Tag: Autobiography
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Chapter 13: Salvation
I landed in Los Angeles International Airport in the summer of 1996 rockin my blue Adidas windbreaker outfit. I wore matching sandals and beanie and thought I looked like a dope Asian break dancer. After waiting on the curb for over an hour I realized that my Aunt wasn’t coming – she was stuck in traffic…
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Chapter 11: Sandals
I had to check in periodically with my probation officer downtown. His name was Officer Hewitt. Sometimes he was cool and sometimes he was an ass. This day he was an ass. “Do you like pets?” asked Hewitt. “Nah.” I answered. “Are you allergic to them?” he asked. “No, why?” I replied. “Ok, good. I’m…
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Chapter 10: Gunplay
Getting locked up in juvenile hall didn’t change my heart, it only forced a break in my criminal activities. The first thing I did upon my release was smoke a joint with the homies to celebrate my time in jail. Recognition from peers was more important than any type of consequences drummed up by the…
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Chapter 9: Locked Up
On my second day in Juvenile hall I watched a Mexican cholo get his head smashed into a table by a big black kid. The poor guy was caught unaware from the back and was being pummeled into the ground while the black kid kept screaming, “Don’t ever talk bout my momma! Don’t ever talk…
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Chapter 8: Monkhood
My mom tried everything to keep me off the streets, even religion. In Southeast Asian Buddhist culture it is customary for young males to spend time in their local temple as a novice monk. It’s a way to earn merit for our past offenses and a way to earn respect from the surrounding Asian community.…
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Chapter 7: Typical Day
It was 1996. The sun was shining and I had just punched some white kid in the face. I picked up his glasses and threw them down the street as he begged me to stop. I let him get on his bike and said, “You tell your brother to never talk s*** again. Get the…
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Chapter 5: Friend or Foe
I spent Jr. High school in four different states. We practically lived in a U-Haul (moving truck). I wasn’t bothered by the moving though. It was the new schools that made me nervous. First impressions are everything. As a little Asian gang-banger I categorized people instantly as friends or enemies. My brother and I always…
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Chapter 4: Respect
Sixty seconds can seem like a long time, especially when you are getting pummeled from every side by gang members. I was getting jumped into an Asian gang called Local Oriental Killers (LOK). It was an organized beat down. The only rules were no shots to the groin and face but everything else was a…
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Chapter 3: Fear
Fresno, California was the worst place you could be in the mid 90’s. Crime, drugs and gangs was rampant and part of your normal everyday occurrence. You can get robbed and stabbed by simply walking down the street with a new (or used) pair of Air-Jordan’s. Living on Fresno St. in a ghetto fabulous neighborhood…
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Chapter 2: Kung-Fu
Life was different in sunny Southern California (So Cal). Back in Massachusetts my brother and I would climb trees, explore the open woods in our backyard, and watch the bug-eyed raccoons dig through our trash from the kitchen window. So Cal Los Angeles area was an urban jungle with city as far as the eye…
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Chapter 1: Gangsta
This story begins in a very different part of the world – a place that is far from what we would consider to be normal. A world where you and I, no matter how Asian or culturally aware we think are will never fully be able to relate to. For our parents growing up in Southeast…
The Asian Rough Rider 