Since beginning the Poetic Justice Project in 2009, I've met the most amazing people — formerly incarcerated actors, audience members, and colleagues in the field of restorative justice. One person who fits all of those categories is Father Masseo Gonzales. Father Masseo, born Robert Gonzales, is a Franciscan priest. And a rap artist. And he runs a hip-hop dance studio in Guadalupe.
A self-described juvenile delinquent, he grew up in the tough community of Richmond, California. Robert was kicked out of two schools, incarcerated for burglary, and lost part of his right leg in a street fight. Back then, no one would have said, "That kid is going to be a priest some day."
In his early 20s, he got tired of the way he was living and began working as a computer operator. "But I was still spiritually hungry," he says. "Before I knew it, I felt the vocation to become a Catholic priest. I resisted for two years. Then I surrendered."
At 25, he entered the Franciscan Order. "Giving up drinking was difficult, but I did it with God's grace." By 1992, he'd earned a bachelor's degree in Chicano Studies from Pitzer, one of the Claremont Colleges. Then he earned two master's degrees — one in Theology, with an emphasis in Multi-Cultural Studies, and one in Divinity — from the Washington Theological Union in Washington, D.C.
He chose the name Masseo after an early follower of St. Francis. Around the time he was entering the priesthood, Father Masseo's brother, David Gonzales, an artist, was releasing the first of a series of plastic figurines called HOMIES, based on people they grew up with, with names like Hollywood, Smiley, Pelon, and Bobby Loco.
Immensely popular, more than 120 million HOMIES have been sold since their inception. David kept adding characters, and writing bios for them. He added El Padrecito, based on his brother, describing him as "a very intense, passionate and happy priest who loves his Mexican American culture."
Ten thousand youth from around the country, mostly from urban environments, eventually joined Father Masseo's website. They would seek guidance on relationships, problems with parents, and gang issues, among other concerns.
Not content with only an online ministry, however, Father Masseo started working through rap and hip-hop as a way of empowering youth. He currently tours with a Catholic rap group called FoundNation, giving talks and providing concerts around the country. They were recently invited to perform in Brazil for World Youth Day in July, where an expected 3,000,000 youth are expected to attend.
Yet his initial vision was not yet fulfilled. Since 2000, he felt he needed to centralize his work in Guadalupe. Last year, that vision started hopping— hip-hopping — with the opening of El Padrecito's Dance Studio in downtown Guadalupe. Although the town's population is just over 7,000, the dance studio has more than 100 students practicing in a 1,500 square-foot mirrored studio. Classes are taught by dance instructors from Allan Hancock College in nearby Santa Maria.
"About 80% or our students are 17 and younger," Father Masseo says. And it's not just hip-hop that draws them. El Padrecito's Dance Studio offers hula, yoga, folklorico, ballet, salsa, Zumba, and dance fusion." "It's so neat to see how many children love ballet," Father Masseo beams. Classes are $20 per month, but no child is turned away for lack of ability to pay.
Why a ministry that puts dance and rap at its center? Early involvement in the arts helps kids steer clear of trouble. And dance in particular can help combat obesity, a nationwide threat to youth. And says Father Masseo, "I don’t even need to preach religion - there's something very sacred about providing a space for a child to shine."
Yet the future is anything but certain.
"July will be a turning point. We may have to close down," Father Masseo confesses. As the artistic director of a non-profit program, I know what that means: beginning of the fiscal year, when grant funds may (or may not ) come in.
That's why I'll be attending El Padrecito's Ministries June 8 fundraiser at Guadalupe City Hall. It's not the sit-down dinner or the chance to win a car that draws me as much as the opportunity to watch the children dance and hear the Father rap. And to celebrate El Padrecito's sacred, colorful, musical vision.
