Homeboy Industries and Why We Belong

Elena Foulis Liz Morales

In March of 2020, we traveled to attend, for the first time, the American Association of Hispanics in Higher Education (AAHHE) National Conference. We interacted with nationwide leaders, scholars and experts on the field of higher education, and we were able to present about the work S.C.O.P.E. (Student Community of Progressive Empowerment), a student organization is doing at Ohio State. While this was a unique and invigorating professional and academic opportunity, one of the most profound experiences was to visit Homeboy Industries, founded by Father Gregory Boyle (AKA Father G) in Los Angeles, California. Even more, our tour guide shared his personal story as he told us about the work Homeboy is doing for people like him, an ex-gang member who had spent 25 years of his life at Pelican Bay State Prison, one of the most infamous maximum security prisons in the U.S.

Listening to our tour guide’s story reminded us of how important it is to take the time to let those who have experienced different hardships than ourselves, teach us about their journeys. It reminds us that the work we do brings dignity and returns humanity to those who are most vulnerable and often marginalized and requires that we listen and are ready to learn from one another. For example, the work we do with S.C.O.P.E., both as an advisor and a student member, is not as powerful as when members allow themselves to speak from vulnerability because they know people will understand why their mission is so important to them or people like them. Our stories matter. Through the work that both Homeboy Industries and we do work together to support minoritized groups at places of higher education, we come to acknowledge that the concern of others need and should be the concern of all. Through this work, if we do it right, we will know that we belong to each other.

There are several things that stood out from Van’s, our tour guide, story. First, he had only been out for one year, yet he was efficiently conducting our tour and sharing a few details about his life before prison, his conditions in prison and now the work he is doing with Homeboy industries. Although, we suspect this experience has left serious emotional and psychological wounds, he seems surprisingly at peace with his life and, most importantly, eager to help others. He, for example, told us about police brutality inside and outside the prison and how prisons, but in particular maximum security prisons like Pelican Bay State Prison, are not designed or interested in inmate’s transformation; they already decided that the crimes they’ve committed made them inhuman. These prisons are part of a system that punishes rather than rehabilitates. Yet, in

the same breath, Van revealed he doesn’t blame the police. He says it is the prison system that dehumanizes everyone, prisoners and guards alike. Van also wanted us to know that we should look beyond stereotypes associated with why a man —a boy really, he was only 16 when he started his life sentence—ended up in gangs, crime and ultimately, prison. He was a straight-A student, who was searching desperately for things that he couldn’t find anywhere else – a sense of security, acceptance, self-worth and purpose. Van’s neighborhood wasn’t safe, and as an immigrant child, he felt like he didn’t fit in anywhere. This is often the plight of too many of our immigrant youth who live in impoverished neighborhoods. Ultimately, this lifestyle provides gang members an unsustainable pseudo-support system. Indeed, as Van tells us and Father G, in his book Tattoos in the Heart suggests to us, having a support system based on love, compassion and mutual understanding that we need one another, is what will help us thrive.

During our tour, Van said something that has stuck with us since we visited the Homeboy Industries. He talked to us about Homeboy’s tattoo removal service. We had learned about this from Tattoos in the Heart, but Van made sure to compare tattoo removal to a metaphor of the process of coming clean, of transforming your life and envisioning a future—a typical gang member does not think about their future, they believe they can be killed any day. He reminded us that it is easier to get into something (crime, gang activity, etc.) then to get out of something. Removing a tattoo is a painful and long process depending on the size, complexity and location of the tattoo.

Despite the intricacies and hardship of life post incarceration, the headquarters of Homeboy Industries embodied the spirit of healing. The people we met were some of the friendliest and most polite we have encountered, which is a stark difference from the usual campus grind. It was like everyone there was home with their families, and this made us feel at home too. Even the Homegirl Cafe, a part of Homeboy Industries and that employs many homeboys and homegirls, was calm, collected and welcoming. This came as a surprise to some in the group with firsthand experience on how cutthroat and difficult the service industry can be. The experience showed us that everyone deserves a second chance and that we rely on one another for our well-being as a community and as individuals. None of the people Homeboy Industries has helped, including Van and Benito Martinez, now a Hollywood actor, would have succeeded without the compassion of the staff, partners, and Father G. We belong to each other because we are the only ones that can push each other forward. In a world where there is already so much hate, judgement, and discrimination, Father G and Homeboy Industries embody kinship, compassion and community, a model that has proven success to their organization and everybody they touch.