The Freedom Writers Diary (27 page)

I am reminded of a story Ms. Gruwell read in her sophomore class, and I recently saw on video. The title was
Animal Farm
. This story revolved around the premise of creating a utopia where everyone is treated fairly and is completely equal. The reality of this is that just like in the book, not everybody works the same or cares the same. It is not an equal environment.

We can safely refer to the Freedom Writers as a Freedom Writer Farm, entirely consisting of what we like to call Boxers and Mollys. A Boxer is a hardworking person, and a Molly would be the opposite. Molly is the name of one horse in the book
Animal Farm
. She was a white horse who wore ribbons in her hair, and felt as though she didn’t have to contribute to the cause. Boxer is the name of another horse in
Animal Farm
. He was a plain horse who was born strong and sturdy. He put his all into everything he did. He worked so hard that he became as stubborn as glue. The reward for being involved with the creation of a book, and being part of something that can change one’s life, is right in front of the Mollys, and yet they do not take advantage of it. They expect others to carry the workload for them. The Mollys of the world have to realize one thing, that a Boxer can only do so much.

Our lawyer, our teacher, and Carol are all here to make our book “an all for one, one for all” type of operation. However, the irony is that humans, like the animals in
Animal Farm
, do not work equally. If this is the attitude, then everything is destined for failure.

Ms. Gruwell says that the only way the Freedom Writers could be destroyed is from someone on the inside. That is just it, plain and simple! These people (the Mollys) need to get their act together, or get the hell out!

Diary 124

Dear Diary,

I never thought I would be kicked off the basketball team, especially my senior year! I have devoted four years of hard work to my coach and my team. Four years of early-morning practices, late-night practices, summer league practices, and winter break practices. Who knows how many laps I had to run, how many side aches I’ve endured? Not to mention all the verbal abuse I’ve encountered. To sit and watch my teammates win CIF championship from the stands? I don’t think so!

I have always been a key player on the team. My teammates worked hard with the help of my attitude and motivation. I knew what it took to get them pumped up. So why was my coach kicking me off the basketball team? On one hand, my attitude was beneficial to fellow teammates. I would whisper things to girls on the team to make them mad, and also to make them play harder. That same attitude was the one my coach didn’t like.

Yeah, I have an attitude. Yeah, I’m sarcastic and mouthy; I will be the first to admit it. But what seventeen-year-old isn’t? I am me, and I am not about to change my attitude for coach or anyone else. Coach didn’t like the looks I made. She always thought I was trying to upset her. She always thought I was talking about her when she turned around. She would say stupid things, and all the time the team started laughing. Coach thought I was making them laugh, but it was her. I should be a bodybuilder, with all the push-ups and suicides she made me do.

I know I have talent, and I have always wanted to play basketball in college, but who is going to notice me sitting in the stands?

All I could think about was, “Why was she doing this to me?” I just can’t be a conformist like most of the girls on the team.

For three weeks straight I swallowed my pride and walked into my coach’s office to discuss my removal from the team. At times I thought she understood where I was coming from, and would give me another chance.

I never did get back on the team. She gave up on me, and I felt as though life had as well. Basketball was the only consistent thing I had in my life. It was how I relieved the stress of everyday life. I could go to practice and forget everything outside the gym. Basketball was everything to me. I loved it. It was my life.

Though I didn’t play for my high school, I went to every game. I watched them win the league championship. I watched them go to CIF, and I watched them go to the championship game I dealt with the pain of not playing and sat in the stands. I wanted my coach to know that she may have given up on me, but I would never give up on my team. My self-esteem and my confidence are low at this point, but I haven’t given up. Especially not with my old teammates coming and telling me how the coach would use me as an example. When the girls would practice lazy or not play with intensity she would say “Girls, you should work hard. Joan would work very hard to get back on the team.”

The fact that I was not playing basketball anymore opened up the door to another opportunity for me. I was able to become more involved in the activities that I was only giving a quarter of myself to. One of those activities was the Freedom Writers. When I was kicked off the team, the Freedom Writers were asked to come to New York to receive the Spirit of Anne Frank Award and also to tape a segment for
Prime Time Live
. There were only a few of us that were allowed to go. We had an option: either write a paper on why you should go to represent the Freedom Writers, or we didn’t have to go. I chose to write. I knew that some of the girls on the basketball team really wanted to go, but due to the fact that there was a game in a couple days they were not permitted to go. That decision was not made by Ms. G but by the coach.

I always believed that for every bad thing comes a good thing. My attitude is better these days. I bite my tongue a lot. I now know that “Attitude is everything!” I’m not perfect, no one is, but I’m trying.

Like Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “To improve is to change, to be perfect is to change often.” I am far from perfection, but I’m changing.

Diary 125

Dear Diary,

What the heck just happened? Out of a hundred and fifty Freedom Writers, I have been chosen to speak in front of Barbara Boxer, our senator! Why me? Why would the Freedom Writers want the most outrageous student in the whole group to represent them in front of someone who could change their lives forever? The thing that really trips me out is that it wasn’t just Ms. Gruwell who decided that I should be the keynote speaker, it was also the other 149 Freedom Writers who, for some strange reason, believed in me…

From the beginning of my freshman year up until this very day, I have had to be the center of attention. My freshman year I had the whole Gothic image going on and thought I was a vampire. I pierced my nipple and my mother nearly had a heart attack. I was on restriction for a month. My sophomore year I told everyone that I was a fairy and with fairy characteristics, I fluttered out of the house without parental consent. I got locks put on my windows and was restricted for a month. My junior year I was totally out of control! I wanted to rebel in any way that I could. I cut class almost every day, I shaved my long blond hair off and dyed the little bit that was left jet black. Unfortunately, I forgot to put Vaseline around my face and I ended up with black dye stains dripping down my face for about two weeks. That took ten years off my mom and I got restricted for another month. If that wasn’t enough, I later pierced my tongue and had the very blasé “I don’t care about life” attitude. At sixteen and a half my mom found out I was cutting classes with my twenty-one-year-old boyfriend. She threatened to put him in jail and I was on restriction twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week—possibly forever. It didn’t matter, those restrictions were getting quite old. I snuck out of the house anyway and almost went to jail myself when I got caught outside past curfew by the cops. What made me realize that I should slow down on my wild streak is when Ms. Gruwell threatened to kick me out of the Freedom Writers. That got my attention—fast! I depended on the Freedom Writers to always be there, and I was tongue-tied when Ms. G got fed up with my crazy antics. I was putting everything else before my education and she would not put up with it.

I still can’t see why they chose me to speak to a senator, instead of a Freedom Writer who deserved it. Well, I’m not going to let down the Freedom Writers, Ms. G, and especially not myself.

Diary 126

Dear Diary,

I yelled, “Viva los Freedom Writers!” in front of an audience of university professors at UC—Irvine’s “Pursuit of Peace” conference today. I can still hear that “writers” part echoing in my head. I was hoping to hear laughter from the Freedom Writers in the audience because usually they’re the only people who laugh at my antics. But the entire crowd burst into laughter. Hysterics, actually. I even got a standing ovation! How odd! This has never happened before. People usually laugh
at
me—never
with
me.

Ironically, the last time I was at UCI, I was in their Child Development Center being treated for ADD when I was eight years old. At the time, I was trying to understand what ADD meant. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that it was controllable and wouldn’t affect my work habits…if I take the prescribed drugs. I didn’t pay much attention to ADD when I was young. Now I have learned that it could stay with me until I die.

Because of my ADD, I have done some wacky stuff in the past—where unfortunately, there were no standing ovations! I remember a time when I was young and I charged full steam ahead into a Coke machine. “Look out! Here comes the RAGING BULL!” Everyone was looking at me. I was out of control and on a rampage!
Bang! Bang! Clank! Bang
! The banging and the clanking was my head crashing against the soda machine. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor while everyone was getting free Cokes. This is not the sanest way to gain popularity! Most people would use quarters to get soda, but I used my head. Not the “normal” thing to do, huh?

The Coke fiasco was a result of not taking my medication. I take Ritalin to control my disorder. It’s small, but it packs a punch. It has the power to control me, like a lasso on a horse. The medicine goes into effect thirty minutes after consumption, but if I forget to take it, the effects afterward are unpredictable. For instance, one time I went to my garage and started to hit the punching bag with my head, then my fists. I had no anger or frustration that needed to be released from my body. There was no reason for me to be out there. You could say that I was just killing time.

When I was younger, I was constantly the butt of everybody’s jokes. I had to get attention because nobody liked me or tried to be my friend. Now that I’m grown up, I don’t have to try so hard, because friends come naturally.

I’m surprised that I could make a highly intelligent audience laugh. A bit of comic relief, so to speak. What’s good is that the professors didn’t try to alienate me from the rest of the Freedom Writers. Maybe they saw something special in me that my other teachers had never seen before.

Now I can’t wait to start college because there are all types of people who are just like me—different and weird. It’s good to know that I don’t need to change for others but to search for people who will take me as I am—without any strings attached!

Diary 127

Dear Diary,

For the past four years we have been learning about tolerance and how you should accept everyone no matter what. Well, acceptance isn’t something that comes naturally for people who have to deal with me. Many people don’t accept me when they find out I’m a lesbian.

I realized I was a lesbian just recently, when my best friend told me that she loved me and I returned her love. It’s funny to think about how dramatically your life can change in a matter of minutes. After coming to terms with who I am, I had so many questions. I was confused and scared and didn’t know what to do. What if people found out about us, would they still accept us or would they turn their backs on us? What would our close friends think when they found out? How would they treat us? Would we still be welcomed in our little social group?

What will our families do when they find out? Will they stick by us? And what if the college we will be going to found out? Would we be kicked out of school because of who we choose to be with? After all, it is a religious school and the by-laws say that homosexuality will not be tolerated.

After all these questions ran through my mind I was even more scared and confused. I couldn’t answer half of them, and the other half I already knew the answers to but didn’t want to face them. This experience has led me to believe that the people who always tell you that they are your friends, no matter what, are really the first ones to go. When I told a few of my friends that I thought I could trust, they were the ones that had the biggest problem with me. They told me I was going to hell and that they didn’t want anything to do with me. The few family members we told had no problem with our sexuality. The hard part will be when the time comes to tell our parents. My mom has told me she would love me no matter what, but when it comes down to it, will she, or will she be like some of my friends and leave?

Diary 128

Dear Diary,

Me? Prom queen? I can’t believe this. This has been the best night of my life! I feel like Cinderella. Everyone was so excited for me, but all I could think about doing was calling my mom. For some reason, I knew it would mean more to her than it did to me. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to tell her that I had won, but instead I wanted to thank her and dedicate the whole night to her.

“You look so beautiful with that crown on,” my mom said. She stayed up all night waiting for me just to see me with my crown, sash and flowers. “You are like a trophy to me.” When I saw my mom’s tears, it made me realize how much she had sacrificed for me to be here. I never really understood the struggle she went through, but now it all makes sense to me.

My family was very wealthy in my country. Because my parents were so high up in the government, my brothers attended one of the best private schools, and my younger brother and I had our own baby-sitters. My mother owned one of the best beauty salons at the time. She had very important clients who were involved with the government and the entertainment business. My parents were always working, and we were left most of the time with our baby-sitters. Getting good grades was always expected from us, due to the schools that we attended. We had everything there was, except the family bonding.