Why Write: The Homie and His Pluma
By Arturo “Velaz” Muñoz
I say that la tinta has always been my real homie. When times got tough, I always reached for the pen. I wrote out all what I thought was to not be said. And like many others, we are led to believe that vatos can’t be expressing no feelings. So, I didn’t. I kept quiet. Earned myself the name Silencio.
Did being quiet really help? Sure, sometimes. It led me to be a thinker, listener, and empathetic. I cared for my homies and familia. I cared tremendously. I made sure to express that in my writing. But, when I was quiet, I never got what I knew I needed, wanted. or what my community desperately needed. No changes really came. I continued to stay silent until I came to realize that my own poetry, my own writing was actually me telling myself that I have had ENOUGH.
I shared my poetry pieces with others, inspiring others to also take on a role in creating change. Did it do much? I want to think so. I shared some of my pieces at performances such as guest lectures and public presentations. But, the times that I knew my words truly had reached the right hands was when I shared my poetry to the youth I was working with at a juvenile hall. When it came to sharing my truths with the youth, I damn saw my words sinking to their hearts. Their body relaxed, putting down their guard, and allowing vulnerability to become a strength.
During my time volunteering at the juvenile hall, I was co-facilitating poetry workshops for an organization called The Beat Within. The youth’s writing would be published in their magazine every two weeks. Their writing were usually responses to prompts. Their stories were so overwhelming that every time I would clock out, I would walk out with some of their trauma.
What I realized from all this experience is that when I shared my pieces with the youth, they would listen. When they wrote, they were always down to read their writing to me, leading to a full on platica. See, they knew the value of their story as well as mine. However, no one who ain’t ever been down to walk in our shoes would want to sit in silencio and just listen.
I still remember their stories. As a matter of fact, I still posses the magazines that my youth were in. I don’t know if they ever understood how much their writing meant to me. But that’s the thing! We never will know how much our stories will impact others. As we write or even host a podcast, we allow them stories to live and circulate the world we live in.
My writing is out there. My words are somewhere, breathing. And even when my candle is put out, my stories will continue to live and be a testament to a life en mi barrio and the wisdom de mi gente. And the stories that were privileged to be engraved in tinta, will also be eternal recuerdos of our existence.
