by Si Dang
My name is Si V. Dang, an inmate who is currently housed at San Quentin State Prison. I am a former gang member, who took the wrong course of action in joining a gang and decided to live a life a of crime. My poor decisions consequently led me to commit a senseless murder and attempted murder on two innocent human beings. As a result of my actions and poor choices I am currently serving a life sentence in prison, as I am under the authority of California Department of Correction and Rehabilitation.
I write you this letter in the hope that it will shed some light into the dark and hidden dangers of gangs and the negative consequences of committing crime.
Please know that joining a gang and breaking the law is no laughing matter nor should it be taken lightly. Being a part of a gang is serious and dangerous matters that have dire consequences. It’s like a deadly tornado that destroys everything and kills anyone who stands in its path.
The violent gang culture destroys countless innocent lives, and creates a constant fear and intimidates the neighborhood. It also damages several families and communities in the most destructive ways. Our negative actions and misbehaviors can potentially lead to death and murder, attending funerals of family members and loved ones and entering the judicial and prison system.
In the past twenty years of my incarceration, it has provided me with more than ample time to reflect on my life and past experience. My life’s journey is extremely difficult to talk about. However, I feel it’s important I share my personal life journey, so that it may encourage and inspire you to reconsider joining a gang and committing the same mistakes I made. Allow my painful experience and poor decision making to be valuable life lessons to be learned and not to be repeated under any given circumstance. Please keep in mind that when I speak about my experience with gangs and living in the destructive criminal lifestyle, it is spoken with a deep sense of shame. I take full responsibility for all the decisions I have made and I alone am responsible for it. No one forced me to do anything that I didn’t want or was unwilling to do.
So here I go. I was born in Viet Nam in 1976, after the conclusion of the atrocious Viet Nam War. In the misty autumn of 1981, my family desperately escaped from our war-torn country with a pocket full of dreams in search of a better future. In the middle of the night, we boarded my father’s fishing boat and began to embark on our journey from sea to land. After a few days, we were stranded in the China Sea after our wooden boat was heavily damaged by the hammering waves and thundering storm. As we were waiting certain death, a miracle happened. The Hong Kong National Guards spotted our battered boat, as they were on patrol that afternoon.
After being rescued from a potential tragic ending, the Hong Kong government placed our family in a refugee camp. A few months later, we were authorized to be transferred to the Philippines for a temporary stay, pending authorization from the U.S. Government to legally come to the United States of America.
In the cold winter of 1982, my family was granted permission to come to the United States as Vietnamese refugees. America, a dream-like nation that many people consider to be the wealthiest country in the world, the promised land that brings an abundance of hope and offers unlimited opportunities to the poor and the dream seekers. This great country became our new home.
My family came to this wealthy country penniless and endured a number of adversities as we gradually settled in the United States. Living in poverty was an immense challenge and entailed many struggles, but we never complained about our God given opportunities to better our lives. My devoted father carried the heavy burden on his shoulders to find a stable job to support his young family. The unsuccessful attempts to retain a job was a tremendous stress on my father, but he was determined to find ways to feed and provide shelter for his family. We went without food on many occasions, but the love we had for each other kept us warm and full in heart and spirit. My father wasn’t about to sacrifice himself and his family’s life to come to this country to suffer starvations and hunger.
In the blazing summer of 1984, after two years of constant moving, my father decided our family needed to settle and moved to Stockton, California. We applied for government assistance and we were placed on welfare. The meager monthly income and food stamps were extremely helpful, but it wasn’t enough to support two adults and six young children. A roof over our head and food in our stomach was the priority and everything else was considered a luxury. My father finally found a job as a fisherman, working for a friend in the Bay Area.
The language barriers limited my father’s job options, but he was too grateful for the wonderful opportunity to earn an honest living and provide for his family. While my father was away for weeks and sometimes even longer, earning a living in the Pacific Ocean, my mother stayed home to care for me and my siblings. She became both Mom and Dad during the long absence of my father while he was away working in the dangerous ocean.
Attending public school in my early adolescent years was extremely difficult and painful. Being a tiny and poor Asian kid, I became a victim of bullying and harassment. I remembered on the first day of elementary school, as I was introduced to the class, I was welcomed with awkward stares. Their puzzled and bewildered reactions made me feel uncomfortable and confused. For months, I wasn’t able to develop a friendship with my classmates. The loneliness and deep sense of rejection slowly crept into my thoughts as I played alone on the playground. I felt as if I was the only inhabitant living person in this giant planet, not having another human soul who I could call a friend. How I wished I could just vanish to another distant galaxy, so that I may escape the treacherous miseries of loneliness. The loneliness was difficult, but the sense of rejection was worse.
As the years went by, I continued to suffer the verbal and physical abuses. I remember being called: Gook, Chink, FOB, Ugly and other despicable names. The verbal assaults tarnished my heart and shattered my soul. I was deeply hurt and wounded by the demeaning words and the abandonment of my fellow classmates. The victimization altered the way I perceived and viewed the world around me. I became extremely insecure, angry, resentful, and withdrawn.
These negative emotions had unintended consequences, which gave rise to a very troubled teen. These fierce emotions were caged in the corner of my mind. Fearing my father prevented me from acting out, so I bottled up years of anger. My father was the weight that kept me grounded because of his disciplinary approach in raising his children. Although, I was suffering silently deep inside, I wouldn’t dare raise hell in front of my father.
In 1989, at the age of thirteen, my father was tragically killed in a horrific car accident near Bakersfield, California. My father’s sudden death turned my life upside down, like in a blink of an eye my life forever changed. I felt lost and confused not knowing what to do next. Without my father stronghold, I gradually became rebellious towards my family and began to act out of anger and frustration. I added more heartaches and pain to my grieving family by my immature and reckless behaviors. It took over twenty years after my father’s passing for me to mourn his death, for the pain and sorrow was too great for me to handle.
The first time I confronted a bully was when I was in eighth grade, middle school. While eating lunch in the cafeteria and minding my own business when a bully came behind me and slapped the side of my back shoulder. Then, loud echoes of laughter began to erupt in the cafeteria. I stood up and turned around with clinched fists, and launched at him. The volcanic emotions of anger, frustration, and humiliation, quickly erupted inside of me. I allowed my anger and resentment to take control and I began to punch him. Then he grabbed me, but I overpowered him with frustration, until the fight was stopped by school staff. While being restrained by staff, I could see in the kids’ faces a moment of awe and triumph.
I was suspended a week for my irrational misbehavior related to the fight. My widowed mother was sadly disappointed in me and my behavior after receiving the news about the fight and suspension. She wanted to know the reasons why I was involved in the fight at school, but I didn’t give her an answer.
The truth was, I was too ashamed to admit to my mom and family that I was a coward by not having the courage to stand up for myself against the other kids. My mother thought that I reacted irrationally, due to the difficult times handling the death of my father. In some way, my mother was right, and only knows half of the truth. She scolded me and demanded me not to get into another fight.
A week later, I returned to school, having a sense of fear and mixed emotion. I was unexpectedly received with praise and acknowledgement from other kids that I never knew me before the fight. The incredible sense of acceptance, approval and respect, gave me the false feelings of power and control. Although, I greatly enjoyed the praise and recognition, but it was the fear that displayed in their eyes that I took the most pleasure in. I felt that the years of being bullied and tormented, had built up to some form of justice and revenge. That was my distorted thinking in believing such nonsense. Indeed, I was mistreated by other kids at school, but I didn’t help improve the matter by my actions.
In the midst of this change, I began to idolize a popular and well known Vietnamese street gang in the city of Stockton, California. They were considered to be the neighborhood’s anointing soldiers and warlords. Their fearsome reputation echoed loudly throughout the neighborhood and within the city. The gang members were always surrounded by high school girls, wore nice clothes, had cars, and guns to go with their reputation.
Whenever they roamed the street they displayed their power, strength and solidarity. To an insecure kid like myself, I looked up to them as if they were the neighborhood’s generals, kings, and demi-gods. Nearly everything about these gang members, from their facade, to their renegade image, was received with admiration and idolization. Though I was infatuated with gangs, I wasn’t ready to join one, because of my lack of courage and confidence.
At that moment, it was my childish dream to be a part of this violent and crime ridden culture where many villains reside. The ideals and thoughts of somebody becoming a gang member were planted in the deep center of my mind. The seed was planted and I waited for it to bear its fruits.
The fruits manifested into existence when I made a terrible decision to join a gang at the age of fifteen. I was introduced into gangs and crimes by an older gang member in high school. He believed that by adding members to the gang would create power and strength. To gain the gang’s acceptance, recognition and trust, I decided to pledge my loyalty and life to them. It was an unwritten contract between the associates the shall not be broken, for we were a family of many brothers. Being a part of a gang gave me a false sense of power, protection and acceptance.
The callous caliber of silent crimes that I committed for the gang were rewarded with kingly status and praises. Regrettably, violence and committing crime became a normal lifestyle for me. At that stage in life, I felt invincible as if I was a god. The law didn’t apply to me nor could the metallic bullets penetrate my human flesh, as I misled myself in believing. Hidden behind the mask was a coward and an unsecured individual who lost all form of self-respect and the respect for others.
In 1996, at the age of twenty, I committed a senseless murder on a fifteen year old teenager, Andy Tran, and almost killed an elderly gentlemen, Mr. Sen Dang, who I am not related to. A year later, I was convict of all charges in the court of law and was given a life sentence ordered by the Honorable Judge. I was immediately ordered to be transferred to one of the thirty-three prisons in the state of California.
Welcome to the modern day insane asylum where all of society’s rejects reside. The inmates were covered with prison and gang tattoos. They were bulged like a rhinoceros in size and stature. Their demeanors were intimidating and at times, overbearing. All the races segregated and associate themselves with their own kind, and territories are drawn among the unworldly society of men. The prison system is a violent and dangerous society where blood is shed, lives are taken, and painful tears are hidden at the depth of a man’s heart. If prison’s violence doesn’t kill you, then the miseries and loneliness will destroy a man’s soul.
The enormous heartaches and pain of not being able to be near my family is one of the biggest challenges I must endure. As time goes by, my mother has become older and frail. My siblings got married, have children, and raised a family the best way they can. The supposed “homies” moved on with their lives as if I was a distant memory. The pledge of loyalty and “Ride-Until-We-Die” mentality was a huge lie. But to be fair, I would have done the same thing. I don’t blame anyone for my current circumstances, for it is I who made the decision to join a gang and commit crimes. I must pay my debt to society and should be punished for my wrongful acts.
After years of self-reflection, I came to realize the horror and devastation I’ve caused Andy’s family, Mr. Dang and his family, and the community. The reality of taking a precious human life is extremely difficult to fathom, because of the deep sense of guilt and shame I feel. More difficult is the unbearable loss, pain, and suffering that I’ve inflicted on these innocent individuals impacted by my poor decisions. Andy and his family deserve to live a long and meaningful life together.
Regrettably, I took that away from them. Mr. Dang and his family should not have to suffer the emotional pain and financial burden. I shamefully inflicted fear into the heart and mind of countless people who have the right to feel safe in their home and within the community. I am truly sorry for all the individuals who have been impacted by my poor decisions and cowardly act.
Today, I am a middle age inmate who’s writing you this letter to encourage you to reconsider and rethink about joining a gang, and committing crimes. It breaks my heart to know that each day our youth is killing each other for a false system of beliefs and are being misled by egotistic gang members. It’s the blind leading the blind into a slaughterhouse not knowing the butchers are waiting for them.
How many more dead bodies do we have to bury before we can wake up and realize that this is senseless? Gangs are nothing more than a death machine, waiting to indiscriminately take the life force of human beings. Our families’ lives are at a constant risk of being taken from them the moment we join a gang. If we truly love and care about our family, then we should not in any way endanger their lives. If something horrible was to happen to our parents and or siblings, the blood is in our hands and not on the rival gangs.
It’s never too late to detach and disassociate yourself from the criminal lifestyle. Be fearless in your relentless efforts within yourself to pursue your dreams. You have the potential and ability to someday become an artist, athlete, scientist, writers, doctor, or a community leader. Once you put forth a hundred percent of your efforts and passion into the things that you want to achieve, no mortal beings are able to stop you, not even the gangs or their mischievous ways, because your courage to do good will defeat their evil intent. Let your light of courage outshine the darkness of gangs so that you can clearly see the bright and beautiful future awaiting. For you, my dear friend, you are stronger than you think. You are smarter than you believe and you are more special than you know.
I have faith in you and know that you will make a huge difference in the people’s lives and in the world in more ways than you can ever imagine. Utilize this time to focus on your education and pursue your dreams and make it a reality. Spend quality time with your family and keep an open mind to their advice. We can agree and disagree with one parent’s opinion but we must respect them. A line of communication can bridge a lifetime of understanding and goodwill.
If you have spare time, volunteer your time and efforts to a local charitable and/or religious organization. These are the things that you can do to change the world in a positive way so that we can live in a safe and healthy environment for ourselves, our family, our neighbors, and our community.
I wish you the best of luck.
Sincerely…