Fabián Debora, Chicano activist who uses art as a tool of resistance

“We are more than the mistakes we have made,” says Fabián Debora, a Chicano artist and activist who transformed his experience as a former gang member and ex-convict into a social project in which he uses art as an element of resistance and resilience in order to restore humanity to those who find themselves involved in a situation similar to the one he suffered.

Born in El Paso, Texas, in 1975, the painter and cultural manager based in Los Angeles, California, where he heads Homeboy Industries and the Homeboy Art Academy – a community project and art school for gang members – presents for the first time in Mexico an example of his artistic work.

It’s about the project Love Letters, with which the José María Velasco gallery, after a renovation process, inaugurated a new room in which two murals by Daniel Manrique are permanently exhibited.

one of them is The power of the trades (mythical Tepito, real Tepito and Tepito, who knows how long it will continue to be Tepito?), made in 2005. In front of this fundamental work of Tepito and community art, the titled Our dramatic cultural transformation.

Brought from Los Angeles and open to the public until April 6, 2026, Love Letters is the result of an artistic and social project that arose from the author’s personal experience with incarceration and the conviction that love letters represent for those who go through that reality, a space of hope, authenticity and resilience.

The exhibition brings together 10 people formerly incarcerated in Los Angeles County, who share their stories, gestures and words through figurative portraits and handwritten letters that reveal their full humanity.

It is the third time that Fabián Debora visits the country. In the first, he collaborated with a group of Otomi indigenous people to transform, with mural painting, a parking lot into a flea market where they sell their goods. “The police bothered them and threw their products at them,” says the artist in an interview.

The second was to paint a mural in the Santa Martha Acatitla prison. “I was inside with the prisoners, or whatever they call them here. I lived with them for a week and there I learned how things were with the prisons, very different from the United States.”

This third occasion is to show his art and the work he does in the United States: “it is something very big for my career, but more so for humanity, because the issue of gang members, the perception that people have of them, is not good. They see a cholo and they humiliate him, judge him or oppress him.”

The main objective of the creator is “to make it clear that just because we come from that fabric we are not human. We also have heart, respect, manners and a morality that our grandparents and parents have given us. I want that to be understood and also help to understand that sometimes one makes the decision to be a gang member not because they want to; that is not part of the dream.

“You feel the failures of the immigrant. My parents are from Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua. They first came to El Paso, Texas, where I was born, and when I was five years old we moved to Los Angeles. We arrived in 1980 and there were not so many resources, especially for the immigrant. That’s where the failures begin.

“In the neighborhoods where I come from, which are low-income departments, there were many gangs, drugs and violence. It is very easy to fall there when you no longer look at your future. Being a gang member comes from oppression, racism, the failure of hope.”

“I went through the fire”

Being in Mexico represents for this artist and cultural manager “returning to the land, to the motherland” and have the opportunity to establish a dialogue in which it is proven, once again, that we are not so different. “This visit reminded me of the value and pride of being Mexican. It doesn’t matter if it is in Mexico or Los Angeles, the heart beats the same.”

Fabián Debora says that he decided to become an artist after “recovering” his life and recognizing that he had to take responsibility for having that gift: “since I went through all the trouble, everything I had to overcome. Thank God I managed to get out of all that, because many can’t. I asked myself how I could use my art to empower the image of the gang member and give him back his humanity.”

Before, it was 15 years entangled in a life of crime, drugs and recurring incarceration. “I was lost; I started when I was 12, 13 years old. They put me in juvenile detention; at 18 they sent me to high school; I was in and out of prison. At 30 I decided to get my life back. Now I am 20 years old free of alcohol and drugs. I am a leader in the community, a respected person in Los Angeles.”

Of Love Letters highlights that it is a project that began two years ago as a way of using art to confront social justice, based on knowing that it is a powerful medium and that it can be used to invite dialogue.

“Now, all my works come with a theme to invite people to understand the dilemmas of these populations, be it the immigrant or the gang member,” he points out.

“When I paint, I use themes of identity, culture, religion and gender to correspond to the dilemmas that impact not only the gang member, but all marginalized people.”

One of the hallmarks of the exhibition is that the paintings of the 10 participating people are inspired by “the style of presidential portraits,” taken up by the artist from the National Portrait Gallery of the Smithsonian Institution. “I saw the works of the presidents, all white, and I said: ‘and why are my homeboys y homegirls Aren’t they presidential?’ “I seek to reveal dignity and return humanity to the image of the gang member.”

As part of the project, the creator also made a 15-minute documentary, with the support of his friend Sergio Torres. “It’s a bigger window into the lives of these 10 guys. It’s a way to put them in front of people so they can articulate their stories, because when you get to know someone, you can’t judge them anymore.

“Others understand why and think that with that type of life even they would have gotten into those farts. The world sometimes doesn’t have the patience or the urgency to understand; it is easier to throw the person away than to get to know them.”

Fabián Debora makes it clear that not only in this exhibition, but behind all his work there is a political commitment: “If it hurts politicians, then there is something there. Society sometimes rejects the gang member, it says that there is no hope. This invites those in power to pay attention. Access must be created.”

To conclude, he is forceful with his opinion regarding the current anti-immigrant climate in the northern country. “The immigrant is not coming to take away. What the hell are they going to steal from the United States? He is coming to lift up. That country was built on the backs of the immigrant and it would be nothing without him. What’s the fucking fart and the fear?

“They (the gringos) already feel overwhelmed because we are the majority. It is a problem that comes from much lower down, from the new administration. They are just amplifying racism. They do not love people of color, and they demonstrate it by using their power to humiliate and oppress them.”

Before returning to the United States, the artist will offer the talk today at 12 noon Neighborhood, community and healing, as part of its exhibition at the José María Velasco gallery (Peralvillo 55, Morelos neighborhood), where the aforementioned documentary will also be screened.