In the shadow of the Catalina Mountains in the American Southwest, upscale gated communities slope downward toward town, meeting the mean streets of Tucson, Arizona. I write realistic children’s novels in this city of saguaro cactus and endless sun, but the statistics still shock me...
At last count, 65 gangs, including the infamous Bloods and Crips, have spray painted graffiti onto the cinderblock walls that separate neighborhood houses.
Members are mostly Hispanic—in the U.S. legally and illegally—but also Asian, African-American, American Indians, and Caucasians of all ancestries. Both boys and girls.
Like stray dogs urinating on fence posts, they mark their territory with stylistic gang logos.
For kids unlucky enough to live in one of these mostly-poor neighborhoods, survival is on their minds day and night, and they are ripe for the plucking by recruiters skilled at big promises and intimidation.
Often the recruiters are brothers, sisters, or cousins who leave the jails and go back home where they influence the younger kids. The age gets younger every year—it is no longer unusual to encounter a 9-year-old gang member!
These are the kids—the children—that martial artist Christopher Valdez is out to save, one at a time.
The name of the town is not important—Tucson is just one ordinary, deceptively-peaceful town. The truth is, gang activity has become an epidemic in every region of the United States and many other countries as well.
But Chris is on a one-man crusade to get to these kids before the recruiters do, and surprisingly often, he’s successful.
With a 7th degree black belt in Kajukenbo, Chris believes in meeting them (victims and gang members alike) with something they readily understand—fighting.
Surviving on grants and occasional donations, the former police officer and professional boxer operates a 700-square-foot space on 22nd Street in Tucson where he has mats, mirrors, heavy hanging bags, and even a crude boxing ring. All services are provided free of charge to families who cannot afford a fee.
Evenings, weekends and holidays, his Old School Gym fills up with kids of all ages looking for an alternative to gangs. The school is on a bus route, so they can show up on their own, sometimes their first act of responsibility.
Standing 5’5”, and weighing more than 200 pounds, Chris has the shoulders, arms and hands of a powerful bear. With a warm smile and easy laugh, he commands instant trust and respect from boys and girls 6 to 26 (Chris says chronological age is irrelevant when it comes to kids who have had few positive experiences).
The tougher kids, those with attitude and a mean streak, learn quickly enough that he can put them on the ground before they feel the breeze. And, if he has to, he can make it hurt enough to get their attention. More often than not, though, they come back for more. They salute him and call him Sigung (Kajukenbo master).
Chris teaches them the art of the peaceful warrior, and how to be humble. He teaches them how to give to society rather than take, allowing them to see themselves in a new light.
Kajukenbo was founded in 1947 in the Palama Settlement, a low-income location in the hills of Hawaii. A combination of the most powerful and effective systems known, Kajukenbo incorporates aspects of karate (ka), ju-jitsu (ju), kenpo (ken), and boxing (bo), and is growing in popularity throughout the U.S.
Chris provides each child with a full gi, a white belt, and a copy of my award-winning martial arts novel for young people, A Bundle of Sticks (Turtle Press).
This is the story of Ben Tyler, a victim who does not like to fight, but finds he sometimes must defend himself. Martial arts teaches him all he needs to know, plus a philosophy that allows him to walk away from fights.
Chris’ idea is to use the book to reinforce the life lessons he is trying to teach. He believes in the power of literature.
“No child likes to be lectured to, but tell them a story and the lessons come clear.”
Chris explains, “Every one of (these kids) knows what it feels like to be bullied, but they don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “Talking about a fictional character is a whole lot easier, even for older kids.”
In addition, he helps students with their homework, is the one there to congratulate them on small accomplishments, takes groups on astronomy outings, and leads camping expeditions into the desert. This Christmas, he managed to get tickets to the Nutcracker ballet for 14 young girls from the toughest neighborhoods.
In one of his programs he teaches his charges how to write, act in, and produce public service announcements that are later shown on local TV. “Letting them see the problem of gangs in the city from someone else’s point of view is invaluable,” he told me. “For the first time, they realize we are all part of the same community.”
The sweet children hug him; the tough ones cry when they realize there is finally one person who is unconditionally there for them. And sometimes the tough ones hug him too.
“I want them to know that the streets of Tucson are not all there is,” Chris said. “I want them to know who Shakespeare was, to see the stars, to get out into nature, and. . . learn to defend themselves if they have to.”
Chris knows martial arts programs work because his “graduates” come back and tell him so. Graduates like Walid Zarifi, who is now an attorney at a good firm in Phoenix, Arizona.
Mr. Zarifi told me, “I spent over five years training with Chris Valdez, and it wasn’t until recently that I realized all those years we were actually training for real life.”
The Tucson police also know his programs work because of what they don’t see. When they send him a child who is on the verge of ruining his life by joining a gang, they know the odds of later seeing that child’s name on crime blotters or in the newspaper obituary column are very low. Once they meet Chris Valdez, their lives are changed, almost always for the better.
Just this week Chris told me about a former gang member he had coached. An adult now, the Old School graduate is now working in media arts. Some graduates are now teachers, police officers, medical staffers. Some mentor other kids or are happily married with children of their own.
Even though I’d written a novel about martial arts, I had never considered how important it was to involve the bullies and potential bullies themselves. They are often not the sympathetic characters we authors write about.
But Chris Valdez has made me a believer: Martial arts is the way out of the gang infestation that is sweeping through American cities. Chris is the proof, and a project for the future may be for him to produce a manual so other martial artists can start programs of their own.
Pat McCord is the author of A Bundle of Sticks a novel for middle-grade readers, now available from Turtle Press (www.TurtlePress.com). You can contact her through her website at www.patriciamccord.com
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In the shadow of the Catalina Mountains in the American Southwest, upscale gated communities slope downward toward town, meeting the mean streets of Tucson, Arizona. I write realistic children’s novels in this city of saguaro cactus and endless sun, but the statistics still shock me... 
for the plucking by recruiters skilled at big promises and intimidation. 
In addition, he helps students with their homework, is the one there to congratulate them on small accomplishments, takes groups on astronomy outings, and leads camping expeditions into the desert. This Christmas, he managed to get tickets to the Nutcracker ballet for 14 young girls from the toughest neighborhoods. 
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