i was seven years old, and we're standing with an indian chief at knott's berry farm.nk one of the interesting things for me about this piece is that i'm a part of it, also. not just by being there, because, i mean, i'm humiliating myself as well as people humiliating themselves, also. take a picture with a real indian. you choose. who is the real indian? america likes to see us on horses. america doesn't like to see us in mercedes. take a picture with a real indian. hi, how are you? -i'm fine. -one, two, three. -thank you very much. -great, thank you. it's not fun and games, it's not "ha ha ha, look at the indian," and, "oh, i get it." no, because this stuff goes on every day. i live it, you know? i might be standing at the college where i work, master's degree, worked there 16 years, and someone will come in the office, a student, and say, "is there a counselohere?" because i don't quite fit that image. well, why not? take two -- leave one. take one home. ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -in my barrio... ♪♪ hey, mundo grande. once upon a barrio time, i made my way through the streets of eas