“I want my pearl and it’s got my name on it… and it is!”
Carletta Jackson
#AndItIs #ChucosFamily
I grew up in the Nicks, Nickerson Gardens in Watts, CA with no parents. When I first walked into Chuco’s Justice Center, I was a custodian, I swept the floor and took out the trash the building at the old Chuco’s in Inglewood. Now, I do anything and everything I can for our young people-clown on them, security, mentorship, court support, recruit young people, TLC, socio-emotional support, whatever they need.
Last year, a student told me that he would never have graduated if I didn’t show up to their house to bring them to and from school. My role at YJC is “Peacebuilder,” so I’m here to build…peace (duh). I love my job because at FREE LA High School because to me failure is not an option, and I refuse to let our students or my people fail. Nothing is too overwhelming when you stay in your lane.
They say a woman can’t raise a man, but here I am. I’m a single mother and my son Timothy means everything to me. It takes a village to raise a child, and having Tim in our Chuco’s family has been amazing. The highlight of my year is FREE LA High Graduation, when the students who graduate shower me with nothing but love. I know that I’m needed right here, at Chuco’s Justice Center.
“The system is not broken. It works the way it was intended to. We have nothing to fix, only things to dismantle, things to repurpose, for our communities to thrive.”
Phal Sok
I am a product of state violence in Southeast Asia. My parents met in a refugee camp after crossing a border laced with land mines. In 1981, we came to the US when I was just 61 days old. My parents soon divorced and I settled in Long Beach with my dad, my mother never returned. My dad was old, illiterate, and disabled. We subsisted on public assistance since he could not find work.
When I was 16, my dad passed away from cancer and I ended up in the streets. At 17, I was tried as an adult, after I was pushed out of school. By 18, I was in state prison with a 23 year eight month prison term. With the passing of SB260, I became eligible for early parole 16 years in; but because I wasn’t born here I did not get to go home on my release date. I was taken by ICE for deportation. That is just the beginning of my struggle. There is much left to share.
Today, I organize with the YJC because of the intersection of these systems. I labor to resource our communities and build support structures that incarceration cannot provide, to bring real peace and true public safety to our streets. I bring the immigrant’s rights perspective into spaces where that is often missing and forgotten. Through this work and the YJC – the only organization to offer me its full platform – I was granted a pardon in 2018 which closed my deportation case. Organizing kept me here against all odds.
I envision YJC in a world where migration is nothing more than moving, where we are a hub bringing the riches of all cultures to the world.
“I gained a critical analysis of what had happened to me and so many other kids in my neighborhood. I learned that I had the power to change the world around me.”
Gloria Gonzalez
I was 11 years old, in sixth grade. And I was scared each day during lunch.
A bully cut in front of me in the lunch line everyday. He was an 8 th grader, almost six feet tall. I was even shorter than I am now – only about 4 and a half feet tall. It seemed like he was specifically targeting me because he knew he could get away with it, he knew I would be scared.
After about a month of harassment, I built up the courage to do something. The next time he cut in front of me, I said, “you need to stop.” He was angry and embarrassed. He threatened to hurt me. Hours later, in the middle of the school courtyard, he came for his revenge.
The bully swung to hit me. I stumbled onto the grass. All of a sudden, a huge fight broke out around me. Black and brown students were fighting each other. It felt like a war. I was terrified. I just wanted to go home. I started to climb the fence to get away. A police officer started pulling on my leg. He told me that he was going to make an example out of me.
I was handcuffed. Arrested. Given a $500 citation. And my driver’s license was suspended, even though I was only 11 years old. It didn’t make any sense.
No one even asked me what happened that day. But now I had a criminal record.
A few weeks later, I was pushed out of my neighborhood school, forced to attend a different school many miles from my home. I was labeled a “bad kid.”In the years that followed, I began to internalize that label. I never felt safe in school. Eventually, I dropped out.
One day, an artist friend told me about a new kind of school. One without police.
I began attending Youth Justice Coalition’s Free LA School. Everything changed. I gained a critical analysis of what had happened to me and so many other kids in my neighborhood. I learned that I had the power to change the world around me. I’m now an organizer with the Youth Justice Coalition and a student at LA Community College.
Last year, we organized and passed a statewide law to ban the arrest of kids under the age of 12. I’m proud to say that no other 11-year-old kid in California will ever be handcuffed and shamed in the same way I was.
New laws like this need to be shaped by individuals like me – because we understand the injustice firsthand.
But we also need resources to keep up the fight. I am grateful to Liberty Hill for supporting leaders like me and organizations like Youth Justice Coalition. Your support truly makes a difference – I am just one example.