opinion

A matter of respect: on
reading Luis Rodríguez
by Silvio Sirias

Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home—so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any map of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person: the neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm, or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, and equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them so close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.

Eleanor Roosevelt

A while back, when I was teaching at Appalachian State University, in North Carolina, a student urged me to read Always Running, Luis Rodriguez’s memoirs about growing up as a gang member in Los Angeles. (As usual, I, the late bloomer, was just beginning to explore US Latino and Latina literature.) The student told me that Rodriguez’s tale brought tears to his eyes. I found this remarkable since the young man had lived all of his life in the South and, motivated by his newfound love for the Spanish language, was just starting to learn about Latinos. I remember thinking to myself that Rodríguez must have hit a universal chord, so I went out and bought a copy of his book.

Several years later, Luis Rodriguez was scheduled to visit North Carolina to give a series of talks. Thinking that Always Running might be of interest to a Mexican-American acquaintance of mine, I loaned it to him. He had also grown up in Los Angeles and had served time in prison because of gang-related activities.

“This guy has written the story of my life. I’m dying to meet him,” he said upon returning the book.

Sadly for me, shortly before Rodriguez’s arrival, I moved to Nicaragua and missed my chance to meet him. But I’ve often wondered if the two Los Angelenos met, for I would’ve loved to have been present during their conversation.

* * *

A few years ago I was part of a panel of new Latino and Latina authors at Book Expo America, held in Chicago. It was the first time I would read from my first novel, Bernardo and the Virgin. Seated next to me was a young man named Joe Loya, author of the memoir The Man Who Outgrew His Prison Cell: Confessions of a Bank Robber. Having a chance to chat prior to the readings, I asked him a few questions about his book.

“I owe it all to Luis Rodriguez. He’s my mentor. When I was in prison I wrote him a letter, and he encouraged me to write my story. Have you ever heard of him?” Joe asked.

Had I ever heard of him?

“That’s him seated over there,” Joe added, pointing Rodriguez out.

The instant I spotted Luis Rodriguez sitting in the audience, in my mind, the Mexican-American author became larger than life. After repeatedly hearing how his work had touched the lives of others, I couldn’t muster the courage to introduce myself. (Besides, I felt guilty because, although I owned it, I had yet to read his memoir.)

Minutes later, Mr. Loya, Rodriguez’s protégé, was standing behind the podium giving one of the most impressive readings I’ve ever witnessed. Let me assure everyone, he was a tough act to follow.

* * *

“Better late than never,” goes the saying. I finally got around to reading Always Running.

And yes, Luis Rodriguez’s story touched me, deeply. Los Angeles is one of my hometowns, and while living there I witnessed events similar to the ones he describes in his book. (My other hometown, Granada, Nicaragua, is where I grew up from ages eleven through seventeen, after which time I returned, once again, to L.A.)

Always Running teaches us that young people join gangs in a desperate attempt to fight off despair and to gain respect. To help prevent them from taking this path, Rodriguez calls on our leaders, at all levels of government, to invest heavily in the inner cities so that every young person can learn to excel at something constructive, and thus find fulfillment, regardless of race.

It’s unfortunate, but governments have yet to heed this message.

* * *

As anticipated, I enjoyed Always Running; but the writings by Rodriguez I enjoy the most are his blog entries. I’m a big fan and I never miss a post.

(Check out his website at http://www.luisjrodriguez.com.)

In the wake of hurricane Katrina, Rodríguez was particularly eloquent in condemning the negligence that magnified this preventable catastrophe. He pointed out that what happened in New Orleans illustrates that local and national leaders have little respect for the poor, and that they continue to treat them dismissively.

Was it any wonder that people everywhere, even here in Latin America, reacted angrily to the White House’s dismal response?

And today, in this issue of The Panama News, we are blessed to have Rodriguez’s permission to reprint his latest blog entry titled: “The Financial Fallout --- and Where Do We Go From Here?” I urge everyone to read this piece and spend a few moments reflecting on Rodriguez’s words.

The best lesson we can learn from these disasters is that those who make decisions must start placing the needs of poor first --- for they are the ones whose needs are greatest. Otherwise, at the furious pace at which climatic, economic, and political changes are occurring throughout the globe, great-scale human tragedies will become commonplace.

Throughout his career as a writer and political activist, Rodríguez has repeated Eleanor Roosevelt’s message: pay attention to the neighborhood, the schools, and the workplace, for these basic units of communal life need to operate for the benefit of humanity if we are to endure the passage of time.

For years Rodriguez has been speaking out without fear against injustice, not caring who he angers. I especially admire that he has done so during a dark era where to bring light to what is wrong in American society places a person on the par with being a terrorist. Little wonder the majority of us have been afraid to open our mouths.

Gracias, Luis, for having the cojones to speak the truth as you see it.

You have my respect.

Dales duro, ese.

Silvio Sirias is the author of the novels Bernardo and the Virgin (Northwestern University Press) and Meet Me Under the Ceiba (Forthcoming, Arte Publico Press). For more information, visit his website at http://www.silviosirias.com