Vecinos - Americanization & African Americans as neighbors or Why I Want to be a Puerto Rican

The only brave thing I did growing up in Sacramento, California, was to go see Malcolm X when he came to Sacramento. At a time when his audiences were largely restricted to African Americans, I went. Bravely, stupidly, not knowing that I would be a problem at the door. There I was, a brown child at the door, with these two men at the door looking at me, computing behind their eyes: Who in the hell is this Mexican kid, what does he want? They let me in. I do not forget that act of generosity today.