MAGAZINE
JAMES DEEN
ALUMNI NOW HARD AT WORK
EX-CON IS THERE REDEMPTION FOR FELONS?
GIRLS GONE AUTO
WHAT PETROL AND GREASE COVERED DREAMS ARE MADE OF
JUST YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD GRAFFITI ARTIST
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PA S A D E N A C I T Y CO L L E G E - 2 0 1 4
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS
I
n our streamlined, fast-paced world, rarely do we as members of a community college take a moment away from ourselves. Whether it’s an overwhelming sense of urgency to transfer to a four-year institution or a never-ending conquest to earn more money, life is truly centered on “me, myself, and I.”
challenging gender roles and financial circumstances, conquering handicaps, or overcoming demons and the ghosts of the past, every person’s life is flecked with strife. But while the unpredictable tides of life usher in pivotal changes and the barrage of personal issues affect us in unimaginable ways, we all have to remember: our struggles augment us.
What goes through your head as soon as you step foot on campus? Uggghhh. Can I go home now? !@#$%!!! I am not looking forward Regardless of what obstacles are currently imto taking this test. What am I doing here? I forpacting you, we highly encourage you to take a got to do my homework, shoot. Groan. Whine. step back, get to know the people around you, Complain. Repeat. and listen to what they have to say. And most Perhaps the biggest of follies in life is that no of all, we hope that you will find some comfort one takes the time to dial it back and smell the and inspiration through these featured stories, as well as through your own encounters. roses. Rarely do we take the time to listen to the stories of other people. This issue of Spotlight Magazine shines light on a thought that is often overshadowed by our own problems: everyone is fighting a battle. Whether it is combating social stigma,
With the warmest regards and sincerest of wishes,
The Spotlight Editors STAFF WRITERS
MANAGING EDITOR MADISON MIRANDA
Nataly Chavez, Joshua Gandela, Peter Zachary Gonzalez, Monique LeBleu, Angelica Reyes, Kelly Rodriguez Murillo, Stephanie Sanchez, Benjamin Simpson
STAFF PHOTOGRAPHERS
Antonio Gandara, Teresa Mendoza, Mary Nurrenbern, Benjamin Simpson, Meg Symanow, Daniel Valencia
FACULTY ADVISER Nathan McIntire
PHOTO ADVISER Tim Berger
SPECIAL THANKS TO
Antonio Gandara, Samantha Molina, Luis Rodriguez, Aubrey Quezada, Visual Arts and Media Studies: Division Interim Dean Joseph Futtner, Division Secretary Nhi Truong
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Editorial Office Spotlight Magazine
EMILY CHANG-CHIEN
CO-PHOTO EDITOR
CONCEPCION GONZALEZ
Cover photos / design by Matthew Chan
CO-PHOTO EDITOR MATTHEW CHAN
Pasadena City College 1570 E. Colorado Blvd. Room CC 208 626.585.7130
CONTENTS PAGE 4 THE CULTURE OF STAIRING 5 /infocus: Staying on compรกs 6 Hardest working man in porn
PAGE 8 LADIES GETTING THEIR HANDS DIRTY
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10 Running on mettle 12 /infocus: CRAOE
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PAGE 14 COMING OUT OF THE DARKNESS 16 Surviving as an artist 18 Shredding Split Ends
PAGE 20 A MAN MARKED FOR LIFE 22 In a musical state of mind 23 Reaching for culture
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Page 16
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For more, like us on Facebook @ PccSpotlightMagazine
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The stair people routinely congregate on the steps in front of the C building.
CULTURE OF STAIRING
Students regularly participate in leisure activities from card games to portable gaming devices.
Story by Peter Zachary Gonzalez Photos by Antonio Gandara / Megan Symanow
On the steps of the Pasadena City College C building sit an awkward collection of students brave enough to dress in pirate outfits and bring along their own television and Xbox to satisfy their knack for fun. These students are the self-proclaimed “people of the stairs,” a group of eccentric young adults who embrace their “weirdness.” Every school day, members of the group come together and hang out on the right side of the staircase at the front of the campus. They should not be confused with the people on the left side of the steps, as those are usually just other students. The “stair people” often gather together to help one another escape the daily stresses of college life. “We’re just a group of geeks and nerds who hang out together and have fun,” described Sylvana “Sylvie Rabbit” McLean, as she sat on the staircase sharing her assortment of cheeses with fellow stair person Lisa Ngo. Ngo described herself as a member who just “comes in and out” every once in a while. McLean, however, hangs out more often. Other members, like Van Hames, no longer attend PCC but still come to visit when they can. Hames described the group as fun, but “completely unpredictable.” Some members, like Morrigan Bratcher, have been around since their start at PCC, back during the “dark ages,” around early 2009, before the group took claim of the stairs and hung out in the quad by the D and L buildings. This “dark” era consisted of members who were heavily involved in smoking and abusing alcohol with cough syrup, according to McLean. “We don’t do that,” assured Hames. Bratcher insists that this group is “one of the most accepting.” As a nonjudgmental open clique, they act as a fun escape for one another since it’s, as Hames said, “not the best place to do
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Paula Martinez hands out homemade ambrosia to fellow stair people.
homework.” All day long, the stairs are occupied by many different stair people who come and go, and for the most part, they all get along. Even with a little “gay tension from completely straight men” at times,” as Jason Velenzuela joked, explaining how comfortable some of the members are with each other. “I feel like this should be written with someone’s penis,” Javier Felix unexpectedly blurted out. He explained that their humor, although at times very random and inappropriate, is what makes them such a fun and unique group. Even when dating occurs amongst members, there is always a need to dim any tension. In the case that a stair couple should break up, the group is happy to help mediate things if it were to get to that point. And if things go too far, Jessica Cavallarin, whom the group refers to as “Mother Duck,” is “not afraid to speak her mind,” and will gladly “chew you a new butthole,” according to Felix. They may seem silly and maybe even off-putting by appearance, but they are actually welcoming and not much different from the average group of friends. The group even takes their “stairing” off campus, using a Facebook group where they all connect and arrange plans outside of school. Unlike other Facebook pages, like PCC Secrets, the People of the Stairs page is a private group only accessible to its members, about 80 students and alumni. The Facebook group is their virtual staircase. If there’s anything the stair people want you to know about them, it’s simply that their steps are “a place where you can just be yourself.” So they would appreciate it if you didn’t stare at them, but instead, come “stair” with them.
Staying on Compás
/infocus
Photo Story by Concepcion Gonzalez
Without compás — a Spanish word most often translated as rhythm — flamenco cannot exist. However compás, similar to the dance form, cannot be easily characterized. “Flamenco is not an easy dance form,” adjunct instructor Clarita Corona said. “Flamenco makes you work within yourself because that’s what you’re tapping into as an individual and as a dancer. You’re not portraying a character, you’re portraying yourself.”
Pui Yee Lee, astrophysics, prepares for the perforance in the W building. Anna Foseca, dance/biology, practices strengthening her arm movement.
Martha Delgado, art education, immerses herself in the music for the performance.
(Left) Jeffrey Miles, music, Amy Cervantes, nursing, Erica Torres, biology, try to find the compás of the song.
Anna Foseca, dance/biology, marks the first step of the song.
The Flamenco class performs a Farruca during the “In the Studio” performance.
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James Deen speaks to students about sexuality and pornography at former instructor Hugo Schwyzer’s Humanities 3 class, Feb. 27, 2013.
HARDEST WORKING GUY IN PORN Story by Nataly Chavez — Photo by Matthew Chan The average porn viewer isn’t in it for the guys. They are faceless “cock props” that let out the occasional grunt. Except for James Deen, also known as America’s Sweetheart of Porn, whose Twitter profile description reads: “My name is James. I am a simple guy who likes to eat, sleep and watch TV…oh yeah, I also bang chicks for a living.” Really, what’s simple about that? Still to this day one of the youngest stars to win the Male Performer of the Year Award at the Adult Video News (AVN) Awards, Deen, a PCC alumni, has worked in more than 1,000 videos and made his feature film debut this past year in Paul Schrader’s “The Canyons,” alongside Lindsay Lohan. Although pornography may seem superficial and unrealistic, Deen is known for his “female friendly porn” which works to mentally arouse women through foreplay, a concept some males just don’t seem to understand. Not to be confused with real life, Deen has made it clear: porn is just entertainment. “500 people can view the exact same porno and have Page 6 Spotlight 2014
completely different opinions about it,” Deen revealed in a Motherboard.com interview. “The general populace can decide what they like and what they don’t. If they don’t like it then don’t watch it.” According to his 7-page spread in GQ Magazine, Deen knew he wanted to be in porn ever since kindergarten, when he found a Hustler magazine on his way home from school and thought to himself, “I want to do this.” The revelation got him suspended in third grade when he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. It’s not uncommon for some porn stars to be victims of childhood sexual abuse, but that isn’t the case for Deen, unless you count a teacher who tried to molest him at the age of 8 or 9. Deen told GQ that he managed to escape by “punching his testicles a lot.” Born Bryan Matthew Sevilla and raised in Pasadena, a town he still refers to as “one of the best cities in the world,” Deen was brought up by a respectable family. His parents are rocket scientists for NASA.
Having lost his virginity at the age of 12 at a Jewish camp, Deen engaged in drug activities that landed him at an outpatient rehab for a few years. He left high school to spend two years with a group of nomad punks at the age of 15. Now 27, Deen thought it important to speak to college students about sexual communication during his visit to Pasadena City College in Feb. 2013. “It all comes down to communicating with your partner,” said Deen over the phone. “People are individuals. Sex is an individual thing. You have to be comfortable with yourself. Don’t be pressured into anything. Get tested, be safe.”
“People are individuals. Sex is an individual thing. ... Don’t be pressured into anything.” Invited to speak in a Humanities class taught by the infamous former PCC professor Hugo Schwyzer, the visit made headlines and sparked concern from the administration over the safety of students. Contrary to those reports, Deen saw PCC as “normal” and implied the misunderstanding with Schwyzer involved not following the correct protocol. To Deen, it’s just as important to be safe about regular intercourse as much as on set and he’s worked to share his knowledge on the subject to the most active demographic. “I take a lot of pride in the requests I get to come speak about human sexuality at colleges because it means there are people that care,” Deen said. “The biggest group of people infected with HIV these days are young people, 18 to 30 years old, and it’s because American sexual education is not what it used to be,” he said. Deen attended PCC from 2002 to 2004. It wasn’t the place to offer the “college experience” and was instead merely a way to start “building credits,” he said.
By then he was already attending Hollywood parties, trying to find an “in” to the industry. “The plan was to transfer to a university and then just do more school until I figured out what to do with my life,” Deen said. “That is, if the adult industry didn’t work out. … I started hanging around [Hollywood] until I found someone who knew somebody who knew somebody and they put me in a movie.” When he finally did break through, it became all work and no play for the star, who, according to his Chief Operating Officer and close friend Shannon Kaehny, works a nonstop 360 days out of the year. And through all that, James remains “hilarious, goofy, and extremely hard working,” she said. And he still makes time to speak up for what he believes in. Deen became a staunch opponent of Measure B, an initiative put on the Nov. 2012 ballot in the city of Los Angeles requiring porn stars to wear condoms during all sex scenes filmed in Los Angeles. Deen has stressed the clear distinction of being safe in real life and safe on set. “I think condoms are fantastic, but when you’re making an adult film and you have tested individuals in a controlled, safe environment, it’s not the choice of the government. It’s the choice of the performers,” he said. “When you throw in this condom law without any knowledge of what actually goes on in an adult film set, that’s when my issue comes into play,” said Deen. “It’s a violation of my personal right to make choices and my freedom of speech.” The measure did little to impede Deen, who performed in 100 porn videos in 2013, gave a standout performance in “The Canyons,” appeared in a Farrah Abraham sex tape, and won the Male Performer of the Year Award for the third time. The star has had a busy year. It’s unclear what Deen’s status in the porn industry will be ten years from now, but he’s come to terms with it “moving on to the next hot thing” and as long as he’s true to himself, he’s happy.
Courtesy photos (Top) Deen at the set of the movie “The Canyons,” 2013. (Bottom) Deen shows off his abs.
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LADIES GETTING THEIR HANDS DIRTY Story by Madison Miranda — Photos by Benjamin Simpson
A group of girls with grease-stained fingers and wearing safety glasses sat around joking about their male classmates wearing high heels while working on cars. Their feminine giggles rivaled the harsh sounds of the hydraulic lifts and impact wrenches that filtered in from the shop next door. The casual jokes about gender reversal are typical for the five women who are enrolled in Pasadena City College’s advanced automotive classes. Lab technician Wendy Lucko said that while it is not uncommon to have women in the auto department, few actually go on to take the advanced classes or pursue a career in the automotive industry. “We always have female students in the fundamentals class, and maybe one or two continue from there,” she said. The five women in this group are all working to earn their All Automotive Systems certificate, which requires 59 to 61
units of auto classes. While there is no set personality type of women who take the auto classes, Lucko said they tend to be more “alpha” or Type-A people. “Out in public I notice that they are vocal and dominant, yet a little quirky as they don’t relate to the rest of the Kim Kardashians of the world,” she said. The two most dominant personalities in this group are Francesca Wilby and Rhoquel Huylber. Wilby, with her fuchsia hair and funky style, lights up the room with her frequent smiles and friendly nature. Huylber, a former hair stylist and the oldest of the girls, keeps the mood from getting too serious with her quick wit and tendency to joke around. The other three girls are much more subdued. Kien Thay voiced her thoughts often, but is not as vocal as the others. Majanka Bossaerts has a mild demeanor
Rhoquel Huylber taps in a piston with new rings while rebuilding an engine.
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that seems to come more from an observer’s mindset than from any kind of shyness. Linda Nghiem was also quiet, but shared her opinions after some prompting. Lucko does not give the girls any special treatment despite their status as a minority group in the industry. “They are expected to work just as hard and know the terminology,” she said. “The people that give them special treatment at times are the male students in the class. I try to make sure they understand that [getting special treatment] only debilitates them as a technician later in life.” While the girls don’t get much special treatment, there are sometimes conflicts with the men in the class. Automotive instructor Jason Norris does his best to keep the guys in line, according to Huylber. “There was one time where a guy said something like, ‘Girls can’t do things because they’re girls,’ and Norris shut him down,” she said. Lucko also tries to keep the peace between the genders, but she said there isn’t much of a problem. The girls said that they don’t have a problem working with the guys in the class. “I’ve been treated very well,” Huylber said. “Every once in a while you hear a comment that you have to check them on.” According to the group, there aren’t many differences being a girl in the auto industry. “We all use the same tools to do the same amount of work,” Thay said. “You might need a little bit more leverage, but that’s when you get a longer breaker bar and use a little more weight to bust it out,” added Wilby. While the girls said they can still get the job done, they admit that sometimes they do need help, and they are not ashamed. “Even the strongest men need help lifting stuff,” said Wilby. “I’m not afraid to ask for help,” added
Francesca Wilby realigns the front end of her Volkswagen Beetle in the IT building, on April 8, 2013.
Huylber. When the girls do have problems or doubts about pursuing this kind of job, Lucko is there to give them advice. “I will tell them the reality of the automotive world, and that people aren’t so nice and you will have to prove yourself 150 times over what a male counterpart does at 50 percent,” she said. “[You] have to deal with unprofessional people at times and that will be from the customer, employer or co-worker. [Don’t] take the jokes personally and don’t cry when you get hurt, cut or burnt,” Lucko added. Safety regulations dictate that long hair must be pulled back, no loose clothing or open-toed shoes are allowed, nails must be cut short, and dangling jewelry must be taken off. Huylber said that one thing about working on cars that she doesn’t like is the grease that gets stuck under her nails. “I don’t mind getting dirty, but when I cook it grosses me out when I still have grease under my nails,” she said. One thing Wilby said is an advantage for women is that they have smaller hands. “We have smaller hands so we can work at smaller clearances.” She jokingly
added, “I don’t know how some guys are able to do these things with their meaty hands.” According to Lucko, women think differently than men and it shows in the shop. “Female students are more technical and tactical when approaching problems and finding solutions,” she said. “Aesthetics is also a point with them. Is the car clean of fingerprints? Is the seat in the same place? Do things look correct and function correctly?” The support they got from their friends and families was important for following their grease-drenched dreams. One thing the girls all agreed on was their disdain for “trailer queens,”or cars that have been fixed up nicely, but don’t run. These cars must be transported by trailer from car show to show, and while they are pretty, they are effectively useless. “What’s the point of a pretty car that you can’t drive?” asked Wilby. That logic seems to follow the girls as they like to work with their hands and don’t mind getting dirty to do what needs to be done. Pretty, but definitely not useless.
Kien Thay checks the measurements on crankshaft journals while rebuilding an engine.
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RUNNING
ON METTLE
Sarah Barker runs during the early morning in one of the many trails located inside Griffith Park.
Story by Monique A. LeBleu — Photos by Matthew Chan Sarah Barker is not one to be trifled with. Although quick to set boundaries, the native upstate New Yorker disarms with grace, openness and warmth, and has a youthful countenance and the million dollar smile of an actress that belies the learned filmmaker, sound technician and soldier strength within. An instructor in the Television & Radio department at Pasadena City College, Barker teaches four courses. Fiercely protective of her students, Barker sets the record straight on what it truly means to be a strong, forthright, and an accomplished doer — both in life and in her teaching and administration — and all after surviving a would-be shattering and life-changing injury. A veteran of the Gulf War, Barker’s tough interior was brought on by the strengthening of the exterior, due to her intensive and grueling training for Desert Storm that resulted in an all-consuming recovery. Already an athlete and a runner, and with a goal in sight to teach, Barker joined the 82nd Division Air Borne of the United States Army in order to gain the G.I. Bill for her education. It was there where she shattered her ankle, earning her a zero discharge rating — but not without a fight. The injury took place in a “Fit to Win” obstacle course. Falling off a balance beam in the course, Barker felt the injury but wanted to avoid getting “smoked” — or additional physical exercise as punishment for not achieving. “It was very ‘Full Metal Jacket,’” Barker said, Page 10 Spotlight 2014
referring to the Stanley Kubrick Vietnam War film. As the drill sergeant continued with the routine digs of “you’re a pussy!” and “suck it up!” and with the aid of her assigned buddy, Barker got on with it, enduring the remaining three miles of the training course on what turned out to be an ankle-bone that had continued to crush during the trek. After immediate surgery, along with six months in a suspended body cast and another six months of physical therapy, Barker was not only able to walk again, but was soon able to do what might not have been possible to do again — run. “My right ankle is [now] made of metal,” Barker said, pointing to a seven inch span from her ankle bone to below her lower calf. Barker ultimately sued the Army, she said, which resulted in her obtaining the full G.I. Bill. With it, she earned a MFA in Film Production from Chapman University. Now, after 20 years, Barker continues to pursue her long-standing passion. A barefoot “Road Runner,” she often runs with Vibrams or “five finger shoes,” where she navigates trails like those of Griffith Park in preparation for half marathons, which she participates in bi-annually. In addition to some local marathons, she travels the country for half marathon events in Seattle, San Francisco, Nashville and Rochester. Since her full recovery, Barker trains several times a week for these events on her “mostly metal”
ankle. When not running or training, Barker spends some of her remaining time dedicated to being a filmmaker and documentarian. A writer and director, Barker was an undergrad in creative writing and an actress in New York before joining her now husband, Bruce, also a film documentarian, in Los Angeles. Together, they formed Right After This and New Pilgrims Productions.
As the drill sergeant continued with the routine digs of “you’re a pussy!” and “suck it up!” ... Barker got on with it. Coming from an acting background in theater while in New York, Barker also had a career in television in Los Angeles, where she worked freelance for seven years during summers as a sound and dialogue editor and simultaneously worked as an adjunct professor teaching speech and English at Platt College. After being awarded a paid intern-
ship with the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences in 2004, Barker went on to work for notable post production houses, such as Echo Sound and sound design veterans The Steele Brothers, then of Wild Sync Sound. Now currently the faculty adviser for PCC’s Lancer Radio, Barker executes many responsibilities. While overseeing the Lancer Radio Program, she also manages the back end of the website she created for Lancer Radio, making the current on-the-air program recordings available for online streaming. Barker stresses that her goal is to impress upon students the important role that digital content now plays in broadcast media. Barker's students are quick to sing her praise for just this reason. “I've had five classes with Barker and she's an amazing teacher,” said Dot Cannon, student and Lancer Radio host. “Her ideas go beyond just coursework to emerging trends in the media field.” Student engineer and Lancer Radio board operator Gina Harris reflected fondly on the initial course she took with Barker. “The first thing I noticed was her colorful language,” said Harris with a wry smile. “And she is all over you about learning your formatics — the stuff that is important in the branding of your show. She gives you the tools you need in order to succeed. She wants her students to succeed!” Not one to spend what little spare time she has on current television, focusing instead on her business and her marathon training, Barker said that she limits her television watching to public television and her own listening to public broadcasting radio stations such as KCRW and KPFK. To date, Barker still praises the
Barker makes sure to warm up by performing her pre-run stretches.
Army’s exceptional medical care as the reason for her successful recovery and her return as an athlete, applauding the three hours of daily physical therapy made mandatory in the six months recovery after her surgery. “I’m not in pain at all,” Barker said. “During weather changes it is only a little achy or stiff.” In Barker, the Army certainly honed a toughened, but not calloused, “life” warrior who soldiers on.
Barker wears her Vibrams during trail runs in Griffith Park. It took her a few months to become acclimated to the “five finger” shoes. Arriving on a Monday morning at 7:30 a.m. on the grounds of Griffith Park. Spotlight 2014 Page 11
/infocus
G IVI N G B AC K Photo Story by Matthew Chan
Samuel Rojas, also known as “CRAOE” by his friends, is a PCC student and aspiring artist. Inspired to give back and donate something to the low-income, urban neighborhood where he grew up as a child, Rojas used his own money and time to create a beautiful mural the residents of Cypress Park could appreciate. With the owner’s permission, Rojas and his friend and fellow artist Frank Solano started the neighborhood art piece on the wall of Michelle Party Supply on Nov. 16, 2013. Solano took on the job of creating a large monarch butterfly while Rojas completed the rest of the 23-footlong wall with hummingbirds and flowers. Rojas finally completed the wall after using 30-plus cans of paint and a few quarts of house paint. He turned a blank and drab wall with peeling paint into a work of art in the span of six days. At the end of it all, Rojas has created something that his old neighborhood can call their own and be proud of for years to come.
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COMING OUT OF THE DARKNESS Story by Kelly Rodriguez Murillo — Photos by Teresa Mendoza
In the past, Tamara “Tammy” Arida frequented gas stations to seek out child prostitutes to help them find support and guidance at the Children of the Night organization.
Tamara “Tammy” Arida sat quietly as she drove a shy little girl to her new home. The child wore a somber expression and was cautious of Arida’s good will. Her sunken eyes implicitly described her endless nights wandering for refuge and safety. Her minimal responses reflected the pain of being betrayed by her mother. The girl’s mother kicked her out of the house because she caught the girl’s stepfather having sex with her and accused her of trying to make a pass at her new husband. Signs of this child’s abuse resonated deeply with Arida, since she too had felt the mortification of being defiled. “In the 70s you automatically went with your mother so [mine] had married a man who was sexually abusive to me and physically to her,” Arida said. The parallel of her abuse and the little girl she aided agonized her. “When the mother realized that her husband was having sex with her daughter, she blamed the child as if the child had one, seduced the adult, and two, was holding the child accountable for her own abuse,” Tammy explained. “She victimized her husband rather her daughter.” Arida, 42, a sociology instructor at Pasadena City College, has been committed to being a voice for molested children
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since the age of 16. “Everyone is different but I did not allow what happened to me to consume me,” Arida said. “I chose the path to talk. If you keep something secret it will evolve into a burden. I did not hold back, I am not a victim or a survivor. I am a whole woman and I will not let what happened to me as a child affect my life.” Arida has made it her mission to spread awareness and prevention to children and adults for 20 years now. She collaborates with many organizations like Child Help, Children’s Safe, Free Arts For Abused Children, and especially Children of the Night (COTN), a rehabilitation and non-profit organization that helps children who have been involved in prostitution or have been sexually abused. Many child prostitutes suffer from mental illness, according to COTN’s Dr. Lois Lee, the organization’s president. “You’re dealing with children who are perceived on doing the lowest thing you can do on the street,“ said Lee on the company’s website. “Compared to being a thief or drug dealing, many of the children who do this are usually mentally ill; showing side effects of psychotics, schizophrenia, drug addiction, alcoholism, all kinds of problems that affect the
percentage of the success rate.“ COTN has an 80 percent success rate and has managed to save and recuperate 10,000 kids from the ravages of prostitution, according to the organization. “I chose to get involved with Children of the Night because of their tenacity and their ability to teach people compassion,” said Arida. “This organization is not only accessible to kids, but they are without judgment,” Arida added. “This is such a gift for children who have been sexually exploited. The stigmas and the taboos are endless for this population. The shame, the guilt — that maybe played a role in it, even though they’re children. … It’s unmatched for these kids.” Arida’s own experience overcoming her trauma has allowed her to encourage others who have been molested to come forward and speak out to prevent further abuse. “I wanted to put a face on child abuse so children aren’t carrying the burden of being a victim,” Arida said. A child who is the victim of prolonged sexual abuse usually develops low self-esteem, a feeling of worthlessness and an abnormal or distorted view of sex, according to Arida. The child may become withdrawn and distrustful of adults and can even become suicidal. Part of Arida’s approach is to help victims of abuse deal with the shame they live with. “We shame child abuse and make children accountable for their abuse,” she said. “Yes, we’ve mastered not telling a child ‘it’s not your fault you were abused.’ We allow them to carry the shame.” As a sociology instructor, it is Arida’s job to give students examples of which scenarios build and separate social groups that transform social life. Nowadays, she focuses on what students can do to
prevent child abuse. Teaching her students the many problems that may be the consequences of molestation or neglecting of children is one way to do that, so she has incorporated COTN into her curriculum. “[The organization] brought us a topic in the class and allowed us to be aware. I didn’t even know what it was [and] didn’t even know about child prostitution,” said Maria Capiral, a student who took Arida’s class. “She encourages students to get out of the Pasadena community and to be involved by giving extra credit,” Capiral added. “[She also helps] us [stay] motivated by fundraising and encouraging us to work together with [different] communities to bring light to this problem.” Focusing on her own daughter these days, all Arida can do is fundraise with her classes and bring awareness every chance she has. “Now that I have [my daughter] I’m bordering crazy,” she joked. “All these years of working in the field of abuse changes your paradigm. I’m protective — you never turn it off, you’re acutely aware all the time,” Arida said. “If I see people taking pictures somewhere, I’m careful that they’re not getting [my daughter] in the picture or anything that looks suspicious.” Arida fundraises and raises awareness whenever she finds the opportunity. She and her students have raised about $10,000 overall. Many of her students have also followed her footsteps by volunteering for COTN. “I want people to know that no matter what anyone has done or what has been done to someone, everyone has the right to be respected and safe,” Arida said.
Arida continues to actively contribute to her community by collectng a bounty of toys at her home to donate to local orphanages.
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SURVIVING AS AN ARTIST
Story / Photo by Benjamin Simpson
“KALACHAKRA” Courtesy photo
David Em got one of his first breaks as an artist digging in the trash. But not just any trash, the trash of a plastics company in Orange County. “Why was I digging in a trash bin in Orange County in the middle of the 70s?” Em asked. It wasn’t the stereotypical “starving artist” looking for food. Instead, he was looking for art. “I was very interested in industrial fabrication as a tool to make art,” he said. “A lot of the detritus that came out of these things were marvelous in and of themselves. So there was this sort of Duchampian thing going on, some of these pieces could stand on their own, and some of them were inspirations for places it could take me.” That was when a man came out asking what he was doing, so Em told him. It turned out that he was the owner of the company, and rather than castigating Em for trespassing, he said he was interested in the garbage as well, and hired Em to work in the factory. Not the usual way to get a job, but an interesting illustration of how sometimes the process of making art can lead to the unexpected. Em said that in the tough world of art there are two things that keep an artist afloat: a drive to make something, and the people that help along the way. The idea of the lonely artist, toiling away on his own, is not the way that most people work. It is the group, the inspirations, that collective will that helps along an artist. How has Em survived in the art world for more than 40 years? Well it began in high school. “I grew up not thinking I had any art in me,” said Em inside PCC’s new Center for the Arts building. “My mother had [artistic]
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ability. She went to The Maryland Art Institute, and was actually the youngest graduate in their history. But, [she’s from] another generation — she gave that up for family.” It was a visit to an Alexander Calder exhibition at the Guggenheim that changed his perspective on what art could be. Em realized that as a 13-year-old boy, he could not build the huge sculptures that Calder was making. But in an alcove, there were small birds made by Calder out of coffee cans. “We had coffee cans at home — a Yuban coffee can sitting on the kitchen table,” he said. “I made the connection that I could do that. It looked like so much fun. And that turned on some sort of weird switch on in my head.” It was in the 1970s that Em made his name in the art world, David Em helps students in his Computbut it was not in any er Assisted Drawing and Painting class traditional art medium. in the Center for the Arts building. Along with the
Courtesy photo Em started creating computergenerated artwork in the 1970s.
new plastics and how they could create new points of view and directions, he also saw the future of computers. While many in the art world looked down on computers as a way to make art, Em was exploring the medium. Along with the help of rich investors putting the money forward to build the computers, Em, 20 years before Pixar, was one of the first to build a 3-D dancing bug in 1977. “You have to have a lot of will, that is one thing,” he said. “It is very discouraging. If you look at art in general, there are these horrific statistics. All these people go to art school and get their Masters in Fine Arts or whatever, and how many of them are still standing five years later? The number has shrunk very small. Go 10 years that number has shrunk even smaller. Within 15 years you are down to one to three percent [that] are still doing it. It is just too hard.” “I run into people I knew as a kid and they are still doing it and I feel pride in them, that they are still doing it,” Em said. “I knew what it took to keep going in the face of all that adversity. Most people just don’t have the intestinal fortitude to go forward with it. That is a big part of it.” A big part of surviving as an artist is connections. If it wasn’t for the owner of the plastics company, Em could never have moved forward in the way he did. If it wasn’t for the rich investors funding the creation of huge computers in the 1970s, he could never have created any of the computer art that gave him the opportunity to create his computer driven art and become the Artist in Residence at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. “It’s not something you can do on your own,” he said. “Although maybe you think you are, you actually have to have a whole set of sympathetic spirits that are operating on many different levels. Every single thing I did, every step of the way required other people who said, ‘Yeah, I understand what you are trying to do.’ To get to that one person, there were probably 999 who didn’t see it. There were times when enough people say you are crazy, can’t be done, it will never be done, not in our lifetime, etc.” There was one other thing that Em didn’t mention on how to survive as an artist, but it is evident when he talks about art and looks at technology: it is his obvious love of building something new, creating something different, and discussing how to make it happen. With a glow in his eyes he pointed out the new touch screen monitors in the arts building. “You can do things with these that are just amazing, what I could have done with this 30 years ago…”
“QED” Courtesy photo
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SHREDDING
SPLIT ENDS
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Story by Stephanie Sanchez Photos by Daniel Valencia
(Left) Joseph Rojas, lead singer and guitarist performing at The Other Door. (Top right) Jamal Abercrombia on guitar, (middle right) Kevin Vasquez on bass, (bottom left) Steve Rodriguez on drums rehearsing at California State University of Los Angeles.
In a small intimate bar filled with the smell of smoke and alcohol, the scene was of darkness and reflected bits of bright, colorful lighting, gently hitting the bar. Anticipation hung heavy in the air as the crowd waited anxiously for the band to reveal themselves. The band was set to perform for a small crowd, but they played as if there were thousands. A handful of fans chatted excitedly before falling into a hush at the first chord of the opening song of Split Ends’ set. Steve Rodriguez, drummer in the band Split Ends and former Pasadena City College student, found his dream was not too farfetched or a mere fantasy. It was something he really wanted and could possibly make a reality. His plan would take dedication, passion, patience, and perseverance and that is exactly what he is willing to put in to his work. Rodriguez wants to be involved in the music industry by any means possible, whether he’s playing on a stage or even just working behind-the-scenes. “I took a music fundamentals class [at PCC] and a class on business of the music industry,” he explained. “It was then that I knew that I still had to pursue my dream of being in a band and writing records or at least try to be behind-the-scenes of the whole thing.” Now managing, running, promoting, and drumming with an open mind and an optimistic attitude, 25-year-old Rodriguez is keeping the dream alive. “There are so many things that come into play when you‘re on the road,” Rodriguez wrote in an email. “Trying to stay fed, and getting to where we need to be.” With their garage/grunge sound, Split Ends is a four-person band starring 22-yearold Joseph Rojas doing his thing on guitar and vocals, Kevin Vasquez, 24, rocking the bass, and newest member Jamal Abercrombia, 23, shredding on lead guitar. “We finally got to jamming one day and we got to grooving and it felt righteous, so we just kept jamming,” Rodriguez wrote. Like any band, with the musicians comes a persona attached. But don’t let the name Split Ends fool you. The name stands for more than just an appearance. “Split Ends is tricky to describe. People hear ‘split ends’ and their thoughts go straight to hair, so I guess we stand for bitchin’ hairdos right?” Rodriguez joked. “I guess Split Ends stands for the different musical palates that we each have. We come together as a band and we branch out and reach out for styles and pieces that we can implement into our music. Kind of like nerves in the brain, they split at the ends, then meet again somewhere down the line.” “Our song ‘Broken Record’ is a perfect example of that kind of creative writing process, as far as our sound goes,” said Vasquez. “Many different elements that each of the band members have been influenced by are incorporated into the song.” “I just think they are great, I’ve been with them since the beginning,” said Courtney Luengo, a fan of the band. “The sound is really, really fresh. They don’t sound like any
other band.” Split Ends doesn’t want to just make pleasant noise; they want to return to the roots of the classic rock and roll era of Led Zeppelin, The Who, and Pink Floyd. They aspire to be like all the huge bands in the 60s and 70s. They want to make the primal kind of music that makes you live in the moment, that makes you want to “drive faster” or “open up a [mosh] pit.” With their raspy underground garage sound, their music is like no other out there. “We try not to copy any bands nor copy what’s fashionable in music at the moment,” Vasquez said. “There are so many bands out there right now that rock pretty hard, but I feel that most bands are stuck in the same box,” Rodriguez wrote. “The indie scene is going hard right now, but I think people forgot about the roots.” With such different taste in sound, music, style and interests, the band comes together and draws in energy, motivation, and most importantly inspiration from different icons in the music industry. Their influences range from Michael Jackson to the epic and legendary heavy metal sound of Metallica. “Anything that sounded awesome to me, I tried to learn it,” Vasquez said. “I usually listen to a lot of different bands and sort of let the ideas come naturally.”
“I must have my lucky rubber ducky on my bass amp, otherwise the show might be a train wreck.” — Kevin Vasquez “It’s like everything comes in a full circle, when you think about it,” Rodriguez wrote. “Our favorite bands had their own favorite bands that inspired them to be huge artists, so in return we are inspired to start our own band to inspire the masses to keep the music scene alive — to hopefully inspire other musicians to pursue their own musical aspirations.” Self-described as “unfashionable outsiders playing outside the box,” this band has a diverse sound. Wearing casual clothes, the guys keep it simple with jeans, plain shirts and Vans. “I wear the same black jeans and red wrist band for every show,” said Vasquez. Vasquez is superstitious and feels that without these crucial items, the performance would be total chaos. When the time comes to play, Vasquez is quick to the floor and adds one vital part of his gear to the stage: a yellow rubber duck. “I must have my lucky rubber ducky on my bass amp, otherwise the show might be a train wreck,” Vasquez added. They don’t mind what people call them or how they are described, as long as the message of their music connects with their audience. “We’re that band that makes you feel like
running [free] through the woods,” Rodriguez wrote. “We bring that rock and roll sound and we can still make you feel like doing a little dance. We do what we know and we do what feels right and I hope people can connect with that.” One thing all the band members have in common and seem to feed off of is paying it forward. If all else fails, paying it forward seems to be something this band is really striving for. “We just want people to try to connect with the music and to forget about all their problems while they listen to the tunes because we can all relate to different situations in life that we’ve all been put through,” wrote Rodriguez. “I mean life is the biggest joke and that joke is on all of us, so we write songs about it. … Being able to help someone through the music that you make is the greatest feeling you could experience,” Rodriguez elaborated. “It’s like putting a stamp on something special that, maybe and hopefully, will stand the test of time after you are long gone,” said Vasquez. The band’s agenda is to make their music relatable and easy to process. They want their music to transcend into something greater than what is going on in someone’s life. The sound produced by the band works as the glue that holds the fans and the group together. “Well naturally our fans mean everything to us as a band,” Rodriguez wrote. “As cliché as it sounds, they are the lifeline of the band. Without the fans we’d still be playing in my garage.” Currently in search of a record label and management team, they know they need to get their name out and sound heard. With a short time of existence as a whole, Split Ends has already had their fair share of live gigs and paid shows. “We appreciate all the fans that show us support by listening to our tunes online or come out to our live shows,” wrote Rodriguez. “They are the oxygen to our fire.” From the old devoted fans to the new, Split Ends is more than a band, it is a bond that brings people together. “Kevin, that’s my friend since high school. Kevin!” shouted Jonathan Ortiz. “I saw them once before, but not with the new guy [Abercrombia], they sound better.” “This was my first time seeing their show, and I was amazed,” said Danny Sanchez at their show on Dec. 4 at The Other Door. “The new guitarist was amazing! I really liked it.” The process of creating this sort of escape takes time and work needs to be done in order to get the music out there and into people’s headphones and home speakers. With many things in the making, the fans can expect new recordings and material soon. “Well, hopefully we can finish recording this album by the end of the year to kick off the New Year with new shows and our new line up,” Rodriguez wrote. “And we’re also working on saving up to start buying merchandise and hopefully maybe a website.”
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A MAN MARKED FOR LIFE Ex-convict struggles to seek redemption through education Story by Emily Chang-Chien — Photo by Concepcion Gonzalez A middle-aged gentleman stared in disbelief as his classmates grumbled about their “so-called miserable lives.” If only they knew about the demons that have afflicted him for over 20 years. Jeffrey Koski has been a student at Pasadena City College since 2008. He’s completed over 170 units, and has earned Associates degrees in communication arts, gender, ethnicity, and multicultural studies, kinesiology, and social and behavioral sciences. Koski epitomizes the concept of the lifelong learner: a passionate and motivated scholar whose pursuit for self-improvement sees no end. But contrary to his studious disposition, Koski harbors a dark past. He was sentenced to prison on federal charges in 1991 for the possession of unregistered firearms and conspiracy to transfer said weapons. The stigma of being labeled as an ex-convict has always plagued Koski. “It’s just another negative thing, a road block in your mind that says people don’t want you,” Koski said, scowling. “There is this thing that you start believing that people aren’t going to give you a chance.” According to PCC Campus Police Sgt. Bill Abernathie, when it comes to employment, certain hurdles may be present for convicted felons. “Generally, you have to disclose the basic information and it’s up to the employer if they use that as a gauge to determine the suitability of the individual for whatever positions they are applying for,” Abernathie said. Now 46, Koski continues to exhibit rigid military posture — despite the presence of a potbelly — a discipline that he adapted from his naval training early on in life. “[There are] many jobs I can’t do,” Koski said. “I wouldn’t be able to become a bank teller, and according to a cab company, I
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can’t even drive a cab because I’m dealing with the public. ... It’s very hard to get a job once you get these little marks on your record.” Although 20-plus years have passed, Koski is haunted by the repercussions of his misdeed.
“Give people a chance to reintegrate. Supposedly that’s the whole idea when you’re doing your time for society,” Koski said, lingering on the thought. “Isn’t that where it’s supposed to end? Do you have to carry that weight all the time? This is the tough part of it all.” “If [an employer] finds out later, you get fired, and you’re the dishonest guy — you’re still being the bad guy,” Koski said, grimacing. “But when you’re honest, your paper gets balled up when you leave that door and it finds a [trash bin], and that really sucks.” Feeling an everlasting pressure to prove his worth to society, Koski continues to relentlessly pursue higher education. “I can get these five degrees to show my determination to become something, but this thing that occurred over 20 years ago is going to block me, still to this day,” he said, annoyed. Describing himself as a man who walks around with a “big capital ‘F’ (for felon) on his record, Koski cannot help but feel bitter about his predicament. “For [anyone else], you can become anything. For me, I can’t,”
Courtesy photo Identification card of Jeffrey Koski during his enlistment in the U.S. Navy a year before he was incarcerated.
he said, disheartened. “There are limiters to things I can become and when you are someone who feels that he is intelligent, that’s tough to deal with.” Echoing this sentiment, art history instructor Debashish Banerji spoke highly of Koski as someone who shows higher than average intelligence and creativity. “Jeffrey was a good student in all my classes, always getting an A and showing a lot of interest in the subjects taught,” Banerji said. “He spoke to me often outside of class on matters related to art, Asian culture and philosophy and I found him always deeply interested and reasonable. Later, he helped me in some of my art related projects. I find him to be conscientious, hard working, creative and intelligent.” As he sat ruminating about his past, Koski recalled the day ominous fog shrouded his vicinity while he was transported to the Federal Correctional Institution in Lompoc, CA. He recollected the faint outline of a fence adorned with barbed wire. The fog of that fateful day would follow him for the rest of his life. “When you get picked up, there’s this big unknown,” he said. “You’re in the back of this car and you know you’re screwed. You don’t know how long, you don’t know where you’re going.” Deeming it “follies of youth,” Koski recounted his version of the events leading up to his arrest. In his early 20s, Koski was fresh out of the Navy. After his four-year commitment, Koski was adept at handling weapons and found himself working at Turner’s Outdoorsman, a sporting goods store that specializes in fishing and hunting equipment. While working at Turner’s, Koski met a number of interesting characters. “Through working at that gun shop, I had made mention to somebody that I knew was doing some illegal things,” Koski said. “I had made mention that [my friend] had some silencers. I did know that they were illegal to possess, what I didn’t know about [was] a law that’s called conspiracy.” A conspiracy may exist when two or more people use legal means to accomplish an illegal result, or to use illegal means to achieve something that itself is lawful. In Koski’s situation, the former was the case. A grand jury indicted Koski on charges of conspiracy for facilitating the sale of firearms at his residence to prospective purchasers. Koski served as the broker and negotiated the sale of the silencers. He also took receipt of gun parts for the purpose of arranging the manufacture of silencers, court records show. “Apparently that gentleman that I relayed this information to, he got in trouble with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms and he turned into what they called a confidential informant,” Koski said, widening his eyes. “He calls me up one day and I don’t remember the exact conversation or anything, but he must have said, ‘I need to get a silencer, do you still have that contact person?’” The contact person Koski referred to was a friend and a former Turner’s Outdoorsman colleague. “I don’t have many close friends,” Koski said. “Those people that are that close I protect and hopefully
they will do the same for me.” At the time, Koski said his friend had fallen out of his job at Kaiser Permanente because of a newfound addiction to codeine and other mild-altering substances. Unable to get out of bed or shower, Koski was concerned about his friend. When the friend was in need of money, Koski lent him $1,000, he said. After, another attempt at borrowing money, Koski concluded that he had no more money to lend. The silencer deal became a way for Koski to help his dear friend, he said. “I didn’t get a penny out of this whole thing,” Koski said sternly. “I wasn’t in it for money. I did it for a friend, and it basically has altered my life 100 percent.” Upon the day of the transaction, Koski said a second man who claimed to be a pawnshop dealer accompanied the confidential informant. The man casually strolled into Koski’s home with an opened car of beer. “When the confidential informant showed up with another guy, I was extremely uncomfortable,” Koski said. “They made the transaction in my home. That wasn’t supposed to have happened and I let it happen; it was supposed to happen outside of my home.” After consulting various sources, Koski said he found out several hours later that the two men were a confidential informant and federal agent, respectively. Koski was later arrested and convicted of conspiracy. He was sentenced to 30 months in prison. The trip to the Federal Correctional Institution in Lompoc, CA, was long and grueling while impenetrable and frightening fog cloaked the environment. With a slight smile, Koski compared his arrival to a scene from “Gladiator.” “There’s the door to the arena in the first scene where they’re just standing there and they don’t know what’s on the other side of the door and the guy pees himself,” he said. “And then that door opens. You have no idea what’s on the other side of this door, what’s waiting for you.” To Koski’s surprise, the living arrangement of FCI Lompoc was very similar to the barracks he once resided in while he trained at Long Beach Naval Station. Acclimating himself to this new environment came easily. Prior to his transfer to Lompoc, Koski diligently researched programs that allowed inmates the ability to pursue higher education. “I made this idea up in my mind, ‘You’re not going to steal my time,’” Koski said. And indeed, Koski seized the educational opportunities FCI Lompoc offered. At the time, the institution hosted distance programs provided by Chapman University and Allan Hancock College. He simultaneously also became a computer class instructor and taught AutoCAD, a software application for 2D and 3D computer-aided design, earning 23 cents an hour. Despite the pleasant conditions of the institution, Koski found sobering moments that revealed his isolation from society. “I wish I had my time and years back,” he said with a sigh. “Watching the hawks fly over sometimes was kind of hard because you realize, wow, they can cross the fence — that barrier — that easy and they can fly right out, and you can’t.” Koski questioned the purpose of serving time in jail. “Give people a chance to reintegrate. Supposedly that’s the whole idea when you’re doing your time for society,” Koski said, lingering on the thought. “Isn’t that where it’s supposed to end? Do you have to carry that weight all the time? This is the tough part of it all.” Although handicaps have impeded Koski’s adult life, he aspires to transfer to the Ostrow School of Dentistry of the University of Southern California with the intent to become a certified hygienist. In time, he also hopes to become an instructor at PCC to give back to the school that has enriched him so much. Although the feasibility to accomplish his goals is uncertain, Koski remains optimistic. “Don’t quit, don’t ever quit,” he urged. “Don’t ever give your dreams up. You might have to shift a little bit in what you’re going to become, but don’t ever stop. Don’t succumb to life.”
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IN A MUSICAL STATE OF MIND Story by Joshua Gandela Photo by Mary Nurrenbern
George Fry plays his electric guitar in Eaton Canyon, a place he goes to clear his mind and ground himself.
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The cool, cozy sounds of improvised jazz chords and melodic licks filled the room as George Fry picked the strings of his acoustic guitar with precision and lightning speed, effortlessly communicating musical lines from his mind to his fingertips. At first, it was as if he was providing background music for the conversation. But soon it was clear that he was simply expressing himself the best he could, through music. A self-taught musician, former Pasadena City College student George Fry has collected a wealth of knowledge in the field of music. He shares his gift on stage and off, as both a performer and a teacher. When he was in the seventh grade, his dad had a guitar lying around the house. It was a right-handed Gibson L6-S, which he learned to play despite being left-handed. He instantly got hooked on it after learning some standard blues tunes by Ray Charles. His early music education came from books with transcriptions of his favorite songs, as well as tabs, a simpler form of written music for those unable to read notes. His musical abilities extend to piano, bass, and drums as well. “I like classical jazz artists, hip hop artists, rappers, classic rock,” he said. “You know, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, anything.” After high school, Fry studied music at PCC. But whether musicians are self-taught or they study with the best studio musician, Fry believes true growth with an instrument depends on your own hard work and faith. “You can only go so far beyond the point that you’re willing to take it,” he said. “With a teacher, without a teacher, basically if you’re willing to learn it on your own you can be your own teacher.” One of his college peers, Aleks Peck, agrees with this piece of advice. “George was my friend and teacher in a way,” Peck said. “He basically taught me how to learn without a teacher. You just got to
find your own voice.” It wasn’t until he dropped out of school that Fry really became hungry for success. With a determined attitude, he applied himself in every way he could think of, from garage bands to recording sessions. Currently, Fry is a member of an original rock band called the Silver Water Sons from Silver Lake. His fellow band member and former PCC student Dave Wylan feels lucky to be playing with him. He describes Fry as “one of the best musicians to come out of PCC.” One of their more recent shows was at the Old Town Pub here in Pasadena, where Fry gave an electrifying performance. A group of fans commented on the show. “It got funk’d up in here!” a girl shouted over the music, comparing their sound to the previous band. “This was my first time seeing them,” her friend said. “I had a good time.” “George Fry. Frying hot!” a man said enthusiastically with a drink in his hand. “He killed it on the solos.” Inexperienced musicians often get nervous on stage, which leads to mistakes during performances. Fry doesn’t consider any notes as mistakes, but as new discoveries. Other ways he demonstrates his abilities in the professional world are playing in a gospel band at Agape Church and getting hired to play at bar shows, events, and weddings. In addition, he tries to give back by teaching privately. Even with all the projects he has going on, Fry manages to find time to record some of his own compositions. Fry is always thinking about music, even when he’s not listening to it. “I practice all the time in my mind,” he said. “I practice scales and notes in my mind. If you can do it mentally, you can do it physically.” Fry’s wisdom of the music world is something to appreciate and can be applied to any craft. “I’d say train your ear. Listen. Don’t close off different styles of music because they don’t sound right,” he said.“Everybody has something to say whether it’s good or bad. You can still enjoy the fact that it’s art. It’s creation by human beings.”
REACHING FOR CULTURE Story by Angelica Reyes — Photo by Concepcion Gonzalez With a warm spirit and a bright smile, Silvia Villanueva started talking about the way dancing to Aztec music makes her feel. “It’s far beyond just dancing,” she said. “It is a spiritual connection. Every beat of the drum and step I make makes me feel like I’m part of something amazing. The energy that is transmitted amongst the dancers during the Aztec ceremony is something that takes me to another level, the circle dance is connected to the cosmos. That’s what makes it special.” Looking back to her teenage years, Silvia Villanueva, now an English instructor at Pasadena City College, was rebellious, lost and uninterested in school. Her reasons for being so disconnected from school were that she didn’t like the way the teaching system worked. “I always felt like there was a hierarchy. The teachers had special treatment towards certain students,” she said, referring to students who were in sports and other elite clubs. Her lack of interest reflected in her grades and as a result, she barely graduated from high school. Growing up in Baldwin Park, and being Mexican-American, she felt proud of her heritage, but disconnected. The only thing she was sure of was that one day she wanted to help people, especially from minority groups. While working on her masters in English at California State University, Los Angeles, she got the news that she was pregnant and that instantly changed her life. Villanueva knew she wanted things to be different for her daughter. Villanueva realized that her daughter wouldn’t have much interest in her culture if she personally didn’t get involved in Mexican-influenced activities. But with her busy life as a mom, wife, and career woman, she didn’t feel she had much time to attempt joining groups that were influenced by Mexican culture. She started off by signing her daughter up for an after school program where she would receive cultural teachings and partake in different activities. But soon she realized that even the activities weren’t truly based on Mexican culture. “That program had already established a Euro-Western mentality,” Villanueva said.
With great disappointment, she removed her daughter from the program. Shortly thereafter, she heard about dancing lessons that were being offered at a nearby park in her neighborhood and was instantly intrigued. Her daughter also developed an instant interest in Danza Azteca. For Villanueva, being able to dance to that music meant so much more. “I felt like I was losing my identity, with work and being a mom and a wife,” she said. “I felt like I was always taking care of everyone but myself.” In 2009, she went back to CSULA to obtain her masters in Mexican Heritage Studies. She incorporates culture into her class lectures, and her students love that they get to learn about themselves and other cultures. Two students of hers joined Danza Azteca after they saw what Danza did for her. “Walking into this class, I never thought I would learn as much as I did about my culture and my identity,” said Samuel Ortega, one of her students. Kimberly Garcia found herself in the same place as Ortega when she first went into Villanueva’s class, but now she says she has “a deeper understanding.” Danza ceremonies make her feel a “spiritual connection.” “Latino youth has a definite disconnect with their culture,” said student Bryan Avila. “I had never really had any type of connection with my Hispanic heritage before this class. Professor Silvia’s passion towards her culture has inspired me.”
Silvia Villanueva is dancing at the Mexica New Year ceremony on March 10, 2013.
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create/inspire