A Matter of Respect: On Reading Luis Rodríguez

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 little over ten years ago, when I was teaching in North Carolina, a student asked me to read Always Running, Luis Rodríguez’s memoirs about growing up as a gang member in Los Angeles. (As usual, I, the late bloomer, was just beginning to explore Latino and Latina literature.) The student told me that Rodríguez’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 he 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, I learned that Rodríguez 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 Rodríguez’s arrival I moved to Nicaragua and missed the 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 couple of years ago I was part of a panel of new Latino authors at the Book Expo America held in Chicago. It was the first time I would read from my 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 Rodríguez. 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 Rodríguez out.
The instant Loya made that comment, Luis Rodriguez, in my mind, 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 I had yet to read his memoir.)

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

* * * *

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

And yes, Luis Rodríguez’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, Rodríguez 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 we’ve yet to heed this message.

* * * *

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

(Check out his website at www.luisjrodriguez.com)

In the wake of Katrina, Rodríguez has been particularly eloquent in condemning the negligence that magnified this preventable catastrophe. He points 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.

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

The best lesson we can learn from this disaster is that those who make the 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 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 Rodríguez has been speaking out without fear against injustice, not caring who he angers. I especially admire that he has done so during the dark years of the Bush administration, 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 are 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.