The Homeboy Museum

Small, perfect things happen every day at Homeboy. Amazing little happenings, human interactions that touch the soul. These moments are what makes this a place of healing and hope. Today at “the well” in the front lobby at Homeboy Industries, Daniel showed a drawing to Juan. As they looked at the drawing, other people came over to check out the picture. It was a beautiful drawing, with incredible detail, telling a bit of Daniel’s story. Daniel drew the images while in jail. He now carries the images with him and has the drawing neatly tucked into his GED binder.

For a moment today, before morning meeting started, the lobby at Homeboy was like a Museum gallery. The curator and artist Daniel, talking to Juan and Gabriel about his drawing, explaining the images and telling the story of the picture. If you look closely at Daniel’s drawing, you can see in the images, six hands. They spell out “I love you”, sitting atop Mayan inspired pedestals. Off over in the top right corner of the drawing, is an image of an hourglass. Daniel spoke of the time he knew he was wasting while in prison and that the hourglass symbolized that wasted time.

Daniel recently spoke at Homeboy’s annual gala, Lo Maximo. He told his story to the over 800 guests in attendance.

He grew up the youngest of seven kids and his father died when he was four years old, leaving his mother to raise all of her children as a single parent. Daniel started hanging out on the street at an early age, drinking and doing drugs. He was incarcerated for the first time when he was 15. In jail was the first --- and still only time --- that Daniel has ever slept in a bed.

As Daniel reflects on this time, he says that he tried to always look for a way to get back into jail. He was good at this fighting and gang-lifestyle thing. Daniel decided to change his life when his daughter was born. The instant he saw her, he wanted nothing to do with the violent life he had been living.

Daniel came to Homeboy in January this year for tattoo removal. He had no idea he could get a job, and he applied right away once he found out. He is now on our janitorial/maintenance crew. He says, “Homeboy is more than a job, or a class or a tattoo removal. It has helped me change into the person I want to be.”

Daniel is working right now to gain shared custody of his daughter. With help at Homeboy from his therapist, case manager, and the legal services department, Daniel has the help and the tools necessary to go through this process in family court. Daniel is forthcoming that at first, “The judge didn’t like me, but who could blame her, with my rap sheet?” But Daniel also says, “I’m growing on her.”

Daniel now has unsupervised weekend visits with his daughter. Daniel never thinks he will lose the fighter in himself, but now he does it the right way and fights for the important things in his life, like being a dad. Homeboy has brought Daniel hope.

When Daniel shares his story, his drawings, parts of his life and his past, he is helping others. He is helping others find hope, encouraging them to make that first tattoo removal appointment, to go to an addiction class, to sign up for GED tutoring, to come to Homeboy and apply for a job.

Homeboy Goes Hiking

Many of the young people at Homeboy will mention that they've never been outside of Los Angeles. Sometimes you realize they haven't been much IN it either-- growing up with families who didn't have the resources to make it far outside of their neighborhoods, our "homies" often haven't had much experience with what many Angelenos take for granted. In the past few months Homeboy has begun an unofficial outdoor adventure club; surfing, snowboarding, and hiking are a few of the new activities that have been stirring up excitement. One homie put it thusly after dislocating his shoulder during a somewhat overambitious snowboard jump: "forget gangbanging, I've found my new rush!"


This weekend, we ventured out to Chantry Flats for a hiking expedition that brought a little sweat and a lot of tranquility. We hope to continue these outings as the days get longer and the light stays later, and bring back a little bit of the Los Angeles childhood our homies may have missed the first time.

Hanging (ten) with the homies

Growing up in Los Angeles, it can be hard not to take things for granted. A January weekend with 75 degree sunshine is not too out of the ordinary. For someone who grew up far from the coast and without the kind of childhood that included family road trips, spending a Sunday surfing is a little more out of the ordinary. You don't usually see gang members wearing zinc and flippers.

Someone mentioned that a homegirl was interested in joining the surf trip, but that she was a little worried.

"Worried about wearing a bathing suit?"

"No, worried about... floating"

Having grown up in kidney pool-dotted west LA, I take floating for granted.

Thomas is a friend of Homeboy who had the brilliant idea to take some of our homies surfing-- getting outside somewhere that isn't mostly concrete is an experience that many of them didn't have much growing up, and is now quite alluring.


The first order of business for Robert, Mario and Andre was getting wetsuits on. Robert complained that he couldn't "sag" his pants, and Andre suddenly had an appreciation for the effort women put into wearing spandex. They all put them on backwards first.

As with any surf lesson, things started with a lot of immediate face-first plunging.

Eventually though, every participant stood up and caught a sweet ride.


It was a perfect glassy day and we ended with snacks and shell-collecting. The kind of Sunday you try not to take for granted.

"nothing stops a bullet like a job, or a wave"

'Tis better to give than to get cavities

The Homeboy lobby was suddenly full of pirates, vampires, and ladybugs. A bumblebee plopped down on the floor of the development office and started to read a book. The clown almost cried, comforted by a milky way.

Tattoo removal greeted an alien, the bakery handed cookies to a chubby viking, and the mental health department led a procession of small bodies throughout the building, inexplicably singing.

Okay, it wasn't a regular day at Homeboy- it was Halloween!

Baby & Me class is an important piece of the community here, and it's hard to overstate how much an hour a week can mean to our families. The class is often a home of "firsts;" the first time a mom learns about the importance of "tummy time," the first time a father is out of jail for his childrens' Halloween.

For one father who grew up in an abusive home, last week was the first time he had ever carved a pumpkin.



Trick or treating around the building put big smiles on the little ones, but Baby & Me is also about the "me"-- for our homies, a chance to participate in a childhood tradition that so many of them missed out on was just as magical. To give to the ladybugs, vampires and clowns was the best kind of treat.

The Definition of Family

Jose (center) at this year's Lo Maximo

Every morning before we start work, someone gives the "thought of the day." Jose Rodriguez had the thought today, his last day of work at Homeboy Industries before starting at Project 180 next week as a case manager.

Months ago, before Jose was interviewing for his new job, he sat down and told us his story. This is it.

"I was born and raised in South Central with no father, I never met him, and my mom was very abusive. Every time she had a man, a boyfriend, she would drop me off with relatives. I never had a good relationship with my mom. My room was always a small closet.

I started being booked and released at age 9 for assault, breaking and entering, vandalism. I was first in Juvenile Hall at age 11. Juvenile Hall was better than home: I had three meals a day and it gave me a break from my mom. It gave me a break from the abuse. She would use an extension cord. Sometimes I wore three shirts to school so no one could see the blood and scars that I had on my back.

My first use of drugs was at age 8 when I tried alcohol. It progressed to sniffing paint and glue and then crack, pcp and heroin. When I was actually jumped into a gang at age 12 it was nothing compared to the abuse I got from my mom.

I was homeless because no one wanted me around. I went from friend's house to friend's house. Incarceration was okay, it was a roof over my head. I had two daughters. I went to jail and when I came out I went deeper and deeper into my drug use. My family was homeless as a result of my drug use. My fiance left me, she could not continue to see me getting high and have me around my daughters. Nothing was more important to me than getting high.

I ended up living on skid row in downtown Los Angeles, behind a dumpster. I was on the street for two years, during which time I did not see my kids.

Five years ago, I went to my first NA meeting. My life has been good because of the choice of getting clean. I was invited to speak at an NA meeting at Homeboy. When I walked in, I saw many guys that I had done time with, got loaded with and gang banged against.

Homeboy was a place that welcomed me. I could not find work or a job and I stayed around Homeboy, coming to all the classes: parenting, anger management, and substance abuse. Someone asked me if I wanted a job, and I said yes. We went to talk to Father Greg. I didn't want to talk to Father Greg; I was resistant to meet him because of what he gives people, true love. G is too nice and I was not sure how to receive him.

G said 'my son, where have you been all my life?' the power of this moment made me feel like I was home. That is as real as it gets. He asked me if I wanted to work for him and be part of his family. I knew that I wanted to be at Homeboy and have been here ever since that moment.

Homeboy is my family, and it has taught me what a family should be. I've become a friend, a father to my daughters, and a role model because other people here have taught me how to be these things. My ultimate goal or something I would like to do is to be a case manager because I can help people. I want to show people in need that if I can do it, they can do it."

Today, Jose says he's learned that change takes real "action"- by working on himself, his fears, and his discomfort with letting people in, he began to change. From his friends at Homeboy, he learned how to be a good father. From his former enemies, he learned friendship. "I never thought that I would carry the casket of someone who used to be my enemy at his funeral."From the homies that passed while he was working here, he learned laughter and loss. Today, Jose says, he's learned that "it's not what you've got, but what you've got to give." Jose closed by sharing the definition of family that he looked up in the dictionary: "a person having kinship with another or others." Jose will always be our family, and we wish him more than luck!

Jose on his last day of work with one of his heroes, Dolores Huerta