June 09, 2003 | 12:00AM ETNews & Politics
Recently, I traveled to Porto Alegre, Brazil, to join 100,000 people from all over the world at the World Social Forum. I spent the time attending workshops about today's most urgent social justice struggles. Although I heard fiery speeches from President Lula of Brazil and President Chavez of Venezuela about activism, I got the most schooling from meeting other young people on the streets of Brazil.
In between sessions at the forum, I went to a cafe on the outskirts of downtown. I met two guys, one black, one white, in their late teens. We were able to communicate, meeting each other half way thanks to the similarity of their Brazilian Portuguese and my Californian Spanish. I learned they were graffiti artists, and so right away we had stuff to talk about. I had spent most of my past eight years doing graffiti art up and down the West Coast.
I became what Brazilians call a grafitero for the same reasons thousands other kids in the US pick up a can. I got fame, was able to kick it, and had a big group of people to back me up. Most importantly, it was the only respected alternative in my neighborhood to gang life.
Later on, I and others around me started to become addicted to the fame. This is part of what led me to quit. It became about the domination of hoods and other taggers. I began to question this way of interacting with others, because it wasn't how I wanted to live.
Graffiti has taken on such a global presence that it was even the topic of discussion for the workshops within the World Social Forum. Progressives, mainly from the US, were calling it a form of resistance art and a tool for social movement. Having lived and breathed the graffiti scene, I can only say that it has a long way to go to reach that level.
This was never made so clear to me as in the conversation I had with the Brazilian grafiteros. After talking a while, I asked one of them "So, who's the most famous out here?" It was the most common question asked among taggers in the US, because fame is one of the most important elements of our graffiti world.
My young homie from Brazil had trouble with the question and replied, "There are various artists here." I repeated the question thinking he didn't understand me, and he didn't, but not due to the language difference, he couldn't grasp this idea of fame as a graffiti artist. This major difference also came across through the images on the walls. In the US, one of the main objectives for most folks is to put up his or her name as often as possible. The graffiti in Porto Allegre went beyond the individual and on to general group messages. Most of it, from the tags to the murals done with paintbrushes, had sayings written in Portugese like, "Justicia" and "Paz." I saw one that read, "No More US Military Bases" in red and black spray paint.
One of the guys asked me if I had gotten up here. I said no because back where I was from you could have problems with other graffiti artists or gangs due to territorial boundaries. In some areas if you don't have some sort of a connection to the local gang or crew, you can't tag there, unless they aren't looking. If you do get caught (and I don't mean by the police), you better believe you're getting dealt with.
He gave me this strange look when I told him I hadn't gotten up here, as if I was crazy for my reasons. He said that all grafiteros here are united, and I could tell he meant it. I had seen this also among young hip-hop heads in Brazil. They held the 1st annual Hip-Hop Conference of Brazil while we were there.
In the conference, rappers and DJs were figuring out how hip-hop could be used to fight sexism and the war. Young people were not only conscious of political and social issues, but were using their cultural activities like graffiti and rap to address them. In the U.S. I have seen a lot of people talk about culture and activism this way, and a few people do it, but in Brazil it was natural and the reality for most.
I arrived back into the United States with a smile thinking about how I would try to inject this good spirit I received into others at home. As I entered the Dallas Airport with my friend, Jermaine, a rapper from Oakland, we waited for our luggage. There was an older white businessman standing next to us. He took a quick glance at us and moved his bags as close to his leg and as far away from us as possible. Jermaine and I looked at each other, laughed, and said, "Welcome home."
This article originally appeared on Silicon Valley DeBug, a youth magazine that is part of the Pacific News Service.
Recently, I traveled to Porto Alegre, Brazil, to join 100,000 people from all over the world at the World Social Forum. I spent the time attending workshops about today's most urgent social justice struggles. Although I heard fiery speeches from President Lula of Brazil and President Chavez of Venezuela about activism, I got the most schooling from meeting other young people on the streets of Brazil.In between sessions at the forum, I went to a cafe on the outskirts of downtown. I met two guys, one black, one white, in their late teens. We were able to communicate, meeting each other half way thanks to the similarity of their Brazilian Portuguese and my Californian Spanish. I learned they were graffiti artists, and so right away we had stuff to talk about. I had spent most of my past eight years doing graffiti art up and down the West Coast.
I became what Brazilians call a grafitero for the same reasons thousands other kids in the US pick up a can. I got fame, was able to kick it, and had a big group of people to back me up. Most importantly, it was the only respected alternative in my neighborhood to gang life.
Later on, I and others around me started to become addicted to the fame. This is part of what led me to quit. It became about the domination of hoods and other taggers. I began to question this way of interacting with others, because it wasn't how I wanted to live.
Graffiti has taken on such a global presence that it was even the topic of discussion for the workshops within the World Social Forum. Progressives, mainly from the US, were calling it a form of resistance art and a tool for social movement. Having lived and breathed the graffiti scene, I can only say that it has a long way to go to reach that level.
This was never made so clear to me as in the conversation I had with the Brazilian grafiteros. After talking a while, I asked one of them "So, who's the most famous out here?" It was the most common question asked among taggers in the US, because fame is one of the most important elements of our graffiti world.
My young homie from Brazil had trouble with the question and replied, "There are various artists here." I repeated the question thinking he didn't understand me, and he didn't, but not due to the language difference, he couldn't grasp this idea of fame as a graffiti artist. This major difference also came across through the images on the walls. In the US, one of the main objectives for most folks is to put up his or her name as often as possible. The graffiti in Porto Allegre went beyond the individual and on to general group messages. Most of it, from the tags to the murals done with paintbrushes, had sayings written in Portugese like, "Justicia" and "Paz." I saw one that read, "No More US Military Bases" in red and black spray paint.
One of the guys asked me if I had gotten up here. I said no because back where I was from you could have problems with other graffiti artists or gangs due to territorial boundaries. In some areas if you don't have some sort of a connection to the local gang or crew, you can't tag there, unless they aren't looking. If you do get caught (and I don't mean by the police), you better believe you're getting dealt with.
He gave me this strange look when I told him I hadn't gotten up here, as if I was crazy for my reasons. He said that all grafiteros here are united, and I could tell he meant it. I had seen this also among young hip-hop heads in Brazil. They held the 1st annual Hip-Hop Conference of Brazil while we were there.
In the conference, rappers and DJs were figuring out how hip-hop could be used to fight sexism and the war. Young people were not only conscious of political and social issues, but were using their cultural activities like graffiti and rap to address them. In the U.S. I have seen a lot of people talk about culture and activism this way, and a few people do it, but in Brazil it was natural and the reality for most.
I arrived back into the United States with a smile thinking about how I would try to inject this good spirit I received into others at home. As I entered the Dallas Airport with my friend, Jermaine, a rapper from Oakland, we waited for our luggage. There was an older white businessman standing next to us. He took a quick glance at us and moved his bags as close to his leg and as far away from us as possible. Jermaine and I looked at each other, laughed, and said, "Welcome home."
This article originally appeared on Silicon Valley DeBug, a youth magazine that is part of the Pacific News Service.
