Illustration by Amy Fan, Temple City HS (2012 graduate)

When I was little I kept moving around to different homes. It was confusing. It seemed like no one wanted to take care of me because they kept sending me away. It made me feel unwanted. But now I’ve found my permanent home. I’m happy because I’m treated right and loved.

When I was a little girl my mom dumped me and my three sisters with my grandma in Mexico while she went out with her boyfriends and did drugs.

My grandmother would beat me with a belt if I accidentally broke something or wet my bed. At the age of 2 she started to throw me out of the house at night. I remember sleeping on the concrete like a dog by the door of the house.

My mom would take me with her during the day. I loved spending time with my mom even if it meant watching her do drugs. I felt a need to be there to make sure she was OK.

But when I was 4 my dad’s mom Maria came to get me one day and took me to San Diego. She didn’t think my mom could take care of me, but then she didn’t want to take care of me either.

I lived with her for two or three months before she took me to my aunt Kelly’s house in Los Angeles. My aunt had two of her own kids and my old sister living with her. So she sent me to live with her next-door neighbor, Trisha. When I had been there for three months her husband got out of prison and moved in. One day he tried to touch me inappropriately. I got scared and I yelled to Trisha to tell him to stop. She must have thought he was teasing me and only scolded him to leave me alone. He did but he looked angry. Later I told my other aunt and she called the police. I don’t know if he got arrested because I went back to live with my aunt.

After that I became depressed. I was angry because my aunt was still friends with Trisha. I stopped talking to my aunt and cousins and I slept a lot. My aunt didn’t want to take care of me so she got rid of me again. She sent me to live with the pastor of her church. I lived there for a year. Then the pastor found my dad and I went to live with my dad and his girlfriend Karen.

I’d be there all day but at night I’d sleep at the pastor’s house because Karen and my dad lived in a factory she owned. She didn’t want me to live there because it wasn’t a place for little girls to be living in. I didn’t like my dad. He’s crazy, his brain isn’t there from using drugs. One time I was brushing my teeth with an electric toothbrush and he yelled at Karen, “Don’t let my kid use heavy machinery.” 

But Karen was nice. She’d take me to Toys “R” Us and buy me toys. We’d watch cartoons and she’d let me read Clifford to her. She’d play cops and robbers with me. She didn’t get mad when I’d wet the bed. She’d say it was OK and help me clean it up. Aunt Kelly would spank me.

One time my social worker came to the factory. He said, “There’s no bathroom with a shower stall so she can’t live here.” My dad got mad. He was on drugs that day and yelled, “You can’t take her away from me. Why are you telling me how to take care of my daughter?” They said he had to go to drug counseling in order to visit me but he said no so I wasn’t allowed to see him anymore. The pastor didn’t want me either so they put me in a group home for troubled kids.

I didn’t want to be there at all. I wanted to go back to Mexico and live with my mom. So I was fighting and out of control. I didn’t follow directions and I’d run away and hit staff. I lived there for three years, until I was almost 12. The last year I finally got myself together. I followed all of the rules and didn’t get in any more fights. My social worker said my behavior was better so I was ready to live in a permanent home. She wanted to terminate my parents’ rights so I could be adopted. So she went to Karen to see if she knew where my dad was but she didn’t. My social worker came back and told me, “Karen wants to take you. Do you want to go live with her?” I was shocked. But then I remembered how nice she was to me. So I said yes. After two months of hanging out with her to see if it was the right fit, I went to live with her in her house in Boyle Heights in August 2009.

In the beginning it was like a honeymoon stage, she was making me feel comfortable. But after five months she started being a parent. She started giving me chores and telling me what I couldn’t watch on TV. I felt like I should be spoiled because I’d been through so much. And I didn’t want her to be my family, I wanted my old family back because they were my blood. So I was terrible. I’d yell at her when she was nagging me to do something. More than once she was talking to my social worker on a cordless phone and I grabbed the phone base and threw it at the floor because I didn’t want her telling on me.

I’d barricade myself in my room. I’d listen to screamo and heavy metal on the highest volume. I would move my drawers in front of the door. I would just lie on my bed and do nothing while listening to my music. 

One time I barricaded myself in my room when my social worker came. The social worker said it wasn’t safe. A week later I came home from school and I was about to shut my door. I went to grab it and it wasn’t there. I asked Karen, “Where’s my door?” She said I’d get it back when she thought I was ready.

Karen would say, “Good night, I’ll see you in the morning” and I’d say, “You may not” to get her mad. But she’d stay calm. She’d just say “OK.”

I wasn’t improving at home or at school. I didn’t like the people at school because I get annoyed easily. It took Karen an hour to get me out of bed in the morning. She’d throw water at me or drag me to the bathroom because I wouldn’t get up to take a shower.

I switched schools because I was fighting, ditching school and not doing my homework. At my next school it wasn’t hard to get out of bed because I had a boyfriend. One day when I was 13 my boyfriend called me and said, “I want to show you something.” I went to the back of a building to meet him. I thought he was going to show me some tagging he was doing but he tried to rape me. I fought him off. When I got home I was in shock. Is Karen going to be mad because I went? I had ripped pants so I told Karen since I knew she’d find out. She made me call him and break up with him. She made me stay home from school for two days. He got suspended for a day. People knew my boyfriend got in trouble because of me and people started being rude to me, like they stopped talking to me and they’d bump into me and not say sorry.

A week later summer vacation came. My close friend was over and we were watching a movie. Karen told me to take my medications, which I take for mood swings. I freaked out. I took all four bottles. My stomach started hurting. I told Karen what I did and she called the cops and an ambulance came and took me to the hospital, where they gave me a drink that made me throw up everything in my stomach. The hospital said because I’d overdosed, I had to go to a mental hospital for three days. Karen visited me every day.

I was thinking that like the other people who had taken care of me, Karen wouldn’t let me come back because I was too much. But she took me home.

That’s when I stopped hating her. I thought, “Out of all my family, she’s the only one who’s here.” I stopped thinking of her as just shelter and started seeing her as my foster mom. I could trust her. I could go to her with stuff.

But I was still having problems going to school because I didn’t want to be around other people anymore. I stayed home in bed all day for months. She finally gave me an ultimatum: go to school or you’re going to get taken away. She didn’t want me to be taken away from her so she was trying really hard to get me back together. At the time I was annoyed with her but looking back, I’m glad she did that because now I’m better.

I came to visit the school I’m at now. I thought, I’ll just pick this school so Karen will stop being on my case.

I didn’t like the kids from school. I felt that I was superior because I had been through worse and they complained that their parents didn’t let them buy what they wanted. There was a kid who talked about going to parties every weekend. “You’re so into yourself,” I thought.

After several weeks of trying, Karen figured out that I was just not going to get out of bed to go to school. She’d call the van driver and say I wasn’t coming. She’d leave me at home and go to work. I’d miss two days then go because I got bored at home, then miss the other two.

I’d complain to Karen about how stupid the other kids were. She gave me motherly advice. She said to ignore them and listen to my music. So I bought an mp3 player. I felt like she listened. It made me feel like I was important.

After that I started to go to school every day. I was able to drown out my classmates. Then one awful day my mp3 player broke. It took her two weeks to replace it. During those two weeks Karen drove me to school because I refused to go on the van. When I got my mp3 player back, I told her she had to keep driving me. She proved to me that she was capable of taking me to school so why go on the van? I was testing her to see how far she would go for me. I was really bratty to her. It went on like this for almost a year but at least I was coming.

Then one day the school said I had to go on the van every day. At the same time they moved locations so I had no choice because Karen wouldn’t drive me because it was too far. I started coming to school every day.

I’d have meetings with my teachers and Karen. They wanted me to socialize by talking to my classmates. They wanted me to ride the van every day. I was trying to go back to public school so I slowly started to change.

I started talking to some of the kids. I became friends with one of the girls. Then I became friends with her friends. That’s when it started to get better at school. I started talking to people more, having fun. I’d have someone to walk with at PE and someone to talk to about how we hated our teachers, boys and gossip, teenage stuff. I started to like them. I realized that we’re all different and I shouldn’t judge. The guy who talked about parties is now one of my good friends.

Through the hard times, Karen didn’t give up on me. I don’t think I could ever thank her. She’s family. My other family are people who I hope are OK in their lives but I’ve lost all ties with them.

At court we applied for adoption. It’s going to take six months to a year and then I’ll officially be her daughter. It’ll be like any other day because I already consider myself her daughter but it’ll be on paper so they can’t take me away from her. I’ll be proud.

Illustration by Brian Lopez-Santos, L.A. Youth archives.

One time in seventh grade I heard my dad and my mom arguing in the kitchen. Me and my brother went downstairs and saw him hitting her. We jumped in and tried to pull him off my mom. He got a knife and said, “I’m going to kill you.” We were in the middle between my mom and dad. We grabbed my mom and started running. We kept running down the street to a friend’s house. My mom called the cops and my dad got arrested.

My whole life I’ve wanted a nice dad who would buy me stuff and take care of me instead of hitting people all the time. His abuse got to me. I started being angry and I started fighting. But a year and a half ago I came to a group home to get help with my anger. I’m not as angry as I used to be. I’m not a horrible person anymore. I’m a nice, chill person.

Ever since I was young, I’ve seen my dad hit my mom. It would make me mad. Sometimes my older brother would take us out of the house when they were fighting. We’d walk around the neighborhood or go to a friend’s house. My mom’s friends would take us to their house sometimes. They had a pool. It calmed me down. The abuse would go away for a little bit, and so would my anger.

Other times me and my two brothers would try to pull my dad off my mom. She’d say to us, “I don’t want you guys to get hurt so stay out of it.” We’d say, “We don’t want you to get hurt.” Then my dad would get mad and try to hit us. We’d hit him back if he tried. I was never scared of him because he never did anything for us so I didn’t respect him. All he did was go back and forth to jail for getting into fights.

At night in bed I’d wonder, “Why is he doing this to us? We didn’t do nothing to him.”

My mom kicked him out when I was in elementary school but he’d still come around. Sometimes his eyes were red. My mom would say, “You can’t be around my kids when you’re drinking.” He would get mad and leave but he’d come back the next day.

Other times he was nice. One Christmas he took us to Target and bought us presents. He bought me a doll and a stroller and he bought my brothers toy cars. I was hoping he was going to stay like that forever and he wasn’t going to turn into what he usually was: a monster.

Around the end of elementary school my mom got a restraining order, which is a court order that said my dad couldn’t be near us. But he still kept coming around bothering us. We moved a few times but he kept finding us. If he was hitting us or yelling my mom would call the cops, but he’d leave before they came.

My anger took control of me and started to show at school. When I was in elementary school I’d get into fights with boys and girls. The other kids were scared of me. I had one friend but we stopped being friends because she thought I was going to fight her. I was mad that I’d get angry fast and fight. It reminded me of my dad and I wished I could change.

The school put me in family therapy but I wouldn’t talk.

In middle school, I didn’t have any friends so I got picked on. If someone was talking about my mom (your mom is ugly, all that stuff) or if they took my paper or threw something at me, I’d hit them, slap them, kick them, pull their hair. I was mad because I didn’t have anybody to talk to and everyone was against me. The teachers would come and pull me off. They’d suspend me or sometimes they called the police. But I couldn’t stop fighting because I liked it. I thought it was fun to beat someone up. It released a lot of the anger I had.

When I was around 13, I start cutting myself because I was mad about the way the other kids at school were treating me. I was angry that I didn’t have friends. I felt like cutting released my anger.

Over the next year I went to the mental hospital 10 times for cutting, hitting people at school or throwing things at home. They said I had depression and I got put on medication. It didn’t help. I was still depressed and cutting myself.

I didn’t want to cut because I knew I’d get sent to the mental hospital. But when I got home I did it again. The mental hospital was easier because everywhere you go they watch you but at home I could do whatever and my mom didn’t watch me that much because she had to work.

The last time I went to the mental hospital was because I tried to kill myself. At school my friend told me that my boyfriend said that he wasn’t going out with me. I went home and tried to take some pills. My brother said “I’m going to go tell on you.” I got a knife out of the drawer and was pointing it at him. His eyes got big and he screamed “Oh my god Mom.” He ran upstairs and I heard my mom calling the police. I thought I’d better put that back before I get caught. I ran in the kitchen and put it back. I sat on the couch and started watching TV. Three or four minutes later the police came.

The police asked me what happened. My mom answered. She said, “She pulled a knife on my son.” They asked me what happened. I didn’t want to talk so I said I didn’t know. They said we have to take you to the hospital because you’re out of control. I said OK. I knew it would help. I stayed there for seven days.

After that my therapist told my mom “You need to send her to go to a group home because she’s out of control.” I was happy because I knew I’d get help. They called different group homes and that’s when they found this place, a group home and school for kids with behavioral problems.

I came here on May 27, 2011. My mom dropped my stuff off and left. I started crying because I missed her. I was scared because there were new people. But the other girls who lived there told me “This place will help you” so I stopped crying. I felt welcome.

At school the rules were strict. You have to raise your hand and say “Can I come in?” before you come into the class. You have to say good morning. You can’t say “hello, like duh” to the other students in a rude way. But the teachers were more understanding than my teachers at my other schools. Instead of sending me home or calling the cops when I get in trouble, they sit down and talk to me.

When I first came, I’d get in trouble every other day for cursing at a student, not following directions or not doing my work. When you get in trouble they send you outside for two minutes. When the two minutes are up, you have to say what you did wrong and go back into the classroom and do your work.

One time we were doing math and the kid next to me told me, “You’re not doing it right.” I said “yes I am” and we kept arguing. I said, “What are you going to do?” I got up and he threw an eraser at me. I got mad and we started hitting each other. The teachers from the other class had to come and take me off of him and tell me to calm down. I got “inhouse,” which is a consequence for hitting. I had to sit by myself in the back of the class with the teacher for a day. I couldn’t talk to anybody, only the teacher. My other school would have called the police. Letting me talk about what I did instead of sending me home showed me they cared. It made me want to work harder to not get in trouble.  

The teachers would give me great advice, like if someone curses at me they tell me to calm down and walk away or talk to someone. At the group home, the girls would tell me the right things to do, like sisters. It took a few months. I’d still be hitting people and not listening to their advice. People kept telling me that it’s not going to help me in life if I keep fighting so I started listening.

One time I felt like everyone was picking on me when we got together to express ourselves to each other. They kept telling me the things I was doing wrong. “You keep cursing, you keep rolling your eyes at me, you keep giving me attitude.” I was mad because I felt like they were all picking on me and they were trying to get me in trouble. It made me feel lonely and left out. I said I feel like AWOLing, which means running away from the group home. I don’t think I would really have AWOLed because I would have gotten in trouble and they would have called the police, but I was just saying it to get attention. They said, “Don’t do it because you’ll get in trouble. It’s not worth it. Take a minute to think it through.” It showed me they cared.

I started talking more to them about stuff that goes on in school, like if I broke up with somebody. Sometimes my mom wouldn’t come visit me on the weekends because she didn’t have the money for the bus. I’d talk to the staff and the girls and tell them I felt sad because my mom didn’t come. They’d say, “You’ll be fine, you’ll see her.” I knew that I could express myself to them and they wouldn’t judge me.

The staff said, “You need to start writing your feelings down because if you hold them in it will make it worse.” I started journaling every day. It helped to get my feelings out in words. Then I’d rip the paper, which helped me get my anger out.

I also started listening to music after school, like while I’m doing my homework. I listen to all kinds but I like rap the best because it gives you messages, like no matter what you can change, or if you do something wrong don’t make it a big deal, take it one step at a time. 

I don’t get angry like I did in the past. I don’t cut anymore. I’m not getting into fights with people and I can solve problems on my own without the teachers.

A few months ago, when a student tried to tell me some gossip about another student, I said, “Don’t tell me about that because it’s none of my business.” If I knew, the other student would have thought I said something about them and I could have gotten into a fight. I felt relieved because I knew I had done the right thing. I told the staff and they said I did a good job. I was so happy it felt like my birthday.

Before when I was fighting I didn’t have any friends. Now I have friends. Before I came to the Linden Center, I didn’t think I would graduate. Now I have As and Bs instead of Fs. I want to graduate high school, go to college and become a fashion designer.

It took a lot of work but I’m proud of how I’ve changed. I hope to go home by the end of the school year. I feel happy about my future. 

Alana Folsom, Marshall HS (graduated 2008)
L.A. Youth taught me that my opinions shouldn’t be discounted, no matter how silly or unworthy it felt to me at the time. Also, I remember wanting to do a story on a pseudo-foodie club a group of my friends and I had started, and instead of being shot down, it grew into an a thousand-word (Editor’s note: it was actually close to  2,000) article about our lunch time rituals. 

Amanda Ly, Keppel HS (graduated 2009)
I learned that I can educate and empower others by sharing my story.

Amy Fan, Temple City HS (graduated 2012)
I would doodle egghead pictures of Mike, Laura, and Amanda during the meetings. Also, I was a pretty egotistical writer (still am,) and L.A. Youth humbled me by making me change my style of writing and correcting the way I wrote.

Andrea Domanick. Harvard-Westlake School (graduated 2006)
L.A. Youth didn’t just give me the opportunity to write about whatever I wanted, it taught me that I could write about whatever I wanted—that just because I was a young person didn’t mean that what I had to say about things like music or politics wasn’t interesting or important. My favorite memory would probably be working with Mike in the office on final drafts of articles—watching him make and explain edits to me and, as a result, seeing the article turn into something I could be proud of, like magic. It’s still one of the most important—and most fun—learning experiences I’ve ever had. 

Beeta Baghoolizadeh, Palos Verdes Peninsula HS (graduated 2006)
I still read L.A. Youth because the mainstream media usually neglects opinions from the younger generation. Sometimes it feels like the only mention of high school students is screen shots of racist tweets, even though we know that these rants aren’t representative of the youth voice. L.A. Youth reminds us that to hear their voices, all we need to do is pick up a paper and read.

Brynn Holland, Cleveland HS (graduated 2003)
When I went to college, at UC Berkeley, I learned that a professor used my article on feminism in her classroom. So cool. My favorite memory is working late at night with my editor at the time Libby, on my piece about why I opposed invading Iraq. I remember being hungry and tired and sitting next to Libby editing and rewriting. It was such an important time and an important piece and I was given so much attention and care while writing it. Turns out all my reasons for opposing the war were valid and true.

Caitlin Bryan, Valley Alternative Magnet School (graduated 2010)
My advice to current staffers is … always try to write, even if you don’t know what to write about. The editors are there to help you come up with something. (Editor’s note: when we asked alums to share their thoughts about L.A. Youth we didn’t know that we were closing so some offered advice to current staff.)

Christian Santiago, University HS (graduated 2011)
I was able to take my creativity to the next level by shooting photographs for the newspaper.

Connie Chung, Gabrielino HS (graduated 2005)
My favorite memory is making egg rolls and vegan chocolate chip oatmeal cookies for the holiday party and then publishing the recipes in the paper, but mostly, eating what other people brought (like Guianna’s guacamole!).

Destiny Jackson, Mayfair HS (graduated 2011)
I still remember Amanda always chasing me down about turning in my stories on time, which is all the time—deadlines are TOUGH! I also learned that I loved writing and getting my stories out to the public, because I know there is someone out there that is feeling or has felt the same way I do.

Elizabeth Del Cid, North Hollywood HS (graduated 2001)
Whether I was writing in favor of treating juvenile delinquents like adults or about something less consequential like my beauty pageant nightmare, L.A. Youth encouraged me to speak up and tell readers why. I’m glad L.A. Youth told me not to shut up. My favorite memory probably is the Models of Pride conference because it opened my eyes to a new perspective. It forced me to stop being neutral about LGBT rights, and openly to be an ally and advocate which, back when I was in high school (almost 12 years ago), was kind of the uncool thing to do. 

Lia Dun, Marshall HS (graduated 2010)
My favorite L.A. Youth memory is thinking I was finished with a story and then discovering there was another round of edits!

Elliot Kwon, Palos Verdes Peninsula HS (graduated 2011)
Coming from a conservative family and neighborhood, I was never really exposed to different opinions when it came to issues such as same-sex marriage and education until I started attending meetings for L.A. Youth. There I was able to listen to viewpoints and sides of arguments that I had not considered before, and through hearing them I began to question my own viewpoints and whether they were what I actually believed or were just adopted from others telling me what to believe. Through L.A. Youth I was able to formulate my own opinions rather than blindly follow what I was told. 

Charlene Lee, Walnut HS (graduated 2010)
At L.A. Youth, I learned how to write, speak, and think clearly–the latter probably being the most important.

Hassan Nicholas, Hamilton HS (graduated 2001)
When I was working alongside youth writers to conceptualize the art for their articles it put me in this collaborative process that was foreign to me. It wasn’t just about my ideas but rather re-imagining someone’s words, thoughts into a visual representation. It felt like work to me, but in a good way. My job as the artist was to create something to compliment the article, not overshadow it.

Jacky Garcia, Lynwood HS (graduated 2011)
I work at a middle school and my students read L.A. Youth as assignments and engage in discussions that bring up topics that they would not normal discuss at other times. It’s great to see that my students are exposed to stories of people that can have very different backgrounds, but deal with the same issues, exposing them to diversity.  

Jaime Isaac Conde, South Gate HS (graduated 2004)
Going to the Saturday meetings made me feel like I was more important. It made me feel like I had something to say and to share. I learned that I had more to offer than I thought I did. I learned I could push myself more and be noticed for being a part of something, like being on staff with L.A. Youth.

Jasper Nahid, Hamilton School (graduated 2012)
I had such a great time at every photo shoot I went to. There’s something really cool about getting to see a slice of someone’s life from the perspective of a photographer. It put me in places I wouldn’t have gone to otherwise and let me absorb a lot through the lens of my camera.

Jean Park, Harvard-Westlake School (graduated 2011)
The most memorable moments for me were the weekly staff meetings because after two hours of discussing, debating and sharing thoughts, you realize that every issue concerning teenagers in Los Angeles has multiple perspectives.

Jennifer Gottesfeld, Beverly Hills HS (graduated 2004)
I realized the power of having a platform where I could be heard as a young person, and that even though I was a teenager at the time, the things that I had to say mattered and people would listen. Realizing that my ideas matter has been a lesson that I have carried to this day, always feeling, even when I am the youngest in a crowd, that I have relevant things to say and not being afraid to share them.

Jessica Marin, Culver City HS (graduated 2012)
The weekly meetings were fun since everyone got a chance to speak and the editors were funny. 

Josie Valderrama, Sherman Oaks Center for Enriched Studies (graduated 1991)
When I interviewed people, they treated me like a grown-up. It was different than how I was used to being treated by school authorities. There was a level of respect and consideration there which, unfortunately, was less common within the school system. It woke me up to how we get conditioned in school to be obedient, sometimes almost like prison inmates. I ended up clashing with some school officials because I started speaking out for better treatment. I remember one administrator was taken aback, but then seemed to get it. I learned to believe in myself, to not necessarily take no for an answer, and to keep questioning the status quo.

Kristy Plaza, Duarte HS (graduated 2012)
My favorite L.A. Youth memory is the Christmas party of 2011 because that was when I realized that I was among people who shared my passion for journalism. I was filled with happiness and the knowledge that I was with family.

Maria Khan, Sherman Oaks Center for Enriched Studies (graduated 2012)
L.A. Youth was a reminder for me of the thousands of students around Los Angeles who are going through so many different obstacles. It’s easy to forget that not everyone your age is in your situation and that your problems are only as big as you make them out to be.

Matt Jones, Los Angeles Center for Enriched Studies (graduated 2001)
The editors at L.A. Youth saw that I was an intelligent, funny, insightful, confident, handsome (OK OK) teen, when I saw myself as awkward, goofy and lazy. I could interview important people, make cover worthy illustrations and take beautiful photographs. I could write. They helped guide my voice and make it better without intruding on my individuality.

Nicole Bryant, King Drew Medical Magnet HS (graduated 2004)
I have lots of great memories from L.A. Youth, but my favorite memory was receiving letters from other teens. It felt good to know that others appreciated the articles I wrote.

Nova Safo, Los Angeles County High School for the Arts (graduated 1996)
Perhaps my favorite memory is my very first with L.A. Youth. On my first day at the newspaper, I was somehow convinced to get dressed in a grungy outfit to model for a fashion shoot for that issue. The chance that the resulting photo, tucked away in L.A. Youth’s archives somewhere, might surface again some day still keeps me awake at night. (Editor’s note: that photo is still hanging up in our office!)

Oscar Rodriguez, Vista HS (graduated 2001)
The best part for me was probably having to work faster to meet deadlines. Even to this day, they have helped me, and now when an editor or a director calls me that they need me to work in a project, I am able to deliver with the work in such a tight deadline.

Paul Uhlenkott, Hamilton HS (graduated in 2007)
Writing the gay pride concert piece really was my gateway into accepting myself as a homosexual man. It helped me grow comfortable in talking about my sexuality and inspired me to learn the stories of others. Never be afraid of any story you feel you need to write. Stories that might seem difficult are important for us to express.

Precious Sims, Central HS in Long Beach (graduated 2011)
I learned that no matter how painful or even joyful your story is, always try to be detailed so that the readers can feel who you are through your words.

Samantha Richards, Sherman Oaks Center for Enriched Studies (graduated in 2010)
L.A. Youth taught me that in order to succeed I needed to overcome my fears, believe in myself, and take chances.

Sam Rubinroit, Malibu HS (graduated 2009)
L.A. Youth was my first foray into the world of editing, which helped shape my writing style into what it is today.

Sauntrie Abellera, Bishop Conaty—Our Lady of Loretto (graduated 2004)
My favorite memory is meeting Tom Brokaw at an L.A. Youth tour!

Selina MacLaren, West Valley Christian Jr./Sr. HS (graduated 2007)
It’s rare in high school that students are given so much freedom in their projects, and also rare that high schoolers take on projects that aren’t graded. In all the hype of AP exams and SAT scores and track 400m times, it’s nice to have something that doesn’t have a number attached. Observing a juvenile courtroom for a day was fascinating. It was the first time I was exposed to criminal law, which is now a passion of mine. 

Seth Rubinroit, Malibu HS (graduated 2008)
L.A. Youth gave me a large platform to showcase my writing.

Shengul Bajrami, University HS (graduated 2001)
I probably would not have pursued college if it weren’t for L.A. Youth and I definitely would not be where I am today in many others ways. I loved the photography workshops and assignments. It was L.A. Youth that sparked my major interest in photography and film and gave me the confidence to express myself through these mediums, eventually leading me to choose my current profession in television. L.A. Youth taught me that there isn’t just one way to do something; that there are endless unique and nonconventional ways to express myself or solve a problem. It’s because of L.A. Youth and mentors like Libby Hartigan that I learned how to write, communicate ideas, work with others on a creative level and truly believe I can do great things.

Solange Rubio, Leuzinger HS (graduated 2009)
Being at L.A. Youth convinced me that I was worth something more and I have much to offer this world.

Stephany Yong, Walnut HS (graduated 2012)
It wasn’t until I joined L.A. Youth that I realized just how little I had seen and understood about what it means to be a young person in a city as beautiful, dynamic and diverse as Los Angeles. I got to hear stories of incredible teens from extraordinary circumstances and others who had really cool hobbies like beat boxing and jewelry making. After my first L.A. Youth meeting freshman year, I was pretty sure that not only was I boring, I had no story to tell that people would find interesting. However, L.A. Youth really emphasizes how everyone, even the boring square like me, was significant and that these young voices have value and are worth listening to. I gathered up the courage to speak up at meetings, and after a few I found that I actually had valuable input to contribute to conversations regarding budget cuts and civil rights.

Stephanie Cruz, Bravo Medical Magnet HS (graduated 2004)
At L.A. Youth I interacted with students from across the county. There were teens from schools just like mine, but there were also kids from private schools, from better funded public schools, religious kids, foster care kids, openly gay teens, and maybe more importantly, adults who wanted to hear from all of us.

Valerian Zamel, Fairfax HS (graduated 2005)
My favorite memory would be working with Libby Hartigan on a story about my father’s death. I’d hit a sort of writers block with the story and we were siting in the office, and she was asking me all these questions about the funeral, and I suddenly started crying, and Libby just sat there, and patiently waited until I calmed down, and after that, everything started flowing, and I was able to describe the experience in a very honest and open way. It’s not the happiest of memories but it’s one I really remember and cherish, that sometimes you have to face very difficult memories if you want you break through to something, and that brainstorming session with Libby will something I always remember.

Vincent Hsia, South Pasadena HS (graduated 2000)
I learned I had a unique voice. It was always there, but I needed someone to show me that it was there and that I could bring it out with my own writing.

Charles Watkins, King Drew Medical Magnet HS (graduated 2011)
I learned that I have no reason to feel embarrassed about being adopted or being a foster youth.

Ambar Espinoza, University HS (graduated 2001)
I thought I wanted to be a celebrity journalist when I first pondered the idea of being a reporter. I quickly learned at L.A. Youth that there are so many important issues to cover and stories to tell. Covering those stories would have a greater impact in helping my community than covering celebrities. 

Patricia Chavarria, Cesar Chavez Continuation HS
I was basically invisible in high school, but after my stories people noticed me and my fear of being in the spotlight has drifted away. I’m not as shy or intimidated as I was before. And I learned that I’m capable of turning one plain sentence into two paragraphs with nothing but descriptions.

Shannon Matloob, Beverly Hills HS (graduated 2008)
L.A. Youth took me out of my Beverly Hills bubble of superficiality. I came to L.A. Youth for the “college resume booster” and left with a better idea of who I was and what I wanted. 

Victor Beteta, University HS (graduated 2012)
I am a freshman at UCLA, studying Design Media Arts. Before joining the paper my parents didn’t want me to follow an arts career. Once they saw that I had published my work, they realized that it was something I was truly passionate about, and the allowed to pursue it. 

*Note: Some percentages do not add up to 100 because respondents checked all the answers that applied.

To see the results in graph form, click here. 

Respondents were:  Female 59%  Male 41%

Ethnicity:  Latino 72%  Asian 11%  Black 11%  White 10%

Who works in your household?
One parent 51%
Both parents 43%
Neither parent 6%

Does anyone in your household work more than one job?
No 80%
Yes 20%

Do you or your siblings work to help support the family?
No 69%
Yes 31%

Who do you live with?
Parent(s) and siblings 95%
Grandparents 8%
Relatives 7%
Not with family 1%

How many cars does your family have?
Two 39%
One 28%
More than two 25%
None 7%

How do you get around?
Parents drive me 72%
Walk/skateboard 42%
Bus/Metro train system 35%
Bike 13%
I drive my own car 4%

Do you receive free or reduced price lunch at school?
Yes 79%
No 21%

How does your family pay for health care?
I’m not sure 40%
We have government assistance, like Medi-Cal 30%
We have insurance through a parent’s job 25%
We don’t have health insurance 5%

Has your family had trouble paying for or been unable to pay for any of the following within the past year?
Utility bills 58%
Rent or house payment 52%
Transportation 36%
Clothes 23%
Food 22%
Medical bills 14%
Child Care 6% 

Have you had to cut back on any of the following in the last year because your family didn’t have enough money to give you?
Shopping for clothes 59%
Going to movies 53%
Buying video games/music 48%
Eating out with friends 45%
After-school activities 18%

Is your family saving money so that you can go to college?
I don’t know 43%
Yes 36%
No 21%

Your attitudes

We asked respondents to check all of the statements that they agreed with.
People are poor because of circumstances beyond their control, like the loss of a job, medical problems or they don’t get paid enough money 84%
People are poor because of bad choices they’ve made like being lazy or abusing drugs or dropping out of school 61%
A person’s success depends on the quality of their school 26%
People born into rich families are more likely to be rich in the future 25%
Children in poor families are more likely to be poor in the future 10%
A person’s success is based on luck 5%

How would you rate your family’s financial situation today?
We’re not rich, but we’re comfortable 54%
It’s tough to pay bills, but we manage 41%
We’re poor 3%
We’re rich 2%

Here is a list of things the government could do to directly help the poor in America.

We asked respondents to check the statements that they would support.
Provide money to help families pay for medical expenses or health insurance 68%
Increase minimum wage 61%
Provide more job training 51%
Provide more money to buy food (food stamps) 50%
Provide free or discounted transit passes 37%
Provide money to help families pay for daycare 28%

Whose responsibility is it to help the poor?
The government should help 83%
People should help themselves 43%
Churches and community organizations 35%

We were at Victoria’s Secret hunting for the Miracle Bra. We both had seen it on TV, but it wasn’t enough. We had to meet it, touch it, smell it, experience it. When we finally found the technicolor display table, we eagerly secured bras in our sizes. Adele’s was pine green. Mine was barfy purple. In my dressing room, I tore off my shirt and Jockey bra with the force of a sinning priest. Snap went the Miracle, on went my shirt and out popped my eyes.

And if some girls are considered arm pieces, then their butts are trophies. There’s always that type of guy who needs a pretty girlfriend to boost his ego. Butts are no exception. Guys know that they will get props for their girlfriends’ nice booties. 
lllll“A booty is like a flower,” said Joe Castellanos, 16. “The best booty gets the best guy … the best flower gets the best bee.” 
From “Beautiful butts” by Ambar Espinoza, 17, University HS, November-December 2000

When you go to museums, you don’t get to laugh, unless it’s at the stupid paintings and how much they cost. The artist will put some blotches of paint on a canvas, give it some stupid name, and the painting will end up costing around $1 million. I don’t get it. Why do they do stuff like that?
lllllI could make up a painting with blotches of paint and call it some stupid title like, “Inside the mind of an L.A. Youth writer.” Then I would say some French guy painted it. And BAM!—an easy million dollars. That’s not art.
From “Why museums suck” by Howard Hwang, 15, Marshall HS, Fall Arts Guide 2001

I got discouraged because I couldn’t even get hired at McDonald’s. I felt like a loser and began getting desperate. I thought about washing cars, selling burned CDs, babysitting, pursuing an acting career or making a demo. None of those things would have worked for me though, because I was a talentless, underage, spoiled wimp of a girl who wouldn’t even wash my own car, so I knew I had to be more realistic.
From “Want to get cursed out and hung up on?” by Nicole Bryant, 18, Fall Jobs 2003

l

Nicholas Robinson, 17, Cortines School of Visual and Performing Arts The teenage years are a mix of mature and immature behavior. The teens in these stories have serious and rational thoughts while also reverting back to childish humor. It’s the combination of sophisticated analysis and something that would make a 7-year-old crack up that makes these stories so great.  Like in “My so-called boobs,” the writer goes from talking about women being comfortable with the size of their breasts to being in a store and trying on the Miracle Bra. She and her friend keep going on about how their boobs have just expanded amazingly. “Where did my feet go?”  In “Beautiful butts” the teens she interviewed share stupid pickup lines but also talk about being respectful and not just spouting those lines to a stranger; they only use them with someone they’re familiar with. But some of it was dated. The first two words caught me off guard: “Step out Baywatch babes.” I’ve heard “watch out” but not “step out.”  In “Why Museums suck” it’s him being rude, like laughing at old people running into each other, but there are decent arguments between his comments about how museums suck. The fact that he got distracted so much during the article was really funny, like how the hot dogs were expensive or the tour guide was hot so he couldn’t pay attention.

You might think I’m a boy. Well, not really, but my two little buddies could scarcely be called hooters, jugs, knockers, or whatever. Not anything that would make a No Fear guy nudge his pals and say, “Whoa, duuuuudes!”

But, then again, I suppose there are a few advantages. I can run around like crazy without wearing a bra an not feel a thing. I can sleep face down. Guys at Knots Scary Farm can’t grab my boobs because, heck, there’s nothing to grab! I get to do those nightly “I must, I must, I must” break augmentation exercises. When I hug people, I can pull them closer to me. I don’t even have to think about paying thousands of dollars to have breast reduction surgery. (And implants have been proven unsafe, which is a great excuse not to get them.) I have the option not to torture myself in a huge, water-collector-looking, size double-D harness. I’m less likely to walk in dog poop because I can watch my step. I have no back problems. I won’t sag when I get old. And, best of all, I will not have to worry about accidentally suffocating my baby when I breast feed. Having small breasts is great! I love it!

Maybe I’m just trying to kid myself. All I want for Christmas is more boob tissue. No more socks, just honest-to-goodness flesh. Man, if I were a mermaid, I’d have to use oyster shells for a bra. Actually, last week, my friend Adela and I did have the chance to venture into the world of big breasts for a few minutes.

We were at Victoria’s Secret hunting for the Miracle Bra. We had both seen it on TV, but it wasn’t enough. We had to meet it, touch it, smell it, experience it. When we finally found the techni-color display table, we eagerly secured bras in our sizes. Adela’s was pine green. Mine was barfy purple. In my dressing room, I tore off my shirt and Jockey bra with the force of a sinning priest. Snap went the Miracle, on went my shirt, and our popped my eyes.

“Adela, I can’t believe it! I’m Elvira!” I laughed and laughed.

“I know,” croaked Adela next door, “It’s sick. I can rest drinks on these things.” 

“Where did my feet go?”

“This thing should be a gag gift.”

“It’s a miracle, it’s a miracle!”

And so forth. As you might guess, we threw those bras back on the table and ran. I decided I was happy with chest. Hey, my situation isn’t rare. Whenever I want, I can slip into a Miracle Bra and be the big-breasted gal who lurks within me. A big girls can’t smash her boobs flat to be like me. I’m versatile. I can be pleasing to all. People like me. And I like my boobs.

I talked to two school board members, my principal, one of my teachers and Mr. Collins and at the end one thing became clear: everyone is pointing fingers and no one seems to want to take responsibility. The teachers and administrators say the students are responsible for getting a good education. The administrators and students say some of the teachers aren’t doing a good job. The teachers and students don’t think the administrators care. Everyone thinks that the system is falling apart. Amidst all this clamor one thing seems to get lost: a good public education.
From “My school deserves better and so do I” by Gohar Galyan, 17, Marshall HS, November-December 1998

Despite gang members being violent, I had always figured that they were normal people with feelings just like you and me. [Officer Chuck] Drylie, however, viewed violent teens and gang members as heartless, completely cold to others’ suffering. He blamed some of these teens’ behavior on their parents. He said some parents do not know how their kids spend their time; they don’t even know what their child’s bedroom looks like. “Gangs commit destruction … they don’t do charity work,” he said. Maybe Drylie’s point of view is correct. He sees violence on a daily basis, while I do not.
From “Another day, another death” by Jennifer Clark, March-April 1999

It’s a shame people living no more than two miles apart can live in two totally different worlds. I think kids who commit crimes have to answer for themselves. But at the same time, the way our society deals with this problem is not right. As I look at the criminal justice system, I see that it’s set up only to put more people in jail. They set rules to make sure that if you mess up once, you mess up for life. It bothers me that the way we deal with crime is hurting youth, especially in minority communities. Youth don’t have enough education or opportunities, and when they mess up, they’re not given a second chance.
From “Is there justice for juveniles?” By Nicholas Williams, 17, Daniel Murphy HS, January-February 2000

The teens in juvenile court were like any other group of kids—all different. Some shot daring looks at the judge or slouched, but there were also teens dressed in ties and button-up shirts, sitting up straight with nervous respect, addressing the judge as “ma’am.” Even though the teens seemed less violent than I had expected, their charges surprised me. I couldn’t believe that a 12-year-old could be charged with a sex offense, or that a gang member would tattoo his gang symbol on the back of his head.
From “A day in court” by Selina MacLaren, 17, West Valley Christian Jr./Sr. HS, November-December 2006 

These photos were taken during the 1992 Los Angeles riots. The riots broke out after white police officers were acquitted of beating Rodney King during a traffic stop. The beating was recorded on video. One of our teen photographers captured three young people getting arrested after they broke the windows of a department store at Wilshire Boulevard and Fairfax Avenue near our old office. They had come with about 30 other young people, carrying baseball bats, steel rods, axes, beer bottles and bottles filled with gasoline. The others fled when police arrived; these three were caught and required to lay on the asphalt while they were handcuffed. Then they leaned across an unmarked police car while police questioned them. Their car was confiscated and they were taken away in a police car. According to the L.A. Times, the  riots left 58 people dead and caused millions of dollars in damage from looting and fires.
From “Wreaking havoc,” a photo essay by Prisco Serrano, June-July 1992

Emily Bader, 16, Cleveland HS (Reseda) Sometimes, things like the lack of resources at schools (“My school deserves better and so do I”) and the juvenile court system (“A day in court”) are brought up in big newspapers like the Los Angeles Times, but many teens don’t read them, so having these stories in L.A. Youth is important. These stories also included the thoughts of the writers, which made reading them a lot more interesting and relatable than something you’d read in the L.A. Times. To anyone who hasn’t experienced police brutality or been forced to go to a mental hospital, those issues are much easier to understand if you’re able to hear the voice of another teen. The story that I related to the most was Gohar Galyan’s story about her school. I go to a public school and I face the same problems that she talked about, like how my classes have way too many people and sometimes people have to sit on counters or stand against the wall. Hearing her thoughts and her conversations with teachers and administrators was interesting because a lot of the time, I get the same responses from the people at my school. It can be discouraging, so it was nice to hear from another teen who has experienced the same thing. It was sad that 15 years later, everyone still gives the same “It’s not my fault” response and nothing ever gets done.

You won’t see Steve Awhill of Canoga Park in any TV spots that advertise psychiatric care for troubled teens, but he plays a specialized role in what has become a booming business nationwide.

Sawhill and his wife, Leslie, operate S&L Teen Hospital Shuttle. For a price, from $300 to $2,000, depending on how far he has to travel, he said that S&L will deliver teens to the hospital of their parents’ choice.

It doesn’t matter if the teenager wants to go. Their parents, Sawhill said, sign a release authorizing a pickup.

“We’ve picked up a lot of kids,” Sawhill said. “Well over 1,000.”

“A good percent say, ‘Yeah, well, lets go,’” according to Sawhill.

The other 20 percent? Sawhill, who said he employs some off-duty police officers, does whatever it takes to get the teens there.

Sometimes, after 12 hours of picking up kids, Sawhill wonders why he stays in the business, “but when you get invited to a sobriety party, and the kid days, ‘I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,’ then you know it’s worthwhile.”

Sawhill said that his main goal is to help kids, and, clearly, many parents also feel that their teens need professional help. But the actions of desperate parents, combined with the practices of private adolescent care providers in Los Angeles and across the nation, have fueled a growing debate over whether the rights of teens are being violated in the name of care and concern.

Every year in America, tens of thousands of teens are committed to private facilities, sometimes against their will, sometimes without being informed of their rights, and much of this burgeoning trend seems to be tied to slick advertising and the monies to be made off adolescent care.

Marketing the private hospitals

“Real aggressive marketing is going on,” said Barbara Lurie, director of the Los Angeles County Patients’ Rights Office. “All the ads are geared to parents, not the kids.”

Patricia Gilbert, a patients’ rights advocate at Lurie’s office, also noted the growing number of private facilities advertising on TV “when angry parents are more likely to see them. They advertise with the notion that if you’re a good parent, you’ll put your kids into the hospital.”

Jim Price, executive director of the L.A. Mental Health Advocacy Project, finds this disturbing. “Parents are lured to place their kids in these facilities,” he said. “A very large industry has developed [targeting] kids who have problems dealing with their parents but don’t have any serious psychiatric problems.”

The numbers game

The number of teens in private psychiatric facilities in the United States rose 450 percent between 1980 and 1984—a marked increase from 10,764 to 48,375.

And between 1966 and 1981, the number of for-profit psychiatric facilities for youth increased 125 percent.

These are the most recent statistics available, according to the U.S. House of Representatives Select Committee on Children, Youth, and Families.

Such care does not come cheaply. Fees at several Southern California facilities range from $4,000 to $7,000 per week. The average stay at the facilities surveyed lasts six weeks.

However, research by patients’ rights advocate Gilbert revealed an alarming fact in teen mental health care: the greatest predictor of length of hospital stay is not the diagnosis, but the ability to pay. And in most private facilities, ability to pay translates to insurance coverage.

“Sometimes we have to work fast, faster than we’d like, to prepare them to leave before their insurance runs out,” said R. James Perkins, adolescent program director at the Community Psychiatric Center in West Los Angeles. “Occasionally, the insurance runs out, and the child is clearly not ready for discharge.”

The length of stay at Charter Hospital in Long Beach “depends on the patient’s ability to pay—their insurance,” said Tari Moore, program director of the adolescent unit. “We have to speed up the treatment if the patient’s insurance runs out in 10 days.”

Teen patients’ rights

At Charter, few teens contest their admission, according to director Moore. “They are signed in [by their parents] as ‘voluntary,’ for the most part, so that’s covered,” she said. “There’s no need to go to trail over something that’s voluntary.”

That’s the problem, said patients’ rights advocate Gilbert. “Juveniles can be committed (voluntarily) be their parents. They have no legal recourse.”

A glimmer of hope, in the form of a proposed new state law authored by Assemblyman Richard Polanco (D-Los Angeles), was defeated on August 30^th on a 5-5 vote in the State Senate Appropriations Committee. Seven votes were required to move it to the Senate Floor. The State Assembly had already passed the bill. Heavy lobbying by organizations opposed to the new legislation was involved.

The proposed law, Assembly Bill 4163, would have prohibited minors 14 and over from being committed to a private facility without a hearing, unless they waive that right.

Previously, the California Supreme Court’s 1977 “Roger S.” decision guaranteed such hearings only to minors 14 and over in public facilities, not private ones.

Assemblyman Polanco was quoted by his legislative aide, Chris Flammer, as being “very disappointed,” It was an “urgency statue,” said Flammer, quoting the actual language of the legislation. That meant it would have gone into effect immediately “in order to protect the rights of minors who might otherwise by hospitalized against their will.”

The organizations that lobbied to defeat the proposed law included the California Association of Health and Hospital Systems, the United Hospital Association, the California Psychiatric Association and National Medical Enterprises. The latter, based in Atlanta, Georgia, owns Charter Hospitals.

According to Carl Weissburg, Executive Director of the United Hospital Association, “There was no funding provision in the bill. Insurance companies won’t pay for the due process hearings and the hospitals certainly won’t dig deep in their pockets to pay the attorney fees and other costs. There was no reimbursement built into the bill.”

Most of the cost of the bill would have been incurred by local agencies, not the private facilities, according to Flammer. These include the person conducting the hearing (a court-appointed commissioner, referee or certification review officer), the patients’ rights advocate provided to the minor, and the basic administration of the mandated local program imposed under the law.

As Flammer pointed out, even the cost of a booklet outlining the specific rights of minors in mental health facilities—which the facilities were required to provide to every teen patient upon admission—was to be borne by the State Department of Mental Health.

Critics also argued that the Polanco bill would have denied parents’ “due process”—to which legislative aide Flammer countered, “These professional and private hospital associations feel due process belongs to the parents, not teens.” He added that participation by parents was in the legislation.

Patients’ rights advocate Gilbert sees money as the overriding reason for the hospitals’ opposition. “Any kind of hearing means that [teen patients] are going to stay less, and I think that’s what the hospitals are afraid of,” said Gilbert. “That’s a lot of money to lose per kid.”

Assembly Member Polanco plans to re-introduce the bill in January. And proponents, including the California Medical Association, plan to press for enactment.

For now, however, patients’ rights advocates are fighting what they see as a major struggle against the practices of some private hospitals and how they are treating teens who are brought in involuntarily.

In L.A. County, teens in private facilities do have the right to seek and obtain a post-admission court petition and have a judge decide whether their hospital detention is legal.

But mental health authorities say that teens are often not told about it and thus are unaware of that option.

“Many, many of them don’t know that they have the right to request a hearing,” said Ruth Olson, Assistant Division Chief of Mental Health Services for the L.A. County Superior Court.

Scenarios

Other teens seek petitions, but then withdraw them under pressure.

A 17-year-old female “wanted to get out, but the doctors scared her enough so she withdrew her [petition],” said Price.

At one of the facilities that Gilbert services, “The therapist threatened to send the kid to juvenile hall if they went to court [for a petition].”

Olson knew of another scenario, in which teenagers opt to “make a deal, rather than seek a petition. For example, she said, “The doctor will tell a patient, ‘If you’ll stay here one month and not go to court, we’ll let you out in one month, instead of three.’”

Teen patients often accept the “deals,” rather than run the risk of a judge misunderstanding their plight, Olson said.

Not only do some hospitals make “deals” with patients, but they also provide parents with “stories.”

One caller to a Southern California facility was advised by an employee on what to do if her son wouldn’t go voluntarily.

“Tell him that you’re going to go shopping … or [to] pick up a prescription at the pharmacy,” the employee told the caller.

Aparently, the shopping “story” is not isolated to a single facility. R. James Perkins, adolescent program director at the Community Psychiatric Center (CPC) in West Los Angeles, said that at CPC, “some parents get the child to the hospital by telling them that they’re going shopping.”

Patients’ rights advocate Lurie related another story of a teenager whose routine visit to a doctor at an adolescent facility turned into an extended ordeal. “Before she knew it, the [facility] door slammed behind her,” Lurie recounted. “She washed her underwear out for a week” until her parents brought her a change of clothing.

Looking for answers

Most advocates of teen rights believe that proposed laws like the Polanco statue are crucial 

Professor Jan C. Costello, Associate Dean of Loyola Law School, recently stated that the same concern that motivated the California Supreme Court to reach its “Roger S.” decision regarding teens in public facilities still exists in the private arena: the “serious consequences attendant upon involuntary commitment of a minor as a mentally ill or disordered person.”

The Court found that confinement in a mental hospital involved a substantial impairment of liberty and privacy rights. “not only is there physical restraint, but there is injury to protected interests of reputation, and of not being improperly or unfairly stigmatized.”

In that decision, the court noted “the uncertainties in psychiatric diagnosis and the divergence of expert views which render the possibility of mistake significantly greater than in diagnosis of physical illness.”

It reduced the risk, according to Costello, “by establishing criteria for hospitalization and procedures whereby a neutral decision-maker review[ed] the appropriateness of the minor’s hospitalization.”

In defending the need for an impartial person to conduct the hearing, Costello pointed out that private facilities, while having an interest in providing appropriate treatment, “may also have a financial interest in providing in-patient care to the minor, even where hospitalization is not necessary and treatment could be provided less restrictively.”

But such laws are not seen as a cure-all. And even if statues like the Polanco bill do pass, teen patients’ rights advocates are still concerned.

Beyond what they indicate would be the need for strict compliance and enforcement, they say, is a larger issue: the ongoing effect of aggressive adolescent hospital advertising on defining how parents look at their teenagers, what they regard as acceptable teenage behavior and whether they might opt too readily to put their child into a facility instead of exploring alternatives.

To get insurance companies to consider paying for out-patient care is cited by at least one expert as a potentially important step. Some suggest that this may come about as insurance companies, plagued by soaring reimbursement costs to adolescent hospitals, re-evaluate what disorders and teenage conditions really require prolonged in-facility treatment.

For now, however, teenagers are getting committed every day. And for some—especially those who don’t really need hospitalization, or need only limited care—they must fight their own lonely, and sometimes desperate, battles.

“I don’t know what the answer is,” said Howard Kelner, Assistant Deputy, psychiatric section of the L.A. District Attorney’s Office. “[But] I don’t think the answer is locking them up in psychiatric hospitals.”

Photo by Cindy Mojica, 16, Los Angeles Center for Enriched Studies. 

Paul Anthony Perez, 17, was shot to death in Whittier in 1998, the same day his baby was born. His grave, which describes him as a son, brother, father and husband-to-be, hints at the loss of the loved ones he left behind.

Since I’d heard so much about violence, I wanted to learn about it up close and personal. I wanted to see what happened after the gun went off. I wanted to learn not just how teens died, but who they were. With another LA Youth reporter, Katrina Gibson,  I started to look into it. First we picked a month in 1998—January. We went to the county Health Services Department and looked up the death certificates of all the teens that were killed that month. There were 15 total, 14 boys and one girl. Most of the youth were Latino and a few were black. I felt empty and unnerved when I saw how many had died. And nobody really noticed their deaths. They just became another homicide counted up by the Coroner’s Office.

Why did these youth have to die?

The death certificates contained only minimal information on each teens. There were so many unanswered questions. Why were they killed? Were they gang members? Did they know the murderers? How could we find the murderers? Would they be remorseful?

Our research took months. We contacted the Los Angeles Coroner’s Office to try to get more information. We found out which police department investigated each murder, and we played phone tag with many police officers. We learned that most of these cases were unsolved and that suspects had not been arrested.

Then we had to write to each teen’s family, in English and Spanish, requesting an interview. Those letters were difficult to write. There we were, complete strangers, asking these families to share their child’s life with us. After we mailed the letters, some came back—the families had moved. Others didn’t respond. We tried calling information, but the phone numbers were disconnected.

Finally I started getting some information

Finally Katrina was able to interview family members of Anthony Escobedo. Then I got my big break. Chuck Drylie, an officer at the Whittier police department, said he would talk to me about a teen named Paul Anthony Perez. But first, he said I should call the Whittier Daily news, and find out more about another teen named David Yanez. This boy would lead me to Paul.

I talked to Sue Marquez at the Whittier Daily News, and she sent me some old newspaper articles about David. Apparently he was an 18-year-old who had just started working at a gas station when he was shot. The newspaper articles said Paul was suspected of killing him. His aunt was quoted, saying Paul was a gang member.

When I interviewed Officer Drylie, the picture of Paul got worse. His body had been found early in the morning of Sunday, January 25, 1998. He was slumped in the passenger side of a stolen black Honda. Drylie described his appearance: baggy khaki pants, a white long-sleeved shirt under a black long-sleeved shirt, a shaved head, a pencil-thin mustache and pointy beard that Drylie called a “stinger.” He sure sounded like a gang member to me.

‘You never get used to it’

Drylie said he had personally investigated the scene. “You never get used to it. To see any 17-year-old dead with gunshot wounds to the head is not something you want to see,” he said.

After the interview, I went over to the street in Whittier where Paul was killed. I lost it for a moment, looking at the tranquil residential street, lined with trees. It didn’t seem like a violent place.

Then I asked Sue Marquez for anything else that had appeared in the Whittier Daily News on Paul. She sent me all she had. I discovered that Paul had a girlfriend who had given birth to their child the same day he died. I learned that Paul’s family had threatened to sue the Whittier Police Department, saying that the police didn’t bother to try to find Paul’s killer because Paul was a suspect in the death of David Yanez. (Drylie denied this. He said “Regardless of who died … we try and handle every homicide exactly the same way.”)

At that point I was desperate to find the family. I hated that LA Youth’s readers were only going to see the most negative side of Paul, the violent teen stereotype we see on the news all the time. I tried to find Paul’s girlfriend, but there was nothing. Finally I reached Paul’s grandmother. She put me through the Spanish Inquisition, asking me in an intimidating voice who I was and what I was doing. I explained the concept of this articles about a million times, but I didn’t get anywhere.

Then I discovered another Perez number, and actually talked to Paul’s sister Marlene. She was very nice and sincere. She said she and her mom would talk, but when I called back, she had changed her mind. “We’re trying to put this behind us … we feel that it is best that we not talk to you.”

Are gang members evil?

So all I got was newspaper clippings and the point of view of Officer Drylie, who told me, “It’s a jungle out there … flat outright violence homicides perpetrated by youth …” Despite gang members being violent, I had always figured that they were normal people with feelings just like you and me. Drylie, however, viewed violent teens and gang members as heartless, completely cold to others’ suffering. He blamed some of these teens’ behavior on their parents. He said some parents do not even know how their kids spend their time; they don’t even know what their child’s bedroom looks like.” Gangs commit destruction … they don’t do charity work,” he said. Maybe Drylie’s point of view is correct. He sees violence on daily basis, while I do not. 

I’ll never know who Paul Perez was

In this article, I couldn’t help but focus on the bad part of Paul: he was a gangster suspected of killing another teens. We took a picture of Paul’s gravestone, and it hinted of all the love his family had for him, but that’s all I can give you: hints and guesses. There’s about a million questions unanswered. What was Paul really like? I don’t know. How is it possible for me (or anyone else) to change stereotypes about teens, when the only information available comes from people who really didn’t know the teens that well, such as the police and the Coroner’s Office? The only way you can find the truth is getting both sides of the story.

In a way, it doesn’t matter if Paul was a gangster or not. When you read the list of the 15 teens who were killed in January, 1998, it ought to make you mad. It doesn’t matter if these youth were “good” or “bad.” Either way, teen violence needs to stop. We should never accept people being killed so young. Teen homicides shouldn’t be normal. As Scott Carrier at the Coroner’s office told me, “We don’t need the business.” 

Then I remembered a girl I used to like a few years ago. She was still around. I agonized over how to approach her. First I sent her a Valentine. She came up to me and said, “Oh, that was very sweet.” That seemed like a green light, so I started following her around. I noticed where she parked her car. One day I waited for her by her car. “Um … I was just wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime?” She looked down at the ground and (while I was planning our marriage and what to name our kids) she said, “Sorry, I already have a boyfriend.” I smiled politely, feeling so small that a cockroach could feast on me. As I walked away, I bit my big, white notebook as hard as I could, leaving huge tooth marks.

The first stage of the friend zone is denial. As we got closer, he started to ask me for advice about girls. On the phone he would say, “Oh man, I just farted.” Are you serious? I’m a girl too, can’t you hold back a little? I convinced myself that he mentioned girls to make himself seem unavailable, and therefore more desirable.
From “‘Just friends’ forever” by Michelle Paik, 16, Palos Verdes Peninsula HS, May-June 2008

Her best friend told her to leave him but she was so confused. Sometimes he was really sweet and she didn’t want to leave him. Other times, she was angry but she thought she loved him. She didn’t want to see him get beat up by somebody or arrested by the cops. She couldn’t really tell her parents—they thought he was a “nice boy.” When he hit her, it made it hard for her to think clearly, and she’d start to believe what he said. “He brainwashed me,” she said.
From “He seemed like the perfect boyfriend …” by Julissa Espinoza and Christy Buena, Los Angeles HS, March-April 2000

Camille Didelot-Hearn, 16, Los Angeles Center for Enriched Studies It’s been really important that L.A. Youth write about all sides of relationships, even the bad sides, to let teens know what to do if that sort of situation happened to them or a friend. “He seemed like the perfect boyfriend…” is about teen dating violence, which is still a problem.  It’s comforting knowing that you’re not the only one having problems. The wide range of stories in L.A. Youth covers almost every situation that teenagers have been in.