by Lalo, San Francisco
I was born on 5/19/2004 in Brazil. Growing up was full of tough times for me. I only met my dad one time at the age of 10, in court, when he signed the papers giving my mom full custody of me. I also grew up without my mother from the age of 5 to 12 when she left Brazil to come to the United States for a better life. She left without giving me any explanation about why she was leaving. I still remember how I screamed and begged her not to leave me, and watched her cry as she got into the taxi cab. That day left me scarred with a BIG scar.
From that day on I started living with my grandma and two cousins in a brick house my grandfather built before he passed away. Even though I never met him, may his soul rest in peace. The streets were mud, an orange color sand type where me and my cousins would sit every night on top of a bucket and eat ramen noodles for dinner. Every Friday we would gather all the kids from the neighborhood and start a big campfire. We would sit on a laid-down log and I would zone out staring at the sky full of shiny stars and hope that I would see my mom again. Even though living with my grandma was not so bad, she would often use the money my mom was sending every month for food and my needs on guys she brought into the house that she was sleeping with, or to buy herself things that she wanted.
After a while I moved in with my auntie, in a new and way better city. She had an apartment, and she took care of me like I was her son.
At age 12 I was on a plane to the United States, to San Francisco on a two day flight. After 24 hours I was on a different plane all by myself and everything was so strange. People were speaking a foreign language. At the time I didn’t even know a single word of English. I landed in San Francisco, got my bags, and when I saw my mom I ran to her with open arms and hugged her tight, telling her not to ever leave my side again, with both of us crying and happy to be with each other.
Growing up in a new country wasn’t easy at first. I began to attend school for the first time at Marina Middle School in San Francisco, where I would usually be made fun of and picked on for not knowing English. The first words I could say were, “Bitch get out of the way.” I learned by listening to US rap music. I eventually said those words to my school principal in the yard as I was hanging out with new people I had met, and I remember them laughing their asses off.
I was a C, B, and sometimes A student throughout middle school. My mom was on my ass about school.
I didn’t get my first phone until I was in eighth grade. That’s when things all started to go bad. I got tired of not having money and the ability to afford things my classmates had: Jordan’s, brand name clothes, and females.
I was kind of fat in 6th and 7th grade, so usually females wouldn’t give me a second look, but now at age 17 these girls are all up on me.
I began to get high for the first time with a high school girl who was my first love and began to snatch phones at the time the iPhone 8 came out. I was getting one every chance I could and selling them downtown for $500. Getting money became my #1 priority and I started to have things my classmates had. Not too long after that I came to juvie for the first time at the age of 14 for breaking into cars, robbery with a deav dly weapon, and assault with a deadly weapon. That day me and my old friends were wilding out in the streets trying to get every penny we could since we never had much.
Things kept getting worse. After 2 months I was free and back in the streets doing worse things. Everything I went through made me careless and heartless. My heart was black from the pain.
Today I am in juvie for the 10th time for attempted murder. I recently found the right path I want to go on. I was on the right path for months, but the past came to haunt me. I’m not a bad kid. Free Lalo.