BY WILLIAM "BIG PAPI" RIVERA

A middle child of a second marriage. Also known as the anchor baby. My father worked once his boots touched American soil. I was in my mother’s stomach when we first got here. Being raised, I never needed anything but wanted it all. Anywhere my mom went, all the kids would follow. We were never left at home or with anyone for anything. My dad would use his credit card to buy us all school clothes and sneakers. He would then spend the rest of the year paying that off. 

At 13, I was able to make $100 in about an hour after school. After finding out my dad was making $10 an hour and coming home dead tired, a light switched on in my head. Never will I kill myself for pennies on the dollar.

Now I wish I had paid closer attention to my living situation. At $10 an hour, we never needed anything. RENT paid, FOOD always there, CLOTHES always on our backs. He even found ways to bring home Chinese food on Fridays and McDonald’s on alternate Fridays. He is now retired, feet up, living his best life. 

Me, sitting in a cell with nothing to show for nothing. I ended up struggling more than he ever did. I am the only one out of two marriages and 13 kids to be in my current situation; to think that out of all of us he named me his Jr. Big boots to fill, and I failed miserably, but it ain’t over till I say so. I refuse to let him go to his grave with his Jr. being a failure.