Tracks Of My Tears

            I turned around and stood face-to-face with the young man in standing proudly in his cholo uniform as I nodded in agreement and waited for his question.  “Hey, all that shit that you were spitting and preaching about, did all that shit really happen to you, ese?  Or are you just talking shit?”

            Patiently, I asked the young man his name to which he replied, “Kiko!”  What was most surprising was the way in which he said his name showing a great sense of pride in his character, culture, and family values.  I then asked Kiko why he was asking such a question.  Kiko must’ve taken this as a hint and assumed that I was dodging the question by asking another question, but my intentions were to get into this young man’s thoughts and see what he was thinking and feeling so that I could answer his question in the manner that was most appropriate.  After finally realizing that I had asserted myself to find out his thought process before answering his question, Kiko nodded his head and responded, “You’re nothing but a penchi leva.  You ain’t for real, ese!  Penchi vieja!”

            On most days, this kind of response would’ve gotten a beat down, but because of my professional position and because this was only a young boy at least five years my junior, I decided it would be best appropriate to handle it in a different manner.  This sounded good, but in reality, I noticed the teacher that had been showering me with so much praise and who was a young, Chicana that had just disclosed that she was single and had given me her phone number so that we could go out for a cup of coffee was watching intently to see how I would respond.  I decided to further assert myself and tried to strike a nerve back as I showed him that his verbal onslaught of abuse would not bother, nor hinder my stance on wanting to know about his reasoning for wanting to learn more about me.  Just as he was about to walk away, I touched his shoulder and asked him to have a seat with me at the table that stood near us.  Kiko was hesitant, but soon agreed.

            Within a few minutes, I was able to crack into Kiko as we both began to talk incessantly about my past and his present.  Kiko informed me that he identified with many points about my presentation including his reasoning for joining a gang.  Like in many of my presentations in which I disclose my sexual abuse by an uncle that drove me to joining a gang for protection, I was already too familiar with the many fallen homeboys who subjected themselves to the thug lifestyle because of an experience in which their childhood and innocence was robbed from them as they realized their need for protection and support after they had fallen victim to the same abuse.  My purpose for my presentation was and has always been to assist these fallen vatos in realizing their circumstances and addressing them so that they may come to a place of healing.  In the many communities throughout the Southwest, it comes to no surprise to see that most vato locos that grow up in a gang and who are the most volatile are those who have been victimized sexually as a child.  I am a good example of one that lived his life through his anger and personal destruction, and though I had just chartered the new waters of change, Kiko would forever remind me that I was still on that journey even today.