Johanna Fernández’s “The Young Lords: A Radical History.”
➤ THE YOUNG LORDS from p.66
I grew up in the Bronx during
the crack epidemic, aware that
there was something wrong with
the world, but not having the tools
to fi gure out why. Somehow, I
landed at Brown University in the
1990s. It’s an elite institution and
they hire their fi rst Latino Studies
professor who teaches us about
the Young Lords. I got so angry
because I never knew about them.
They’d been removed from public
memory, amputated from the history
that should be taught to young
people in the Bronx.
Ultimately, I’d say that the children
of migrants — especially from
Latin America — connect more
than anyone else with the history
of the Young Lords. Because you
wake up and all you see is death
and abandoned buildings and you
start believing what people and the
media say about you. Then to see
your own people take it and shred
UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA PRESS
it and fi ght it in the streets — that’s
freedom on a profound personal
level. The Young Lords gave Puerto
Ricans a big coming-out party
through their militancy at that
church.
SALDAÑA: They’d sit on the
stoop with us and just talk, like
we were in a classroom. Then we’d
come together and say, “Man, what
do you think, man? She’s saying
some good stuff here.”
“So you going to stop selling
drugs?”
“No, I ain’t gonna stop.”
Looking back, I had choices but
I didn’t think I did. My pops, he
drank too much, and my moms is
on welfare. There were times when
I was the only one bringing in money
and I wasn’t willing to give that
up. I fi nally understood what I was
doing when somebody — I think it
was Iris Morales — told me I was
collaborating with my own oppression.
That resonated. For the fi rst
time, I started developing a connection
to history. Until then, everything
was about daily survival.
It took me awhile. I was arrested
on weapons charges and possession
of drugs.
So now I’m in a prison cell, refl
ecting on what I heard. Because I
didbecome a member of the Lords
— had they not touched my life, I
would have continued poisoning
my community, which is a terrible
thing, or I would be dead.
They saved me from a meaningless
death. Because after that? If I was
going to die, it wasn’t going to be
meaningless.
FERNÁNDEZ: This brings up
the concept of self-determination,
the struggle of oppressed peoples
to control our lives, collectively.
In many ways, working to abolish
prisons is the ultimate work in selfdetermination,
because incarceration
is the greatest site of un-freedom.
American society uses prison
to demonize people of color. Visiting
Mumia Abu-Jamal in prison
transformed me, because you get a
sense of a whole country of human
beings who’ve been thrown away.
So somehow I’ve been called to
do prison work, which is not easy.
It’s unforgiving.
SALDAÑA: In prison, I read
about the history of Puerto Rico,
the colonization by Europeans,
how American Indians were annihilated,
then those who resisted
were put in prison for murder. You
get to see prison as their tool to
control us. But they’re in no moral
position to give anybody a deathby
incarceration sentence.
Some people don’t agree with
me, but in these times I think the
greatest crime is mass incarceration.
Who we going to hold responsible
for that? There’s no individual
crime, no matter how horrifi c, that
equals it.
FERNÁNDEZ: But it’s healing
to see yourself in this history —
because the Young Lords actually
won.
They’re credited with militant
muckraking and press conferences
publicizing how a third of East
Harlem children tested lead-positive.
They occupied the Department
of Health, which embarrassed the
mayor into passing anti-lead poison
legislation. They occupied Lincoln
Hospital, which led to building
the new hospital, promised
10 years earlier. They drafted the
fi rst known Patient Bill of Rights.
Their activism around sanitation
led to many things, including more
regular garbage pickup in East
Harlem. The Lords are also important
because they defended Puerto
Rican political prisoners. In the
late 1960s, here in New York, they
raised up the names of independence
leaders, like Pedro Albizu
Campos.
SALDAÑA: In prison there was
this guy, Carlito. He had a lot of
time, I had a lot of time — we became
real close. We was always
saying to each other, “Listen, man,
if you beat me out, I want you to
do me one favor. Don’t send me no
package. Just go to Puerto Rico,
to old San Juan, where our revolutionaries
like Don Pedro Albizu
Campos and Doña Lolita Lebrón
are buried. Take a picture and
send it to me.”
Governor Cuomo actually granted
Carlito a pardon, but I got paroled
fi rst. First thing I did when I
got out, I went to Puerto Rico, took
a picture, sent it to him. But before
the bureaucracy could get Carlito
out, he passed away. Seventy-fi ve
years old. Never got the picture.
But that shows how touched people
were by this movement.
You know, fi ve or six years ago, I
was still inside and I read an article
in The Times that you was writing
this Young Lords book. I thought
that was so meaningful.
FERNÁNDEZ: Oh please. I’ve
been working on this book since
God was a boy –
SALDAÑA: I said, I should write
this sister here, but I never did.
And now — I never thought I’d be
sitting in your apartment, discussing
this book with you. I’m still in
contact with other guys inside —
they’re going to want this book.
FERNÁNDEZ:This may sound
corny but, though I think it’s a rigorously
researched book, I didn’t
write it for my colleagues. I wrote
it for the people the Young Lords
were trying to organize.
SALDAÑA: Well, believe me,
your book will do tremendous
good. That book’s gonna travel.
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