My childhood shaped my character. My relationship with my family--my brothers and my dad--was a mix of fear and anxiety but also pride and honor. My dad, an alcoholic, raised six of us, with me being the youngest. I was impressionable and deeply resented my dad's drinking. It instilled in me a type of fear and anxiety that bred insecurities, filling my life with phobias and constant anticipation. We hailed from a gang-ridden neighborhood in East Los Angeles, where gangs and violence were the norms as we grew up. We identified as Mexican American/Chicano, especially in the 1970s in southern California. Sharing my story, I acknowledge that the influences and behaviors of my brothers and peers shaped me into a paradox. Though my environment seemed contradictory to my nature--I was a nice, shy, and nervous kid--the anger that took root in my heart was real and explosive.
My tale is one of love, hate, alcoholism, and the nuanced rules of engagement, including our collective perception of violence. I've omitted some details to protect identities and uphold the code and silent understanding that defined our culture. This is just one avenue of expression for me, and I want to share it, hoping to find others who might relate. I've always felt isolated, both as a child and an adult, yearning to connect with someone, anyone, who might understand my experience.