Can you spot me? Nope, that’s not me, startled upon the shot of a camera lens while holding the landline phone — that’s my brother Honolit, who actually got me into wrestling. And no, that’s not me in the rad shorts in the middle — that’s my brother Steve, who coincidentally loves the history channel, and presumably this photo series. Yes, the only one left is that monkey-of-a-baby climbing the side table on the left. Precarious as always, doing things I ought’nt.
So this photo is on this series to talk about how is Carlon kids raised ourselves. That’s a big reason why I don’t speak Visayan. A big reason why my relationship with my parents was minimal — my parents made sure we were fed and had a house over our roof... and well behaved when we had guests. That’s about it... I’m trying to change that now with my mom, to continue a tradition and value through oral history.
Because we were left on our own, the streets, Nintendo, and the Boys and Girls club raised us. We all wrestled, occasionally galavanted and stole things from the grocery store or Target... but in short, the wrestling mat served as a place to keep us out of trouble and avoid gang culture, which in the 90’s was a thing for Filipinos in California. I wanted this post to be a photo of us wrestling, but camera phones weren’t a thing back then... so this photo will represent that.
What did I learn on the mat? Resistance. Momentum. Weight distribution and velocity. How to cope with aggression with patience. I learned nonverbal communication and dialogue.