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Foreword

By: Alma Buenavista

Oakland Public School Teacher

With so much to say about Rubin Scott’s book, It Takes a Village, if I had to choose one word to encapsulate the essence I would say: inspiring. Rubin Scott unpacks the harsh realities of growing up in an impoverished community and presents it to the reader in all its entirety of beauty and strife. He takes the reader on an emotional and visceral journey with his autobiography.

Captivating your attention from the first line, “I must admit that I’m truly unsure exactly when the first internal notion of death I had occurred”, It Takes a Village, is a quick read. To say “quick-read” does not, by any means indicate superficial – like the author, the book has great depth and insight.

I first met Rubin Scott in the mid to late ‘80s as a middle school boy. Just as he portrays himself in the book, I remember him as kind, vibrant, loyal, shy yet personable in the same moment, and most of all strong. I emphasize strong because at that time, I wasn’t aware of the hardships he was experiencing; he never let it show. It wasn’t until decades later, as an adult, that he shared with me the adversities of his childhood and adulthood, still conducting himself with great integrity and strength.

As a public school teacher in Oakland, California, I have shared excerpts of the manuscript with my students. I have watched young boys, many who dislike and struggle with reading and writing, come to life as they relate to the stories. They are encouraged that someone from their own community wrote this book and motivated to advance their reading in order to be able to read the book in its entirety. Like seeds of courage blossoming, they ask about the process of publishing your own book. After listening to or reading parts like “Girls Rule” they laugh and agree; digesting passages from “Valedictorian” they are still and pensive, only to be rekindled with warm emotions as the book talks about the strength of a mother’s love.

My students are not the only ones touched by this book. Scott beautifully renders the world of the impoverished communities he grew up in, with a raw honesty that illustrates tragedy, beauty, hope and strength. He illuminates how his community was portrayed from an outsider’s point of view versus how it was truly like on the inside.

Beginning with the voice of a young child that grows into a strong, soul-searching man, he lays out his life for you in complete vulnerability and raw honesty, without telling you what to think or how to feel. The story is provocative and poignant. Like a friend sitting down with you on the porch to share his life story, Scott opens up his world and allows you to journey with him.

It is a book that you will find yourself re-reading and discovering new questions within yourself. Although Scott’s target audience are young men in impoverished communities, as a mother and an educator I found myself connecting to and learning from the stories on multiple levels. Throughout the book, I cried, laughed and was angered by the stories yet in the end I was struck with a profound sense of inspiration. Rubin Scott truly sheds light on the meaning behind the phrase “It takes a village”.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

I first give thanks to God my lord and savior with you I shall not want. To My mother for all the love and support you gave me (R.I.P). Thanks to my father for his enormous strength and dignity. To my brothers David, Michael, Anthony, Cleveland, Dmarco, Hasani, Jabari and Matt the protection and love is mutual. My sisters Leticia, Sheena, Tami and Rina, thank you for the unconditional love and Emotional protection. My babies Rubin jr. and Maleia Scott your breath is a replacement for mine no matter what time goes by you two are still the gleam in my eye. Momma Tanya, for teaching me not to respond to ignorance.

To Jack you will always be my first fan and throughout life I will appreciate the soul god gave you. Thank you Alma Buenavista for all your hard work, dedication and education to my story and my book. Thank you all my cousins for your love and inspiration over the years. Wedgee and family. Zalena, Tommie James and Family. Chatapinya Phomata . and family, Javani Coleman and family. Jenkins Family, Whitson Family, Johnson Family, Scott Family. Wayne Parrilla , Leila Steinberg, Medina, Taqwa, Juhad, Ishmil , Binca , Aunty Gina, Celina, Lonnie Ray, Chatham Family, Terry and Isa Monroe, Ray Fields, Ray Reece (stinky),lay lay , Rance , Brandy, Wilber, Brandy, Grayer Family, Blackney family, Leberthon family, Cheryl Alones. Eric Bradley and Family, Aji and family, Aunty Carmen, Norma Douglas, Michelle and Andre, Thaibeti and the Terry Family, Dyan Foster,

Rev. Coffee (R.I.P) I will always cherish your soul. Mrs. Coffee thank for your love and unconditional support. Rev. Turner, Mrs. Turner and Jim thank you! Community Baptist Church, Love Temple Church and St. Joseph’s Church I will always be a part of you. To Hanna Boys Center, Santa Rosa Unified School District, Rohnert Park and Cotati Unified School District, Oakland Unified School District and Probation High Schools. Kenny Porter at Greater New Beginnings. If I missed you doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I have three more books to the series.

PREFACE:

I wrote this book with the thought and intent to inspire young men living and surviving in the inner city communities. In creating this book, I believe I have displayed and expressed the true emotional warfare that young minds face in their communities. My hope is that the story vividly transcends through the pages to the reader’s heart, while taking a close and personal journey through my life of murder, death, and mayhem growing up in the most impoverished neighborhoods in California.

All the stories have been inspired by true-life events that I have witnessed or experienced growing up in the late ‘70s until 2007. Dealing with issues of social rejection, family relations, and emotional turmoil while having community support. “It took a village”, is a manuscript to help young men understand that it’s not the environment or situation that you are born into, that determines who you are, it’s the will inside of the individual to overcome all and any adversity that life poses.

It took a Village

Chapter 1: The eyes through an adolescent growing up in the ‘70s- ‘80s

Chapter 2: The ‘80s

Chapter 3: No Excuses

Chapter 4: Girls Rule

Chapter 5: Evil On Earth

Chapter 6: Education Or Hustle

Chapter 7: Valedictorian

Chapter 8: Santa Cruz

Chapter 9: No Tomorrow

Chapter 10: Family Reunion

Chapter 11: Expectations

Chapter 12: Emotional Combat

Chapter 13: Addicted To Fast Money

Chapter 14: Discipline

Chapter 15: Role Models

Chapter 16: Emotional Unsures

Chapter 17: Damage We Can’t See

Chapter 18: Out Of Reach

Chapter 19: A Son’s Love

Chapter 20: Personal Reflection

Chapter 21: Life’s Demand

Chapter 1: The eyes through an adolescent growing up in the ‘70s- ‘80s

I must admit that I’m truly unsure exactly when the first internal notion of death I had occurred. Considering I was born and raised smack dab in the middle of Oakland, California. In the ‘70s, where survival of the fittest reigned and the every day environment was like being raised in the middle of hell on earth. If I could sum life up back then in a few words, I would have to say that it wasn’t easy. Flashing back to the earliest parts of my life, you would think it was something out of a horror movie.

Believe it or not during those years if you were fortunate enough to read the local newspaper articles or catch the early morning news report, normally the only news they would have regarding our surrounding area would be murders and fires. The violence and murders proceeded so often, that the media outlets finally labeled our area “the Killing Zone”.

It was truly worse than portrayed through images in the paper or seen on the news because for us, the horror would never end or subside. It was not something we could just turn off or turn away from it was consistently in the headlines broadcasting through T.V. and Newspaper.

At the height of the turf battles the violence got so out of hand against the turf drug spot competitors that even the police were too afraid to come into our community alone to “protect and serve.” With only one way in and one way out they would have quickly been surrounded. With a lack of manpower they would have been vastly out gunned. By the local drug dealers protecting there new illegal narcotics enterprises. Shootings were such an usual occurrence that shortly after moving into the neighborhood , my cousins and I starting being able to tell the difference between the different guns that were being fired throughout the night outside of our windows because we lived right next door to each other and would talk about the harrowing sounds the following day. The deep hollow bangs would echo in the night air breaking the temporary peaceful silence.

It was almost like being trapped in a war zone in a third world country. In retrospect, between all the individual turf wars over narcotics and distribution sales topped by the violence from their clients, our community turned into a breeding ground for personal and intimate violence on a scale like no other.