GANG? THE YOUNG LORDS PARTY

At the tender age of 14, I was a member of the Young Lords Party/Organization. YLP/YLO was thought to be a political radical gang by many, especially by law enforcement, the judicial system and politicians. My idea of them at that time is that they were a large group of intelligent young Latino leaders striving for a better quality of life for Hispanics and other minorities. Mostly consisting of Puerto Rican college students who were fed up with the injustices carried out by the system against Hispanics and other people of what was then known as third world nations due to racist and bigoted ideas, this group of students banded together, grew and created an organization who were hell bent on making to make things right for their people and for Hispanics to be treated equally. The Black Panthers Party were already an organized group who were making quite a bit of noise against injustice to blacks as well.

My attraction to the Party was provoked by my having a teen crush on one of the male members, who to me was cute and looked so good wearing his YLP green beret. On a side note, he never even knew I was alive. Anyway, I was welcomed and became one of their a go-fers, just like any of the other young kids who walked into the Bronx Division Headquarters office on Longwood Avenue. I was handed a stack of the Party’s Palante newspapers to sell on Southern Boulevard, the largest and closest neighborhood shopping strip. All the stores were there and I would have access to many of the people they wanted to educate. I was glad to do it because I really loved wearing the green beret, symbolic that I was a member.

My mother was very much against them and even more afraid of my growing interest and admiration for the group. She warned me over and over again to keep away from them and told me that she did not want to know that I was on Longwood Ave or Southern Blvd with those 'titeres' (hoodlums) but I did not listen. I felt they were doing something important and I wanted to be a part of it. Going to Jenny's house to do our homework together was my reason for leaving after school to pick up my papers. Mom was pleased that she had gotten through to me. I would take the long way around to Longwood Avenue. Jenny lived a different direction from it and mami always watched me through the window, so I had to make it appear as if I was walking towards my friend’s house, then I took a detour and continued on my way to do my job. I recall a time when THE PARTY had a plan and all of us were to have a share in carrying it out. I was very excited by it because they even allowed the go-fers to partake. For the first time, I felt like I was going to actually assist in making a change for our people. I felt important and grown up.

At midnight, I quietly got out of my bed, got dressed, lifted up my mattress to pull out my green beret with my Young Lords Party button affixed on the front and placed it on proudly my head as if I were wearing a crown. Quietly as I could, I pulled my coat off of the metal hanger in the closet, making sure it did not clang against the other empty ones beside it. My snow boots were next, gloves and then, like a cat treading quietly yet decidedly on its pads, I slipped out of the house. Two of the older female members of The Party, were outside waiting for me when I came out of the apartment building I lived at. I followed them to our designated area, which was just 1 street over upon receiving my instructions, got to work. Assisting the females who will remain nameless for obvious reasons; meaning that, after 20 something years who could remember? I began taking garbage cans buried in snow from the alleys of the buildings and dragging them out to the center of the street where we then dumped the waste into; we continued doing that for about an hour, maybe even longer! It was a mess and looked even worse because of the white blanket of snow on the street. My two escorts returned me home safely and after we were done doing what I now know to be, criminal mischief. Before entering the door, I made sure that I had wiped my boots dry, wiping off any wet spots around the top and exterior once inside and to also place all my clothing back into place. I think my mom must have suffered from OCD because she knew where everything was, which direction they were pointed towards when she laid them out and any other little detail about the items; she would have made a great private eye. My drenched socks which still had frozen chunks of ice attached to the bottoms, I had to hide under my mattress. I can still recall the wonderful rush of pride and accomplishment racing through my body as I lay in bed looking up at the ceiling until sleep quickly entered to claim me.

You may wonder why we had carried out an act of criminal mischief in our own neighborhood. Back in the 60's there was still a lot of racism and it was not only limited to black people but to Hispanics and the Asians as well. The dominant Hispanics in New York City were the puertorriqueños during that era. Ever watch West Side Story? The Puerto Rican gang members were, The Sharks and the white gang members were, The Jets. The Hispanic communities in the Bronx as well as in El Barrio in Manhattan were never taken care of as were the communities where the Anglos lived. Our garbage would be left to pile high in the streets for days until the sanitation trucks would finally be dispatched out to our neighborhoods and take care of business. When it snowed, our streets were always the last to be plowed, sometimes never. Suffice to say that is the reason the Young Lords Party gave out the trash assignment the night I snuck out. They/we had taken drastic means. I always wondered why, if a 14-year-old could understand that concept, why then did so many grownups, not? That night, all of the members of the Young Lords Party had the biggest party ever! Together, we had left a huge mess over all the streets of the Hispanic communities of New York City... and Guess what? The sanitation trucks were all out there the following day and all of our fathers were able to drive to work and our mothers were able to walk to the grocery stores safely without having to climb over snow mountains.

The Young Lords Party had succeeded in forcing the plowing of our communities, removal of trash. We were here and not going away. We had caught their attention.

Sometimes, Drastic Times Do Call  For Drastic Means.

Then again,

That's just the way I C it.

Baggage

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What We Take During Our Journey Through The Scene

How I Manage My Baggage

Yesterday, when we were infants and children, our world, though different in technology, rules, statutes, fashion, economy etc., was not unlike today.  Yesterday, today and tomorrow will forever be a learning experience.  Our first teachers were our parents, siblings (if any) and any others who lived in our homes as we came onto the scene.  We relied on them to shelter, nourish and keep us safe.   We also seem to have picked up many of their habits, practice them to this day and unwittingly and still respond to triggers which bring us back to that time.   After all, those were said to be our formative years.  Fact of the matter is that, we continue to form changes as the years go by.
During our growth process, we often have strained relationships with our parents.  Wondering why this was so in many families, I pondered on it arrived at my own explanation.  Perhaps it is because we, the now adult children, were slowly becoming to our parents, the Keepers of their Consciences.  After all, weren't we the ones who witnessed first hand all their parenting blunders?  Today those blunders are the ones which line the layers of our adult baggage; they are the underlying reasons why we adversely react to certain triggers in our adult life.  The blunders our parents made when they were young and raising their little ones, (Us) became the basic material (the lining) in the formation of our well hidden carry-ons which we dragged along with us throughout the rest of our lives.  Stuffed into those carry-ons, went our earliest bad experiences; lessons of things which hurt us or made us feel uncomfortable.
ie: vanity, neglect, cruelty, rage, ridicule, shame, abuse, isolation, dominance, racism, alcoholism, adultery, drug addiction, disrespect etc., which gave us unpleasant feelings as our small bodies and minds were forming.  
Adult Baggage.  Don't ya just hate it?   
Attempting to open up that carry-on and eliminate the junk can be difficult if we do not know what to look for.  One thing not to look for is, blame.  Blame exsists in our conscious mind.  When we blame others like, our parents, for the way we are today, we are choosing to do so and thus, depriving ourselves the opportunity to advance into becoming responsible, healthy, loving and forgiving adults.  Placing blame on someone for the way we now respond to circumstances or situations is equivalent to not trying to succeed because in doing so, we would be triggering unpleasant memories of our past.  A cop-out, a way to dodge holding onto the reins and jumping the hurdles we must in order to get to the next is all finger pointing is. 
A good practice to cease placing blame and finger pointing would be to accept our individual experiences of  childhood days and embrace them as small puddles we had to skip over in order to reach the other side where the all the big people are.  What about all the experiences we have collected and stored as heavy stones inside of that now, huge adult suitcase which we call, baggage?  Well, it would be much simpler to handle if we changed the way we viewed those experiences and saw them as good things which taught us a lesson and helped us to become a better individuals.  Let's change the appearance and content of our baggage.  Instead of a huge bulky dull colored canvas bag full of a bunch of heavey stones which were hurled at us at different points in time, let's lighten the load by carrying instead a light-weight colorful nylon sack filled with aromatic flower petals and potpourri which we have collected as momentos of times when life gave us important instructions.  

If we simply changed the perspective of how we view and interpret our experiences while 'on the scene', the stones which once weighed us down become as light and lovely as flower petals and makes our hike on the scene the experience it was intended to be.

That's the way I C It