Is Becoming a Man about Working or Schooling?
Story by Enrique Vasquez
Illo by Marco Reyes

I'm going back to school, and it's a big deal. I thought my intellectual search came to a stop after my high school graduation. I didn't think I was going to college, and although I still read and looked for new forms of art, it's hard when you're doing it on your own.

This is why, a year later, I'm going back to school. But even though going to school is what young people are supposed to do, I'm not sure its what my family envisioned for me.

All through high school my family stressed the importance of being a man when I turned 18. The men they described were always workers, not students. I always met real men at worksites. At the age of 15, I started working with a fake ID, picking up jobs wherever I could. That's where I saw Mexican men really having it hard, fighting just to do some under-paying factory job or the construction work that people need when they drive by and pick you up. They are real men who are never really given the chance to be full providers. To be what is expected of us. After high school I felt a deep need to be responsible, to be a man, so I got a job at an arts supply store and gave my mom the little money I made.

At work, behind the counter, school always stayed in the back of my mind. I would have nightmares of me sitting in the side of some grand graduation and everyone passing me by. On the bus home from work, I would think back on high school. I never really identified with any of the students and took pleasure in arguing with teachers. Even though some weren't fond of my ideas, they knew that I was on to something. They would tell me about college, but for some reason it always seemed too distant for me. I never really was committed to anything and never really cared about the classes. I just wanted to get out of there.

Somewhere over the past year, through different jobs at stores and restaurants, I became a San Jose State bum. I would sneak into different classes and going around to different galleries talking to people about art. It made me want to go to school and get a career as an artist.

So yesterday, before my work shift started, I bit the bullet and went to register at Evergreen Community College. The line was long and I decided to sit on one of the tables close by and fill out the forms. It was going good until towards the end of the form in black bold letters appeared section called, "Residency."

When I saw that a whole bunch of things went through my mind. I worried about what would happen if I told them that I was undocumented. I was worried what would happen if I told them I wasn't. I told my friend, "First its your info about being undocumented, and next thing you know you have a bar code on your forehead and living on some desert reservation." He laughed, but even though it was a joke I don't know what the consequences are for putting something down in print about my status as an undocumented immigrant. At the least, I know students that are not documented have to pay an out of state fees. In the end I wrote that I was not documented. I worried that if I lied, it might come back to me. I can't get financial aid with my status, and will have to come up with the money on my own. The fact that it is hard for me to get an education gives me more incentive to do it.

When I talked to my mom about the possibility of going to college she said that its' my choice, but that she doesn't have any money to help. I told her I don't want to take anybody elses money anyhow, I want to do this on my own.

A while ago, when I was debating whether I should go to school or not, I went over to my grandmothers house. She started talking to my aunt about her new job. She was getting a lot more hours at the assembly line packing CDs for high-tech companies. My grandmother turned to me and said, "maybe you should not go to school and focus on working." For a second it crossed my mind. In the next second I imagined myself in an assembly line all old and sad. This same week that I registered for school, the assembly line my aunt works at cut down on hours, and laid-off a good portion of its workers.

I felt really bad for her, she has to provide for her family even as a woman. Hopefully though, the lay-offs are sign that I made the right choice about school. Ultimately, I think that's part of becoming a man, taking the responsibility of making your own choices.