Nobody Checked on Us

I was released from the old Fresno Juvenile Hall when I was thirteen. I had no reentry plan or support for coming back to my varrio, a neighborhood that needed more programs and care for youth. There were two churches in the varrio, but they never helped us out. The members would stare at us as we walked by, and I always felt judged. So, I went back to the only social group where I felt protected, respected, seen, heard, loved, and like I belonged to something: the gang. I left my home and went back out into the streets. I went to visit my best homeboys. They were half-brothers who did not have a dad, and whose mom was an old-school gang member. 

For months, I thought their mother spoke another language. That is what my twelve-year-old homeboy, the youngest of the two brothers, would tell me until I found out his mom was actually high on drugs. Their house, the only house in the neighborhood without any electricity, was always dark at night. Their home had a cockroach and rat infestation issue, they used the neighbor’s water hose to fill buckets to shower, and gang rivals almost burned the house down. They only ate noodles and some food I brought, and their garbage bags were buried in the backyard. There were times when their mother was taken to county jail, and the older brother would take care of his little brother. They both had been taken out of elementary school at a young age and had not returned.

I was the only one in school until I was arrested at my junior high at age 14. I did not attend the school discipline meeting, but my mother later told me I was expelled. I  did not know what that meant, but my mother said school administrators told her I would not change. It made three of us who were not in school. I transitioned to homeschooling, but struggled to do my schoolwork at home, and eventually returned to high school in my late teenage years. It only lasted a week before I was suspended again. After two months of waiting for a decision from the school, I was expelled for the second time.

School officials labeled me a sophisticated gang member. I was far from that. Youth impacted by gangs in the juvenile justice system lack the sophistication, organizational structure, and gang politics compared to gangs in adult institutions. The perception of youth organizing crime is exaggerated — parents can’t even get their kids to organize their bedrooms.

My friends and I had a lot of hate inside due to our upbringing. Sometimes, that anger led to conflict with other youth with similar traumas. But even though we were in a gang, we were not out constantly committing crimes. The majority of our time was spent just hanging out. One day, several of us were sitting in front of my homeboys’ front porch when my youngest homie began to cry and yell that he was tired of eating noodles every day and wanted something better. We all put our heads down and cried with him. 

In my late adolescence, I returned to the juvenile system, but this time to the new Fresno Juvenile Hall with my cousin and my youngest homeboy. I remember a correctional officer letting me know that my homie ripped his mattress apart and tagged his name in the room. Only I understood the anger and desperation he felt inside. Before our court hearing, we were all placed in a room together. I told my cousin and homie I hoped we would get out. My homie did not want to leave the juvenile facility because they fed him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He gained weight while inside and continued his behavior to stay incarcerated. 

When my homie was released, I helped him return to school. After a few months, he shared that he did not want to go to school anymore because he had a hard time. He and his older brother could not read or write. He never went back, and nobody checked on him, or us. I never saw his probation officer check on him, nor do I remember any welfare checks from police departments, or schools, or child protective services. During my adolescence, I tried to get church members involved with them, and also contacted a local nonprofit to help me, but nobody ever came.

Instead, I was always getting stopped by police officers as a kid. They would tell me to stand so they could take a picture of my clothing to document me as a gang member. Our lives were chaos and gang violence. Being part of a gang made us feel like we belonged. The only people checking on us in our neighborhood were other individuals impacted by gangs.

I recognize now that many people in various professions failed us. The most elementary and fundamental check-in from the school or community could have prevented my best friends from falling victim to dangerous drugs, gang violence, and homelessness. Their house became a hot spot for drugs, caught on fire, and was eventually torn down.

During my graduate program at Fresno State University, I created YoungSTers for Change — a nonprofit where I mentor youth who experienced the same challenges I encountered. I named it YoungSTers to pay tribute to the street where we grew up, Young Street. When working with at-future youth* across juvenile systems in California, I see the pain in their eyes and always remind them that change is a process and possible. Gang-impacted youth are dealing with the effects of childhood and community trauma. When social institutions in the community fail youth, gangs are there to fill in the void. It is crucial to listen and try to understand the stories of youth impacted by gangs to prevent harsh labeling and punishments in communities, schools, courts, and juvenile systems. I know firsthand that these approaches do more harm than they do good.

*I came up with this term to replace the problematic label of “at-risk” youth.

Sergio Coronel is the founder of the organization YoungSTers for Change, where he runs a credible messenger mentorship program for at-future youth in the Central Valley. He is also a gang expert and a member of the Juvenile Justice Coordinating Council (JJCC) at the Fresno Juvenile Justice Campus.