The Compton Cowboys: The New Generation of Cowboys in America's Urban Heartland
By: Walter Thompson-Hernández / Narrated By: Glenn Davis, Ron Butler
Length: 7 hrs and 19 mins
Mostly the author’s perspective on why things are the way they are… with several heartbreaking moments thrown in
I’ll be quite honest with you… I’m not Black… SURPRISE!
I know, I know, I’m being pretty glib, but I’m saying it to preface my review because whilst I was listening to The Compton Cowboys, I had to keep reminding myself that this book was not about me, and that I know ‘bout next to NOTHING about what it’s like to be Black in America. Basically, I had to tryyyyyy to look at this through open and non-judgmental eyes.
Cuz, my GOD there’s so much that is oh so gratefully NOT in my wheelhouse. I will never (God Willing!) have the experience of having good friends gunned down; will never know what it’s like to have my sole access to a sense of family come by way of gang members showing up outside my door, ready to stomp me down to welcome me into their gang… when I’m only eight-years old. And I will (Again God willing) never know what it’s like to be in prison, aching for a better life, trying to paint my way to a dream with only crushed up Skittles to be used for my watercolors.
Told in a series of mini-bios of each of the Compton Cowboys, this reads/listens like a lengthy in-depth article about a group of guys (And Keiara! Quite possibly THE most awesome woman in history!) rather than a cohesive story about, well, The Cowboys as a whole.
Mayisha Akbar purchased a small bit of land in Compton back when there were a fair amount of middle-class Black families. As she raised her family, and as times changed and the middle-class were pushed out of the neighborhood, Mayisha created the Compton Jr. Posse, a group for Black kids to learn about horses, to care for them, to find a sense of pride and Self that had nothing to do with the negativity and dead-ends that life on the streets provided. Early on, they were a group that the young were proud to belong to, and Mayisha found no end to the wealthy white donors who were eager to attach their names to such a good cause for At Risk Black Kids.
It’s just that, as time went on, and Mayisha neared retirement age, those Black Kids turned into Black Men… a much harder sell for white donors. Adding to the disconnect was Mayisha’s determination to have the kids learn English style riding as opposed to Western. The shiny black boots, the uptight clothing? Now THAT was a hard sell for the Black kids, especially as they grew older and more conscious of who they were socially. It simply wasn’t cool to do that, and the Compton Jr. Posse dress code was seen as an inadequate way for them to express themselves on an exterior level.
And so things have pretty much come to a pretty horrific time when the story opens and Mayisha’s nephew Randy is trying to position himself (Mostly with Mayisha’s blessing) as the new leader of the Cowboys. Even tho’ he’s come from such a tough part of town, he’s been to college, to grad school, and now he’s back to help the community. But it’s stressful, and there are several chapters about his trials interspersed throughout this “article”-style story.
Along the way, however, we meet some of the others, and I can kinda sorta see where one reviewer dinged the book for having too much of author Walter Thompson-Hernández’s “bias”. The author goes to great lengths to describe just how the poor and disenfranchised Black man’s mind works. It sometimes comes off as sorta excuses, but if you try to see through those aforementioned open and nonjudgmental eyes? Things make a whole LOTTA sense. Keiara? Tough as nails and raising a child she can barely afford, one she had at a very young age. But she was raped, repeatedly, and there was no one to tell because everyone was pretty much in the same helpless boat.
Anthony? In jail and at risk for losing all hope, he begins to reconnect to his love of horses, painting them for himself and at the request of others imprisoned, bringing a sense of light to a very dark place, a place most people would have difficulty surviving, souls intact.
There are also alcoholics who try desperately to stay sober (Of course, I did kinda flinch when the author posited aaaaallll these needs for drinking as a way to deal with the sense of inadequacy that being part of a racist society breeds, as tho’ there’s no culpability, as tho’ there’s no neurobiological imperative to drink within the brain of ANY alcoholic, no matter the color of the skin). And there are knockdown slam-down fist fights amongst Cowboys for saying extremely cruel and derogatory things to each other. Basically, it seemed that if Life and Society hadn’t crapped on them enough, they’d do it to themselves.
But that brought me to the most heartbreaking part: The PTSD of living in such a violent world that holds little in the way of opportunity, little in the way of hope. When Randy does soooo much hard work, when he tries and tries and tries and finally starts seeing good things happen? He breaks down, completely and unutterably: His mind, his body simply not wired for good things to happen, they’re not to be trusted. It’s a harrowing scene, and one that’ll be forever etched in my brain.
Ron Butler, as per usual, does a standout job with the narration, capturing all aspects of life, all emotions of the Cowboys. There’s a lot of grief to be found in this book, and as listeners we can just feel the devastation when a beloved horse, a best friend and confidante is taken suddenly and violently. We can feel the Cowboy(girl) shutting down in order to survive. We can feel it as they start to make poor choices, unwilling to hope anymore, unwilling to love anymore, lest they feel such extraordinary grief yet again.
My only gripe is that this is written and narrated true to the speech of the men (Keiara didn’t do it at all): The N-word is everywhere in this as the young men speak to each other. I know I’M not allowed to use it, plus I just find it offensive and inCREDibly derogatory, so I truuuuuly wish these guys wouldn’t use it themselves. I mean, good gosh: Isn’t it used enough as it is? Oddly enough, though Thompson-Hernández explains so many flaws, foibles, choices away? He addresses this usage nary at all.
Okay so, like, not as much about horses as I would’ve liked, and it would’ve been nice to hear more about the care of each horse, the relationship the men and Keiara had with them, and I CERtainly was distressed to listen to the harsh reality of what happens to horses in a big city and amongst speedy traffic. But all in all, a fairly good Listen. More than the book, however, was their website that I liked. “Streets Raised Us. Horses Saved Us.” With Randy’s name, right there, the Go-To Guy…
Huzzah for Randy and the others who are continuing and surviving. AWEsome nighttime pic of them on horseback, looking like true blue friends. Where the book comes up short?
Dude, the group itself delivers!
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