ON THE ISSUES WINTER 1995
JMarianne Diaz-Parton knows about L.A. gangs is not <strong>in</strong> the textbooks. By Stephanie rail f I had known I would ever be a 35-year-old woman, I would have never gotten tattooed," Marianne Diaz-Parton says, laugh<strong>in</strong>g. "I mean, how stupid, all over my hands!" Fa<strong>in</strong>t blue marks bruise the knuckles of Diaz-Parton, the director of prevention programs at the Los Angeles Community Youth Gang Services Project. Despite her age and her job description, Diaz-Parton is still officially a gang member. "I've never been jumped out of my gang, I don't plan to, I don't want to," she says. "I don't feel be<strong>in</strong>g a gang member is the problem; I th<strong>in</strong>k the activity is the problem." Diaz-Parton works from a large, ancient office <strong>in</strong> what used to be the Los Angeles Jail. Dressed <strong>in</strong> brown jeans and a yellow V-neck T- shirt, with her long hair loose and gold cha<strong>in</strong>s sparkl<strong>in</strong>g on her neck, she doesn't look like a typical director <strong>in</strong> a social-service agency. She tells of a recent argument she had with her supervisor, who wanted the gang workers to dress more "professionally." No way, she told him. Dress<strong>in</strong>g up would be a great way to tell the gang members that the workers were "above" them. "I don't want to be an authority figure, but to relate to the kids." "You have to understand their world to know what's important to them," says Diaz-Parton. Gang members want to be recognized. <strong>The</strong>y are needy. <strong>The</strong>y are often abused, alcoholics, or lonely, the misfits who don't fit <strong>in</strong>, the leftover kids. While society rejects them, their gang accepts them, no matter what problems they have. "If people th<strong>in</strong>k that gang members are there because they're just assholes, that's ridiculous," she <strong>in</strong>sists <strong>in</strong> a lowtoned, emotionless voice. "<strong>The</strong>re's a reason beh<strong>in</strong>d every gang member that's out there." A Gang of Her Own At 14, Diaz-Parton was an A student from a two-parent family <strong>in</strong> Hawthorne, a Los Angeles suburb. But she wasn't happy. She was the only Mexican girl <strong>in</strong> her all-Anglo neighborhood, and she had been harassed for years by other kids because of it. She was overweight. And worse, she "liked girls" but didn't know what to do about it. She considered jo<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g a gang, but "I wasn't happy with what I saw," she says. "<strong>The</strong>y were all male-dom<strong>in</strong>ated gangs, and I'm a very liberated person. I didn't like the fact that the guys held control of those gangs." So, <strong>in</strong>stead of jo<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g a gang, she formed one of her own. In one year her all-female gang, named Carnalas grew to 60 members. <strong>The</strong> girls did a lot of hang<strong>in</strong>g out together, typical of the bored, restless teens of the neighborhood. Soon Los Compadres, a boys gang <strong>in</strong> the area, recruited them. "A lot of my home girls felt that it was a bad move to merge because then the guys were go<strong>in</strong>g to control us," Diaz- Parton says. But there was <strong>in</strong>terest <strong>in</strong> both gangs <strong>in</strong> f<strong>in</strong>d<strong>in</strong>g boyfriends and girlfriends, and after several "bus<strong>in</strong>esslike" meet<strong>in</strong>gs the gangs merged <strong>in</strong>to the new Los Compadres. Diaz-Parton, who had never gotten <strong>in</strong>to serious trouble before becom<strong>in</strong>g a gang member, soon rose to be the #2 position <strong>in</strong> Los Compadres, a feat for a female. People looked up to her. "My home girls and home boys did what I asked." She felt on top of the world. <strong>The</strong> anger she had for the people who didn't "accept" her, she now used aga<strong>in</strong>st them. "I became pretty important <strong>in</strong> our schools because people would fear for their life," she says. "I didn't feel powerless. I was very <strong>in</strong> control. What more can you control than someone's life" But there was a price. A gang member's "word" is everyth<strong>in</strong>g and her pride must be upheld. <strong>The</strong> boys <strong>in</strong> Los Compadres had more enemies and skirmishes than Carnalas had, and the girls had to adopt the boys' gripes. <strong>The</strong>y were now part of a more dangerous game where the losers often ended up dead. Game over, no replay. As a top dog <strong>in</strong> her gang, Diaz-Parton soon became a wanted woman, and rival gang members sought her out to challenge, threaten, and shoot at. <strong>The</strong> crisis came when one of Diaz-Parton's girlfriends was marry<strong>in</strong>g a member of a rival gang. Diaz-Parton was allowed to attend the wedd<strong>in</strong>g, on the condition that she didn't br<strong>in</strong>g weapons or any of her own gang members. As the wedd<strong>in</strong>g reception progressed, the groom got drunk. ON THE ISSUES WINTER 1995 25