Piri Thomas—R.I.P.
My mentor, friend, and man of the positive flow, el mero mero, Piri Thomas, died this past Monday, October 17, in El Cerrito, CA. I can’t conceive myself as a writer today without having read “Down These Mean Streets” by Piri Thomas in the 1960s. His books as well as books by Malcolm X, Julius Lester, Eldridge Cleaver, Claude Brown, James Baldwin, Rodolfo Anaya, Richard Sanchez, Michael Gold, and such opened up the world of literature when I was a troubled teenager—gang member, heroin addict, in and out of jails. These books were mostly from the African American or Jewish urban experience, but also from the few Chicanos and Puerto Ricans of that time.
Piri Thomas was one of my favorites. Born in Harlem, New York City, of Puerto Rican and Cuban parents, he was the first major Latino writer and a pioneer in spoken word performance.
I finally met Piri around the time my second poetry book, “The Concrete River,” was published by Curbstone Press in 1991. We read together at the old Cody’s Bookstore in Berkeley. There was mutual respect, and at one point I had tears in my eyes. Here was the father of my poetry, my pain in verse, my stories, and eventually the model for my memoir, “Always Running, La Vida Loca, Gang Days in L.A.” I read with him a few more times in the Bay Area, and once with other great poets in Madison, Wisconsin.
Let me share my poem called “Mean Streets” that appeared in “The Concrete River,” dedicated to Piri.
Your mean streets
visited my mean streets
one hollow summer day in the ‘60s
and together we played ball,
cracking sounds on the asphalt
echoing from Los to Harlem
And every time I shot dope into a vein,
you felt the euphoria in your prose
and I saw me in you
and I heard you yell
and it was my voice
tearing open the night sky.
Oh, so many times I crumpled the pages
of your life to my face,
and cried:
Savior, Savior, hold my hand!
And your seven long times
was a long night for me,
but I knew you, compadre,
you, steady companion down the alleyways,
barrio brother,
father, partner… teacher.
I heard your screams
and entered through the gateway
of your nightmare
into the gateway of my dreams.
I send love and condolences to his wife and fellow writer, Suzie Dod Thomas, as well as his children and grandchildren. I understand the family requests no flower or gifts. Written sentiments can be sent to [email protected]. Tax deductible donations, payable to Social Justice earmarked for the Piri Thomas Fund, may be made in his name and sent to: Piri Thomas Memorial Fund, c/o Social Justice/Global Options, PO Box 40601, San Francisco, CA 94140.
I will miss you dearly, Piri. Your legacy is the thousands of poets who now dance with flow, social justice, stories, and never giving up on one’s voice. Your legacy includes my meager works, my children in pulp and cloth. My stumbling words toward redemption, restoration, and inner peace. Que descanses en paz, compay.
c/s
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How the Arts Transform Communities
Tia Chucha's Centro Cultural & Bookstore received a Create/Cultivate grant from the Los Angeles County Arts Commission to do a film and book project with the theme of how the arts transform communities. It will focus on twenty years of arts development in the Northeast San Fernando Valley, where Tia Chucha's has been located for the past ten years. This film and book will also have national significance since we need arts training as well as cultural spaces, independent bookstores, theaters, and public art projects more than ever in this country, particularly in poor and neglected areas. The book editors are Denise Sandoval, a writer and professor at California State University, Northridge, and Luis Rodriguez, a writer and cofounder of Tia Chucha's Centro Cultural. The film is being made by film maker John Cantu. The project is being coordinated by musician/performance artist Ruben "Funkahuatl" Guevara. We need to raise funds to double this grant and to get this film and book created and published by mid-2012. Please consider donating by going to www.tiachucha.com and hitting the donation button on the top right of the home page. Donors who give over certain amounts will be listed as investors in the book and film. Please enjoy the following trailer so you can grasp the amazing ideas and work we are trying to promote and cultivate.
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http://www.youtube.com/embed/B5uKTbH5IV0
Men’s Tears
Even though I’ve acted out the tough guy—in gangs, in boxing, in labor as a steelworker, carpenter, foundry worker, in construction—I am a sensitive person. I carry a lot of feminine energy—in my writing, creativity, learning interests, and community work. I also have a strong masculine energy, in particular the attention I pay to details, getting things done, in moving projects. Together these energies, if properly aligned, make for a visionary and productive person.
However, growing up, as a small tyke, I didn’t understand any of this. I recall once playing with dolls with a girl my age who lived a few doors from our house. When I was found out, I never heard the end of it. The implication was that I was gay. That came up more than a few times. Without thinking, I tried to compensate against this by being a bully, a fighter, and never again acting out my active imaginative mind with others. Later in juvenile hall, in jail, or the streets, I would attack any male who looked at me the “wrong” way. Once I punched a dude at an after-hours club thinking he had given me such a look—I recall him skimming along the dance floor from the force of the punch.
While I know I am not gay, I suffered for a brief time the stigma… for being sensitive and artistically inclined.
Now, as a mature thinker, healer, and revolutionary, I understand all this. I’m now free to be the poet, fiction writer, performer, and imaginative person I was meant to be. I don’t hold back, but I know far too many males who do. Even to show tears, the particularly important man tears, is a “no-no” in our culture.
That makes for some highly explosive, dangerous, and raging men who can’t get to the deep source of their rage since it is often linked to a deep grief.
Everyone has feminine and masculine energies in all aspects of their lives. Sometimes the feminine is stronger, other times it’s the masculine. The feminine may be stronger in the areas of the mental, artistic, or work… or other fields of interest. Maybe it’s the masculine. In sexuality, when a man has more feminine (which has many manifestations, not just so-called effeminate ones) he is most likely Gay. Again, my feminine sides sprouted in other areas of my life, not in my sexuality.
That’s just the way the propensities and qualities I possessed took shape. This doesn’t make me any better or worse than others.
In Mexika indigenous circles, we say “Ometeotl” to represent the Creator spirit. But it’s not really a diety of some sort. It actually means “Two Energy” or “Two Spirit” or “Female/Male” vibrations. It’s to honor the supreme generating principle of the universe, what we call feminine and masculine energies.
“Two Spirit” is a term some Native Americans use to designate a Gay person. It’s in recognition that this is a natural part of all of us. That every community, every family, in all times, have had people with different degrees or levels of feminine or masculine energies that in sexual matters can take the form of Gay or Lesbian.
It’s natural, part of all humanity, and vital to all life.
I write about this now because this issue came up strong during the annual men’s conference at the Woodland Camp in Mendocino, CA, part of the majestic redwood forest. My two youngest sons, Ruben, 23, and Luis, 17, took part. At one point, I talked about my struggles as a child with being put down for having a sensitive nature—and the way I responded by raging and fighting.
I felt this issue was an honest thing to speak about, finally, so my sons know that whatever sensitivities they may have—again in whatever areas of their life—they should understand this is what makes them who they are.
The ongoing political and rising physical attacks against Gay people in the U.S. and other parts of the world are not natural—they are criminal and obscene. Anti-Gay sentiments, laws, and such are man-made, a social construct, used to scapegoat and detach us from our own human impulses.
It’s time we recognized all these attacks for what they are.
I’ve been taking part as a teacher and poet in the Mosaic Multicultural Foundation’s men’s conferences, youth events, mentoring workshops, male-female summits, and more for seventeen years. Created by mythologist and storyteller Michael Meade, Mosaic helps gather the broken pieces of community so they can become authentic and whole.
My oldest son Ramiro, my wife Trini, and daughter Andrea have also participated in one or more of these kinds of events over the past seventeen years.
Mosaic’s events—including “voices of youth, voices of community,” “the poetics of peace,” and their “walking with” projects with incarcerated youth—have become one of the most important ways I’ve learned to recover, to heal, mostly from addictions (drugs and alcohol) as well as from deep-seated rage.
You can find out more about their books, CDs, DVDs, their workshops, their conferences, and more at www.mosaicvoices.org.
I thank all the man, young and old, of all ethnicities, sexualities, social classes, and professions for helping hold some amazing stories, even if traumatic, and for allowing me space to read poems and teach aspects of a poetic life (and what it means to be a man today).
I particularly have to thank Ruben and Luis, who witnessed their dad’s mad moments, poetic moments, lost moments, and even tearful moments for a whole week. Knowing our true natures, and knowing how this plays out in our manhood, is key for the respectful, meaningful, and loving relationships we need with women and other lovers, family, and friends. These become important as men and women learn to find their actual callings, passions, and ultimately their real paths in life.
Any change in our social compact, social relationships, in any new economy, against the exploitative and abusive, should be charged with such a vision.
c/s
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R.I.P.: Gilbert “Magu” Lujan and George Ramos
Two important leaders in the Chicano community passed away this past weekend: George Ramos, a Pulitzer-prize winning writer and editor, including for the Los Angeles Times, and renowned artist and movement pioneer Gilbert “Magu” Lujan.
George was a guide to many young Chicano journalists, including yours truly. In 1980—I can’t believe it’s now more than 30 years later—I began my journalism career working for the Eastside Sun weekly newspapers in Boyle Heights/East L.A., then as a participant of the Summer Program for Minority Journalists at the University of California, Berkeley. That fall I became a daily newspaper reporter at the San Bernardino Sun, which I did for two years. In those early years, I also did pieces for California Public Radio and KPFK-FM as well as freelance articles for the LA Weekly, The Nation, The Catholic Reporter, and others. George was helping mentor many of us through the mostly white newsrooms of the country. Others who assisted me at the time included Felix Guttierrez, Frank Del Olmo, Frank Sotomayor, Luis R. Torres, and Steve Montiel. I owe them all a debt of gratitude.
George passed on this past Saturday. He was 63.
Gilbert “Magu” Lujan was a pioneer and guiding light for Chicano artists since the 1960s. His pieces have graced museums, subway stations, and community corners. He was part of “Los Four” Chicano artist collective. I recall visiting his Pomona studios, “Magulandia,” around the time I returned to the L.A. area from Chicago in early 2000s. He was respectful of my work and I was aware and inspired by his work. After my wife Trini and I helped create Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultural & Bookstore in the Northeast San Fernando Valley, “Magu” was one of the artists we featured in our art gallery. In fact, his name was mentioned (we already knew he had cancer) this past Sunday during one of Tia Chucha’s art auction fundraisers in Highland Park—many Chicano artists were featured and we talked about how important “Magu” was for everyone in the movement and the arts
Gilbert, who was 70, joined the ancestors on Sunday.
Que en paz descansen.
c/s
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