The 20th Anniversary of the Killing of Joseph lleto

On August 10, 1999 Buford Furrow, a white supremacist, killed Filipino mail carrier Joseph Ileto. Furrow said he was specifically looking for an Asian or Latino man to kill. Earlier that day, Furrow had sprayed a Jewish daycare center with bullets, wounding five.

The death of Joseph Ileto inspired my second novel Talking to the Moon.  I suppose I wrote the novel to try and make sense of what happened. I was inspired by the Ileto family who went onto to discuss the effects of hate crimes and ways to prevent it.

That was probably one of the most moving experiences I'd witnessed in the Filipino American community in Los Angeles. Joseph's brother, Ismael, stepped up to bring awareness to the situation.

I wonder how many of us would have the strength to do this kind of advocacy work.  Would you?

Remembering Ayofemi, Remember Why

Ayofemi Folayan passed away recently.  She was my first writing teacher, and I owe her a tremendous amount of gratitude.  In the early 1990's, I was a few years out of acting school, and not acting.  Creativity had always been a strong tool in dealing with the world, and I needed to be creative.  As any actor will you, you're never acting enough and you're usually waiting for someone's permission to act. 

I started her writing workshop, a space she had for LGBT people of color.  She wanted space for young writers to say whatever they wanted to say.  She encouraged writing exploring issues of being a double minority.  I had been in creative spaces before--I had a degree in Theatre.  However, her class was different.  She asked us to travel deeply within ourselves, uncork our thoughts on truly difficult themes: racism, homophobia, immigration.  She helped me become a person who could comfortably speak my mind--with tact and generosity.  She helped developed my Voice. 

One day, she said she was selling her computer for a newer one.  I bought it.  And still have it.  I typed out stories on this old clunker.  I dug it out to look at it and remember my joy of writing in the first place. 

It's been twenty years, and I may have become a little jaded.  I'm being asked to consider "the market" when I write.  Can I sell whatever story I'm writing.  I must confess I had been having some frustration with my current novel.  I feel like my Voice had been muddled.  I'd been choking on what to say.

With Ayofemi's passing, I'm reminded as to why I started writing.  I wanted to do something honest and true.  I wanted to put something out in the world that was valuable.  I wanted to be the kind of writer Ayofemi would have been proud of.  And I still do.

 

 

Thank you, Ayofemi, for your service.