In the context of this discussion, I think it is kind of funny that I went to the 7th Through the 12th grade in city that has 15% non Hispanic white population.If your parents didn’t spend the government money on drugs and alcohol, you were rich. Furthermore, I lived on the wrong side of the tracks there! Well I did get out of the ghetto for that stint in the black head of household foster home.
It was very dangerous to stand up to the intimidation and overall shittiness of the cholos. People who did were frequently either killed or maimed.
I had one pushing me and the rest of our teamates around during a baseball game and I clocked him a couple of times. When the game ended there were no less than 250 Cholos in the alley nearby waiting for us to resume our fight. I got on my bike and fled for home. Good thing low rider bikes aren’t built for speed. I started passing out free joints to the cholos as fast as I could. It was fake stuff but most of them didn’t know. That’s a different story, the time I sold plaster of paris based “hashish” to the meanest, just out or prison cholo in town.
