“Hungry and Humble” is a motto I’ve lived the majority of my life by. It’s something I’ve fully indoctrinated into my existence since I read the letters “H&H” tattooed on the belly of a man I met a very long time ago. I was just a kid at the time, 17 and homeless, when I heard the words “hungry and humble.” Little did I know, these two words would forever change me for the better.
I had just gotten out of juvenile hall, given up by my mother to a youth homeless shelter, and was just spared the next 6 years of my life. 3rd degree felony assault and aggravated robbery was the charge. After 6 months of being “on the run” I decided it was time to face the music. I had just spent my last weekend as a “free man” and said goodbye to my friends for God only knows how long. I was smack dab in the middle of Downtown’s 16th Street Mall when I quietly approached a stranger and his girlfriend who were sitting on a bench one late Sunday afternoon. I asked them if I could use their cell phone to make a call. “Hello, my name is Melissa Nguyen, I have a warrant out for my arrest and I would like to turn myself in.” The look of pure shock on this stranger’s face as he stood there staring at me is something I will never forget. There I was, a mere 5 foot tall, 90 lb Asian girl with pigtails, in raver clothes and kandi bracelets with pockets full of toys and a fuzzy backpack. I thanked dispatch after they informed me there would be 2 officers to arrest me shortly, gave the man back his phone and waited awkwardly for their arrival.
The 2 officers arrived. They told me to put my hands on the vehicle while they patted me down and stripped me of my toys. “What is all of this for?” The officer asked. “Eh, I don’t know. They make me happy, I guess…” I sheepishly replied. “Well if they make you happy, they make me happy. Let’s go” as he double cuffed me and threw me into the back of the Police car. I was genuinely surprised at his kindness as he was actively arresting me. Maybe it’s because I made their job easy, I wondered as they drove me away.
It was around 1am before I got to make my one and only phone call. The only person I could and legally was required to call was my mother. Several rings later a voice appeared on the other line. “Hey Mom, I’m in jail right now.” A long pause and then she began to yell, “I haven’t heard from you in almost 2 years and you call me like this?! You can stay in there, I’m not getting you out,” and hung up the phone. The call did not go well, and honestly I did not expect it to. A couple tears streamed down my face as I realized I had really messed my life up. Up until this moment, I had been homeless and fighting for survival. I was living everywhere and nowhere for the last 2 years. Sleeping anywhere I could; under playgrounds, behind bushes, and unlocked cars. When I was lucky my friends would try and hide me from their parents for as long as they could. I was wild and angry at the world. Let down by the people I should have trusted to keep me safe. I was hungry. Starving for love and actually starving for food. My view of the world and the people in it was far from humble. I hated how much people had and I hated my life. How could there be a god if he lets children be beaten and neglected?! Left to fend for myself in the cold, because I smoked pot and didn’t want to go to school?! I had nothing to lose. I did what I had to and I surely wasn’t doing good things to survive. Eventually this led to my imprisonment and rightfully so. I belonged there.
The first 3 days were the hardest. Getting used to the protocols and the whole inmate system was a real shock. Despite my situation, I found myself grateful to have a bed to sleep in and 3 hot meals a day. It was my time in jail where I learned what a tostada was and how to properly eat one. “What the fuck are you doing? That is not how you eat tostadas!” An inmate yelled across the hall as I was about to bite into my Mexican sandwich. Apparently, a tostada isn’t a taco sandwich and is eaten more like a pizza. How was I supposed to know? I had never been served two flat crunchy deconstructed tacos in my life.
The other inmates held there varied in age. Some as young as 10 were there with me. Many of the girls were there for selling crack and prostitution. A few were there for murder and stabbing other people. One 12 year old was facing 20 years for attempting to murder his parents and burning down his house. I’ll never forget that kid’s laugh and the maniacal look in his eyes as he plotted his next attempt to finish the job. Some of these kids were actually evil and I confirmed this was not the part of society I wanted to be grouped into. After a week, I had gotten two lessons on fighting, and then got into an altercation with another inmate. Another inmate named Melissa wanted to fight me over some crayons during crafting time. I threw them in her face and told her to “eat them bitch!” This sent the Black girls I was coloring with into an uproar. They found it hilarious and thankfully so. After this interaction they casually mentioned how they had plans to jump me the very next day for smiling too much and being “too nice” and how I just saved myself from a real ass whooping. I laughed nervously and tried to not smile or show my relief. I had finally made some friends. Not just any either, these friends were there for real hard shit. They were murderers.
After acclimating to the new circumstances of my life and who I was now surrounded with, I began to reflect. I spent most of my days either reading, working out or reflecting on the choices I had made to reach this point in my life. I realized I was being crazy and unfit to be a part of society. So I made the biggest decision of my life. The conscious decision to change. I swore to turn my life around. I promised to not let my ego and my hunger hurt other people again. I would remind myself everyday as I walked around in shackles to and from the yard. While doing “jailhouse crunches” on the edge of my bed, I’d mutter to myself “We earned this, we have to do better.” I was determined to leave this place a better person.
When I was a child, I had read nearly every John Grisham book by the age of 14. I was hooked on his thrillers surrounding our legal system and fictional criminal cases. By the time I was a menace to society, I knew a thing or two about the law and how to protect my rights. 2 weeks had passed when a detective called to ask me if I wanted to say anything about the case. “Until I read the discovery of every person involved in this case, I will remain silent” I responded to the detective. A couple moments of hesitation passed, I could sense his surprise in my response. “Thank you for your time.” and he hung up the phone. I had court the very next day.
As I entered the courtroom I was surprised to see my mother with my public defender. Since I was a minor she was legally required to be there, but I was still relieved to see she hadn’t completely forsaken me. My case was dropped due to lack of evidence. As a minor in the state of Colorado over the age of 15, I was no longer my mother’s responsibility if she so chooses to relinquish me. She told the judge “I have not been responsible for her for years and I do not want her. I will leave her to the state to decide.” The judge had to do something with me and sentenced me to spend a month in a youth homeless shelter. I had just escaped with my youth and was ashamed of myself. I had just been given a second chance to do better and be something or someone that doesn’t suck. This is where I went from being hungry to humble.
A month in this homeless shelter located in a pretty sketchy part of the downtown area would completely reform my life. The shelter provided therapy and counseling, 3 hot meals a day in exchange for cleaning chores around the facility, and they also paid for my GED training classes and testing. I got a real taste of what true compassion was and what helping others looked like. My first ever counselor listened to my story and allowed me to finally feel safe in the presence of an adult. I began to trust that there were good people in the world I could look up to. His name is Ryan, and to this day I wish I could thank him for the compassion and humanity he extended to me. I finally had a good example to live by. I began to have dreams and goals which didn’t include basic living needs like food or shelter. With this second chance the Universe granted me, I decided I wanted to help people. People like me. People who grew up not knowing what love or compassion was. People who may not have had someone to look up to. At the age of 17, I made it my life goal to be a helpful person. To no longer take whatever I wanted, but instead add positivity to the world. I was hungry to help and humbled by meeting Ryan. He didn’t see me as a monster or a menace, but as a human who was hurting; A human he could help. To me, he was the quintessential example of humbleness. He was merely a volunteer counselor who just wanted to help our younger members of society be successful and adjusted adults.
Fast forward 14 years, 3 career changes, a divorce, several broken hearts, and multiple near death experiences I started the brand Hungry&Humble. At first I began making burritos and hand foods at my cannabis warehouse job providing my coworkers with a hot and healthy meal, for the low price of $5 they can eat while they work. Now I am using this life motto to inspire and help others who are hungry! This blog is a collection of stories, experiences, thoughts and ideas for those that are hungry for food, hungry for compassion and understanding, and hungry for helping. I believe by spreading my love for food and the experiences one may go through in life we can all learn and grow by being Hungry & Humble!