valuable lessons you have bestowed upon us today.

Angel Reyes loves to play his saxophone at two in the morning to annoy his neighbors. He personally enjoys all things music, from classical to rap, instrumentals and all. He believes music is a storybook and every new song is just another new chapter. He also believes his life is a storybook and every new problem isn’t the end, it’s merely a new chapter. He loves doughnuts!

TALIYAH PORTER

Living On the Outside In Koreatown: An Interview with Katherine Kim

Katherine Kim is a Korean American activist and journalist whose family lived in Koreatown during the 1992 LA Riots. When she was growing up, her parents taught her to be quiet because modesty is important in Korean culture; but she felt that she had to speak up, that she could not keep quiet about the way she felt. Even though she was living in Berkeley at the time of the riots, she spent the next few years documenting the Korean community and its effect on other immigrant communities in LA. Even though she wasn’t actually in Koreatown when the riots were happening, she was still very much involved because her family was living there. Katherine was a hard-working woman who felt that she needed to be a part of her community. She has worked with a Korean youth center and published a book on the Korean community, Los Angeles’s Koreatown.

Katherine Kim was heavily involved with everything that was going on in Koreatown. She is a heartwarming person who cares about the people in her community and outside her community as well. The killing of the Latasha Harlins had a huge impact on the relationship between Korean Americans and African Americans during the LA Riots and after.

Katherine gives her view on why it was the way it was during that time.

TP How did the LA Riots impact you, or did they even affect you?

KK I was living in Berkeley, and there was rioting there as well. I lived right near campus. I lived above this hot dog shop called Top Dog. The guy who worked there—he wasn’t the nicest person. There might have been stools to sit on but it wasn’t like a restaurant. But I could see it from my bedroom window every day, and during the riots there was a curfew. So we were in my apartment during the curfew, and I looked out the window and I saw that the hot dog guy was being held up by gunpoint, and I thought, “Oh my God, they’re being held up right now.” And I just saw him just kind of back away and people took what they wanted, but I had never been part of

living right in the midst of looting and rioting like that before.

My grandmother lived right in the heart of Koreatown at the time, so our family was affected by it in that she was living there. She was older, in her eighties, but she said she looked out her window and it was just smoke. At that time, Koreatown wasn’t as safe as it is now. She got mugged, and she’s an old lady. And for our family, it was really disheartening to know that this could happen to our community after knowing how hard our community had worked to build up success and build businesses and finally make some money and get some stability in this country. And to have what felt like a racial attack on our community was sad. It was a very sad

moment in that it also was from other minority communities. We’re all oppressed here in this country. This is not the battle we should be fighting. We need solidarity; we need to come together to get more rights for our populations. It made me a more political person because you realize if you’re just quiet, which my parents always told me to be—they always said, “Don’t make trouble”—because of the feeling that if you spoke out, if you protested, if you said something about the way that you were being treated, you would get in trouble or you would go to jail or you would be deported. There was always this fear of that. But after this happened to our community, it felt like you couldn’t just turn away from it. It’s so offensive to our core, especially being ignored by the authorities like the police did during that time. It felt like our community is really invisible and irrelevant to the mainstream population, and we now have proof of that. We now have actual proof that what we assumed was our democracy didn’t necessarily apply to our community.

TP How did you feel about the Latasha Harlins incident?

KK I also felt really sad also about that. And the actual sentencing was so unfair to the African American community because it’s just offensive that the shop owner who shot Latasha just had probation. She murdered somebody who was a child basically, a fifteen-year-old African American child. Why that was okay in this country is also a problem. I understand some of the circumstances around it. If I think about it from the Korean American point of view, I know what that woman’s mentality was like.

Soon Ja Du, the shop owner, is around my mom’s age. It’s not like she’s was thinking, “I hate this child; I’m going to murder her.” She was so panicked and scared that she was just picked up her gun and responded out of fear. My family in New York City owned dry cleaners back at this time. At this time in the United States, a lot of Koreans were shop owners, and they were held up all the time.

Their hands were tied behind the chair and they were robbed. It happened a lot. So from the Korean American perspective, as a shop owner, they were always afraid that they were going to be killed as well. But from the justice side of it, it was an outrageous injustice. In terms of the Korean American side, I can only understand it because I can understand the fear that a lot of the shop owners had, and from her perspective, it was an accident. But I can understand why from the African American community, it was perceived as a murder.

TP After that, do you feel that between the Black and Korean history, that people treat you differently or you see people around you getting treated differently?

KK I think that the riots really improved Black-Korean relations. I don’t think it’s come as far as it needs to go, but I think that there were a lot of efforts in the years that followed to build multi-ethnic coalitions, so there were a lot of conversations. Leaders from the African American community and the Korean community would meet and have conversations and town hall meetings. There was a real effort to understand each other’s communities so that this type of event wouldn’t happen again, and also to understand how it happened and how we can better work together. I think it definitely helped the communities in general. Personally, there’s never been a conflict for me. People say that my family is like the UN—my son is part Japanese, my other kids are Jewish, my older son’s siblings are Mexican, his cousins are Jamaican—so that’s all in my family. It doesn’t affect me personally in that way.

TP Do you feel that the riots made you want to be involved with your community?

KK Absolutely. Even talking about it now, I start to get fired up about it again because it reminds me of how important it is. It’s the twenty-fifth anniversary this year, and so much work still needs to be done.

TP What makes you so involved in your

community? What made you want to work at a youth center?

KK I started working with youth when I lived in Berkeley. My career started after college. I became a journalist and I worked as a journalist in Asia. I was in Southeast Asia first—in Cambodia—and then I was a reporter in Korea. It was sort of the first time that I saw another Asian community outside of my own. I understood Koreans coming to the United States, but then after living in Cambodia, I saw the Cambodian communities in this country and I started to think about different immigrant communities. That’s really something that I spend a lot of time thinking about: How are these communities formed? How are they built? What’s the history behind them?

So when I first returned from reporting in Asia, I worked at a news service in San Francisco, and I became the editor of a youth newspaper. There were about fifty-five different high schools involved. If you came to my office, I would give you an assignment. And you’d go out and report about your community and then come back, and we’d put out a newspaper that was distributed to all these different high schools in San Francisco. That’s how I first became involved with the youth work, through youth journalism.

After that, I did these year-long projects where I worked in different immigrant communities. I would go and live in the community for a year. I did that with a Southeast Asian community where I got to know a group of fifteen girls. I would ask, “What is your life like? What is your day like? Introduce me to your family.” And over that time I got to know that community really well. I was going to weddings, I was going to churches. A lot of these girls were teenage moms, and I was going to their baby showers and just listening to what their life was about, and then we published a book out of the girls’ writing. We also did photography.

A year after that I decided I wanted to do another immigrant community that I don’t know that

much about. I didn’t want it to be an Asian American community, so I focused on the Salvadoran community. I drew from the students in Los Angeles and San Francisco; and so again I spent a year working in the community, talking to leaders , introducing the kids. Getting to know youth is a great way to empower them to care about their community and their history, but it’s also a great way for an outsider like me to learn because kids are more open than adults. If I were to go into the adult community, they would say, “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk to you.” Immigrant communities in particular can be kind of shut off. If someone comes and knocks on your door, the response is, “I don’t really need to answer your questions right now.” But if I come to a school, and I talk to students, kids talk, and they want to learn.

TP Why did you use pictures for your book?

KK I studied fiction and I wanted to become a novelist. In grad school we had to read three or four novels a week, and who has the time for that? Honestly, it takes so much time. It takes me like a month now to read a novel because I have to work, I have to take care of my kids, and all of that. So I was thinking that if I don’t have the time—and I studied this—who has the time to do it and what are people really interested in? It’s the same thing with journalism: people don’t read like they used to. But if you see like a short video, or if you see a picture with a little bit of text, you get the idea really quickly.

TP What are your ambitions for the future?

KK As a writer, I started off in news and after I was a journalist and reporter and writer, I wanted to write fiction. And so I went to grad school in New York, and I studied fiction writing and I wrote a lot of stories. I thought I wanted to be a novelist. But then after I started writing fiction, I realized that I’ve been reporting and writing about nonfiction basically, and so my ambition is really to write more books, and write about history. And

because I put together this book and wrote about the history of the Korean American community, I’ve now become linked to photos.

The style of writing that I do is a lot like picture books, but not like a kid’s picture book. I feel like having both of them: if I showed you the picture, you’d get an idea visually of what you see happening. If I just showed you the writing, you would know what’s happening but

you would only have your own mental image. So putting the two of them together, I feel, gives you the most informed way of understanding what’s in the picture and what happened because photos give you evidence. But if I showed you a picture of me at Disneyland, you’d say, “Okay, she was actually there.” So I’m interested in that and writing books that have both of those elements.

About the Author

Taliyah Porter is a devoted teen who likes to cheerlead, listen to music, and read. She lives in Compton, California. Her ambition for the future is that the world will be more united as one. Taliyah’s goal is to go to college and become a doctor.

JANAE WARD

Poom Poom

Hearing a soft voice sing, “Love and happiness, something that can make you do wrong or make you right, love.” Seeing pearly white teeth smiling back at me, making my heart feel happy like a child getting candy. Being able to smile every day feeling protection. Beautiful afternoons full of bonding, soul singing, and dancing. Every Sunday morning going to Magic Johnson Park, feeding the ducks, watching the clouds move in different directions.

Being with my dad brought a joy to my heart like winning the lotto worth unlimited trillions. Always being under the heart and glue of the family, keeping everyone together and in unison. Being two peas in a pod. I was his baby girl. I went from hearing, “You okay, poom poom?” every day to not being able to hear or see him at all. The fight and struggle of not being able to sleep normal anymore. Things changed for the worse.

It was a hot Thursday afternoon and I was at school, and around 3:00 PM, I started bugging him like flies bug people because I was hungry. I could tell I was bugging him because after a while he started answering the phone saying, “What, poom poom? Daddy tired.” I was calling my dad bugging him to make me food. He got tired of me nagging so he started declining my phone calls. He told me after my dance practice my food would be done. It was around ten in the evening and my mom and I just got home and realized something was off. When we get home there is usually a routine the house goes through, and that time it didn’t happen. Soon as I would step in the house I would hear my dad say, “My big baby home, any problems today?” I didn’t hear that so I started to feel something wasn’t right.

After a couple of minutes, I called my dad waiting for a response, but I did not get an answer. So I started to ask my mom why my dad wasn’t answering me and she told me that he’s probably asleep. My father was the type of person that if you wake him up out of his sleep, be ready for world war ten. So me being sensitive, I avoided trying to wake him up so I wouldn’t get yelled at. As time progressed my mom was making noise and yelling to try to wake him up but still no movement, no sound. That’s when we knew something was wrong. I tried not to think so much or disturb him, so I got in the shower and continued to let him “sleep.”

I got fed up and yelled at my mom and told her to check on my daddy because, me being his baby, always under him, I knew something wasn’t right. Soon as I lay down and got comfortable here goes my mom screaming, busting in my room yelling, “Poom poom, call 911! Your daddy is gone.” It didn’t hit me. I didn’t understand what she meant or what she was saying at the time. All I could do was listen to my mom. It didn’t hit me until I walked into my mom and dad’s room and saw my father’s body lying there. It happened too fast; all I kept saying in my head was, “This is not supposed to happen, it’s not true.” When I walked in the room there was a smell I couldn’t describe. It’s like his whole scent took over the entire house. Looking at his pale stiff face I noticed that when his body shut down, some mucus had discharged from his nose. I was the only brave enough one to clean his face up, and as I started to clean up the mucus there was blood coming out of his body as well. It felt like I got stabbed in my heart. I wanted him to just open his eyes and just say, “Poom poom, I’m just playing. You know daddy not going nowhere.” It didn’t happen. In that moment I knew my heart was gone. I went outside and I sat down on the curb and prayed everything was a dream. I waited outside and the ambulance and police pulled up. Ten to fifteen minutes after they walked in the house they walked up to

me and said, “You were his baby, huh?” After I heard them say that, I broke down because it hit me that my everything was gone.

The morning after that, I went to school. My mind and heart didn’t let me stop, it made me go even harder. I had to get out the house because things were hard to stay there. I kept hearing his voice, I kept seeing him walk in the hallways, and it was affecting me. I had many things change to where it was hard for me to keep going day by day. Certain things we ate I couldn’t eat for a while. We loved boudin: a type of sausage filled with meat, rice, and spices. We would buy it out of a meat market on Alondra and Wilmington. Certain places we went to together, people started asking where he was, and it was just hard to keep trying to tell these people my dad had died. I had to let it sink in that I will never be the same. I couldn’t even sleep at night. I then figured that I had something called “sleep paralysis.” It’s something you feel when you’re in your sleep and it’s scary. When I fall asleep and the sleep paralysis hits I see a dark body figure and face. It feels like someone holds me down and it’s a huge weight on my chest. I have it constantly and I don’t understand why. I don’t want to say it feels demon-like but it does not let me sleep. I usually stay up to four o’clock in the morning because it gets that bad.

In the months since then I have been focusing on positive things and thinking about how proud I’ve made my father. Also, his love that he has given me helps me get be through day by day. Just thinking about the things he would say when I’m stuck in certain situations helps me get through lots of things and make better decisions. The situation has most definitely made me realize a lot about myself. I noticed I was way stronger than I thought. An epiphany that led me to realize I was strong was seeing my mom struggle.

Seeing her scrape up coins trying to help us get through the day, I knew she needed my help. I would watch her go through a piggy bank she and my dad invested in to try to get change for water and other things she was able to purchase. I would watch her every second of every moment crying because she wanted my dad back. I knew I had to be the support system my dad once provided her. I started selling candy and chips to bring income into the household, and to help my mother clean up so she could have less stress on her shoulders.

The biggest and hardest experience I’ve been through was losing my dad. Having him pass away at a place I lay my head at every night definitely has taken a big toll on my everyday life. I learned how to keep my head up, heart up, and guard up. Even though it hurts like hell it has molded me into a bigger, better, and stronger person. I’ve noticed I’m human: I feel, I hear, I see, and most importantly, I understand. Many people don’t have the ability to be different and keep rolling with the punches, but I do. There’s never a day that goes by that September 29, 2016, doesn’t occur in my head. I got the ambition, drive, and determination from him. He’s instilled this in me and I’m so grateful. I also know that he and all of my other passed-on relatives are really proud of me and that’s what I want them to be. Every day I grow and realize I have to keep my head on the swivel and beat the person I was yesterday.

About the Author

Janae Ward was born in Long Beach, California. Her position in basketball is the power forward, middle player at Locke High School, where she is also the captain of the drill team. She is also the captain/coach of the dance and cheer department with the LA City Wildcats organization. She believes

wisdom is the key to get where you need to be. She loves music and embraces struggle. Her motivation and determination is very high. Lastly, she is the baby/last child of Johnnie Ray Ward, Sr.

Janae Ward

CIELO GONZALEZ

It’s Not a Dream, It’s a Vision

Many people come to America from places like El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, México, and Nicaragua to get opportunities for a better future because of the violence and scarcity of support in their own countries. Because of this, people have different ways of thinking and seeing the world. In my own way, I see and think about opportunities and a place where we can have a great future. Sometimes the place where we are is not the place that will help us to reach success. No matter where we live, violence, racism and oppression are still in the world, but the thing we can do is find a place where we can succeed, and we have to work for it. A place will not change itself without help. A community has to make the change in a place, not the other way around. So then the question becomes, is America the right place to make our future? Do we think the country can help us to become successful and have a better future, or can we help make the country better?

One Saturday morning at 9:30, I prepared breakfast for my mom, sister, and me. Not to boast, but I cook a great breakfast of pancakes with eggs, fried bananas, and a cup of tea. The pancakes smell like a delicious muffin, and when you touch them they feel spongy and soft like cotton candy. Also, the eggs are delicious because it’s not just egg; I also include spinach, tomato, onion, and a spicy thing that is chile. I mix these ingredients with the eggs so it feels healthy and delicious. The fried bananas are so crisp, with a delicious flavor that makes your tongue feel a pleasant taste.

We were eating and my mom started to talk about her life, and how much she suffered during her childhood in Guatemala because her parents couldn’t care for her. The reason was that she had fifteen sisters and eight brothers, but two brothers and two sisters died. So my grandparents couldn’t care for my mother any more because they had to care for the rest of their kids. My mom had to take care of herself because she was the oldest sister. My mom likes to talk a lot about her life and what she did; she repeats it every day so that I will memorize her life.

After I heard her story, I started to talk, too, about my dreams. I told my mom and sister that I was dreaming that I was in a utopia, a place where everything was perfect, where people of different races were equal. A place where levels of class didn’t exist; a place without rich people with big houses and fancy cars and fancy clothes, or poor people without a house, clothes, or food. Where all people have a profession and where criminals, racism, violence, and pain didn’t exist. Where things were fair, all people had respect, love between themselves, and education. I was exploring the place where the sky was very clear with a beautiful blue light. The streets were also clean and there were green pastures with little colored flowers. I felt an air of peace, an aroma of flowers, and the green grass. It was a place with beautiful parks and little sources of natural waterfalls. The waterfalls made me feel at peace and smelled of nature.

I saw a beautiful park, named “Peace Rainbow,” full of colorful flowers, all kinds of flowers of the world. I really liked this park because I felt at peace just to see it; I felt a lot of happiness. I walked along, when suddenly a man came at me. I got scared because I thought he was going to hurt me but then he smiled and said, “Don’t worry child, I’m not going to hurt you,” which made me feel safe. Then he asked my name and where I was from, and I said to him that I had no idea, and he started to laugh. I started to laugh too. I asked him, “How could this place be such a perfect place?”

He said, “I just want to tell you the most important sentence about how this place is perfect.” He started to tell me that all the people that I saw had to think the same way about the kind of life that they wanted to make for their children. Also, they didn’t want a life better than others, they just wanted life in a community. They just thought that the perfect place for their families was a place where people more important than others didn’t exist, or people with more power than others. They thought that to make a great community, all people have to work together so that they didn’t need leadership who would get all the power over them. Also, they thought that the races of people were like colors—that no matter the kind of color, all the colors would need help from others to create a new color. That means that all colors had a job and the same rights as others. He also said that the most important thing that made this place perfect was that all those people believe in the unique God who could help each person to be a great person. A God who could give them support, love, happiness, and blessings in their life. He said, “This place is perfect not just because of our efforts in the community, but also because God made us with great things that helped to make this place. He is our source of happiness and peace.”

When he finished talking, it was as if I had seen a rock talk and move itself because it would be amazing to see a rock do that. I just could not believe it. The man was laughing because of the emotion on my face. I felt a sensation that woke me up, and it made me feel weird in the morning. My mom just listened to me and smiled, and my sister said to me that she thought that I had this dream because I always imagined a place like this place on my own, and I just smiled at her.

Now, I’m living in Los Angeles. My neighborhood is pretty good. My house is next to a clinical dentist, a Subway, a beauty salon, a Pizza Hut, and a Metro PCS. Every morning I hear the sound of the train nearby, “Ahh.” It’s so noisy, but sometimes it helps me to wake up. Also I have a neighbor who lives behind my house that on some mornings shouts loudly because her children are going to school. When I go to my school I always see a lot of cars in traffic, people taking their kids to school, people going to work, a man standing with a Metro PCS poster, and a woman sleeping on the cold ground outside the store. It makes me feel sad to see this person suffering like that. Every day I see those things when I go to school. My school is pretty good because I have opportunities to grow and reach for success. I like my school because of my friends and teachers. I have five best friends; they are so funny, crazy, and smart. To me they are the best because I always feel their love for me. Also, I love my English, biology, world history, geometry and advisory teachers. They are the best because I see them not only as teachers, but also as friends, supporters, and even moms and dads, as they give more than a normal teacher gives to their students. My teachers look at me as their daughter and son because they demonstrate to me their love of teaching with patience and love, and thanks to them I’m a smart and great student. Every day they help me to do my best, and I know that God is around me because of people like them.

Los Angeles is a good place because I can find people that can give me the support needed to reach success. People like my family, my friends and my teachers. Also, I like my school because it’s full of good things like a big field, and a lot of beautiful classrooms. But sometimes the food is not good. Also another good thing that I have in Los Angeles is my church. I had never met a church as wonderful as my church in Los Angeles. My church is a great place with good people. My shepherds are the best examples of how to feel a big love for God. I admire how they worship God every day. Also we do a lot of activities that make me feel blessed, like family time in the park, preparing a buffet to share with all the brothers and sisters in the church, or playing a soccer game between young brothers against old brothers, men fifty years and older. This is my

favorite activity because it is funny to see how the older brothers defeat the younger brothers; despite their age they are good players. My church is not big but it is the best place where I can worship God. I love singing to God; I love demonstrating my love and gratitude for him, because he makes me feel happy and blessed despite the obstacles that life gives me. My life in los Angeles is good because of my God.

A week after my dream, it was a Wednesday at 4:30 PM in Los Angeles. I was doing my English homework because my English teacher Mrs. Rowley gave us homework every day, but I knew that she did it because she wanted to see us learn, and for that I loved her. I was in the living room when suddenly I stopped doing my homework because my mind got distracted and went to the other side of my imagination. I was imagining how the country affected my family, my life, and the lives of others, because if we go outside we feel pain and fear in our surroundings. Violence, criminals, injustice, slavery, oppression, and inequality make us feel as if we’re without safety and freedom, as if we’ll lose our opportunities, our rights, and our values as a family and a community. It could be a great place for our future, but our new president doesn’t want people from other places just because of their race. He thinks that they can’t develop or be a support for the U.S. Also, because people with more money and power, think that they can be more valued than someone else. These things make our country a place full of enemies, jealousy, pain, fear, violence, and injustice, and because of that I believe that America can’t be a great place if its citizens will not try to change their way of thinking and acting. I spend a lot of time thinking about the difference between America and my utopian dream.

After ten minutes, my mind came back to real life because my mom called me to help her with something that she couldn’t do because of her state of sickness. So after helping my mom, I went back to finishing my homework and helping make dinner for my dad and sister. The dinner was really good because my mom prepared it and I was just a sous chef. She cooks traditional and delicious food; I can’t tell you how exactly she prepares it because she uses a lot of ingredients and spices that I can’t memorize. I can’t explain it to you exactly because a word does not exist that can explain the delicious food that my mom prepares. It’s really amazing.

After dinner, I was thoughtful, too, about my future in this world full of violence and bad things. I played some Christian music and started to think about how I could be a little light of a better future for America. Sometimes we think that something little does not have a value or does not make a change but it is not true. An insignificant thing can have big value, because to make a big change we have to start very small and make change little by little until reaching success. Something that comes to my mind is a conversation that I had with my grandmother from Guatemala, before coming to the United States. I was missing her, so I remembered when she said to me that no matter how big my problem is, or what situation I was in, what matters is how big my dreams are, and my faith in God. Those will help me to make a difference with all the bad things that are around me. It makes me feel hopeful that America will be better and a great place to find success.

Time passed after my dream and I called my dream a “vision from the future,” because I believe that America will be great. I believe that America will be the best utopia in the world because God and the community will change together to make the kind of life that we want. America; a beautiful utopia.

I think it was two weeks after my vision when I was in church. We have service on Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday, so it was a Tuesday when I was there, and when I was praying to God, suddenly I felt something great, something awesome that made me feel strength and hope about

fighting for a better future for all the world. I have someone more powerful than all of the things that exist in the world that will help me to make a change for America. This someone is God. So I can do it, I can make a big change in America. I can be a little light for America with the help of God. America, my place of dreams, we will develop it. America is not a place. We are America.

It was a Saturday in the morning at 7:45. I woke up to prepare breakfast for my family. I prepared sandwiches with aguacates from México that are so delicious, buttery and mature, then I added spinach, tomato, and pepper. Also I prepared a pineapple drink that helped to wake us and start the day full of energy. My mom and sister woke up to eat and during breakfast my sister was asking me if I had another weird dream like the last one. I said, “No, I just dreamt about food, the same dreams that I have every day.” She started to laugh and my mom said that we will be okay because we have God to help us make our community better, and I said that it is true, that we can make America better with the help of God. We can make this place a place of opportunities for every dreamer. It was my vision, it was my story, and it is my life, a life full of adventures, obstacles, dreams, success, and happiness. I am “the little light for America.”

About the Author

Cielo Gonzalez was born in Nebraska and grew up in Guatemala for seventeen years with her grandparents. She came to LA in 2015. Cielo loves going to church and believes that God is her biggest supporter and friend. At school she has crazy activities with her five best friends, and her favorite foods are tacos de carne asada and pupusas. She believes that all people are humans with the same value and rights because her grandparents gave her a great education during her childhood.

EVELYN CHAN-CASANOVA

My Father, My Friend

My stepdad has been a big part of my life, and I prefer to call him Dad. He is originally from Campeche, México. He arrived to the United States at a young age. He has always been there for my family and spoiled me and my sister as if we were his own. I think we got lucky. Not a lot of kids who have step-parents have the same luck or same attention. He has always treated us equal to his real daughter, saying, “We all get the same or nothing.” He taught us to help around the house and help out even with small things. He and my mom are always so busy. He has helped me realize that we need to appreciate what we have because then when we lose it, it hurts so bad.

Even if there’s something bad happening he tries to have a positive mind; if we are running short on money or anything else and he doesn’t have construction work, he still manages to stay happy and keep us all in a good mood by making jokes so we don’t worry, and somehow, he still manages to find a job. He sometimes gets recommended by previous clients for his good work. This taught me to not judge or treat others badly; everyone needs help and some people have had a rough life.

Also, he has taught me to use time wisely, especially if it’s for education because you’ll get older and you’ll realize you wasted time and didn’t take a chance. For instance, he influenced me to continue going to school even when I wanted to give up since I was bad at math and science; my sister didn’t finish going to school. He told me not to follow her foot steps and push harder to succeed and accomplish my goals—to try to be better. He also influenced me to help others; if someone needs something and they ask for help, you help them, especially if it’s for food or money,“Everyone needs to eat no matter the cost,” he says.

While he was taking his break, he saw a family in need and decided to buy them a pizza and soda. He said they looked happy and that he felt happy. He’ll support us, but only if it’s for something good and will benefit us in the future.

For the holidays, if he has to work, he manages to finish his work and still come home a bit early to spend time with us, to cook, and still make jokes about my mom, which makes me feel safe and happy at the same time. Since during the holidays some people tend to get drunk or worse and the cops are also around, knowing he’s home means he’s safe and we’re all together.

The Fourth of July, 2015, was a good sunny day. My dad wanted to make carne asada for the family, which was only like eight people. It smelled and tasted delicious, with the grease dripping onto the plate, and on the side he put some tortillas so they could get toasted. We knew the food was almost ready when we started to smell the tortillas burning. I spent time with my cousin and aunt while they made some chile and, as they always do, they made me cut up onions. While he was waiting for the meat to cook he was going back and forth inside the house and with every entrance was including a joke for my mom. We laughed as he went outside again, and she just laughed as well without being able to come up with a joke for him, as his jokes are mainly about her weight and height. When he brought the food in, he waited until we ate—he was already full since he was eating while waiting for the carne to fully cook. Then we went outside to use fireworks that we bought, but they didn’t work as we expected. As we watched our fireworks fail, we also watched my sister lighting the rest and running toward us laughing since she almost got her finger burned.

My dad manages to finish his job and still provides stability for my family and pets, unlike before; we used to move around a lot and look after my uncle, or when we used to live in a small garage, which for five people was uncomfortable. It’s very good having stability now since we were always worrying about space and the people that owned that house wanted their rent really early. Now some of those problems are reduced. Compared to years ago, when we hardly had pets or anything we wanted, my dad decided to buy our first dog. After that, more animals were coming into our home, and even though he gets annoyed by them, my dad still cares underneath. He will do anything to take care of them and make sure they’re healthy. He will find a way to pay if we need to take them to the vet or if they need food. Not long ago, we decided to take in two more dogs from a lady who left the dogs alone in the street. My dad decided to take them in since they were weak and scared. He felt that it was the right thing to do.

Sometimes, the house can get a little hectic with the eight dogs running around and barking at every person that walks by the house, but at those moments I still feel some sort of happiness, knowing how my family has expanded. Especially seeing them run toward my dad or barking when they hear the car when he comes home from work, even if their barking gets annoying after a while.

I feel very grateful to have my dad in my life, even though sometimes it may get difficult to not know what can happen to him. Especially in this community, with how some people are treated. I feel very blessed to have him and thankful that he still can handle us even as I annoy him into buying us Starbucks every night. He knows me so well, and knows what I enjoy and love the most. I will be able to carry his advice throughout my life by continuing to be kind to others without expecting anything in return, as long as they’re happy. I will continue to push harder until I accomplish my goals. I am extremely grateful for my dad since my real dad wasn’t capable of taking care of me. When I needed him for school, the doctor, or to just make me feel happy, my real dad wasn’t there but my stepdad was. All I can say now is, “I love you, Dad.”

About the Author

Aside from being four-foot-seven and ninety-six pounds, Evelyn ChanCasanova is a student who enjoys spending time with her family and pets, drinking coffee, and watching Netflix. She hopes to one day travel, become a doctor, and settle in Seattle or New York.

RUBEN PADILLA-LOPEZ

My Inspiration

One afternoon when I was fourteen, my father sat me down in our living room to talk. At first I thought I was in trouble because he called my name from the living room, and usually he would just wait to talk to me when he saw me. In my head, I thought I was in trouble for not taking out the trash. My father was very strict about that. When I got to the living room, I saw the trash was not full, so I asked what was wrong. He told me, “I have to talk to you about something.” Usually this meant he wanted to talk about sending me to México to go see my grandparents, who I had not seen in five years. But this conversation was different.

I knew it was something serious because my father was talking in a serious voice. I’m used to hearing him talk all loud and happy. Our talk was about all of the teenagers in the streets doing drugs and joining gangs and all the robbery that was going on in our neighborhood. My neighborhood is pretty messed up. There is tagging all over the walls, the park is full of drunk guys. There are a lot of gangsters and many prostitutes on every corner. I learned about what was going on in streets, not from the talk with my dad, but from the other teens I would see doing drugs in the park, dressed in baggy clothes.

He asked me if I had friends that were into gangs and liked drugs. I said no. I didn’t want to hang out with that type of person so I wouldn’t end up like them. He told me it was very good I thought that way and told me he lost a friend due to drugs and the streets. It wasn’t the first time he treated me like an adult. When he worked on his truck, I would watch and hand him tools, so I could know how to fix a car when I am older.

Thanks to him, I am who I am today: a good healthy person. By “healthy,” I mean that I’m a drugfree person and not involved with any gangs. My father has found himself in a difficult situation in his life right now due to some mistakes he has made trying to help our family. But I admire my father and still do because he never put a hand on my family and has made sure that we were always good. I feel if he would have raised me a different way, my personality would be different. If he would’ve never been around, I would have been in the streets a lot, hanging out with the wrong people, maybe doing drugs. I was raised with respect and to respect everyone. He always told me, “Treat people how you want to be treated and with respect.” I grew up with those words. Those have made me a good person because everywhere I go, I treat everyone with respect. No matter their age, if they respect me, I respect them.

One night at a party with friends, some guy that my friend knew decided to hang out with us. I guess he was drunk because he couldn’t stand straight. Out of nowhere he started getting comfortable with me, saying how he was going out with some girls after the party. He had invited me, but I told him no. That’s when he started calling me names. I stood up because it got me mad; he had no right to disrespect me if all I did was show respect to everyone there, including him. The advice my father gave me guided me because I just walked away from the situation. I decided to make a good choice because if I would have stayed, I would have probably fought. I have made good friends thanks to the advice. People seem to like my personality since I’m a very chill, respectful, and humble guy.

I promised I wouldn’t make bad decisions in life. I still haven’t let my father down. I had opportunities where I could’ve, but I didn’t take them.

One afternoon, I was at the park and I met some teens who offered me drugs, but I couldn’t let my father down, so I made the right choice and walked away from them. After the talk, I realized I had to think twice before acting.

Any little bad decision can get you killed or locked up in jail. After the talk with my father, I realized that I had to be a good person in life and not let my father down. My father told me, “All I want for you is the best.” I understood because I would want the best for my child if I had one. I would never want to see him or my mother suffer because of me. The talk really hit me because I knew I had to be someone good in life and set a good example for my two little sisters since I’m the man of the house now.

My father told me not land on the wrong path, and to watch out for who my friends are. I appreciate my father telling me everything he has told me so far. I know my father has not been the best guy in this world, but thanks to him I am who I am today and tomorrow. Above all, my father has a good heart and would help anyone who would ask him for help if it was in his hands. I’ve gotten all my humbleness from him and my mother. I’m proud to call him my father.

About the Author

Ruben Padilla-Lopez was born in Phoenix, Arizona, but has lived in South Central his whole life. He doesn’t come from a wealthy family but has never missed anything. He likes to go out, has a passion for trucks and cars, and a big heart for his family. He’ll do anything to make them happy.

MARVIN JUAREZ

Reunited Again

It was an unusually cold December in 2013, the year my parents called my aunt. I thought it was just a call to talk with us, but this time was not a regular call. I was playing outside with my brothers, as we always used to do, when suddenly my aunt told us that our mother wanted to talk with us. I was excited to do so, but everything changed when she told us that she wanted us to travel to the United States. I was in shock; it was something really hard to think about. For me, it meant I had to leave the country that saw me growing up, crying, laughing, and giving all of myself at school. On the other hand, I was going to see my mother again after nine years of not seeing her. It made me cry, just the idea that I was going to see my mother and father again. How was I going to leave my family in Guatemala who had basically taken care of me since I was a child? I just did not know how to really feel. After a few hours, my aunt told my brother and me that we were going to have to leave Guatemala to travel to the United States in one month. My aunt was not happy. I could tell just by looking at her face. Then my aunt told us how dangerous it was to travel to the United States, which was why she did not want to let us go. It was not up to her though; it was up to my mom. The trip was scheduled. There was nothing my aunt could do.

On January 8, 2014, my brothers and I started to travel to the border of México. It took us one day to get there. The first place where we arrived was a small town called La Mesilla, México. It was a beautiful place, where many immigrants are welcomed by its residents. It was just an incredible place. My brothers and I felt welcome there, and we hoped to be welcomed in the United States the same way we were in México. We went to eat at a restaurant whose name I do not remember. We ate carne asada with beans and drank a lot of soda. I felt satisfied because we had been starving. Not eating for many hours had made us feel like we were going to eat everything we saw. The guides who were taking us brought us to a hotel because it was getting to be nighttime, and we had to rest after being out all day long. We rested for five hours, and then when it was morning the guides told us it was time to start to travel to the border of the United States. We traveled for three days to get to Reynosa, México, which is a few hours away from the US border. My brothers and I stayed there for one week. After a while, the guides approached me and told me I had to cross the border first. I did not know why he chose me, but when the time to cross the border arrives, you have to do what you are asked.

I felt sad; it was going to be the first time in my life that my brothers and I were going to be separated. But there was no other choice. The only choice I had was to leave as I was asked. I left my brothers at the border between México and the United States. Once we got to the Rio Grande, which divides México and the United States, the guide told me to get into the boat so we could leave as soon as possible. I got in, and finally I had crossed the river and was on American land. After crossing the border, one car picked us up and took us to a hotel. In the hotel there were fifteen people, and two beds for all of us. Some of us had to sleep on the floor. After a while, the guide brought pizza to eat. The pizza was cold, but still we ate everything he brought.

When it was time to leave the hotel, I was moved to McAllen, Texas. When I got to McAllen, I was taken to the driver’s house. That house was far from others. I stayed there for two weeks. Those two weeks were the longest for me because I did not know where my brothers were; I did not even know if they were all right or if they were sick. It was the worst feeling of my life. But on the other hand, I was ready to take my last ride on my way to the United States. A big truck

came for us; we were around twenty-seven in total who were riding in the truck. Suddenly, something unexpected happened: we were on our way when police officers passed close to us. We sat still, but it was too late; they saw us. The driver sped up and then everything started to get worse. We were being chased by immigration, but there was nothing we could do about it. They caught us. Then police officers’ cars arrived and took everybody.

I did not know where everybody was being sent, but I was sent to a shelter in Texas where I was asked my age, nationality, and who my family was. When I told them where my parents lived, they called them. Soon they were helping me so that I could leave the shelter. After two hours of being interrogated, I was taken to the room where I was going to stay until my parents finished with the papers they were supposed to fill out. I was living in a big house with 200 other people in it. Everybody had their own bed, but there were fourteen beds in each room. After two days of being in the shelter, I got a phone call. It was my mother; I was happy I was talking with her again. The best part was that my brothers had arrived to the United States as well, but they were in a different shelter. At least now I knew they were also here.

One week later, I was told I was leaving the shelter forever. I was in shock. I was going to take a plane for the first time in my life, and I was going to see my parents. The day finally approached, and I left the shelter. It was 5:00 AM when I boarded the plane. I was flying to Los Angeles. I don’t know how to explain that feeling. At 12:00 PM, I heard the pilot talking on the speaker, saying something I did not understand yet, but for some reason I still knew I had arrived in LA. When the plane stopped, a woman asked for my name and led me toward the door where my parents were waiting for me. Finally I was right in front of my parents again after many years. To my surprise, my other brother was there with them! So much happiness in that moment. I saw my parents and one of my brothers, Ken, but Estuardo, the youngest, was not there. We left the airport and started on our way to my new place where I was going to live. While going to our new home, my mother told me how my brother Ken arrived first, and that Estuardo was going to leave the shelter in which he was living the following week. It happened; the next week my brother arrived, and we all were reunited again.

We were very thankful, because on trips like the one we did, not everybody is always able to make it. Some die on their way, but we made it. It has been three years since I came to the United States. I am living with my parents and brothers, and my brothers and I go to school. I am twenty years old, and I am in high school seeking a better future. My goal is to graduate from high school and become an aviation mechanic.

About the Author

Marvin Juarez was born in Jalapa, Guatemala. He immigrated to the United States in 2014 when he was seventeen years old. He is a very funny person. Marvin likes to play soccer, especially with his brothers, and listen to bachata music. His favorite food is carne asada. He loves his parents and brothers. He hopes that after school he can go to a university or college.

MARIAJOSE MOJARRO

It’s Just Not the Same

Tepic means a lot to me because I was raised there for six years. I had my life there. One time, I was supposed to spend Christmas in Tepic, in México. I was going for a vacation, to visit my mom and brothers who live there. We were going to go by car to Tepic—it is not that expensive to go like that—but my uncles had a car accident. Nothing bad happened to my uncles, but the car wouldn’t go. My aunt appeared at home at 7:00 PM. I was in the living room waiting to get picked up to go. She got there so scared about what had happened hours before. We were sitting on the couches, and she told me to call my mom to ask her if she could pay for a plane flight for me to go to Tepic. Tepic by car is about one whole day of travel. By plane, it is about three to four hours. I felt awful knowing that I wasn’t going anymore. My eyes turned watery. I wanted to cry so badly, but I didn’t want anyone to see me weak, so I did my best to keep it in. I knew if I started crying, I was going to stay home lying in my bed just thinking about not going.

I felt like this because I left my mom and brothers in México and came to LA. My father passed away in September 2015 and everything became complicated. The money that my mother received from my dad’s work was not enough. When my dad passed away, my uncles from LA told my mother that I could come to study and live with them, and that they would take care of me. It was a difficult decision for me to make. My mom always told me that it was what I wanted no matter what, not what my uncles or my grandma wanted, not even what she wanted. It is my life, and I am the only person to decide. No one else. It took me a while to decide what I wanted because I didn’t want to leave my mom. In LA, I could have a better future, and I could give my mom and brothers a better future. I changed my mind three times. Finally, I decided that the right choice was to come. At first it was like, “Whatever, I don’t care,” but soon the months passed, and I felt more and more pressure. The day was almost here, it was only one week away, then July 20 came, and I felt awful knowing that I was leaving.

I knew I wasn’t going to come back for a while. I was so sad because I was leaving my mom, a wonderful person I loved with all my heart. Also, I helped her cook and do the chores around the house. I was the one who helped her with my two younger brothers. One was six years old and the other one was twelve years old when I left, and I loved them both with all my heart. I didn’t want my mom to see me dissolve into tears. I knew that it was hard for both of us. If I was sad, she would get even sadder. Finally, it was time for me to go in the airport. It was almost time for the plane to take off.

I checked in and got in line. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stop and go back with my mom, but I knew all my actions were for my family so we could have a better future. I walked in the line to get on the plane. I was so scared. I was sad and excited. I took my headphones out and I started to listen to music. When I heard the music, I began to feel sad, and my eyes started to water. The plane took off. I looked down to see the airport. The plane finally landed. I went to the exit to find my uncle, aunt, and little cousin. The first thing I heard was, “Che.” That’s how he calls me because he can’t pronounce my name. He came running to me to give me a hug, then I saw my uncle and my aunt.

The night of my uncle’s car accident I called my mom. I was at a party at my uncle’s house. I went upstairs with my cousins. It was super cold because the party was outside. It was about nine when I called my mom. I was lying in my cousin’s bed looking at the ceiling. I called my mom.

She didn’t answer the first time. I redialed and redialed after each call until she answered. I had my headphones on. I didn’t know how to tell her without breaking down. We talked about many things before I told her. She told me she didn’t have enough money to pay for a plane flight; it was Christmas, the flights were more expensive, and I had two little brothers that were waiting for their presents under the tree, and anyway, she didn’t have the money to pay for it. When she told me this, I couldn’t stop myself from crying; my tears just came out. My mom sounded very sad also, but it was what it was. I was resigned.

My mom kept on talking and trying to make me feel better, but I just couldn’t be fine. I tried to calm down, but I could not stop my tears. Finally, I cleaned my face and put on eyeliner so it wouldn’t seem like I cried.

I wanted to go to Tepic, I missed my mom and my brothers so much. I loved hugging them and being with them. I wanted to mess with my brothers, get them get angry with me, go to their room early and wake them up by tickling them or playing with their eyes and their cheeks. I wouldn’t care if I got annoyed with my brothers because they don’t stop bothering me or messing with me. I wanted to go out with my mom, tell her what is happening in my life, what I like and what I dislike, how I’m doing in school, how I feel. I wish I could go to the mall with my friends, to talk about what is happening in our lives with our boyfriends, with our families, with school. Or just go to sleep over and eat junk food, see movies, go to the park, and walk and talk. Also, like we say in Spanish, “Ir a echar un taco de ojo.” This means to go see boys. I wanted to experience something like Tepic. Everything changed, my life changed coming to LA. I know why I am here and what I came here for, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same because I don’t have my mother or my brothers with me. It is not the same to be with my uncle as it is to be with my mom. I came here because of my own decision—nobody forced me to come. I came here because my father passed away and so I could have a better opportunity to study and, in the future, bring my mom and my brothers.

My uncles knew I was upset because I was really looking forward to that trip to Tepic. I had been waiting for the day to go to México since I arrived here, almost six months. They tried to make me feel better by telling me that I might still go. One of my uncles was going, and they would ask him if I could go with him. I didn’t have much hope of going because we were not close. Days later my uncle told me to get all my suitcases ready. He was going to pick them up and take them to my uncle so he could put them in the van. I was so happy and excited that I wanted to let it all out, but I was speechless. I didn’t know what to tell him. I had many emotions together. I was so happy because I had been waiting to go for many months. My uncles are the best. They do everything that is in their hands to make me happy. They have been there to help my family and me. I immediately called my mom to tell her that I was going to spend Christmas with them. My uncles were paying for everything, even for the flight so I could come back.

LA is now my home. I’ve been here ten years. I always liked it better here with my mom and brothers here with me. LA and Tepic are two completely different places to live, to work, to study, to have a family in.

Tepic a beautiful place. It has a lot of parks with a lot of trees, like La Loma and La Alameda, which are the best known in Tepic. Also, you can go climb the hills. They are super high and it’s super hard to go up. The best known are El Cerro de San Juan and El Cerro de la Cruz. I’ve climbed both of them. El Cerro de San Juan is bigger than El Cerro de la Cruz. One of the things I love in Tepic is the food: tacos, tostilocos, hamburgers, also the nieve de garrafa, a type of ice cream.

LA also means a lot to me. I was born here. Moving from one county to another wasn’t the first time. I moved to Tepic with my family seven years ago. When I moved to Tepic, I was with all my family: my mom, my dad, my two brothers. This time I moved by myself with my uncles. It was hard at first, it still is, but now it’s easier to be without my mom and my brothers that much. I have learned that some time soon I will have them with me.

About the Author

Mariajose Mojarro is a sixteen-year-old girl. She lives in LA with her uncles. She misses Tepic. When she knows she is going to go to Tepic, it is mostly what she talks about. She is like, “I am going to México,” or, “I can’t wait for vacation.” She loves to go shopping. She likes to eat hamburgers from In-N-Out—those are her favorite. She always listens to music when she is in her bed. She wants to go to college and be a pastry chef and have her own business.

ASHLEY SOSA

Grateful

The person I am today was influenced by many aspects of my life. One of the many things that has impacted me very much was the way I grew up. The way my parents raised me, my older brother, and my sister was very limited due to the fact that we didn’t have a lot of money. Going from all of us sleeping in one bed together to having our own beds later on was a nice way to be taught how to appreciate what we do have. As a child, I didn’t have much, but I did have enough to keep me happy. My family and I used to always go to the park, have other families over, and go “out to eat” by having a picnic in the park, and that was one of the ways my parents taught me to be happy without having a lot of material things. Having a strong bond with my family and close friends made me realize I don’t need other things to be happy as long as I have them. They taught me that the less we have, the more we should value it, because not everyone in this world even has what I have.

As a child, I had to share a bed with my brother, sister, and parents, and let me just say it wasn’t very pleasant. I mean, thinking about it, the thing that made it uncomfortable was being squished and not being able to move around so much because I was right next to my older brother and sister. Although all of us sleeping in one bed was uncomfortable, it did make me value what I have in life because now I do have my own bed. At the age of six, I actually got my own bed, and it was a great moment in my life because I was finally able to sleep how I wanted. I felt joy when my parents told me that my sister and I were getting a bunk bed. My sister and I had already had a conversation about which bunk bed we would get, because we had been wanting one. One afternoon we had asked each other about what bunk bed we would choose, and without an argument I had said I wanted the top bunk and she wanted the bottom bunk. The reason I wanted the top bunk was because I knew nobody would really get on it, meaning that my bed would stay clean and no one could mess it up. My sister had told me she wanted the bottom bunk because she didn’t want to be climbing up and down the little ladder to get to her bed. For me it wasn’t a problem to go up and down the ladder, so I was okay with being in the top bunk. I was glad that we didn’t have to argue about which bunk bed we wanted.

The fact that my sister and I are only two years apart is what helped us have a strong bond and get along really well. My sister has always been my best friend because she has been there for me since I was little. Well, basically since I was born. When we were younger, we always used to stay up late talking about anything, like how our day was; once we got our bunk bed, we still continued to talk, even if sometimes we couldn’t hear each other. There was a time when we were talking and I couldn’t hear what she was saying, so I decided to go down my little ladder of the bunk bed and lie down next to her. When I laid down next to her, we just started talking about how grateful we were to have more things than we ever had. We talked about how much our lives had changed once we got a bunk bed, because we were happy at the fact we could sleep more comfortably. We had talked about how sometimes we didn’t have enough space or food or material things to support our family, but we did have each other. That same night we were talking, we realized how truly grateful we were because we went from having nothing to having everything. Well, we didn’t exactly have everything, but we had more than before and that was enough for us to feel that we had everything. Having all those late night talks in our bunk bed is what helped my sister and I have a strong bond as we grew up.

Since my parents taught me how to appreciate everything, the more we got, the more fortunate we became. My family and I didn’t have much, but we did support and love each other, and that was what helped me become a very kind and thoughtful person. Always having my family by my side helped me get through the most difficult times of my childhood. I have to admit there were times where I did feel like I would never have enough things to support myself and my family, and in those moments I would break down and cry. Thankfully I had my family to hug me in those moments and give me words of advice. They would tell me to not worry, that things will get better and that if we had each other, I didn’t have to worry about anything else. My family has been my biggest support system and they will always be. Having them while growing up with nothing is what made me appreciate everything, from the smallest to the biggest things. Small like being able to have light in my house, and big like being able to have a home and food every day.

Although I didn’t have much as a child, I grew up having more than what I needed. The more I grow up, the more appreciative I have become because I know what I went through as a child, and that is something I would not go through again. I know I can improve my lifestyle and live a much better life than I did as a child. I want to have a great future and live a better life so I can help out my family, just like they have helped me out my whole life. I want to grow into a more successful person in order to give back, and that would be my way of saying thank you. My past is what helped me be such a grateful and motivated person. Grateful because I know how to value what I have in life, and motivated because I know I can always do better and actually be someone in life. I have my family to thank for helping me become the person I am today because they taught me so much.

About the Author

Ashley Sosa is a kind and delightful person who was born and raised in Los Angeles. She is a very motivated person, and when she sets her mind to something she will accomplish it. Ashley can also be the most helpful and caring person. She is the kind of friend who would help you get through anything. Ashley is a girl who lives in LA and has many hopes and dreams.

CINDY TORRES

Crossing Borders

A strong person isn’t born strong. A strong person is made by the mistakes made along the road. When I lived in El Salvador with my aunt Marvin, she told me some reasons why my father left El Salvador. I was about five years old when he left. My aunt worked in her own bakery and, when I was old enough, I helped her make bread. She felt proud of her bakery because this was her own and only work. She lived thanks to what the bakery produced. She also had a difficult time because she lost her older son. Ramon was my aunt’s older son and he was killed.

One day in the morning, some person close to our family gave us the news that my cousin was killed, and no one could do anything about it. My family suffered a lot because he was loved by any person around him, he never had troubles with others, and he always tried to treat others the same no matter their situations. But that day that he was killed they didn’t care how he was. He just was killed. Many people say that it was a mistake, he wasn’t the person who had to die, but the worst thing is that those words can’t revive him. My aunt suffered a lot. She entered in a depression and all of us tried to help her. We tried to helped her by cleaning the house, cooking for her, and always letting her know that she wasn’t alone.

The most important thing was that later she got pregnant, and all of us thought that was a wonderful miracle. People who lived around her thought that was a miracle because she got pregnant one year after her son died. Thank God that miracle is still alive and is almost seven or eight years old. After all this happened she told me, “You know, your father left El Salvador because some people tried to kill him. He also didn’t want become part of the army, who discriminated against people who were against them.”

I asked her, “Why are there people in this world who want hurt others, even if they have families, children, and wives who need them?”

I think she told me all of this because I was growing up and I had to know why my father left and why I didn’t know him—or, at least, didn’t remember him. In that moment I was thinking what would happen if they would have killed my father. I was thinking about how difficult it would be if I couldn’t see my father for a long time, would I actually remember him? Thinking about this, I felt that I had to see my father again and have moments with him as if they were the last time I would see him. My aunt told me, “Soldiers don’t worry about others’ families. They only care about what they are doing, no matter if they kill hundreds of people or they don’t kill anyone.” The only thing that came to my mind was, “We don’t live in a miserable world, we live around miserable people.”

My aunt told me that they suffered when El Salvador was in a civil war between soldiers, farmers, and innocent people who only wanted to keep their children from be taken away by the army. My aunt told me that she was like her siblings’ mother because her parents weren’t there at all and that my father was like his siblings’ father because he was the oldest and had to take care of all of them. I felt so proud of my father because he never left his siblings alone and worried about what would happen with them.

It was interesting that my aunt, after being like her siblings’ mother, she also became like her nieces’ and nephews’ mother, too. She was patient with children who were not hers because my

cousins gave her more trouble than we did. She would have to be with us when we became teens, and at some point that we would leave her alone and look for our real parents. She took care of them, but she knew that when they grew up they would find their own way or find their parents like me and my siblings did.

Living with my aunt was a great time because I lived with my cousins, and I knew them better than what I thought I would know someone. I knew their weaknesses and their triumphs. I also knew what made them happy and what did not. Things that made them happy were being together. However they didn’t want to accept how happy they felt. But the biggest thing was that all of us believed in God and how powerful he is. One of my cousins Sandra became almost l ike my best friend because she knew things that I did and she always advised me, never judged me, no matter if that was good or bad. She also entrusted me with everything about her. I trust more in her than in my own sister.

When I told her any secret, she would always keep it, no matter if one of us got mad with the other one. I think that’s why I learn how trust in her and she did the same with me, because I would never reveal her secrets. I knew all of my aunt’s sons and daughters, also my others cousins that lived with her. I grew up with them, I knew them since I was a baby, or they knew me since I was a little baby because they and my family lived together, but hnot in the same house. We began to live as brothers and sisters since our parents left El Salvador and my aunt had to take care of all of us. The thing that most affected our life was when two of our cousins left El Salvador, Kathy and Sandra.

They were the second generation who left. The first one was the oldest daughter of my aunt. She left before her brother died. This affected our life because we grew up together and never went away without one another. We always tried to be together. When they left I felt like some part of my youth was taken away and I needed it to survive. However, there always existed fights between the two, always trying to get my aunt’s love without knowing that she always loved us the same, with the same force, and she always tried to educate us the same, even if we weren’t her children.

Finally, our life began to change when my cousins left because all of us who lived with my aunt went different ways. My sister and I were the third ones to leave El Salvador and my aunt. I was sixteen years old, almost seventeen, and my sister was eighteen years old when I left El Salvador. I felt weird leaving El Salvador because there was my youth and most of the people who made me feel loved. Also I felt terrible because I was leaving my aunt, and I was thinking that I would live with people who literally were unknown to me. I had to come to the United States because my father wanted us here so that all of his children would be here, and the violence in El Salvador was getting worse.

Worse in that gang members were killing innocent people and were fighting against the police. Also we couldn’t go to school because gang members thought that there was their area and they didn’t let in others from different areas. There are some words that I never will forget, my aunt’s words, “The worst thing that I can do is love something that isn’t mine because one day it will fly on its own and will leave me alone.” She said these words when her daughter and nephew left El Salvador. She told me those words because she knew that I would leave El Salvador, too. Those words made me wonder whether my aunt loved me or not.

Now I understand the meaning of those words because all she loved left her alone looking for their parents or living in their own. However, we would never stop loving her because she taught

us to live without the person who brought us into the world, and we learned to love others and trust in ourselves.

Since I arrived to the United States in 2013, I’m doing my best in high school and I hopefully I will graduate. People keep coming to Los Angeles to get better opportunities and give their children a better education. There are the many reasons why families keep coming and also why my family came to the United States. My biggest goal is to attend to college and get my degree to make my parents proud of me and repay them for all the things that they did for me. I’m a person who wants to achieve her goals by being a kind person and never making others feel less. This is who I am and who I want to be.

About

the Author

Cindy Torres was born in La Paz, El Salvador. She immigrated to the United States when she was sixteen years old. Cindy began to see the world from another perspective and have a great appreciation for life. She knows that it is a hard road that she has to face alone, but she trusts herself that she can achieve anything she wants.

ERICK ALEXANDER REYES PORTILLO

Journey for a Better Life

My life in El Salvador was great but at the same time it was dangerous. In the little town where I lived, there were so many gang members that asked young guys like me to join their group. If we were not willing to do what they demanded from us, they would come and murder every single member of our family. That made me feel terrified because if that happened, I also would wish to die with them.

On the other hand, my life in El Salvador was so amazing because I had a lot of friends and also my lovely grandmommy. Her name is Esther. In addition, I was always having so much fun with my friends Josue and Charlie. These friends were the realest and closest people I’ve ever had in my entire life because they were the ones who always understood and helped me when I had any tough situation in my life.

They also made my life better because they always loved going to the river and sharing their food with me whenever I didn’t have that much food for myself. We always used to go to the river at night; it made me feel comfortable because it helped me to escape from being bored at home. Fortunately, we didn’t have to walk that much to get to the river because it was close to my house and to our little beautiful town. The town was like a paradise because it had beautiful big trees that looked the way I think heaven looks. I really loved looking at them and at the huge beautiful river. Something that made the town even better and amazing was that people helped each other out and were respectful to each other. This is very important for me because seeing how kind, respectful, and helpful they were to each other taught me to become a better person.

The reason why I really enjoyed living with my grandma was that she knew how to cook delicious meals, for example: panes con pollo, tamales, eggs, and burritos. It smelled so bomb—even better than how pizza smells when people are baking it and it also looked very delicious. I started feeling hungry when I just looked at it. I loved eating next to her. We would look at each other and I would feel incredibly happy because I knew we always supported each other. She supported me in my school, materials, lunch and all the supplies it required of me. On the other hand, I always supported her when she was sick by taking care of her, changing her clothes, and making her food daily, trying to follow her recipes. Though I didn’t have cooking skills, she was very happy I tried. I would always try my best to make her feel loved by her grandson and also to make her feel thankful because I was a very caring guy who was never going to leave her alone at home.

I remember the morning that I left her she made some coffee, like she did every morning and also in the evenings. She gave me a hug, and also told me some great advice; it was in Spanish: “Nunca te busques problemas—trabaja duro para que puedas obtener lo que quieres, y siempre ten perseverancia aunque las cosas se ponen más duras.” Which means, “Don’t you ever look for problems with nobody—work hard so you can achieve your goals, and always have perseverance though things get hard.” I won’t ever forget these sweet words.

The thing that was waiting for me here in LA was education. I knew I would be able to go to school. I also knew I was going to be reunited with my lovely family: mom, two brothers, and my little sister who was barely four years old when I first got here. The reason why my family came

to Los Angeles was because all of them wanted to have a better life here in the United States. That’s the main reason why they left El Salvador. The thing that I love the most from all of them is that they would always give me advice about how I should work hard in school, fight for what I want, and be respectful to everybody around me.

Now here in LA, my life is totally different than it was in El Salvador. Something I really wished since I was a kid was to have nice shoes and a really beautiful bike so I could have so much fun. So now I bought two bikes that I keep inside of a big kitchen located next to my bedroom and so many nice shoes. The way I bought my shoes and the bikes was by saving up money that Mom used to give me. Also, I always stare at all my shoes and the bikes almost every time I get home from school because I just think they are really nice and perfect.

Something I believe is funny is that, here in LA, I have more shoes than friends. Most of them are red, blue, white, and black. I feel very wonderful whenever I look at them because they make my life better and happier. It feels great because every time that I go out with my family, friend, or girlfriend, I have so many options of what shoes to wear. I always match them depending on what color my shirts and pants are. One of my bikes is pink and white. The other one is black and white. The two bikes have several gears. Unfortunately, I can’t take them out to my neighborhood over the weekend because there are several young guys that would try to take them away from me, and people don’t drive carefully.

Another reason why it’s different now is that I’m currently getting an education, learning a new language, and getting to know different people’s cultures. All that I just mentioned makes me feel proud of myself because it’s not easy for me, but I don’t have the thought of giving up. Therefore, I will always keep trying and trying until I become a real English speaker. That is also going to enable me to know other cultures from this amazing country. I love knowing about other cultures because there are amazing people that come from other different countries, and I can relate to them because I’m an immigrant too.

Unfortunately, the images I saw of the 1992 Uprisings taught me that so many people come to this country for a better life, but unfortunately they receive the opposite, which is injustice from the police. Videos I saw revealed to me that back in the day, it was even worse than it is now.

My history is all related to the uprising in 1992 because in my country of El Salvador, people are being oppressed. When people have any type of business, no matter if it is small or big, gangs take away more than half of their money and so this situation is obviously having a huge impact on them because they are no longer able to keep their own business.

The actions that most of the population from El Salvador are taking, are moving to a different place or running away to this country. The reason they come here is because they believe that their lives will change so they do not have to suffer from the gangs.

But once they get here, some immigrants become victims of the police oppression and mistreatment. This problem is making people from Central America not want to migrate to the US because they are all noticing the problem with violence from the police that neighborhoods like mine are going through. The terrible thing that makes this situation even worse is that only minorities are being affected. When I talk to my two friends, Josue and Charlie, I inform them about the police violence that is going on around the US. Fortunately, instead of coming here, they have decided to stay in El Salvador and not get in trouble with anybody. They are going to school and working for their families as helpers in a small store.

I would rather stay here in Los Angeles no matter what because I believe that my future will be better for me. The education that this great country provides is better than any other. Something that I love about being here is that I can earn in just one hour that same amount of money that I would earn working for the whole day in El Salvador. I am also currently learning a new language. I’ve also learned about gravity in my physics class. I believe that my family and I will have a better future too, even though the police violence is affecting my community. People that live in this neighborhood still have hope that it will stop some day so that they can live more relaxed lives with no worries about getting injured or killed by the cops.

About the Author

Erick Alexander Reyes Portillo, known as “El Papi,” was born and raised in Morazan, El Salvador. He migrated to United States in 2013 when he was fourteen years old. Erick (El Papi) likes to discover new things and listen to bachata. At home he plays video games with his twelve-year-old brother Gerson.

RODRIGO CURIEL

Catching Up

My brother Jose has been the most influential person in my life. He taught me many things like how to play soccer, how to draw, how to fight and I learned from his mistakes. Even though my brother wasn’t with me for a part of my life, he is important to me because he is the only brother I have. For a part of my life when my parents split up, my brother and my dad went to Apple Valley to live with my uncle while my sisters, my mom, and I moved to a different house in LA. I didn’t see my dad or my brother for about two years after that. For those two years I learned a lot about life and about being alone. Being lonely and not having anyone to play with is hard because as a kid everyone wants to play and have fun, but when your only brother is in another city and you don’t know any of the neighbors, you’re forced to play by yourself. At least that’s how it was for me until we moved again. This time, our neighbors were my cousins, and the best part was that there was a park right down the street. I remember playing soccer at the park all the time with my cousins and playing videos games on the PS2. They helped me realize that I wasn’t alone and we always had fun together. We fought sometimes and sometimes we didn’t get along but we all got over it when we all played outside because everyone had fun and forgot about why they were angry. I have so many memories with them, all positive. After two years though, when my brother came back, I felt sort of weird and different. I felt like I didn’t know him anymore and it was a little uncomfortable talking to him.

Before my brother came back though, my mom, my two sisters, Maria and Bryana, and I lived in my cousin’s garage for a while until we moved to our own house. It was a small place; about one half the size of my classroom. I hated living there, I hated telling people I lived in a garage, and I avoided telling people about my life. I was embarrassed by the way I was living; I wanted to live in my own house. I guess that’s why I always like being outside and playing with my cousins and being in their house. We were mostly always outside playing soccer on the street or at the park. My cousins and I played soccer every day. I already knew how to play soccer because my brother taught me, but as I kept playing more and more with my cousins Memo, Anthony, Michael, Raymond, and Carlos, I began to love it. That neighborhood was fun because all the kids knew each other and were friends. That was my escape that helped me get through living with one parent because even though I had a stepdad, I did not really feel like he was there for me. Being outside was like a safe haven; not just being outside, but playing outside with all my friends because when we all played, I forgot about my troubles.

The first time I saw Jose again, two years had passed and I was twelve. That day my cousins and I were playing at the park down the street. We could play at that park for hours but I always went home first because I always had to use the bathroom. I never liked using the public restrooms because they were nasty. The floor was dirty, they had footprints on the walls and the toilets were rusty with pee on them and sometimes people didn’t flush. Sometimes when I would go to the house, I would stay there and not go back to the park because I would start watching TV, but this time I was on my way back to the park. When I opened the door and began running to the park, I heard my mom calling me back to the house. She told me to stay here because my brother was coming home. A car pulled up right in front of our house. I saw him step out of the car and he looked at my mom and then at me. I smiled. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, and he had long hair and a mustache. As he went to the trunk to get his bags, I told my mom I was going to the park to share the news about my brother. I was excited and nervous and curious at

the same time and I wanted to tell my cousins. I ran fast trying to get to my cousins and tell them my brother was here.

That summer in LA was different. Not so different in everything we did but just different in some activities. For example in the days following his return he was introduced to all my cousins and it was cool. Nothing major but I remember going to the park one day with everyone to play soccer and I hadn’t played with him in a long time so it was harder to score. It was exciting to play with more competition and my cousins thought so, too.

I think at this point I should say that my cousins aren’t really my cousins. They are my stepdad’s nephews and we just became really close as we grew up because we all went to the same elementary school and middle school. When we graduated middle school, we went to different high schools but we still play soccer together.

Back to my brother, though. I remember one time he gave me some advice that I wasn’t expecting. It was a sunny Saturday morning. I could tell it was sunny because I could see the light shining through the cracks around the garage door. I was the only one awake at the time, or so I thought. I was watching cartoons on TV when I saw my brother get up and sit next to me. He randomly asked if I do or say any bad things. I told him no because I didn’t know the reason he was asking that and I didn’t know what he would say if I said yes. Then he said he knew I was lying and he just told me not to say bad words. He told me a story about our old neighbors and friends; the ones that we lived next to before our parents split up. He said that one of the brothers was injured in a fight because he called the other guy a word he should not have. After that, he just said to be careful of the things I say.

At that time, I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about and I didn’t really care, but as I got older I realized the reason he told me that was because he wanted me to be safe and that showed that he cared. To this day, we share good memories and I will continue living a good life playing soccer and learning more about life. I won’t let the area I live in define me. I know what I’m worth.

About the Author

Rodrigo Curiel was born in México and came to the US at a young age. He likes to draw, play soccer, and go to his “cousin’s” house. He played for the school soccer team for two years and did track and cross country. When he’s not at school or playing sports, he’s at home watching TV or chilling.

JULIO ZARCENO

Living Life as It Comes

I come from a small beautiful town called Ahuachapán in El Salvador. There I was raised by my grandparents who loved me so much. I did not have the opportunity to be raised by my parents because they divorced when I was only one year old. After they divorced, my dad disappeared from our lives and my mom got married and decided to migrate to the United States with her new husband. My mom immigrated because she needed to make more money, to help my grandparents out. She couldn’t take me with her to the United Stated because I was only five years old and it was a risk for them to take me with them because you never know what situations you will face on your way to the United States. I stayed with my grandparents.

My grandparents and I lived on a farm for part of my childhood. I used to go play soccer every afternoon on the nearby soccer fields by my house every single day after school until sunset. My grandmother would wait for me at the door of our house to make sure nothing would happen to me on the way back home. Thank God nothing ever did. I felt protected by my grandparents who care a lot about me. As the years passed, my grandparents started to get old and my grandfather couldn’t work in the fields anymore more because it was too hard. However, my uncle decided to take them with him to the United States. That way, my grandparents could have a better economic and healthy life. My grandparents had to immigrate the following week. At the time, I was only eight years old and I did not know how to take care of myself or protect myself. My grandparents used to protect me and care about me in situations where I did not know what to do and they were always there for me and I got used to it. Now I was sad. Why me? First my parents left me and now my grandparents. What am I going to do without them? But my grandparents had already made a plan with whom I was going to stay. This person was my aunt. They told me all this the day before they were going to take an airplane to the United States.

The next day, my family and I went to drop them off at the airport. To me, that day was like a day without sun, like one of those days where you do not want to know about anything and just be alone. I was sad but I had to move to my aunt’s house the same day. I did not want to move into my aunt’s house, but I had no choice. My aunt lived in the city of Ahuachapán, where I knew I was not going to be able to go out to play soccer after school anymore. I knew my life was going to change. Which it did. I got enrolled in a private school, for which my mom was paying. Now I got in a basic routine to go to school and come back home right away after school, do my homework, and do the chores at home. Now I had rules in my aunt’s house, and she became really strict. If I was home three minutes late after school, my aunt would wait for me at the door of her house holding a belt in her hands. Not to make sure I was safe, just to make sure she could give me a lesson and I would never come back home late again. As the months flew by, I was becoming a different person. I was getting depressed because I was only at home. She used to not let me go out with friends or visit my friends from where I used to live with my grandparents. I was tired of all of that. I was not that happy kid anymore.

One day I woke up early and I prayed to God. I got ready to go to school and I said in my mind before I left the house, “I wonder what is going to happen today?” That day, the man who disappeared from my life when I was a baby—my father—decided to appear while I was in school, looking for that baby who was a twelve year-old kid. When I got home, they told me, “Your dad was looking for you and he wants to take you to live with him and his family.”

I did not want to go with him at that moment because I did not know that man. What if I make a wrong decision? But at the same time, I said nothing worse than this could happen. He left his phone number with my aunt so she could give it to me. I called him later in the day and he invited me to go out with him and his family. I was nervous and scared but I accepted his invitation. Later in the afternoon, he and his family picked me up. I was nervous to see my dad, two sisters, and his wife. I was happy but sad at the same moment. That man had the same eyes and hair color as me, but he was a stranger when he hugged me. We started a conversation and we started to get to know each other. We went to eat and we ended up going to their house by the beach. We stayed there for the night. They treated me as if we knew each other for years. They were really nice to me. That day, I felt happy and I didn’t want to go back to my aunt’s house. We came back from the beach and on the way back home, my dad asked me if I would like to live with him and his family. I said yes! I did not think about it twice to say yes. I talked to my aunt about it and she said agreed. Then I talked to my mom and she didn’t agree at first because she thought I was going to stay with my dad forever. But I convinced her that I just wanted to live with my dad to see what it was like to have a dad. So I moved in with him.

That lasted for only one year. My dad told me that my mom wanted me to live with her in Los Angeles, California. I said, here we go again! Moving to a new place, I had seen Los Angeles only through the TV and I had an Idea about how Los Angeles was going to be. I moved to Los Angeles to live with my mother. I was impressed how beautiful the city was and impressed to see so many people, cars, and big buildings in Downtown LA. My mom and I live in South Central. When I got here in South Central, I felt like finally I had found my home. I was happy and excited to be with my family but the hardest part for me was when I got enrolled in my new school, Locke High School. There, I got enrolled in ELD classes because I did not know how to speak English at all and I could not understand what the people around me were saying. Some of my teachers could not speak Spanish at all. It was frustrating for me because I was not able to communicate to the people around me even when I wanted to. But I made friends that could speak both languages—Spanish and English. Some of them used to help me to understand what the teacher was saying and sometimes help me with my homework.

The months flew, I made more friends, I passed my ELD classes. Also I do what I have loved to do since I was a kid, which is play soccer. I joined the soccer team in my high school. Playing for the Locke soccer team was an amazing experience because my coaches always pushed me to be good on the field and off the field as well.

Now I’m doing sports in high school. I play soccer, cross country and track-and-field. I’m taking regular English classes. I’m about to graduate from high school, and I’m planning to go to college and play soccer. Taking me to live in Los Angeles was the best decision my mom and dad have decided. I’m happy with the decision they made for me. Los Angeles is home, and I’m home! I’m happy, comfortable and excited about how my life has changed in LA. I’m thankful for all the amazing people I have met in Los Angeles.

About the Author

Julio Zarceno is eighteen years old. He cannot live without sports. He is planning to become a professional soccer player. He likes going to places and helping people.

LEON JONES

A Long Way to Go: An Interview with Victoria Brown

Victoria Brown is unique, having lived through two very important times in Los Angeles history—one being the Watts Riots when she was a teenager, and the other being the LA Riots, when she was married with a son and owned a hair salon in Inglewood.

When Ms. Brown described how she told her son what was happening in LA, I connected that with what she was saying about how still today, police brutality and deadly violence on Black people is a big problem. It was the same for me: my mom didn’t have to explain anything to me because I saw it with my own eyes for years. This problem is very significant today; in recent years, there has been an increase in police brutality, starting with the death of Trayvon Martin by someone who took the law into his own hands, although he was not a police office. This event was followed by more killings, like those of Terence Crutcher, Michael Brown, and many others. In these cases, officers had shot and killed an African American male, and in most cases—like in the case of Rodney King—justice wasn’t served.

When I interviewed Ms. Brown, we went deeper into these topics, from her being a Locke alumna, to the death of Latasha Harlins. This conversation gives the full picture of what has happened with each of the riots and also how things have changed over twenty-five years.

LJ What does it mean to be an alumna of Locke High School?

VB Oh wow. I’m very proud to be an alumna at Locke High School. That was a remarkable time in my life. It was a remarkable time in history. Everywhere I go I tell people I graduated from Locke High School. We hope to bring that type of pride and spirit back to Locke because we were one of the number-one high schools in the nation at that time.

LJ How did the 1965 riots lead to the building of Locke High School? Did that have any type of relation?

VB I lived across the street, and this was the

early ’60’s and my parents were hoping they would purchase our property for the school, but they ended up purchasing the properties between Avalon and San Pedro. This started back in the ’60s. They had been discussing building a school in Los Angeles because a high school had not been built here. At the time, during the ’50s and ’60s, there was the great migration from the South after the African Americans started moving, coming north and coming west. So the high schools started becoming overpopulated. It was time for them to build a new school. By the time the riot got here, all of this was vacant lots. Most of the houses had been taken up.

LJ Why did you continue to focus on Locke High School after you had graduated?

VB To tell you the truth, I was focusing on life coming out of school. Going to school, I had a family, so basically my focus on Locke came a few years back. I was shocked because I was at a party and I had an opportunity. There were people that I didn’t know at the party and we were talking about the state of the African American community. One of the gentlemen at the table was explaining that he had been to a Green Dot Schools meeting and that at Locke High School, African American males were at the bottom of one percent. I mean I just couldn’t fathom that—the bottom of one percent. So then I knew that I had to do something. So, I called the Men’s Alumni groups. They were called the Brotherhood at the time. So I asked the guy that I was speaking with to talk to the brothers that had graduated from Locke because in his conversation he was saying he really wished he knew somebody from Locke. At the time, he didn’t know I was from Locke, and so at the end of when we were talking, I told him I could help him get in touch with the brothers from Locke. And so that’s when the alumni knew that we had to come back to Locke to restore what the devil stole (laughs).

LJ Okay, now we’re going to start talking about the 1992 Riots. Where were you in your life during that time?

VB The ’92 riots… I was married and working. I had my own business. I had a business on Normandie and 62nd Street—a hair salon— and, I was just living my life. That day that the riots started, I was at work and you know, we had the TV on, and they interrupted the program that we were watching and I saw my son and my husband on a bicycle on the news! We didn’t have cell phones at that time, so anyway, everything just stopped because we were looking at the news. It was a very hurtful time. I was very sad because I lived through the ’65 riot and all the destruction of our community, and a lot of that destruction in

1965 wasn’t replaced. Most of these vacant lots are still empty, and it’s not that many now but back then, all of those buildings that were burnt down, those lots just stayed empty for years until Richard Riordan came in as mayor, and then they started to put those strip malls in those places. I didn’t like the strip malls; I didn’t. But it’s better than just a vacant lot.

LJ How old was your son during this time?

VB This was in ’92… my son was probably around eight or nine years old.

LJ He was eight, so having a son at eight or nine, how did you explain this to him, like what was going on? Like racial profiling, the beating of Rodney King… how did you explain it to him?

VB He already knew about that. See, the Black community has a history, even from the ’65 riot. And from the ’65 riot, the African American community, it was during the ’50s and early ’60s, Los Angeles was kind of segregated within itself. African Americans lived in one part of town, and Hispanic people lived in one part of town, so everybody had their little community that they lived in. So in South Central, you’ve heard about the relationship that African Americans have with LAPD. Well, you think it’s bad; I think it’s gotten so much better now. As a matter of fact, I volunteer with LAPD now. But back when I was a kid, South Central was under occupation. Most of the police officers within LAPD came out of the South, so they were into keeping us in our place here in South Central. They used to beat Black men with—what they call it—billy clubs back then, and it was like, “If you didn’t do what I say then you’d get a whooping.” So, yeah I think I got off topic (laughs). I can tell you a lot about those days.

LJ Knowing that you lived across the street, how did it feel when you saw your community being burned down?

VB Oh boy, well in ’65 I was a teenager, so there was a lot of excitement in that, being a

teenager. But in ’92, I cried because I knew the devastation that happened to the community in ’65 and I didn’t want to see that repeated because I know how we were neglected after the riot. So I felt that would just set us back. But the difference in this riot—there was a big difference between the two riots—because this was an LA riot. In ’65 it was a Watts riot. It was contained in the African American community. But the ’92 riot was just all over LA. It was televised and everybody got involved.

LJ Did you feel any of the riots were successful?

VB Well, it depends on what you call success. Success, I wouldn’t use the word success because I think it was an eye opener to what was going on in our community. Because you really don’t know what’s going on in other communities if you’re not there. You know what’s going on in South Central, but do you know what’s going on in East LA?

LJ No.

VB Okay well, it was the same thing, and so I don’t think I would call it success. I would just say it was a time of enlightening, reflection, and… it just really showed us where we were in race relations, just as a people. I don’t know what to call it. I wouldn’t call it success, though, because any time there’s destruction, I don’t call that success.

LJ Talking about relationships between different people, how do you feel about the killing of Latasha Harlin?

VB I was really upset with that, and I was upset with the outcome. There is a history of not valuing Black lives and she was one of them. Her life had no value, okay? The store owner’s goods took precedent over her life, okay? I was upset about that. Didn’t like it at all.

LJ Have you ever experienced racial profiling before? Or types of situations where you go in a store and they are watching you?

VB Oh yes, and this here lately. I went into a store…

LJ Even at the age that you’re at?

VB Oh, this was in the 2000s, I would put it like that. I went into a market that I had been going to for years. This market was in my neighborhood—same neighborhood I live in now. The store changed owners. Black people used to own the store, and then Hispanics bought the store. I was in the store, and I went into my purse to take my wallet out to count my money to see how much money I had because I went in there for one thing, but I saw something else I needed. So I just needed to know if I had enough money. So when I got to the counter, the lady told me to open my purse. And I said, “Open my purse, for what?” She says, “Because I saw you. I saw you put something in your purse.” I said, “You didn’t see me put anything in my purse. You saw me go in my purse and take my wallet out. If you were looking that hard, you would’ve known I had my wallet in my hand, and I opened up my wallet to count my money.” She said, “No, I saw you put something in your purse.” So she wanted to look, but what she did was she waited until she took my money. I told her, “No, you can’t look in my purse. If you think I stole something from your store then you call the police.” But I wasn’t saying it that nicely, you know, I told her “You call the police. They can look in my purse, but you cannot.” And I call that racial profiling because she just took it for granted that when I went in my purse that I was stealing. I took offense to that because there was nothing in that store that I wanted that I could not afford to buy. And so yes, I was very offended by that.

And I think one time I was spit on at Griffith Park. This was when I was a teenager; I was spit on. I was bike riding and I pulled up beside a car, and they started calling me names, you know, the “n” word. And one of the kids in the car spit on me. But those are the only two direct instances that I’ve had in my lifetime living here in Los Angeles.

LJ Do you think since 1965 things have progressed and got better? Or do you think they’ve gotten worse?

VB Well, things have gotten better, but they

could be better. There has been progress made, but we have long ways to go. And you know, we have slipped. The city has progressed a lot, but as far as African Americans, we’ve lost a lot of ground.

About the Author

Leon Jones is a young African American growing up in Los Angeles. He hopes the history of police violence against African Americans will remain in the past, and that the future will hold justice for the Black community.

KA’SHAUN BULL

She Is My Champion

It was a Tuesday morning, and I woke up to a clean white pair of Jordans my mom bought me. They were bright white leather high-tops. I was seven years old at the time and felt excited every time I got a new pair. After giving me my new shoes, my mom went to work, and my grandmother and I went straight into our routine. She would iron and lay out my clothes, then cook me breakfast. That morning she made eggs, bacon, and pancakes with a glass of juice. Her food always tasted and smelled delightful.

My school was right down the street, so after breakfast my grandma walked me to the corner to make sure I made it into school safely. Early that morning it was raining, so there were puddles of water and mud everywhere. When I was little, I didn’t really play with kids at school because I didn’t want to get my shoes dirty. Rainy days were the worst. I sat by myself watching the other kids play, when a little boy, whose face I can’t even remember now, walked along and jumped in a puddle, and splashed mud and water on my brand new white Jordans.

I went home in my dirty shoes and told my grandma what happened at school. She always knew when I was having an awful day. So to make me feel better, we baked cookies together. They were chocolate chip. My grandmother had a problem with her leg, and she couldn’t stand up for too long. She sat at the dining room table while I turned on the oven light and looked through the window at the cookies to see if they were done. While I watched them, we heard people shouting, but we ignored it because it was normal in my neighborhood. A minute or so went by and I heard a gunshot. I turned around and saw my grandmother was shot in the head.

My grandmother instantly died in front of me. I didn’t know what to do at that moment. I screamed for my mother who was upstairs. I felt horrible and heartbroken because my grandmother was my everything, sad because we spent every day together, mad because gang-related people took her from me. The lady I loved so much and was so close to was gone and wasn’t ever coming back.

I still think about it. How she isn’t here anymore, how I can’t sit and talk to her when I am having a bad day or even hear her voice. Since she’s been gone, I feel I have no guidance, no one to push me, no one to help me, no one to get me back on track or motivate me. I still have my mother and other people who care about my education, but my grandmother was really the only person I’d listen to about anything. She was special to me, she was my champion.

Back in ninth, tenth, and eleventh grade, I didn’t care about my grades. I would not do my homework. I would sometimes even refuse to take a quiz. My mother worried I wasn’t going to graduate because I somewhat scared her when my report card came in the mail. We used to sit and talk about how my life wouldn’t be all that great if I didn’t graduate school and go to college. I thought to myself, if my grandmother was alive she would want me to do right in school, she would push me in the right direction. I started doing my homework, going to office hours after class to catch up on work, and took quizzes I had missed. I am eighteen now, and in the twelfth grade, and I am on track to graduate this year. When we got our credits I was happy as ever. It meant so much to me knowing that I made it, and I know my grandmother would be proud even though she isn’t here.

The shoes I have on today are called Fruity Pebble Foamposites. They are white with rainbow

colors on the sole and have little circular green, yellow, red, purple, orange, and blue fruity pebbles on the side. I got them from my boyfriend as a birthday gift. I will try not to get them dirty, but if they so happen to get dirty then they will just be in the closet. I have so many shoes it’s ridiculous. I have over a hundred pairs of shoes; they are everywhere. When I walk into my room I have to scoot them to the side.

About the Author

Ka’Shaun Bull was born February 15, 1999 in Los Angeles, California. She is a shoe head. Her favorite food is macaroni and cheese. She enjoys listening to music in her free time.

SULEYMA AYALA

Being Reborn

When I was on my way to the United States, my brother and I were in a house with strangers, people from different countries like Guatemala, México, El Salvador, and Honduras. We had to sleep on the floor. The floor was hard, and we were cold because we didn’t have blankets to cover our bodies.

I was thinking about the fear that I lived with in El Salvador, and I thought about the many opportunities that I would have in United States. Before I went to sleep, I prayed to God because I knew He was the only person who could help me in that moment, and that moment I made a promise to Him. My promise was that if He brought me safely to United States, I would change my life.

When I lived in El Salvador, I prayed to God every night with my sister Liliana. We asked God for protection and health for our parents, who were in the United States, and for all the people around us. Before I came to Los Angeles, California, I didn’t care what people said about me. I always said bad words. I didn’t like to study. I never did my homework. I had bad grades in all my classes in El Salvador. When school was over at twelve o’clock, I went back to my home and I ate and I went out with my friends. We went to La Sorra to listen to music and practice for a dance competition. I arrived home when I wanted and no one told me that was bad. I didn’t have an adult tell me how my behavior had to be.

On the other hand, I was a kid who didn’t understand what was good or bad. Going out with my friends without asking someone, that is a bad habit.

My sister was pregnant and she could not take care of me. Gangs started to arrive in El Chingo. The gangs started to kill people, and they killed a close friend of my family. It was close to my house and I saw the body. It had been stabbed. I saw the cuts. People started talking about that, and they made up different stories, but I never knew the true story of Yubini’s death. I did know him because he was my friend.

I told my parents what was happening, and they had an idea to move my brothers and me to El Desvio. Before we moved to El Desvio, my parents didn’t want me to go to school in El Chingo, but they couldn’t do anything to stop me. I didn’t listen to them because I liked to go to school and have fun with my friends. My parents wanted me to stay in the house because the gang could kill me. When I look back on my past, I realize that my change began during this time. Even with the fear of going to school, getting an education was a good decision.

My parents gave good news to my brothers and me: they saved money to bring us to the United States for a better life. After a month, my brother and I started our way and came to the United States. I was thirteen years old, and I was scared and tired because the way to come to United States is difficult and long. We came in cars and we walked in the night. We got to Los Angeles, California, to reunite with our parents for the first time in eleven years.

Today I am sixteen years old, and I completely made a change in how I think, act, and talk because I see my parents work hard so I can have a better life and a house where I can live and have my own space. In this time of my life, they tell me what I have to do and they take care of me like a girl who is two years old, like when they left me in El Salvador. This is difficult for me

because I am a young woman and I used to make my own rules. Now my parents want me to follow their rules because they think that I need a lot of protection like a baby. Something I know is that I don’t want to follow their rules because I teach myself and they want to change how I behave. Also, I woke up and now I know what is good for my life and what is bad. This doesn’t mean that I have bad behavior; it only means that all people deserve their space to think about their life or what they are doing wrong. Sometimes it means I just want to have a little fun.

Now everything is different because sometimes I think they overprotect me and I talk about that with them, but sometimes I understand why they overprotect me because they only want the best for my life. That made me think about the girl I was before, and I can feel the big change in my life and all the differences between how I was and how I am. I think that the girl I was in El Salvador never got out. She’s still inside me. I think that she chose a good way to improve her life.

Now my education is very good, and I feel proud of myself because I always give my best in my school, even when I feel tired and weak. People think I am a smart student. When my mother comes to school, all the teachers tell my mother that I always do my homework and that I pay attention in class. In addition, my friends ask me for advice because I make good decisions. If I make a mistake, I always do what is necessary to fix it. I learn from it.

I completed my promise and now I am thankful to God because he gave me the opportunity for change; my proposition is to study for my future and help my parents and brothers when they need my help. I want my family to feel proud of me, but my relationship with my parents is very interesting because they never tell me that they feel proud of me. Maybe they never tell those words to me because I am a young woman and they think that I don’t need to hear that, but sometimes I want them to tell me lovely words because otherwise I feel that I am doing something wrong. Also, I need to hear sweet words because I grew up without love and sometimes I feel alone. I never talk about my feelings to my parents. For me to show my feelings is very difficult because I never learned to express my own feelings to other people.

About the Author

Suleyma likes to be active in sports, and her favorite is soccer. She wants to go to UCLA and become an ophthalmologist. She likes pizza, burgers, and tacos. Also she loves music and at the same time singing and dancing.

CHRISTOPHER MENDOZA

Los Angeles

Waking up in Los Angeles to me feels like home because I’ve lived here for most of my life. Every day is a new experience in South Central; you never know when something so simple like staring at someone for too long could lead up to a horrific tragic incident. It’s difficult to explain the scenario and the surroundings to people who don’t live in the area. It’s something you have to experience and live through to really grasp the knowledge and feel of the terrain. Many people think that California is sweet. They think that it’s lollipops and gumdrops, but it’s really liquor and gunshots, and they don’t realize it till they get here.

Growing up in South Central has impacted my lifestyle and way of being because over time and plenty of incidents that have taken place, I have developed an extra sense of awareness. Everything that you do, where you go, who you associate yourself with, what you wear, are all key aspects that you need to get familiar with very quickly. On occasion, crazy things are happening in South Central. Either it’s a shooting, burglary, or high-speed chase taking place. But after a while, the police sirens, helicopters, gunshots and everything else going on in the city becomes the soundtrack of the area. You are so accustomed to it that when you don’t hear it, it’s like there is something wrong or you get the feeling that something is going to happen. Most of the time South Central is motionless— people aren’t really outside in their neighborhoods —unless they are coming back from school, work, or anything else, but other than that no one is really out and there really isn’t communication through the neighborhoods.

If there was more communication, I believe that the communities would be more developed and more civilized, which could then lead to less crime and violence. Although South Central does have plenty of violence and many mischievous things going on at once, it has a certain vibe that makes you really think, “Why is there some much violence?”

Los Angeles has molded me to be the person I am today. Without it, who knows what kind of person I would have come out to be. Los Angeles to many, is a fast-paced city, with something always happening. It’s easy to get into trouble because there is nothing really to do since I live in the ’hood . It’s isolated, so that means if you wanna do something, you have to go to another city for stores or entertainment. If you are planning to come and live in Los Angeles, just know that it’s not the same as your other city.

About the Author

Christopher Mendoza is an eighteen-year-old boy who comes from a very dangerous, thrilling, immigrant-filled, beautiful place called South Central, Los Angeles. He enjoys being active and hanging around with his friends. He also enjoys eating a lot of food. He loves to spend time with his family and loves to sleep in on the weekends.

EMMANUEL SANCHEZ

Twenty Minutes of LA

One cold Sunday night, I was coming home from church with my uncle, sister, grandma, and my aunt. After we got home, we parked in our driveway and saw our neighbor’s car was being stolen. It was a shiny new, black Cadillac convertible. There was a male and female in their mid-to-late thirties sitting in the front of the car trying to find whatever they could get. A few minutes later the cops began to come from both directions. They took out shotguns and I couldn’t keep track of how many cops were there. A cop in a police chopper said, “Freeze! Put your hands up!” At that moment, I got so scared that I froze right there in the middle of my front yard, still holding stuff that we took to church. My aunt saw me standing there and said, “Hurry up and get inside.”

A few years ago, the block where I lived was very calm and quiet. When I heard a siren, it would be an ambulance—and that would be craziest thing that would happen. My mom usually wouldn’t keep eyes on my cousin, and we would play in my front yard without worrying that something could happen. On Saturday mornings, I would wake up and hear the birds chirping.

In my neighborhood now, every day is loud and a lot of things happen at the same time. There are always kids yelling on their bikes and dogs barking every time a person passes by somebody’s house. Also people come from work try to be at the block first so they can get parking. On the corner on my block there is an apartment where the parents are always yelling, “Hey!! Don’t go too far!” toward their kids because they’re always playing in the street on their bikes. Sometimes trucks or cars pass so fast that they blow the dirt off the ground. Sometimes in the night I can hear bullets coming by so fast that I can hear the wind of the bullet. It would happen on the weekends and sometimes around midnight or later. I would be concerned but the cops would not come. The neighbors where I now live are nice and respectful toward me and my family. This is important to me because it shows that they care about me and know that I’m respectful. Sometimes I talk with them about our families.

In the past on our block, we would have special event meetings at our neighborhood watch house. Almost everybody would be there and talk about events to plan out, what to do for the block party, and everybody would say what food they were going to bring. A police officer would sometimes come as well to our meetings and he would be in charge of coming to the block and closing up the street. This event would be really good because it would take place in the summer. We would rent out water slides and almost every kid would play. Sometimes my neighborhood can be really calm, but it depends on the people who are there.

If I had the choice of moving houses, I would like to move to El Segundo or Torrance because the houses look so unique compared to the houses where I live, and almost every house has a big front yard. Also, the houses are designed so that you come in through the driveway on a hill, and some houses are gated, so from inside the house you can see to the outside street but they can’t see you from the outside looking toward the house.

My neighborhood has influenced me as a person because it can be dangerous for me and my family members, and that shows that my neighborhood is impacted by gang-related things. In order for me to get out from where live, I have to get my college education and focus on my career so I won’t be living there once I have a job.

Emmanuel Sanchez was born in Los Angeles. He enjoys playing drums, and has been playing drums for twelve years. He started playing by watching his uncles. His favorite band is Twenty One Pilots. He would like to play and go tour with them.

HEYDI GALDAMEZ

Education Changes Weak Minds

It was a sunny day when I woke up early in South Los Angeles. I had been attending Locke High School for two years since I moved to LA with my mom and my siblings from El Salvador. It was a Monday morning. Everything seemed to be good that day, but once I arrived at school, I started to feel bad and I didn’t want to be there. I was surprised to feel this way because I had always liked school in both El Salvador and this new school in Watts. When I went to my first-period class, the teacher asked me to share something about the lesson of that day. When I shared it, I couldn’t pronounce a couple of words because I was feeling so nervous and my voice was broken inside me. I was speaking, but I felt like I wanted to cry and my face turned so red immediately. At that time, I already knew a little bit of English and how to pronounce some words, but I did not feel comfortable speaking it out loud. While I was reading, a boy started to laugh at my accent and because I didn’t know much English. He told me to go back to my country, El Salvador, because I didn’t belong here. I felt so disappointed and I just stopped reading, but I didn’t say anything to the boy because at that moment all I wanted was to disappear. After that moment, I started to think hard about what I could do to learn English. When I arrived at home from school that day, I started working hard on my English. I watched TV shows in English, read books in English, and I tried to practice it with a cousin who was born here.

One day, while I was talking with a friend, he told me about a program called “LAPD Cadet Program.” He said it was about helping young people have a better future, and about helping the community. For example on Christmas, they always give shoes to poor children in our neighborhood. I got so interested in it because it sounded like it was a good opportunity to learn English and to help other people. I was seventeen years old when I joined the program. I started be disciplined, and dedicated. I did not know then what the Police Academy was, but I would soon learn.

My first day in the Police Academy was full of emotions and nerves. When I arrived there, I saw two hundred cadets and recruits standing in ten different lines. Each line was composed of about twenty recruits and cadets standing one behind the other. In addition, I don’t know exactly how many police officers were there, but they were more than fifty, women and men dressed with their blue uniform. My stomach started to hurt a lot and I didn’t understand why. One of the cadets asked my sister, a friend, and me to step out from the line. The three of us were new to the program and were so nervous and scared because everybody there only spoke English and we were afraid of what to answer when they asked questions. There were a lot of emotions in my stomach because in that moment I couldn’t even pronounce my name. Never in my life had I been more nervous. The cadet told us that when he called our name we had to scream, “Sir, present, Sir.” And when he asked a question we had to say “Sir, yes, Sir,” or “Sir, no, Sir.” That was all that we had to say, but we looked at each other so afraid. He told us to practice, but we were so nervous that we weren’t able to scream. He repeated the question so many times and he wanted us to be louder, but we could not. We wanted to cry. He was getting mad because we were not speaking louder as he told us to do. Then, he screamed at us and that was the moment when we screamed louder than him to answer his questions.

After that, police officers organized all cadets and recruits in a single line, one behind the other. I didn’t know what was that line for, but then they all started to run without getting out of the line. I thought that we weren’t going to run a lot, but they spent like fifty minutes running

around a parking lot just stopping to drink water. After thirty minutes of running, I started to feel so weak, my legs wanted to give up, but I continued running. I saw two of the leader cadets in front of the line running like they never got tired, or maybe they had to seem like that because they were our example to follow and if they gave up, we all were going to give up. For a moment, I thought that I was not going to make it, but my friend, who told me about the program, was there and when he saw that I was giving up he told me, “Go Heydi, you can do it.” Those words gave me a lot of motivation. Finally, we stopped running to do exercise such as pull-ups, squats, etc. After the exercise, police officers took us to a classroom to receive the lesson of that day, which was about what could happen if a person drives while she/he is drunk. We had to do this every Thursday afternoon and Saturday morning after doing exercise. After a few days of attending the academy, the pain that I felt the first day I did exercise in the academy was disappearing and I felt more comfortable there.

I attended the Police Academy for the required eight months and I became a cadet. Every Saturday I had to wake up at four to get ready to go to the Academy. At seven, we went to a room to receive classes about different topics. After receiving the lesson of that day, police officers took us outside to make us do exercises, such as running, push-ups and squats. Finally, we went home after spending eight hours in the academy each Saturday.

It was a great experience, I could say the best of my life, because I had to work with cadets and police officers and I learned a lot from them. I have to admit that when I was in El Salvador, I hated the police so much. My family told me that they were good people, but we all knew that in El Salvador some of them were not. I hated them because I knew how corrupt and cowardly they were. One day, they hit my uncle just because some gang members told them to do so. They didn’t ask my uncle for an explanation, they just hit him and his friends without asking any questions. In El Salvador, there are many people killed by gangs and the police don’t do anything about it because they are afraid that the gangs will kill them too. El Salvador is getting worse each day because there are a lot of young people ruining other people’s lives because nobody, including police, stops them from doing bad things. People are afraid of walking on the streets because they are in danger of being killed.

After spending time in the Police Academy, I saw that police here, unlike in El Salvador, care about their community and people and my feelings of hate stopped. While I was in the program, I learned that not everyone is the same, but some of us are worse than others because they decide to be like that. No one decides who we have to be—we decide for ourselves. Our decisions have consequences and our hard effort and work make us different from people who think that life is about ruining other people’s lives to make themselves happy. We decide who we want to be our friends. Good friends care about our problems; others just laugh and take advantage of them. Immigrant people can make a great difference everywhere they are and no one is better than us because, in America, we are all equal and have the same rights because we are all humans.

Now I am a different person than I was before the Cadets program because I learned that we shouldn’t judge people just for their appearance. Before I attended the academy, I said many bad things about police such as they are cowards, they don’t do anything to help our people, etc. Now, I am glad that I attended the Police Academy because this experience pushed me to think hard about going to college and becoming a teacher to educate people. I want to become an inspiration for young people and our next generation. I want them to know that we can achieve whatever goal we want in life. Furthermore, I learned that even though this was not the country I was born in, it is my country now because I live here and nobody can make me feel badly. I

came here looking for a better life and future. We, immigrant people, are not criminals as Donald Trump says. We are hard workers and dreamers. Some of my people don’t know English and that is why good opportunities like the Police Academy are so important to us. We appreciate every good opportunity that we have in this country because we know that opportunities like this do not happen everywhere.

About the Author

Heydi Galdamez was born in Chalatenango, El Salvador. She moved to the United States when she was fifteen years old. She wants to become a Spanish teacher. Her favorite hobby is to cook and to spend time with her family and friends. The most precious thing for her is family because they are always pushing her to do the right things.

ROBERT REYNOSO

Rusted Silver Lining

An individual collects hundreds, even millions, possibly billions of experiences throughout their lifetime—but only a few determine who they turn out to be. In many ways, my individual past contributed to who I am today and who I will be in the future. Many people have contributed to my experience, from my uncles, aunt, sisters, brother, and my parents. My dad was especially paramount.

My father has always been a sports enthusiast. He enjoyed many sports: volleyball, soccer, UFC, and much more. When I was young, he was scouted by a professional soccer recruiter. He still speaks about it today, and not taking that opportunity to follow his dreams of being a professional athlete is one of his biggest regrets. With that being said, it showed how much he cared about his family that he would never take an opportunity; he had a family to provide for and could not take a chance on something that wasn’t a sure thing. I’ve always felt disconnected from my father for many reasons and this is one: I was never a sporty child. If I went outside it was to use my imagination and envision myself as a fifteenth-century knight, not a soccer star. Yes, I was an energetic and outdoorsy child, but I’ve never channeled it for the sports, the activities he enjoyed. As much as we were different in that way, we are very similar in many other ways. I remember an instant that still bothers me to this day. I remember him coming home very late one Friday night around the time he usually gets paid. He came into the kitchen and he called me. “Beto,” he said, “Come here.” I said, “Yes?” He opened an envelope with his paycheck inside asking me to read what it said. At the moment, as a kid in elementary school, it seemed like a ton of money.

As I got older I started realizing how little that was—so little money for someone who worked so hard and needed to provide for a family of six people by himself. Sadly that was the hard reality for my father, who was a minority in his company. My father has worked at the same chrome shop for over ten years, for a little more than minimum wage. But it still isn’t enough to provide for us—for someone who worked so hard and gave up so much, like the dream of playing soccer as a career, for a company that doesn’t even respect and give enough to provide for his family. This in my eyes is an injustice. He’s been asked and offered multiple opportunities to get a better job, but he always turned it down because it wasn’t secure, and he couldn’t take that risk; he had a job and that was the important thing.

Seeing all my father’s negative moments has made me want to work harder for a better life for myself. I want to take advantage of all the opportunities to achieve what I want in the future. My father being hard on education has always pushed me to continue school, work hard, and reach my ideal of success. My vision of success would be a future where I’ll not have to worry if I can pay this month’s bill, to have the opportunity to purchase the things I enjoy, to have a workplace where I feel appreciated, and a career in the software engineering field that I actually enjoy and don’t see as a hassle in the long run. I’ve worked hard to try to reach my future field, from learning programming to graphic designing—skills that I have developed on my own, and in my spare time, and something that I have pushed myself in.

For graphic design, it was extremely difficult to start learning: finding a less costly alternative to Photoshop was difficult, and getting feedback for pieces that I had created before publishing to the Internet was another bump in the road. For programming, it was also difficult, if not

more than graphic design. Since I was a self-taught programmer, I never had someone to consult when I had a problem or a misunderstanding with a command. This has always made me feel frustrated, not being able to comprehend what to do. I imagine my dad is familiar with this feeling at his workplace: frustrated, feeling stuck, not being able to know what to do or how to move forward. The difference is that I have the opportunity to take risks. I can consult an individual when I need to and have the opportunity to follow my dreams.

This changed my relationship with my father: knowing that while in some ways we are different, mostly we are similar. We are closer now than what we were when I was younger. While I still haven’t tried to join a sports team, I enjoy watching it and practicing it, even though I do not feel confident enough to play on the field competitively. As for my father in the future, I believe he will be taking more risks when all of his children leave the nest, but while we are still here he still has to play it safe. All of my family talks about the plan to get through college and help my parents, getting my dad a business in the future for all his hard work and determination in giving us a home and the most comfortable life we can have under the circumstances. At the end of the day, my father left an enormous footprint that will stay with me for the rest of my life that shapes who I am today and who I will be in the future.

About the Author

Robert Reynoso was born in Los Angeles, California. He loves competition from many aspects of the spectrum—from video games to sports, it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing better than putting in your earbuds and blasting some of your favorite music during a friendly competition. At the end of a hard-fought battle, quoting the words of Michael Corleone: “It’s not personal[…]. It’s strictly business.”

MAYA ANDERSON

A New Perspective

I used to wake up to the smell of fresh grass and the sound of birds chirping in the morning. Toward the end of my junior year, in May, I moved from Temple City in the San Gabriel Valley to Watts in South Central Los Angeles, which is about twenty-five miles away, a thirty-fiveminute drive. I really thought that looking up this neighborhood on Google Maps and going on “street view” would be enough to get a general idea of how it looked around here.

I kind of knew what to expect: South LA, Bloods and Crips or whatever, but at the same time, I didn’t. When I finally arrived here, I felt that the difference was way more drastic. It wasn’t as clean as where I’d lived; there was graffiti everywhere, there was less grass and palm trees. There were more homeless people and drug addicts on the streets, and there was more crime. Now when I wake up in the morning, I smell dust. At night, I hear my schizophrenic neighbor yelling, the loud screeching train, the thumping of helicopters, cop cars zooming by, rushing ambulances, and occasionally, gunshots.

Attending Locke has made me appreciate whatever good things I have or had in life a little bit more. There are always people out there who have it worse off than you. It also changed my outlook on life because I would hear things about South LA, but moving here just made the hard things more real. I appreciate the teachers here because they really want you to succeed and will give their all to help you achieve your goals. With anywhere you go, there are always going to be positive and negative things that come along with it. Here at Locke, I really love how everyone knows each other. My experience here with the teachers and students hasn’t really been that bad. I haven’t had any major issues with anyone, and even though we may not have the same background and upbringing, I feel comfortable with being myself.

Back in Temple City, there was little to no trash on the streets, no vandalism. It was safe. It wasn’t dusty; the traffic noise was low. You could actually go out for a walk with your friends at one in the morning without having to worry about anything. There was a Starbucks close by, a mall, sushi restaurants, In-N-Out Burger. Everything was within walking distance or a short drive away. You didn’t have to drive super far to go places.

And the schools. Oh my gosh, the schools and the kids at the schools were just so completely different. My first day here at Locke, I found out we had to wear uniforms and heard that it was because people would come dressed in gang colors or something. I walked through those gates and saw security wearing these sheriff uniforms. You can’t even go off campus for lunch, even if you’re a senior. The bathrooms are always locked and you have to carry a pass with you. Fights occur pretty often here, too. Maybe not to some, but I, personally, feel like it happens a lot. There’s so much drama and many of the kids are obnoxiously loud. What I don’t understand is why and how the students are so comfortable with being disrespectful and using profanity toward the teachers. I was so shocked, honestly, when I first heard this girl say some pretty rude things to a teacher when he was only trying to help her. Everyone acts like the teachers owe them or something, or as if the teachers want them to be there. It’s crazy. It’s just sad, really. It seems like all they have to talk about is gangs, relationship drama, who’s talking to who, or who’s going to fight who. In perspective, it’s just a bunch of irrelevant, negative crap. It’s unbelievable how that’s all one can talk or worry about.

In Temple City, there was no need to have a uniform or enforce any type of dress code. All they asked of us was to have nothing inappropriate on our clothing. Juniors and seniors were permitted to leave the school during lunch. We didn’t need security guards on campus, but we had a few, just so they could tell kids to stop running to the lunch line. Fights were so rare— literally one occurred each year. And when I say one, I mean one fight on or off school grounds. When I attended Temple City High School, I used to feel like we were poor. Our classrooms needed to be renovated, we needed better bathrooms, and all this other stuff, but I now realize that we were way better off than many other schools.

My first objective is to graduate and get that out of the way. After that, I plan on going to school to become a dental assistant. In the future, I would like to have my own business to sell my art and just make enough money to support myself in comfortable conditions. I want to be able to move out of the neighborhood, somewhere nice and upbeat. I absolutely hate being stressed and feeling down, so my goal is to be able to travel and simply enjoy life.

About the Author

Maya Anderson was raised in the San Gabriel Valley. She is a carefree person who likes to go to the beach and go hiking. She enjoys eating and loves to travel.

BRIANA ESPARZA

Living with the Identity of Fear

My name is Brianna Esparza, a girl with a bright future ahead of myself. I was born in LA on October 18, 1999, and by that time, life was not how I expected it to be: with a loving family and a humongous house where I could run around and have a pool. As I grow older, I start to realize that life gets tougher. It grows eagerly till you hit the ground, and the only reason why I get back on my feet and never give up is because of my loving beautiful mother. My mother has long, hazel -brown curly, hair with a very soft touch of skin tone. If you ever get to see her you’ll ask me how old is she. I say that because she looks like she could be my sister; she had me when she was fifteen. My mother makes me feel like I can go far even though people tell me, “You will never be great.” My mother taught me to fight for my rights and that when life gets tough, I have to give myself a good mindset. I constantly tell myself at the end of the day, if today wasn’t my day then tomorrow will be it.

When I was about two in a half years old, my parents decided to move to Chicago because at that time there was so much poverty going on in LA. At that time we didn’t have a house, so we didn’t have any other choice but to stay over at my uncle’s house. My uncle’s wife did not get along well with my mom. Up to this day we don’t know the reason why she has so much hatred toward her. My point here is that we didn’t live in peace under my uncle’s roof because they would always argue. So here we are going somewhere unusual, where we don’t have any relatives, and where everything seems strange, but beautiful.

A big, exciting, and quirky energy seemed to hang in the air. You could hear hummingbirds while walking by a huge park, with people talking about how beautiful that place was. I don’t want to exaggerate, but Chicago is a really nice city. My family stayed there for about four to five years, but because my dad started getting good news about LA. He wanted to give it another try. I feel like my parents missed LA, especially my relatives because of the distance. I guess that’s what convinced my parents to move back. My parents had to drive back, but my dad didn’t care what it would take for him to go back to LA. It was then we had our own house like a delightful family.

Everything was going so well until one day, my dad went to jail and when he got out, he was deported. The last words he told me were that he was gonna come back for me. My mom was going crazy at that time; she was young, about sixteen years old. I was a little kid. I don’t remember the story clearly about how everything happened, but my aunt and uncle went to court to fight for my custody. I remember how frightened my mom was. Turns out my uncle won my custody. Everyone seemed pleased except for my uncle’s wife. I wanted to ask her why she never smiled. Her face was always so serious that I was frightened to ask.

I remember feeling so solitary and gloomy because everyone, except my uncle, living under that same roof was bothered when they heard I was a new member of the family. None of my cousins, which are now my step-siblings, have ever accepted me as their sister. So I never really knew what it was like to have a real family. Little by little my feelings start to fade away, being replaced with pride. While I was living with family, my mom was at a very far distance, living with the fear that stopped her from coming near me again. When I entered school, I had to start with the first grade because I missed my other two years of school. I was having a difficult time because I didn’t know how to count, read, and write. The good thing was that I got

lucky by having a really nice teacher who really cared for me and helped me until I knew how to do everything. I even knew how to speak better than other students.

I met a girl named Bethany in elementary school, and she became my best friend. The shocking thing is that up to this date, she still remains my best friend. I adore this young lady so much because she knew how hurt I was, and she has always been supportive of me. The love from her feels very warm.

However, I started to realize that everything that I was going through happened to make me a stronger person. I consider myself a “strong person” and to me, there are many facets to being strong. One of them is the ability to stand against adversity. Life throws lemons at you, whether you want them or not. What you decide to do in such cases determines, in part, how strong you are.

But one day, I was going through so much at home again that I felt so unimportant, but again, I think God has blessed me so much with the people he has brought to my life. I had an admirable teacher in eighth grade; she taught me how to get through everything that was affecting me.

One day I was browsing on my social media and I found my mother. She began to send me letters and emails about how life had been going for her and how she wanted to catch up on the moments that were taken away from us. I felt a big relief in my chest because I was carrying so much pain that I couldn’t hold myself up. We cleared our minds and things opened up and everything began to add up. I will never forget what she told me the day of my birthday, “The fear that I carried inside of myself grew in you too, and if you don’t let that go, it will ruin your life, just like it did mine.” From that moment up this date, I don’t forget who I am and I have stood up for myself no matter what kind of trouble I get into.

I have a purpose in my life, and I will not let anyone tell me what I can or can’t achieve. Since I am still not eighteen years old, I can’t really do much for myself at this point. I believe that once you overcome fear you can achieve anything. If I went through this in my childhood, I think that I can help those who feel the exact way that I felt. Growing up with fear is not fair because it takes away the imagination that a human has as a child. Every time I think about what I went through it bothers me to imagine how many more kids are going through the same situation. It is not fair to take someone’s childhood away. Those children may not be able to communicate with others or share moments where they can all relate to each other. The reason I’m saying this is because these are all the things that affected my mother when she was young. Now that I have encountered her again, not only has she been encouraging me to speak up when it’s very necessary, but also to make the best decisions because it is for my own good.

About the Author

Brianna Esparza was born in Los Angeles, California. She was adopted by her biological uncles when she was a child.

JERRY MARTINEZ

Watts Up

When you grow up with a family of eight and money is tight, you have to share a lot. My parents Ismaela and Brigido, and my older sisters, came from México to Los Angeles when my sisters were at a young age; Rebeca was four and Adalberta was five. Sergio was born next, then Mariela, Carmen, Terry, Adriana, and finally, me. As the youngest in my family, I learned a lot from watching the struggles they had to face growing up. My siblings made me see the world how it is. They told me not to do drugs and to do well in school and go to college but things change over time. Until this day, I see people in my family do drugs and I know I’m on my way to doing the same thing. Rebeca was the only one of them to get a degree, and it took her eleven years. Half of them didn’t graduate high school. At first, their advice annoyed me because it was hypocritical for them to tell me what to do, but then I saw how their choices forced them to struggle later in life. It motivated me to stay away from bad people that won’t help me in life and get my diploma, even when they told me I would end up like them.

My older brother Sergio had a big impact on me. My big brother influenced me when I was growing and seeing him being in a gang and leading his friends, that made me just want to be like him when I grew up. I didn’t get enough time to grow up around him because his life ended too soon. He had much to live for because he was an uncle, a father, a brother, and his family looked up to him. When I was ten, my brother was shot in the head by the police on December 16, 2009. Terry, Mariela, and Adriana saw it happen outside our window. I won’t forget the day I was woken up by my mom’s screams and cries. I remember seeing Sergio getting ready to leave the house and telling my mom he was going out with a friend. My sister said she heard police sirens and realized Sergio was in trouble. Terry told me that the cop tried to pull him over, but when he didn’t stop, they started shooting. Later they said he had a gun in the car, but sometimes the cops lie to cover up their mistakes. The sheriff’s department had to take over the case later. My brother was in my sister’s car when he was shot. My sister told me that they had my brother handcuffed on the floor. I was thinking in my head, He’ll already be dead by the time he gets to the hospital. My sisters Mariela and Adriana said the cops didn’t let them help my brother or come outside. The police would not let my sister record them or get their badge number. Sergio had a three-year-old son named Fabian.

The next morning, my dad picked me and my sister up from the house and drove us to the hospital. He had to leave early from work after he heard the news. They did not let me see my brother because he was still in surgery. He passed away in the hospital on the eighteenth of December after my family decided that he was not going to live for long on life support and it would be better for him if we just pulled the plug. After I left the hospital with my family, I was heartbroken that I would never get to see my brother talk or move ever again. My brother-in-law David told me, “Don’t hate the police because they’re not all bad. Keep moving forward and graduate high school because that’s what Sergio would have wanted.”

I grew up thinking what David told me was true, but I knew over time that it would change. Twelve days later, we had my brother’s viewing at a church and all my family and my brother’s friends were there to say their goodbyes. The next day, December 31 I got to see my brother for the last time before they buried him and all my brother’s friends left a hat or something in his casket just to leave it for respect. I left a rose because I really did not have much to put in, but I know it was the right thing to do. My brother was buried on New Year’s Eve, which was also my sister Carmen’s birthday. I was devastated that my brother was gone. He told me, “Don’t let

anybody pick you for what you’ve got, just for who you are.”

I did not feel like going to school because my classmates would ask how my brother died. My class was on the top floor of the building, and every time I would go to lunch or recess I would look at the street were my brother was shot. Even to this day I look out my window and remember the day my brother was shot. My brother’s death made me think that the police are always going to be the bad people in this world, even if they say they are here to protect. Since my brother passed away, I still see police killing other innocent people and I know I don’t want to be one of those people to be killed by police or just by a random person. My brother’s death influenced me on life how is. I suspected as I was growing up that the police were never good, not in my neighborhood, or any other place in Los Angeles that looks like ghetto ’hood. My brother’s death also influenced me to see the that it’s a cold world out there and you need to stay awake to who you make friends with because they are the first to hate and would do anything to make you fail in life.

I’m not sure what I want to do after I graduate, but taking college classes is important to me because I care about succeeding. If I make it to college I can make my mom proud because I would be the first boy in the family to get a degree. I know if my brother were here I would have made him proud, too. I want to show success is the best revenge because some people see young teenagers in the ’hood and automatically think we are bad, sell drugs, or plan to steal and they want to lock us up, but I know graduating from college can make a difference in my community and my family.

About the Author

Jerry Martinez is the youngest of eight and the second to attend college. He was born in Los Angeles, California, in Watts where he plans to make his family proud. He enjoys spending time with his family and learning about lowriders and relaxing on a nice sunny day.

MICHELLE CASTANEDA

Running to a Better Life

April 15, 2014. I was walking on the street of my home called San Marcos Los Cerritos, in Guatemala, when I saw a lot of people running. I asked someone why, and they told me it was because they were going to the United States for a better life. I kept thinking, “If they can do it, why can’t I?” A couple of days passed and I decided to go to Los Angeles to have a life better than the life that I had in Guatemala.

My life began when I was five months old. My parents left me with my grandparents because they didn’t want to raise me. They never came back for me and I never knew about them. My life changed again when I was fourteen years older. I could not watch my grandparents work hard any more to help my brothers and me go the school to get a better education.

August 10, 2011. I could not go to school because we were very poor and my grandparents didn’t have money to pay for all that we needed for studying. We had money only for food. I decided to leave school and work every day to help them, because each year they were getting old. They always got sick and could no longer take care of us.

We worked in a restaurant every day that sold seafood. But when we went to the restaurant, it smelled weird everywhere, like old food, old fish, oil, and cheese. It was nasty and horrible and everything was dirty. The customers’ garbage was thrown everywhere, the vegetables were rotten, and my nose was going to die because in this restaurant everything smelled bad.

When I finished my job at the restaurant, I told my family that I wanted to go to Los Angeles because I wanted a better future. I wanted to study to be a good person in this world and work very hard to help them, but something in my head wouldn’t let me think. I decided not to leave because my grandma said, “I don’t want to you go to Los Angeles. I don’t want to you leave. I want you to stay here when I die.” She cried for three days. This was sad.

When the day came for me to go, I felt very confused and sad and I asked myself, “ Why you do feel confused and sad if you want to go for a good life and to help your family?” I cried for a long time that day. I didn’t want my family to see me cry and I saw my little brother cry for me, but then the unique words that my grandpa said to me were, “Take care, my dear, and follow your dreams, your goals, and don’t let anybody stop your dreams.”

It was five PM when I left. My best friend was waiting for me on the bus to take me to the river. When I crossed the river to go to Tapachula, México, I was scared because everyone looked at me weird. I felt very upset, but I didn’t care about that and I continued walking to find my guide, the person that had to help me get to Los Angeles. When I found him, we continued walking to find a hotel, but before I found the hotel, I saw a lot of people there who were very gentle and very nice with us. They gave us food and found the hotel, and I would never forget that because I never would have thought that these people would be amiable.

The next day we continued with the trip. I remember that we were on the bus for eight hours. However, before arriving to the frontera of Reynosa, a police officer stopped the bus and took our money and everything that we had with us. We were waiting for two hours outside the bus. After three hours, we got to the frontera, and my guide left me in a very old house. When I went inside, I saw a lot people. There were women, children, and old men, who all wanted to

go Los Angeles and other places in the United States. But I saw that some people in this house smoked and drank all the time. This was bad and weird because this house smelled like wood, tobacco, and smoke, like burnt trash and moisture. This was very hard for me because at night I wanted to sleep but I couldn’t go to sleep. Why? I had fear because the boss said that he didn’t have more space in the women’s room, and that I needed to sleep in the men’s room. I didn’t want to sleep there. It was stupid. I was scared because I didn’t know who they were. I slept under a tree. The night was cold and damp. I stared at the sky and I thought about my family, and tears started to come out of my eyes. Then I closed my eyes and started praying for God to help me to continue with my dreams. That night I could only sleep a few hours. In the blink of an eye the sun came out, but I was sleepy and I closed my eyes. A few minutes passed when the boss woke me up and said, “You need to go with the other people to cross the river and get to the United States.”

When I got to the other side of the river, I remembered that I left my water and food on the table. I felt very stupid because I didn’t know how I could forget. I could not sleep that day, and when I was walking I was very tired. I had to drink water from the river, and it didn’t matter to me if the river was dirty and had animals. I drank from that water with other people. We continued walking.

July 25, 2014. At 6:00 PM the police caught us and took us to a detention prison for immigrants. For a moment I thought that they wanted to deport me but this was just my imagination. In a couple of hours they moved me to a San Francisco refugee house. There were many people there. I was there for one month, then they moved me to Ventura. There were about 500 children, but I didn’t understand why I was there. A person who took care of us told me that this place was a program to help child immigrants. I was in this program for five months. I wanted die because I never thought that this would happen to me. But some good happened. The people who were there taught us English. When I left that place, I went to Los Angeles.

I imagined Los Angeles was the best place in United States, with big houses, and nobody living in poverty, only rich people. But this was not true. When I got here my imagination changed. I saw poor people living on the street. Also I saw communication was different than in my country, Guatemala. People here never have a good relationship with other people. Another thing I noticed was that in school, everyone spoke English, and there were many people of different races. But the school was better than in my country. The street was different too because in my country there were street lights. Also in this country some people fear police officers, but in my country the people do not respect the police officers. They don’t care what the police tell them because some police officers are corrupt.

After I saw that all this was different from my country, I felt lost, sad, and confused. I didn’t want anyone to know about me and I only wanted to disappear. But I did something different when my aunt told me, “You need to go school because without study you are nothing in this country.” I was happy because I wanted to go school, but this was so hard for me. I didn’t speak English and I didn’t know what to do. The days passed and I made new friends; they helped me to understand everything, and my teachers helped too. It was very difficult for me to adapt to this country, to the people and to the school, because I missed my house. I missed my family, my friends, and the place where I grew up, but my friends helped me not give up, to follow my dreams and goals, to be someone and be proud of myself.

I learned many things from this experience. For example: all sacrifices have an outcome of gratification. My life today is an example of one of these outcomes. I went through many

sacrifices and now my life is much better. I am now learning English and getting an education to help my family and become successful.

About the Author

Michelle Castaneda was born in Guatemala. Her favorite food is fried shrimp. She likes to dance and sing. She is a little shy and is also a respectful and honest person. She is in the eleventh grade in high school, and she works every day to help her family and future. She wants to go to a university and graduate to become a good nurse.

LYAN ARIAS

Too Little for So Much Pain

My past was not easy like you might think. It was difficult. I had to grow up without a brother, without my parents, without love. It’s hard. You feel like a mongrel alone. You can have money, every toy that you want, but you need someone to trust. You need your parents’ love.

My mother was the first member of my family to come to Los Angeles when I was just was three years old. She left me with my dad. I really didn’t remember her; I just knew her through pictures. She came here because she wanted to give us a better life. That is what she told me when I asked her about it. My mother faced many difficulties because she only knew how to speak Spanish. She was afraid of the police. I think everyone who has come to Los Angeles has faced similar problems, mainly if they are Latinos who only speak Spanish.

My father decided to come to the United States in 2005 when I was a child. I lived with him until I was five years old. When he decided to come to the United States, I knew that I would see him again. The problem was that I didn’t know when; days could pass, or months or years. Sometimes I began to lose hope. By the age of six I was a little worried about it because I couldn’t see him. I needed him. I missed him. We just talked over the cell phone for short periods of time. He began to work hard to help my brother and me. He was trying to give us a good life. My childhood was good up until I was five. Then I had to be strong. I didn’t have someone to trust. I never had someone to play with, like the other children in the ’hood. When I began to grow and grow, I was losing my love toward people, but also toward my parents. My neighborhoods were the kind where people hate each other. I had to learn how to hate them as they hated me; nobody wanted me around because I didn’t have a family.

When I was ten years old I began to go out on the streets and hangout with gang members. They always had a story about their life to tell me. They gave me advice. They always had my back; a lot of times they got me out of bad things that I did in school. I began to smoke cigarettes after school with them. I don’t know why. It smelled bad, but when I was smoking, I felt relaxed and didn’t remember my problems; it was like a sedative. I knew that what I was doing was bad, but it felt good to be with them. If you ask me why it felt good, I would tell you that when you don’t have a family you search for someone that will treat you like a part of their family.

Gangsters are not entirely bad like everyone says. I can tell you this because I have experience with them. They told me things that they don’t want people to know, that they are losing their family because of who they are. When I was with them I forgot about all of my problems, about my mom and all the people who left me. Sometimes I found a kind of love with them. I think that love is not just with a person like your wife; maybe love is when people risk their lives to protect you, not just your family by blood. I think that when you are a little girl or a little boy, older people think that if you hang out with gang members you don’t know what you’re doing. They begin to say bad things about you. I talked to the gangsters like my friends. They didn’t want me to become a criminal like them. I think if they already lived it they knew that it wasn’t easy to be in a gang. They asked me, “ Why do you want be a gangster if we are gangsters and we are your friends?” They worried about me, they didn’t want me to join a gang. They protected me without getting anything in exchange. In that moment I realized that they are not bad like everybody said. They became my family, the family that I never had. People just say things about you if you are a gangster; they call you bad when you are just wanting the love that you didn’t have from a family. They don’t know the reason

why you joined a gang.

Lack of love and support makes you change the way you think. Many times people don’t believe in you. Many people told me, “You are not going to live fifteen years. You will die before then.” They told me that when I was involved with gangs in El Salvador. In Los Angeles, no one thought that I would learn English because my cousins smoked and none of them graduated from high school. My mom thought that I would not learn anything. Also, one day I heard her say, “I don’t think that he will learn English, and less that he will graduate from high school.” Now I talk to her about my goals and she tells me, “You are a dreamer.” This comment just motivates me to be better, to accomplish my goals, and close their mouths. At the age of ten my family didn’t believe in me, then my mother didn’t believe in me; she called me a dreamer. I just laughed because I know people talk to make you think that you can’t achieve your dreams, and get you so down like an airplane that doesn’t work. My point is to always get ahead by working hard to achieve my goals.

About the Author

Lyan Arias was born in July 2000. He is a sixteen-year-old living in South Central Los Angeles. He is the youngest of four brothers. In his spare time he loves graffiti art and race cars—mainly Japanese. One day he hopes to have his own GT-R R34 Nissan Skyline.

LEARN TO LISTEN/ LISTEN TO LEARN

A Classroom Approach

The student writing in this collection ranges from street-food anecdotes to accounts of resilience in the face of displacement, racism, violence, and economic devastation. In our country at this moment, difficult conversations are needed and educators in all fields could use support in facilitating those discussions. Our colleagues at Facing History and Ourselves develop curriculum and lesson plans to create spaces of critical thinking and empathy for just these kinds of classroom needs.

We encourage educators to use this lesson plan and approach from Facing History and Ourselves when they read and discuss content from When the Moon Is Up in their classrooms; these lessons prepare students to really be able to hear one another and connect ideas for greater critical thinking.

For more amazing curricula, please visit facinghistory.org .

LEARN TO LISTEN/ LISTEN TO LEARN

Developing Deeper Conversations

RATIONALE

This discussion format helps students develop their discussion skills, particularly their ability to listen to one another. It is especially useful when trying to discuss controversial topics.

Step One: Journal writing

PROCEDURE

Before sharing their ideas, it is important to give students the opportunity to clarify their own views. We suggest giving students five to ten minutes to write in their journals about the topic they will be discussing. After this writing time, ask students to underline or highlight the ideas they find most interesting and worthy of sharing.

Step Two: Sharing and listening in small groups

Divide the class into small groups of four or five students. Once students are in their groups, they should appoint a facilitator to keep the group focused. Each student now has the opportunity to share a part of his or her journal entry with the group. During this goaround, no one should interrupt the speaker. When it is each student’s turn to share, he or she should not directly respond to a point someone else has made. Instead, the sharing should focus on the individual’s own feelings and reactions.

Step Three: Discussing

Drawing from what they just heard, small groups now have an open discussion. Before beginning this step, explain to students that this discussion is not about debating knowledge or arguing viewpoints. It is about listening to each other, and acknowledging our diverse array of thoughts, fears, and hopes. Students should also be reminded that everyone will not necessarily agree, and that the goal is to better understand one’s own viewpoint and the perspectives of others. After ten to fifteen minutes of discussion, groups should decide on two or three ideas from their conversation to share with the whole class.

Step Four: Group presentations

Small groups present their key ideas to the larger class. You can facilitate a whole-class discussion prompted by these ideas, or you can proceed directly to personal journal reflections.

Step Five: Journal writing

Give students the opportunity to reread the journal entry they wrote at the beginning of this activity. Then, ask them to describe how their ideas have changed. Perhaps their ideas have

grown stronger or maybe they have shifted a little. It is possible that some students have completely changed their attitudes or that the conversations have left them uncertain or with new questions. Prompts you might use to structure include: What did you learn from this activity? What questions are you left with? What did you learn more from: listening or presenting your own ideas? Explain your answer.

*Copyright © 2017 by Facing History and Ourselves. Used by permission facinghistory.org.

STUDENT

AUTHORS

Alain LeRoy Locke High School 2017

TEACHERS, VOLUNTEERS, AND 826LA STAFF

When the Moon Is Up Young Authors’ Book

Project 2017

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We were so fortunate to have partnered with dedicated educators Katherine Rowley and Grace McCormack. Their enthusiasm and dedication to Locke High School and their students was inspiring given all of the challenges schools face daily. It was also our distinct privilege to work with Mary Guemez, a Locke High School alumna, who taught Ms. Rowley’s class once she went on maternity leave. Her responsiveness was incredibly helpful and kept our process going smoothly.

Of course, our volunteers make all of this work possible and the dedication from this year’s group was astounding. At a time when connecting with one another across race, class, age, gender, and opinion is invaluable, it was moving to see volunteers engaging with students and facing the challenges of writing together. This book would not have been possible without the following in-class volunteers: Nathan Aderhold, Lijah Barasz, Yesenia Bautista, Stephanie Belsky, Taylor Black, Janie Bragg, Jose Brooks, Lee Carroll, Ileana Cuellar, Angelina Del Balzo, Dija Dowling, Scott Doyle, Brian Dunlap, Danielle Flores, Eva Glettner, Abby Harris, Clare Jensen, Frank Kearns, Sarah LaBrie, Claire Lobenfeld, Devon Maloney, Tiana Mayumi, Lilian Min, Sarah Passe, Renee Provitt, Will Richter, Shellie Riley, Christine Ronan, Nikki San Pedro, Ellen Seiden, Tia Stark, Olivia Tai, Allegra Tepper, Leticia Velasquez, and Kerstin Zilm.

Extra editing help was needed when our in-class sessions ended and a select group of volunteers contributed their time as copy editors. Thank you for helping make student work shine more brightly: Kaitlyn Adams, Scott Doyle, Gia Hughes, Frank Kearns, Claire Lobenfeld, Devon Maloney, Christine Ronan, and Leticia Velasquez.

We want to extend a special thanks to volunteer point person and writer Nikki San Pedro. Without her help, from direct writing support to students during all three in-class sessions to lesson planning, volunteer pep talks, and so much more, this project would not have succeeded.

An extra special thank you to the kind and gifted photographer Alex Rapada for capturing the classes so beautifully in their author photos.

Thank you to Shannon and Jay Doronio who run Parallel-Play, the fabulous design studio which gave form to this book. They generously donated their time to craft this important work. For coordination of the book’s design, gratitude goes out to Rachel Mendelson. For social media savvy, development know-how, and marketing genius, we must thank Raquel Olvera, Carolyn Gan, and Tyler Barnett Public Relations. For advice, guidance, and editing support throughout the project, we thank Emilie Coulson.

Finally, this project would not have happened without the support of the good people of the Katie McGrath and J.J. Abrams Family Foundation, who believed that the students of Locke had an important story to tell and provided the resources to make publishing these young authors possible.

Our staff is immensely proud of the young writers you’ll read here. They took great risks to share their stories, and we hope you will remember them the next time someone asks what Los Angeles is like: global, brave, and full of hope.

2017 Young Authors’ Book Project staff

Kenny Ng, Programs Coordinator

Vickie Vértiz, Site Director, Mar Vista

ABOUT 826LA

TUTORING

From Monday to Thursday, students rush to 826LA after school for free, individualized, tutoring in all subjects. Once homework is completed, students read books from 826LA’s library and write stories based on a monthly theme. Students submit their writing for inclusion in chapbooks, which 826LA publishes throughout the year. To celebrate students’ hard work, 826LA unveils these chapbooks at book release parties, where students read their work to thunderous applause from their tutors, families, and peers.

IN-SCHOOL SUPPORT

Because not all students can come to one of 826LA’s writing centers, the organization brings specially trained volunteer tutors into under-resourced public schools. There volunteers provide one-on-one assistance with writing projects. 826LA works with teachers to craft all projects, which are designed to engage students while targeting curricular issues. In addition to visiting twenty schools in the Los Angeles Unified School District each year, 826LA hosts a Writers’ Room at Manual Arts High School in South Los Angeles.

WORKSHOPS

826LA’s workshops bring students together with artists, writers, and professionals for creative collaboration. Whether the subject is journalism or preparing for the zombie apocalypse, these workshops foster creativity while strengthening writing skills. On Saturday mornings, 826LA’s ongoing workshop for reading development, Barnacle’s Bookworms, meets on both sides of town.

FIELD TRIPS

On weekdays, public school teachers bring their students to 826LA for a morning of collaboration, creativity, and writing. Whether the topic is Storytelling & Bookmaking, Choose Your Own Adventure, or something entirely different, these three-hour field trips are always in high demand. Every student leaves with an individualized publication of the finished story under his or her arm, complete with illustrations and an author photo!

12515 Venice Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90066 826LA.org

1714 W. Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90026

MAR VISTA

ECHO PARK

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

Henry Chase

Matthew Cherniss

Dave Eggers, Emeritus

Terena Thyne Eisner

Jodie Evans

Scott Ginsburg

Rebecca Goldman

DeAnna Gravillis

Terri Hernandez Rosales

Claire Hoffman

Christine Jaroush

Susan Ko

Louis Lucido

Krystyn Madrigal

Sylvie Rabineau

STAFF

Joel Arquillos

Executive Director

Carolyn Gan Development Director

Kristin Lorey Director of Operations

Marisa Urrutia Gedney Director of In-Schools Programs & College Access

Vickie Vértiz Site Director, Mar Vista

Lauren Humphrey Volunteer Manager

LaTesha Adolphus

In-Schools Program Coordinator

Mariesa Arrañaga Kubasek

Volunteer Coordinator, Echo Park

ADVISORY BOARD

J.J. Abrams

Judd Apatow

Miguel Arteta

Mac Barnett

Steve Barr

Joshuah Bearman

Father Greg Boyle, S.J.

Stefan G. Bucher

Mark Flanagan

Ben Goldhirsh

Ellen Goldsmith-Vein

Nicole Holofcener

Spike Jonze

Miranda July

Catherine Keener

Alejandra Castillo

Program Coordinator, Mar Vista

Mike Dunbar

Programs Coordinator, Mar Vista

Rebecca Escoto

Program Coordinator, Mar Vista

Pedro Estrada

Program Coordinator, Echo Park

Carinne Mangold Store Coordinator

Kenny Ng

Programs Coordinator, Echo Park

Emmanuel Portillo

Programs Coordinator, Echo Park

Keith Knight

Al Madrigal

Tara Roth

Katie McGrath

R. Scott Mitchell

Lani Monos

B.J. Novak

Jane Patterson

Keri Putnam

Sonja Rasula

Luis J. Rodriguez

Brad Simpson

J. Ryan Stradal

Sarah Vowell

Sally Willcox

T Sarmina

Writers’ Room Coordinator, Manual Arts High School

Shawn Silver

Events Coordinator

Rachel Mendelsohn Designer

AMERICORPS VISTA MEMBERS

Raquel Olvera Communications & Marketing Assistant

Michael Reyes Volunteer Outreach & Retention Assistant

826LA SUPPORTERS

This project is supported by the Katie McGrath & J.J. Abrams Family Foundation.

826LA’s In-Schools Program is supported in part by

All Ways Up Foundation

Annenberg Foundation

Baskin Foundation

California Community Foundation

Carol and James Collins Foundation

City of Los Angeles, Department of Cultural Affairs

The Eisner Foundation

Joan Leidy Foundation

Karisma Foundation

Lear Family Foundation

Los Angeles County Arts Commission

MEP Foundation

Middle Road Foundation

Nancy E. Barton Foundation

Ralph M. Parsons Foundation

Rose Hills Foundation

Ryan Donor Advised Fund

Vera R. Campbell Foundation

Weingart Foundation

826LA also thanks its Partners in Time members at the Future Level and above

Debbie and Marty Adelstein

Hilary Angelo

Judd Apatow and Leslie Mann

Anonymous

Tess Ayers and Jane Anderson

Meredith Bagby

Scott Boxenbaum

David Bramante

Maya Burkenroad

Ray and Ami Carpenter

Anne Carroll

Matthew Barbabella and Stephanie Cha

Henry and Inell Chase

Matthew Cherniss

Carrie Clifford and Paul Boese

Matt Conway

Brian Davies

Don Davis

Grant and Virginia DeVaul

Anand Devarajan

Paul Dooley and Winnie Holzman

David and Lillian Dulan

Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida

Terena and Anders Eisner

Callie Enlow

Samantha Ettus

Jodie Evans

Langdon Ferguson

Vince and Leslie Fiorillo

Laura Geffen

Scott and Jaime Ginsburg

Rebecca and Mattis Goldman

Ellen Goldsmith-Vein

Anthony Graham and Dierdre Roffoni

DeAnna and Kenny Gravillis

Claire Hoffman and Ben Goldhirsh

Marc Evan Jackson and Beth Hagenlocker

Nina Jacobson

Tegan Jones and Samuel Mercer

Keith Kirk

Christine Ko

Susan Ko

Mark Koro

Danielle LaPorte

Tai Lopez

Louis and Carolyn Lucido

Aaron Lyons

Krystyn and Al Madrigal

Suzanne Maillard

Shalini and Kamini Malhotra

James Miller and Cheryl Nakao-Miller

Thomas Moore

B.J. Novak

Jesse Novak

Glasgow Phillips and Heather Waters

Cheryl Petersen

James and Megan Ponsoldt

Keri and Marvin Putnam

Sylvie and Steve Rabineau

Daniel Ricker

Esther Ro

Kieran Shamash

Kira Snyder and Allen Blue

Patrick F. and Sarah L. Spears

Joel Stein

Hollie Stenson and Paul Keister

Patrick Townzen

Alison Turner and Lou Matthews

Debra Vilinsky and Michael Sopher

Peter and Nora Wendel

826LA’S 2017

YOUNG AUTHORS’ BOOK PROJECT VOLUNTEERS

In-Class Writing Volunteers

Nathan Aderhold

Lijah Barasz

Yesenia Bautista

Stephanie Belsky

Taylor Black

Janie Bragg

Jose Brooks

Lee Carroll

Ileana Cuellar

Angelina Del Balzo

Dija Dowling

Scott Doyle

Copyediting Volunteers

Kaitlyn Adams

Scott Doyle

Gia Hughes

Leticia Velasquez

Brian Dunlap

Danielle Flores

Eva Glettner

Abby Harris

Clare Jensen

Frank Kearns

Sarah LaBrie

Claire Lobenfeld

Devon Maloney

Tiana Mayumi

Lilian Min

Sarah Passe

Frank Kearns

Claire Lobenfeld

Devon Maloney

Young Authors’ Book Project Volunteer Point Person

Nikki San Pedro

Renee Provitt

Will Richter

Shellie Riley

Christine Ronan

Nikki San Pedro

Ellen Seiden

Tia Stark

Olivia Tai

Allegra Tepper

Leticia Velasquez

Kerstin Zilm

Christine Ronan

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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