Reality from the Barrio.  The photography and prose of native Santa Fe youth--from censorship to survival.
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Oye Chavalo
Why is it you follow
the dead end path paved for you by the Pinta
(Penitentiary) bound
Pachucos, Borachos, y Tecatos
Carnalito why is it you insist on drinking
the devil’s piss—
poison 40 ounces at a time
Talking shit and causing Pedo won’t get you anywhere
Little sister why do you let him slap you around?
Why do you paint your face like a clown?
Is it to cover up the bruises?
Who is going to save you
if you don’t save yourself?

Do you think the Virgin de Guadalupe tattooed across your old man’s chest
will save you, or him, or your kids?

Vato loco selling Coca. So you put Hydros
and gold rims on your firme Ramfla
That you love more than your own momma
Don’t get me wrong ese

I love my barrio
but to me it is not how high I can get
or how high I can hop my carro
It’s not about how many ruccas I can bone or bang con mi gang

I love my Barrio
but to me its about
the smell of fresh tortillas, chile verde, y frijoles
It’s about abuelitos and abuelitas
It’s about playing ball in en la Parque
It’s about vecinos
It’s about murales, poetry, and dancing
It’s about adobe or terione casitas heated only by the warmth of old
wooden stoves
and the warmth of familia
It’s about respecting where you come from
And for helping you get
where you need to go.

—Michael Jude Ipiotis “360°”