The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [6]
As soon as possible, I need to get out of this class and into the class across the hall with my friends. Right after the bell rings, I’m going to talk to my counselor and make her move me out of here. I’ll lie and insist that there’s been a computer error and that I am supposed to be in the Distinguished Scholars class, even though I suck in English and have a learning disability. I know she’ll believe me ’cause I’m white.
I can’t believe all this noise. I just want out of here. I hope the bell rings soon. I don’t want to spend another minute in this room. If I stay in here, one of two things will happen: I’ll get jacked or I’ll die of boredom.
Diary 3
Dear Diary,
“Fuck!” was the first word that came to mind when I saw those stupid motherfuckers coming toward me today after school. I knew I was going to get my ass kicked because there were three guys and two girls against me. I wasn’t afraid or anything. Its not like it was the first time, and I know it sure as hell won’t be the last. But why today? It’s the first day of school and I don’t feel like dealing with this shit!
I knew I didn’t wanna come to this school. My probation officer thinks he’s slick; he swears he’s an expert on gangs. That dumb-ass actually thinks that the problems going on in Long Beach aren’t going to affect me at Wilson. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t even be in school, but he threatened me, telling me that it was either Wilson or boot camp. I figure it’s less painful to go back to school.
My P.O. hasn’t realized yet that schools are just like the city and the city is just like prison. All of them are divided into separate sections, depending on race. On the streets, you kick it in different ’hoods, depending on your race, or where you’re from. And at school, we separate ourselves from people who are different from us. That’s just the way it is, and we all respect that. So when the Asians started trying to claim parts of the ’hood, we had to set them straight. We had to let them know who the true OGs (Original Gangsters) were. We’re the real O.G.’s And like I said before, everything penetrates through. Soon enough you have little wanna-bes trying to hit you up at school, demanding respect they haven’t even earned.
That’s why they got pissed when they hit me up, ’cause I refused to bow down to them. I looked at them up and down, laughed, paused, and then said, “Mi barrio es primero.” As I stood in the middle of the quad, I thought of how much they looked like the people they hated. They dress just like us, they act just like us, and they want the territory we own. For that reason, I have no respect for them or the so-called barrio they’re willing to die for. I don’t even know why they tried to come up to me, asking me where I was from. Those fools should know what happens when we get hit up—we get pissed off and all hell breaks loose, and the consequences can be deadly.
Latinos killing Asians. Asians killing Latinos. They declared war on the wrong people. Now it all comes down to what you look like. If you look Asian or Latino, you’re gonna get blasted on or at least jumped. The war has been declared, now it’s a fight for power, money, and territory; we are killing each other over race, pride, and respect. They started the war in our Aztlán, a land that belongs to us by nature, and by nature we will bury them.
They might think they’re winning by jumping me now, but soon enough, they’re all going down!
Diary 4
Dear Diary,
Damn! It’s the second week of school and I’m already getting busted up because of the people I hang with. A fight broke out today. I don’t know how it started, it happened so quickly. Rumor has it that a little freshman got punked a couple of days ago and her gang was planning to retaliate. I heard people were even planning