Ghetto Dirt

I was ghetto. I was dirty. I was smelly. I picked trash to help furnish my parents roach infested apartment on the west side of Chicago. My story makes most people look at themselves, contemplate, and self reflect. In fact, it's humbling and a constant reminder that my story is a unique one. It's an inevitable sign that my story acts as the drive for me to give back. I fought, I punched, I won and I lost. I had a long reach so I won mostly and excelled at hoopin' in the hood. I learned every gang handshake, hand-sign, and gang color before ten years old. We'd go to the burbs to dumpster dive until the cops had my Dad and me, a seven year old, in either handcuffs or the back seat of a squad car because the suburban whites called the cops on us. We had no money. My Dad was a Blood in Los Angeles and parlayed with the Latin King Nation in Chicago. He still has the tattoos. I had one to two pairs of pants during elementary school. I wore the same smelly clothing daily. I couldn't afford most of the field trips and was left behind. I had to lie about my identity to protect family. My family is still undocumented so writing this is a bold action during fascist polarizing times. My story is intense and it makes my peers feel threatened by me because their privilege made them insecure. Poverty made me draw so much that I became a powerhouse creative. I had a story to fuel messaging and the talent to visualize the story. I had more to work with than the competition, while they benefited from affirmative action for the rich or affirmative action for the whites. It was quantified in real life, when those same kids displayed a terrible work ethic and spewed basic ideas compared to me. I still didn't think I was better than everyone else, I just wasn't going to sell myself short. I refuse to let others write my narrative. I paid no mind to high school kids with the latest Polo and Nautica jackets as they appropriated Hip-Hop, a co-culture that was started by kids like me, the poor. I made it to the biggest ad agencies in the world and I won multiple awards. Now I'm in Los Angeles, where my Dad immigrated to at 12 years old, retracing his steps. It's gentrified with apathetic occupiers. I followed the true-school graffiti path and survived. Plus amazing warriors from Insight Arts and Black Lives Matter helped me find myself politically. Now I'm plastering 3D augmented reality all over the place from Berlin to Chicago to Los Angeles. Boy am I thankful. I am thankful to ALL who helped me along the away. There's still tons of work to do going forward. My mission is to change the landscape for the better, to alter behaviors, to change ways of thinking and completely revamp the way we operate. Thank you for joining me.

Photography by Cynthia Lum.