I would never consider myself a racist - I'm pretty tolerant of most people, and I'd say I judge people based off of them individually, and not because of their looks, race, gender, sexual classifications.
But, I can say, that for the most part, most Mexicans I meet prove themselves to be complete assholes.
Exhibit #125 comes from an event that took place this weekend at my parents house. My parents live in Pacoima, which has become a pretty low-income, gang-infested, predominately hispanic neighborhood. This happens to be the neighborhood my Grandmother picked to raise her kids 60 years ago when Pacoima was a new neighborhood. Clean, crime free, with nice neighbors. Well, my parents moved into their current home 35 years ago and the city has devolved around them. I won't say it's because "mexicans" have moved in, but it's just become a poorer neighborhood with a high crime rate. It's unfortunate.
Josh and I moved into my parents house this weekend to help out while my Dad is on disability and with chores around the house as he recovers from his open heart surgery. It was a long day of moving, and lifting heavy things, and unpacking. This happened to coincide with a party my neighbors were having that seemed innocent enough. There was a jumper, and guests started arriving at 4pm with their kids, and gifts that seemed to be for a child.
At around 10pm that night, this switched into a harmless party, into a party with loud music, loud people and a lot of alcohol. Still...at 10pm, this is fine. People are entitled to have a good time in their home. At 12pm, the party was still going on, and Josh and I went to bed.
Our new bedroom has a sliding glass door that leads out to a small patio, that is directly adjacent to our neighbors driveway where this party was taking place. It was LOUD, but at midnight, I could still excuse it. I tossed and turned all night long, being woken up from the loud music, and people talking, yelling, laughing. We still didn't have everything unpacked, including our alarm clock - so I never had a clue what time it was. I assumed it was still pretty late at night since the party was still going so I tried to readjust, block out the sound and go back to sleep.
Finally, I gave up and went to the bathroom, and discovered that it wasn't still night time at all. It was the morning. 5:43am to be exact. I went out to the livingroom hoping to find some peace and quiet - where I also found Josh who had moved there not too long before me. It was quieter, but not quiet enough and Josh and I were annoyed.
A few minutes later I heard my Dad on the phone, apparently making a second call to the police to try and get someone out to stop the party or atleast have the music turned down. The police came, gave a warning and left, and the music was back up 10 minutes later. A third call was made around 6:30 and another cop car shows up around 7:15am. One of the guests, who claimed to be the owner of the house, confronted the police. This man was quite drunk (yes - at 7 in the morning) and decided he had a problem with this most recent cop that showed up. The cop asked him to "Please, Back UP!" and the man went off, yelling about how he wasn't even doing anything, getting in the face of this cop. He asked the man to back up again. The man didn't like this and went off even more.
Backup had now been called, and the Sargeant shows up to try and calm this man down. He goes on and on telling the sgt that this police officer was rude and harrassing him, and needed to get counseling and was a bad cop. He asked for his name and badge number, claiming that he would be filing a complaint. The officer, realizing that his presence was not calming the man down walked away, and the man yelled after him "Remember what your badge means! Serve and Protect Mother fucker!". The officer got in his car to calm down because he was obviously pretty angry.
The man did not calm down, and soon after, two other cop cars were now there - a total of 8 cops. The man didn't understand what the problem was because all of the neighbors were there, except for "this white mother fucker over here" he said as he pointed at our house.
The man was issued a citation for $1,000. The two original cops came to talk to us to let us know what was going on. We explained to them about how we felt unsafe, and the potential retaliation based on our calls to the police, and what we had overheard. They told us that we could file a restraining order against them that would prevent them from talking, calling or contacting us in anyway (including any of their friends).
They eventually left, and 30 minutes later the music was back on. It wasn't too loud this time, and because we weren't trying to sleep we let it be. But eventually it got louder, and we called the cops again around 3pm. They showed up an hour later and gave them a warning and left. Finally around 7pm, everyone went home and the music stopped!
It was a ridiculous day, and only added onto the exhaustion of moving the day before. I hated that I felt unsafe in my own home, and hated the fact that it was blamed on being racist - that it was a "Mexican" party, and we were "White mother fuckers". The illuded many times to it being Glamis Street and that they were Glamis Street Locals. Apparently, being of hispanic descent made them belong even though they had only lived there for a few years. My Mom, who has lived almost all her life on that street, and my Dad who has lived there for 35 years, were made to feel like outsiders.
My Dad made a comment later that day about how events like this make him even more eager to leave Pacoima, a place we've called home for decades.
So, to sum this up - that man, James, who happened to be a "Mexican", and who was so proud of his "Mexican party", I hate you.
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