I Am From Los Angeles, Motherfucker
Los Angeles is a microcosm of the United States. If L.A. falls, the country falls. –Ice T
One of my oldest friends is coming to stay in our apartment next month. I’ve known Stephen since I was in seventh grade. By the time I met him I had already attended six different schools in Los Angeles County. When I got to High School I would eventually end up attending three of those before graduating.
I am from LA.
The question that usually follows when I say that is, “oh yeah, what part?”
That question isn’t concerned with what part of LA I am actually from so much as it’s a challenge - “are you really from LA?”
I dunno man, my birth certificate says Los Angeles, the first home I remember was a duplex abutted against the Beth Israel Cemetery in East LA where I used to go play hide and seek as a kid.
In my time I’ve lived everywhere from East LA, to summers in Boyle Heights, to time spent living on Fletcher Drive (twice), to City Terrace, to the San Gabriel Valley, before finally moving out to just the other side of LA County into Upland, CA.
I’ve walked home along the railroad tracks and LA River at 2:00 AM. I’ve interrupted filming of television shows in my front yard so I could ask to be on TV. I’ve stolen change from the fountains in Olvera Street. I’ve snuck into movie theaters on Hollywood Blvd with my cousins. I’ve gone swimming at the pool at Roosevelt and gone fishing at Hollenbeck Park. I’ve cut class to go to Newport Beach. I learned to drive by going up to Mt. Baldy for make out sessions.
What part of LA am I from?
The fucking 10 freeway, how’s that?
What can I say? My dad had a good union job and every time he got a pay raise we moved to a slightly better neighborhood.
I tell you all of this so you can maybe understand what I am about to tell you.
Not long ago - like, maybe a few weeks ago - my wife and I were talking about whether or not the United States is even worth fighting for. Spoiler alert: it’s really not.
But I added a caveat.
I would fight for California. I am, after all, a Californian first. I am an Angelino most especially.
Los Angeles is, to me, the most American City in the world.
Those beautiful brown, Spanish speaking people? They’re not immigrants, they are the descendants of the people who were already here when the first immigrants showed up on their boats from Europe. But nobody remembers that because of cultural erasure.
That’s a topic for a post another day.
LA has our delicious mix of browns, our different flavors of Asian, a smattering of Indian, Albanian, Jewish, Arab, and more. We have our rich history of LGBTQIA+ giving us that dash of flare. And we have an entire fucking history of black culture and resistance to inspire us.
We have a seat for everyone at the party because we know that everyone brings something.
The mistake a lot of people make is thinking LA is just Paris Hilton without realizing Paris Hilton her damn self was just playing a part and that down deep she is a real human being; smart, and to borrow from Tupac, she got a little bit of thug in her.1
And that’s LA. Real. Smart. Thug.
People mock LA. People shit on that glorious city because, they say, it lacks substance and culture and blah, blah, pretentious fucking blah. Those people sound a lot like the asshole at the bar who talks shit about the beautiful girl who doesn’t want to fuck him.
Nah, LA is love. She embraces those that may be deemed unlovable and shows them how to shine. Just don’t show up thinking that city owes you something.
She is the city that exemplifies The New Colossus the way the current administration could never comprehend. People from all over the country who can’t find a home in the place that made them come to LA and find an army of people just like them. It’s the City where weirdos and castaways can find a family and acceptance. You can be a freak and at worst the reaction will be, “oh, yeah, you’ll have that.”
So when I started seeing videos and images of ICE showing up in LA the hairs on my neck raised. When I started seeing the people of LA rise up my heart swelled with pride. It also put a knot in my stomach that hasn’t left all weekend.
Two months ago I applied to volunteer2 to go to Ukraine and fight. The world was shit and I needed to do something. I haven’t heard back and that little voice in my head has started trying to convince me that maybe it’s because I may need to go back to LA for whatever is coming.
Maybe.
All I know is my heart hurts and I have a raging fury inside of me.
I want to show up at immigration court and get as many of the ICE agents to chase me as I can because at least then there are less of them harming actual immigrants. It’s funny and it’s chaotic good. In my head I hear Yakety Sax playing as I run around at double speed and ICE falls down over and over and over again.
I also want to take a Molotov cocktail to every fucking ICE vehicle I see.
What can I say? I am a complex motherfucker.
Mostly, I want the current administration to get the fuck out of my City and State. And I am watching closely for what comes next. There was a time when I once swore an oath and went wherever the United States sent me. All while being a Californian first. If California needs me…
Will I return to LA if need be?
You bet 47’s tiny orange dick.
The final story, the final chapter of western man, I believe, lies in Los Angeles. –Phil Ochs
https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-reviews/hell-camp-netflix-paris-hilton-wilderness-camps-abuse-troubled-teen-industry-1234937239/
https://www.ildu.com.ua/
Love you my favorite nephew, keep up the good fight with your words! Your dad would be so proud!