2002

by Liz Rodda/PNN Media intern

A wire door stood vertical to the iron numerals: 3358. Never before had a line up of two threes, a five, and an eight looked so fantastic. This, my friends, was the aftermath of incredibly bad Muni directions from a foul roommate of mine. I lapsed around the door feeling relieved and suddenly attacked by twenty pairs of eyes in my direction. I had stepped in on the weekly meeting of San Francisco Day Labor Program conducted by the enchanting Renee Saucedo. I attempted to melt into the white walls, taking a vacant seat between two men of latino descent . Renee smiled at me, continuing to exchange a rapid flow of Spanish with workers who were addressing personal crises. As the final bit of green lettering on the posted agenda was addressed, the workers stood to return to the streets.

With the recent appointment of Police Captain Gregory Corrales to the Mission Police station, the Mission District has become a very different place for these workers as well as several other very low-income residents of the Mission. Three blocks of the Mission District have been painted yellow, screaming off-limits to all "lingering" workers. They now suffer the piercing sting of Corrales policy to "clean" the Mission District. It was not long ago these workers, predominantly of Latino descent, immigrated to the Mission District, coloring the streets with incredible diversity. A Day Labor Program was founded in 1984, when the community saw the need to organize an agency that would allow workers to access city resources and find work. For the first time they were presented with the opportunity to seek literacy classes, Health Care, and agencies that provide food and clothing. The Mission streets became the place workers found either temporary or permanent jobs from visiting employers. The workers spirit began to flood the streets, expressing their new life and the adversity they had faced along the way. These Mission streets became the workers’ home and source of livelihood.

Renee’s black locks fell beside her mouth as she spilled perfect English before me. She explained how the day laborers had recently led a protest at City Hall regarding the incessant harassment they endured from police officers. "They brought him (Mayor Willie Brown) a beautiful Fathers Day card, explaining this was why they would not be having a good fathers day." Mayor Brown responded to the non-violent protest with an incredibly disturbing message for La Raza Centro Legal, the Day Labor Program’s parent organization. The program was informed that the funding for the Day Labor Program is to be put up for public bid where they will no longer receive the same city funding they have depended on for operation. Program leaders of La Raza Centro Legal were dismayed to find they would now be up against two other groups to receive any city money. With this new measure, the city appears to have completely ignored the incredible success the program has had over the past years. La Raza Centro Legal has been recognized as a model for day laborers in major cities across the nation, far exceeding the expectations of job development the city had set earlier this year. Over forty letters have been sent to the Mayor’s office in support of La Raza Centro Legal’s administration from program workers, Mission residents, and relative agencies.

I eyed a quiet man who lingered in the room, wondering how this would affect him personally. Renee agreed to translate: "Putting the program up for public funding will affect me directly. I have been a volunteer with La Raza Centro Legal for over a year and a half and work with the men on Cesar Chavez every day. We are supported by La Raza Centro Legal as it works endlessly with the Latino Community." The carefree smile Daniel Rosas had worn when I first addressed him turned dry and his eyes lost their former glow. He continued to tell me that because he has been organizing with fellow workers for many years, he has often been present in the face of serious police harassment. Even though he is supported by La Raza Centro Legal, "there is still a bald police officer that comes in a van often. He says, ‘Don’t you understand you bunch of wetbacks you can’t be on these streets?’ and continues with his obscene harsh words. I was there." His deep brown eyes probed into mine hoping I could understand. It is a strange and beautiful situation watching translation occur. I watched the words from his lips travel to Renee and miraculously become something meaningful to me. His skin was sun scorched but still had softness. "I don’t have immigration papers. I realize I have to deal with reality when it comes to the authorities. Even the bald police told us that he is on our side, but must follow orders of Police Captain Corrales and neighbors who live on the District."

Renee motioned that she was growing pressed for time as our conversation came to a rapid conclusion. "Gracias" I said to my new friend. He smiled and returned a few words in Spanish. He gestured to ask if he could walk me to the bus stop. I turned to wave a grateful goodbye to Renee, as she parted with a friend in the opposite direction. Although Daniel and I could not communicate in words there was a speechless communication that occurred between us. He handed me a leaflet written in Spanish with his picture on the front amongst other day laborers. "Me", he said, pointing to his image and the text he had written in the body of the paper. The bus lurched up with an impatient sigh as I shook his hand, reluctant to say goodbye so suddenly. He waved me off until we might meet again. I sat back in my bus seat wondering where he would be returning to and how he would face the tremendous political battles ahead of him.

by Staff Writer

BORN INTO POVERTY.

3 OF 3 LIVING SONS.

WE WERE POOR

AND

I’M

GETTING OLD

STRANGE I NEVER FIT

" ANYWHERE"

I UNDERSTAND

IT’S NOT MY FAULT

I WAS NOT

DESIGNED " TO FIT" .

I PUT ON MY SILK ROBE

DRINK TEA BY THE CANDLE LIGHT

JOB TO JOB

PANTING

DISHWASHER

CAR-PORTER

CAR WASHER

BOOT LEG COOK

PIZZA MAKER

I LOSE TRACK

DO I HAVE MORE JOBS

OR MORE BIRTH DAYS .

STATS SAY THE STATE GOT POORER IN THE 90’S

I SAY , I GOT TIRED OF THE

EMPTY LIFE

OF THE

EMPTY JOBS

OF THE

EMPTY S.R.O.’S

ROACHES CROWING IN MY NAKED BODY

THERE’S A HOLE IN MY BUCKET

THEY GAVE ME THIS BUCKET

I’M JUST TRYING TO PUT MY DREAMS IN IT

SUICIDE RUN

I’M IN CALIFORNIA NOW

by By GARRETT THEROLF/reprinted from The LA Times

A mother’s plea for a criminal investigation into the death of her son-whose life ended while he was in the Los Angeles County foster care system-Tuesday elicited a trembling and tearful apology from County Supervisor Gloria Molina, who pledged to demand answers from county officials about what happened.

Hours later, Molina and her colleagues approved a $1-million settlement in the lawsuit brought over the boy’s death.

Molina’s remarks and the board action followed an emotional appeal by the boy’s mother.

Debra Reid, 44, entered the hearing room grim-faced, flanked by eight family members dressed in black. At her side was her son Debvin, who was placed in foster care for 15 months in 1997. His older brother, Jonathan, was taken away at the same time. The children were taken from their mother after social workers concluded that she was unstable and not tending property to their medical needs.

But Jonathan died six weeks after being placed in foster care, where social workers, by the county’s admission, failed to inform medical workers of his severe asthma. Reid has been fighting the county in the courts ever since.

"This is five years in coming." Reid began.

Wracked with sobs, Reid recalled how she begged social workers to treat Jonathan’s asthma. Social workers had dismissed Reid’s account of the severity of the child’s asthma, county officials acknowledged.

"They said my child was healthy," Reid told the board.
"Well, that child now lies in an Inglewood cemetery."

None of the social workers has been disciplined in the case, county officials said. Reid begged supervisors to launch a criminal investigation, alleging that social workers had falsified reports to take the boy from her.

"We have sought true justice and we have not received it until someone sends this case for criminal investigation," Reid said.

"All we have received is a payoff, and we’re not satisfied with a payoff.

"Not one person from the county," Reid said, "has bothered to apologize."

Reid’s appeal to the board is one of many it has heard about the foster- care system.

Virtually every week, a parade of parents come before the supervisors, pleading for help in getting their children out of that system. Most weeks, they leave empty-handed, as supervisors insist that they cannot involve themselves in matters that are before the courts. The pleas often meet with indifference from county officials, who typically talk among themselves as parents address the supervisors. Tuesday was different.

As Reid spoke, the hearing room went silent. Aides and department heads dabbed at tears. In an adjacent chamber where officials nibble on snacks and sip coffee, all movement ceased.

Supervisor Yvonne Brathwaite Burke asked Reid whether she was satisfied with the settlement. After conferring with her attorney, Reid said she was, but reiterated her call for justice.

Then Molina spoke, her voice trembling, her eyes watering.

She recalled how supervisors routinely rebuff requests for help in foster- care cases, and how she had told a congresswoman pleading on Reid’s behalf that she had to trust in the courts.

"I don’t know that my apology to you will help you at all, "Molina said. "I can only say I apologize for not being more attentive."

Reid said Molina’s apology "meant a lot. She was sincere.
That is the first sign of remorse I have seen in the county."

Times staff writer Nicholas Riccardi contributed to this report.

by Connie Lu/for Courtwatch and PNN

I meet Michelle Howard in the common room at POOR
Magazine. There are several simultaneous sounds of
loud and distracting conversations busily whirling
about the entire room. Our voices are muffled despite
the attempt to speak above the ambient noise, so we
decide to move to a more quiet room. The couch we are
sitting on is old, but comfortable. But most
importantly, I am now able to focus my attention on
Michelle. Her hair consists of intricate braids that
are beautifully gathered together on the top of her
head. Her deep brown eyes remain looking down at the
papers in her hands most of the time because she is
nervous about the interview. But the few times she
looks up into my eyes, I could see the glassy
reflection from the tears in her eyes as she begins
describing the photos of her daughter. At this point,
my arm is already becoming sore from holding the
microphone up to her mouth. However, as she continues
to tell her painful and frustrating experience of CPS
(Child Protective Services) taking her daughter away,
I begin to forget the pain in my arm and focus upon
the pain in her heart.

C: "Can you tell me your name and begin describing
your situation with CPS?"

MH: "My name is Michelle Howard. I'm coming in
concern of my daughter Alexis, who is in the custody
of the state CPS (Child Protective Services) workers.
I'm coming because nobody seems to want to listen to
the voice of my child, Alexis. She's been in custody
for 17 months now. During that period Alexis was kept
out of school when she was taken from me from the
hospital for three months. I went to the hospital
because my mother had just died and I was upset. I
was crying and plus I was physically hurting from
stress. My back was also hurting. Then when I came
out from talking with the doctor; my daughter had been
removed by the CPS workers. From there, she went to
three different foster homes. She was really abused
in one of them by the CPS. She was mentally abused.
They were asking her questions about "Has your mother
ever hit you? Has your mother ever abused you?"

C: "Why did they take her?"

MH: "They did not say at that point in time. They
never asked if I had a relative that she could stay
with. They just took her and put her in a foster
home."

C: "And this was a couple of months ago?"

MH: "No, this was on November 11th of 2000. Ok, then
they went all into my background, my history and said
that my background was the reason why they took
Alexis, even though me and Alexis were doing good
together. My daughter has never been abused of any
kind. She always had food and everything, but when I
see my daughter when they let me visit her. Alexis
had been mentally and physically abused.
She would tell me things on the phone like, "Mommy, my
body is hurting. Somebody is messin' with my body at
night." So I reported this to the CPS worker. They
said that they would look into it. They never got
back to me. Then they would put it to where my
daughter and I could not talk to each other on the
phone."

C: "You have every right to talk to your daughter."

MH: "But then I started getting like verbally abusive
with them of course, because I was finding out that
they were not checking on my daughter in the foster
homes as much as they could. My daughter would tell me
some little children that were in there were
physically touching on her privacy. I have pictures
of scars and scratches on her. I have a picture of
her with a ringworm in her head.

C: "Can you tell me more about the pictures?"

MH: "She was in one of the foster homes. A picture
tells a thousand words. She had a ring-worm and
that's her hair growing back (photo) from the
ring-worms she had. You can't see but she had
scratches and when I told the lawyer that they
appointed to me he said, "Well how do I know that it
didn't come from you?" You know, insulting me like
that."

C: "This is the back?"

MH: "And this is her back, she had scratches on her
back."

C: "I can see the scars."

MH: "Scars, a picture tells a thousand words.

C: "That's sad."

MH: "Even though I told her to smile when I was
taking pictures of her, she remained sad, real sad.
That's a picture of me and her. She smiled a little
bit, but she's still upset. I also had pictures when
Alexis hollered and screamed at the social service
building where I had to be supervised to see my child
which I could never understand, why I had to be
supervised."

C: "You couldn't be alone with your child?"
MH: "Yes."

C: "Someone had to be there?"

MH: "Someone had to be there, but then they stick her
in a stranger's home and let strangers keep my baby.
When I asked them if she could she come live with a
relative that I knew for years, they told me, "No, she
had to be with a licensed foster person." I kept
telling them, "You know, y'all doing something to my
daughter here. Y'all mentally abusing her. Why don't
y'all let my baby come home and supervise my child at
my house? They refused to do that."

C: "How can you tell she was being mentally abused?"

MH: "Because Alexis was very sad. She would breakdown
every time she saw me. She would say, "Mommy, Mommy, I
want to come home. Mommy please let me come home.
Mommy, please let me come home." She was specifically
telling them. When she told them, they would tell her
things about me and say, "It's your mother's fault
that you couldn't go home."

C: "Why did they tell her that?"

MH: "They just righteously lied to my baby. When my
baby tried to tell them my mama didn't hit me, they
said my baby said that I hit her with my fist. I
would never do that to my child." But they still kept
my child. I'm a type of person that when it gets to
the last point I get angry because you're mentally
abusing my child. I'm wondering every day and night
what's going to happen to my child? I'm asking them,
"Why did you take my child in the first place?" My
child wasn't abused when you picked her up in the
hospital."

C: "Was she was going to school?"

MH: "She was going to school, but they kept her out
for three months. She knew how to write her name.
She knew her ABC's at four. At three and a half she
was in preschool. But as she stayed in the foster
home, Alexis forgot how to write her name. Alexis
forgot her ABC's. She's seven years old and she's
going to the second grade. They're passing her along,
but Alexis is behind. She's very behind in school. It
breaks my heart because they told my daughter that if
I came to school to pick her up or if I came anywhere
near her without them knowing, then I would be
arrested and go to jail for three years. But when my
daughter stayed with the foster parents, she was
getting abused by a lady, who was screaming and
hollering at my baby while I was talking to her on the
phone. I reported it. They said they were going to
check into it, but they never did. So my daughter
became scared of the foster parents to the point that
when they abused her, she wouldn't say anything
because the CPS workers had told my daughter that if I
came anywhere near her, I would go to prison for three
years. So that's why she stopped telling me anything
about abuse or mental abuse. That's mental abuse when
you tell a child that if your mother comes anywhere
near you, she's going to jail. You know, it's just
getting to me. They're still holding my daughter."

C: "Did you talk to the foster parents? Are they
denying it?"

MH: "Of course they're gonna deny it. Not only do
they deny it, but they also think that I'm mentally
disturbed. Anybody would be mentally disturbed if they
go for help and come back to find their daughter gone.
They tell me that I need to be on medication because
I get angry a lot. Of course I'm angry. The CPS
workers walked into the hospital and took my child. I
was just seeking help because my mother had died. I'm
here to let you know about my daughter. All her
rights have been taken. She has told them, "I want to
be with my mommy." They won't let her be around me
without supervision. I don't understand this system.
I don't understand CPS. I'll do anything to help
anybody who has been through my situation. These
people are very evil."

C: "So, right now you still don't have your daughter
with you?"

MH: "No, she's still in Foster Care. She's with a
person that I call a relative because we know each
other. I get to see her more though."

C: "Do you have any sort of future plan of action
now?"

MH: "No, they have appointed lawyers for me, but the
lawyers seem more against my child and me. It's not
about me. It's about Alexis being mentally disturbed.
All the things they said in the past about me to my
daughter are not true and my baby knows it's not true.
It's making her all messed up in her head."

C: "She's just all confused right now."

MH: "She's very confused. I'm really trying to be a
voice for her because nobody else in the system seems
to want to listen to the child."

C: "And how old is she?"

MH: "She's seven now. The foster parents are
strangers to my daughter. She doesn't get the love she
needs.

C: "I'm sure your daughter knows that you love her."
MH: "Yeah, I love her very much. She knows I've never
abused her.

C: "Thank you so much for sharing your story."

MH: "Thank you. I hope this interview can help others
as well."

After listening to what Michelle and her daughter
suffered through, I am reminded that there is a
certain unexplainable, yet truly unbreakable bond that
a mother shares with her children. A powerful bond of
love that is able to withstand and endure the
destructive separating tactics of CPS. Their love for
each other is what gives them the hope for
reunification.

*************************************************

Open Letter to Rebecca from Michelle

Dear Rebecca,

I thank God for someone like you. I've been praying
for this time to come. Sorry for what has happened to
you and your children I know nothing can change the
damage that has been done, but God. Healing,
forgiving, and trust are violated when you and your
loved ones (your children) have been hurt so badly by
a system we were raised to trust and believe in.

My little girl was taken from me and she was kept out
of school for over three months. She was mentally and
physically abused by the CPS workers, people they
placed her with, and other children. Because my
daughter wanted to come home, she would get
abused by the other children that the foster person
would leave her with.

When I reported this to the CPS, they would punish me
and my daughter by keeping us apart. Sometimes I
would not get to see my daughter. Our visits were
always supervised, as if they had a real reason to say
I was a harm to my daughter. My child lived with
strangers (Foster Care) for over a year. Most of the
time she was not check on, as I would have liked and
as often as she should have been by the CPS worker.
When I was seeing my daughter she would have scars on
her back, face, and legs. She would tell me how they
got there and I would report it. Once again my
daughter and I would be punished for telling too much.
Sometimes they would not let her speak to me on the
phone. I would call, but they wouldn't let her return
my calls. Sometimes I wouldn't get my visits because
I was told I'm calling my daughter too much.

I'm going to stop here because it gets very painful to
continue. I have always believed that CPS was meant be
a good industry, but it turned bad. I hope and pray
that you and your children be compensated for what
happened.

Thank you and God bless Rebecca.

by Michael Vizcarra/PNN media Intern

My left arm is on fire. I can barely breathe because the air is so
heavy and hot. Beads of perspiration appear on my forehead. I try not to
worry about my arm. I should have put on sunscreen earlier. It sucks not
having air conditioning in my car, but there’s a breeze blowing through my
open windows. At least the scenery is beautiful up here in the Capay Valley
of Yolo County. The curving two-lane road, the rolling green hills, the
farms and farm animals, the quiet towns, all bring back memories. I’m on
Highway 16 just off of Highway 505. I used to drive through this valley at
least once a year every summer to go river rafting. But one familiar site
that I always passed and never paid much attention to is the Cache Creek
Indian Bingo and Casino, a big structure located smack dab in the middle of
these small towns and farmland. I never had much concern for the casino,
until now.

The Cache Creek Indian Bingo and Casino is expanding. In fact,
they are planning to increase the size of the existing casino by almost 500%
(from 113,000 sq. ft. to 530,278 sq. ft.), transforming it into a major
destination resort. This has raised more than a few eyebrows from local
farmers within the Capay Valley, who are trying to do whatever they can to
stop the expansion before their concerns are dealt with.

Let me back up a second to give a little background to the area.
The original residents of the Capay region were the Wintun tribe and other
related tribes living along the valley’s waterways. In the early 1800s with
the introduction of white settlers, the Patwin Indians (as the entire group
of tribes were called by the U.S. government) were nearly wiped out by the
diseases brought on by the settlers. Things didn’t get any better when the
Gold Rush hit. The gold miners took their lands and enslaved, infected,
starved and massacred the Native Americans around the area. This treatment
continued well into the late 1880s when even the state of California paid a
bounty for Indian scalps.

By the 1920s the Federal government had established rancherias for
surviving tribes and part of the Wintun tribe was placed in Rumsey, a small
town in the Capay Valley. In 1942 the Tribe moved to a 56-acre site just 15
miles north of Rumsey. They were able to purchase a 118-acre site and made
that into a trust parcel (meaning they put the land “in trust” to the
Federal government, which is necessary in order to have gambling). The site
is also where most of the homes and business enterprises for the Tribe are
located. Shortly after the completion of the Casino in 1985, the Rumsey
Band were finally able to reunite their scattered members and bring them
back home.

I spoke with Frank Rose, a hay farmer in the Capay Valley and
advocate for the farmers against the expansion. He says the main concern of
the farmers is the amount of traffic the expansion is going to bring into
the valley. “The two-lane highway [Hwy. 16] is the lifeline for farmers,” he
says. And since the valley is heavily populated with agriculture, the
increased flow into the valley would hinder the movement of farm equipment
and produce shipments. He also states that the proposed expansion (outlined
in a document called the Environmental Evaluation (EE) prepared by the
Rumsey Band of Wintun Indians and their consultants) makes no showing of
compliance with the Federal Clean Water Act, Clean Air Act, or Endangered
Species Act, which are among the Federal laws that apply to tribal lands.
He says the farmers want the Governor to stop the expansion until their
concerns are mitigated. The farmers also want the Tribe to do an evaluation
that is accurate.

“I mean, we’re not against Indians,” Mr. Rose says, “We voted for
them to have a community center down the road, but this is too much. What
more do they want?”

Does this sound like NIMBYism to you?

I also spoke with Mr. Howard Dickstein, the lawyer for the Tribe.
He says the accusations that the EE relies on inaccurate assumptions and
baseline data are “vague criticisms and inaccurate”. “None of the State
Agencies had concerns, only the county [Yolo], which is politically driven,”
he says. “But the County Land Use Ordinance and Regulations do not apply to
Indian Tribes.” Mr. Dickstein also said the Tribe is having meetings with
Yolo County supervisors and would consider additional mitigation. They
would study the concerns and would act in good faith. “But the tribe will
not subject economic self-sufficiency to a veto by Yolo County or any
individuals,” states Mr. Dickstein.

I think Mr. Dickstein has a great point. It boils down to being
self-sufficient. Before the Casino, many of the Tribal members earned a
living working as farm laborers and many were receiving public assistance.
Now, all tribal members contribute and are compensated for helping run
Rumsey Rancheria and none are receiving any outside assistance. Where Mr.
Rose said the two-lane highway is the lifeline of the farmers. Well, Mr.
Rose, the Casino is the lifeline of the Rumsey Band. Not only does the
Casino provide self-sufficiency for the Tribe, but also it provides year
round jobs for more than 1,500 people. They contribute annually to support
regional needs in education, community health, arts and humanities,
environment, community development and social services.

It’s weird when I hear the words, “It’s not fair,” coming from the
mouths of these farmers, especially when they’re referring to a group who
has brought themselves up from economic hardship to a better way of life.
But these are the words I continue to hear. Mr. Rose has only been in the
valley for four years. Four years! I can only speculate how long the
Native Americans have been in the Capay Valley, but I’m definite it’s longer
than four years. The farming industry is the most subsidized industry in
the nation. I don’t think I hear many people saying, “That’s not fair”.
The next time I drive through this valley I will expect to see the familiar
sites of farmland and small towns. But I will also hope and expect to see a
bigger Cache Creek Indian Bingo and Casino Resort.

by Valerie Schwartz/PNN Community Journalist

Roughly a year ago, I had camped out on the corner of Mc Allister and Larkin. There were about eight of us in all. I had made a small lean-to, out of sawhorses for a construction site and cardboard, in front of the small gray concrete power plant in the midst of all the government buildings near city hall. The night was discomforting and eerily quiet like a mausoleum awaiting a new tenant. I finally managed to fall asleep briefly and was woken to the sound of a nightstick banging on the pavement next to my head, accompanied by an officer's voice shouting, "get up and show me your identification now." I had no ID; it had been stolen too many times and it seemed futile to obtain another one. As I explained this to the officer, he wrote me a ticket for camping out in public/being homeless. His partner, now busy doing the same to the other tenants of the sidewalk then announced, "get your shit the hell outta here and don't come back!" I then asked if there was anywhere, a person could sleep outside and not get a ticket. I was told to go sleep under the Army St. ramp or go to jail. Needless to say... I did not sleep that night. This was not the first time I had been given a "quality of life" citation.

It is now two a.m. on a typical San Francisco night cold ,damp, and the misty tendrils of fog swirl and dance for me, while I am looking out the window. As I find myself wishing I had on a pair of thermals to fend off the chill I feel a radiant warmth from the smile of Darlene Smith, a 40+ woman of Cherokee and Irish descent, who refused to pay $2,500 for sixteen "quality of life" citations. For those of you who do not know, what a refusal to pay a fine of this amount usually means for a person who can not pay it.... means they wind up doing "County-time". A quality of life citation is a ticket essentially for being homeless/living on the street.

"They treated me like I was a criminal for being homeless", said Darlene. As we sat there I listened to Darlene tell her story. As it unfolded, full of things that many homefull people find hard to believe because they have not experienced lives like ours and therefore treat our stories like a rueful fairytales. She and I sat sharing the small space at the phone-desk, inside the cubicle known as the "phone room" in the residential treatment program where we are both clients. There is a gray fabric partition with a tinted Plexiglas window. This room inside this large building, originally a convent has incredibly high ceilings, old wood dark stained baseboards and doors. The bone colored walls are semi-cluttered with posted notices for how to run the PBX-phone system and transfer call to the proper Staff and proper phone decorum. Two long pine shelves along the far wall have stacks of various logs,forms, and paperwork that are used daily by the facility. Tonight Darlene is the PBX operator.

"When we first arrived in San Francisco in 1985 we were homeless, we lived and camped in Civic Center Park near the AIDS Vigil, there was a tent-city then." Ms. Smith then explained that she and her husband didn't even know that they were eligible for assistance or knew about General Assistance for the first three-to-four months that they were in the city. They had found out about "hot-line" rooms from other homeless folk and while standing in line on Otis St., for a voucher for from hot -line, they had found out about G.A. (The service for hot-line rooms no longer exists today). She had gotten a room through G. A. and was evicted on Christmas Day.

Darlene says, " My rent was due on Christmas morning in 1985. On Christmas Eve my husband went out to get some money and never returned." When he didn't return the Mentone Hotel, put her out Christmas morning in the rain." I didn't know what to do or where I was going to go, I was told some homeless people hung out at the bus terminal." That cold wet Christmas night, alone she had fallen asleep on a bench in the bus terminal only to awaken to the police. They ran her name and said she had a warrant, that she did not have, and took her to jail to ID her. Darlene then said, " The police put a note on my cart that said, "in jail please leave". "They might as well put a sign on it that said FREE- take what you want!" All of her belongings, including what few meager presents she and her husband had to share with each other, all of his possessions and the cart no longer were there. "When I got out and came back to the terminal the next morning everything was gone, everything."

Darlene then told me that the reason the hotel had put her out was because her rent was late; that she had a check coming in on the first and the hotel would not wait, her rent was late because: The hotel had charged her husband $10 nightly to stay there with her, that they had been made to apply separately for G.A., but had to apply for food-stamps as husband and wife. This in itself made it hard for them to rent a room as a family unit therefore; both of their checks went to paying the rent of that room. Hers, in a BI-monthly payment and his a nightly visitor's fee.

" Have you received, how many quality of life citations have you received since being homeless in San Francisco?" I asked. Darlene replied, " Oh God yes, pages and pages listed on the computer, bunches and bunches, probably hundreds. I never went to court on any of them, after so long they usually pull them out of the system. I got a ticket once for Obstruction at the water fountain in United Nations Plaza while sitting on one of the cement blocks of the fountain." She told me that she hadn't understood what she had been obstructing and that all kinds of different people always sit there and how it just did not make sense to her.

" Recently you had some of these tickets, did you go to court and what was the outcome?" I asked. Darlene then told me, that after she had been in program for a few days she had gone to court for $2,500 of citations for being homeless/quality of life tickets. Most of these tickets were for 647(J) PC (unlawful lodging in public) and the rest were 372 PC ( maintain public nuisance). she refused to pay the tickets because she felt that it was outrageous, that she had no way to pay them, was in a treatment program and that most of all homelessness should not be a crime. Says Darlene, " I entered treatment on my own, I hadn't had a job for ten-years, a drug history, and had been homeless for almost as long. I couldn't find work or a place to live. I knew I needed some kind of help to get off the streets and get my life together.."

Ms. Smith refused to pay the fines and she was held in custody until the next morning when she went to court again. She told the court that she was in a program...The prosecutor told the judge that the District Attorney's Office would drop the charges upon completion of a one-year program , although she was only in a six-month program. The judge said that one-year was too much and that after she had completed her treatment-program he would dismiss the charges and that the court was to be given a progress report every two-months until she had completed treatment.

I am a person whom has experienced homelessness and has been ticketed for living on the street. I find this makes no sense and I feel that it is a shame for the court to arrive at this solution. She went into treatment on her own, not because she had committed a crime. What is her crime... poverty? Why weren't the charges dropped right then; I feel as though she should have been commended for making a sound healthy decision for having found the desire and the courage to change her life for the better. Instead she has, in a sense, been given an ultimatum, a mandate for being poor and deciding to better herself.

We then talked about how hard it is for homeless people to make and keep appointments with agencies and people in general such as: Welfare, SSI, the courts, jobs , medical and therapy appointments. Says Darlene, " Yeah, its almost impossible to make or keep appointments. You have to find someone to watch over your stuff, you have to worry more about the cops taking your belongings than the thieves and of course we don't have phones or alarm clocks." Then she related how many people who camp out, sleep during the day because they recycle and that, "Society doesn't want to see poor people out on the street in the daytime."

I asked Ms. Smith if she felt that the public views homeless women in a more derogatory light than homeless men. She looked at me rather strangely, as if to question why would I ask her a question that she knew I knew the answer to. Says Darlene, " Yes, definitely! It is almost like they say... she has a ____, she should be selling it and if you do; then you aren't a person you're a whore. If you don't prostitute you are considered stupid, its double standards across the board. Sometimes I wish I could do that but I can't." Then she added, " The cops write all of us tickets except the young cute girls that they blatantly flirt with."

The building was now quiet and still. No phone calls were coming in, and we continued on our discussion. Darlene talked about how she felt about the shelters here in San Francisco, the lack of beds and the obvious lack of beds for women. As I listened to her tell me about her experience in the shelters; none of them sounded as though they had been positive of helpful, it sounded like being on a Tilt-a-Whirl of despair.

I then asked her, " As a homeless/poor person have you ever experienced what you consider or know to be harassment, unfair or unprofessional treatment by the SFPD?" Ms. Smith answered, " Yes to all of the above." Then I put forth my next question and was not surprised with her answer. I asked, " Have you ever sought help from the SFPD and been ignored?" She became quiet and a bit sullen for a moment while reflecting and then told me, " Yes, myself and three other people tried to flag down two different police cars over by the old library. A homeless man had been stabbed and was laying there dying. The first car slowed to almost a complete stop and then just drove on. Then the second car did the same, they had already been called by 911. They just kept going! It took about thirty-minutes for the man to die. Another time I tried to stop the police when a woman in a wheelchair was being robbed on Market St. Two men were trying to pull her purse out of her hands. I stood in the middle of the street and flagged down a police car. He stopped and said, 'it's not my district and my advice to you is; if its not affecting you... then just walk on by', Obviously it was affecting me, I flagged him down!"

I found myself wondering about the lack of information available to poor people and asked, " Have you ever been given any information about: people, agencies, or groups who could help advocate for you and help you find some kind of housing?" Quick with a response she fired off the answer, " They tell you to go to the shelters, information is not given by the cops but some of the medical vans give information. I found out from a friend that the Coalition on Homelessness would help me with the tickets/citations for being homeless. The Coalition didn't help me. They said that the tickets weren't even misdemeanors and therefore not an infraction, that it must be a misdemeanor."

There has been a lot of negative opinion and stereotyping in the press lately about poor people urinating and defecating in the streets. I asked Darlene, " Did you find it hard to find a place to bathe and are public restrooms hard to find?" She answered, " Yes, that is absolutely true. There is nowhere, the shelters are very limited and there really is no other place to go, even just to the bathroom, no wonder people resort to going outside, its not like they want to... they don't have a choice sometimes."

" How do you feel being homeless had affected your self-esteem, health and well-being?" I inquired. Darlene answered, " I didn't feel any lesser but its just demeaning, you have no privacy, little if any safety, and you have to run and find a bathroom in the morning when you wake up. I guess it does effect your self-esteem and health because everyone tries to make you feel less than human, the cops , the bureaucracy, even the merchants, even if you have money to spend. They won't allow you to be around them, they treat you like lepers, like you have the plague. I'm angry, bitter, resentful and fearful of losing what I have tried so hard to have: food, clothing, sleeping bags, the necessities. It is incredible that Americans can be so ignorant and uncaring about other American citizens....Homeless people don't have shit, except a hard time. a hell-hard time."

I asked Darlene how she felt being in a treatment-program would help her. She looked up at me. Her eyes with glinting sparks that seemed to light a fire of determination and told me that she was learning how to: change her behavior so that she would become a clean, healthy and productive person, find a good job, and find decent housing. She told me that, " These are things I never could have accomplished while being on the street and homeless. Hopefully, I will never have to worry about receiving another "quality of life" citation ever again."

by Aldo Arturo Della Maggiora

Melida Andrade (Ma ma) was born in Born 1902 in Cojutepeque, El Salvador, a country of volcanoes. Ma ma Melida came from a poor family. During this era the country was not very populated and their economy was fair. My Great Grand Mother did not know how to read or write, nor did she attend school. At that time going to school was a privilege for those who could afford it.

Ma ma was the oldest daughter of Catalina Delgado and Salvador (a military general). She had two brothers and a sister. The oldest brother was Estevan,11, the youngest brother was Atilio, 10, and Lidia, at 4 years old, was the youngest in the family.

In 1914, Ma ma Melida’s mother, Catalina passed away at age 38. Prior to my Great Great, Great, Grand Mother Catalina’s death, she had already separated from her husband. Ma ma Melida was only 12 years old; left to care for Estevan, Atilio and Lidia. Ma ma Melida went to live with her Grand Mother Benita Carrillo v. (view da) de Delgado. Estevan ran away from the family. My Great Grand Ma said that she tried to track him down but could not find him. Suffering from the frustration of losing a brother and not being able to afford medication for her mother, dying of a fever, she promised to herself that she would come out of poverty with her family. That was her turning point.

Finding herself at the age of 12 years old left with the responsibility to raise her brother and sister, Ma ma Melida wasted no time in vain conversation. Her conversations, were all about business and no more than that. She focused on looking and speaking proper so that she would not be outcast from the cream of society. She had an attitude that she was the queen and only interested in business. She used this attitude in society and in her family so that nobody could put her down. She did not let anybody in, because she understood the nature of envy and how personal history was used to minimize others; to interfere with the business or goals one had in life.

She earned her respect and everyone she worked with saw that this women was a hard worker, had self-determination and dignity.

Her strong character came from the fact that she had to confront life at an early age. She had the knowledge of "No meter la pâté" (to be proper) among the wealthy, intellectual, business community. Through listening and observing she learned to behave and survive amongst the privileged society. She graduated from the University of life.

It is believed that after the death of my Great, Great, Great Grand Mother, Ma ma Melida got involved in prostitution to be able to send money back to her grandmother to feed her brothers and sister and build the capital necessary to start her liquor business. From time to time, Ma ma Melida also got paid to breast feed other children, which was customary in El Salvador.

In El Salvador police were known for tattooing prostitutes with a serial number. My uncle was aware that my Great Grand Mother had a numerical tattoo on her shoulder, hidden behind two tattooed hearts; which she never showed anyone. Other than this information no one talked much about this subject within the family circle, and people that knew, did not speak about it, for respect.

At about age 19 Ma ma Melida started her liquor business. She traveled with local merchants who knew her. The barrels of liquor Ma ma Melida bought were transported on mules to different town fairs throughout El Salvador.

Once she arrived into town she would set up a tent both to promote the liquor she sold. Since she was on the road all the time the tents were convenient to sleep under after a long day of work. Ma ma Melida carried a 38 caliber with her as a means of defense. She would not let anyone take advantage of her. These town fairs would last up to three days, where local officials, business owners and town’s people would show up throughout El Salvador. There was music, dancing, food, and vendors.

As Ma ma Melida’s business began to flourish, she helped set up a barbershop for Atilio. but due to his alcoholism his business failed. He became a shoe shiner as well as a shoe repairer on the street. He lived in run down Mesones. (hotels) Other times he found himself in the streets when he could not afford the Mesones. Ma ma Melida tried hard to help him but Atilio gave up, she had to learn how to let her brother go, because no matter how much money she would give him he would always spend it on alcohol. Lidia received money from Ma ma Melida and opened two cantinas. Although Lidia’s business did well the hardships of a bad relationship resulted in her becoming bankrupt. Her unhealthy relationship lead to the mismanagement of her business. Lidia lost her business and house. She had seven children who were grown up by that time.

By this time Ma ma Melida had two children Arturo and Soli. She bought a house in Sensuntepeque and eventually bought 16 houses where she rented to people and established cantinas selling liquor. Sensuntepeque was a rural area and property was inexpensive

Being the new, single women with her siblings, in town and establishing businesses and homes attracted the envy of one woman who was known well in town for her business success. She took Ma ma Melida to court complaining that the cantinas were not good for the town. Eventually Ma ma Melida got tired of going to court and decided to sell all her property and businesses. She collected all her money and moved to the capital, San Salvador. She never gave up on her dreams. She bought a house and established her first cantina, later establishing more cantinas. Her husband Manuel Andrade opened two grocery stores.

As her business grew stronger, sooner then later, she was able to present herself to the De Stileria la Central and another company Ilopania at the time who made Flor de Cana.and Espiritu de Cana. She became a wholesale buyer of the production and National Drink called Espiritu de Cana, which is the spirit coming from the sugar cane and Flor de Cana, meaning flower of sugar cane. She was the #1 distributor for the whole country.

Mama Melida bought almost 90% of the production of both companies in cash. Both companies gave her the lowest discount, about 30 percent. The remaining production these two companies had were sold at a 15% discount; where as my Great Grand Mother was able to move the industry of liquor by selling her production at 12% discount. She sold to small towns, big cities, cantinas, grocery stores, etc.

She was recognized by Banko Salvadoreno run by Don Luis Escalante. Don Luis Escalante later on decided to open his own bank named Banko Agricola Comercial, the strongest bank in El Salvador. He ask her to transfer all her capital into his bank and offered to give her the most interest on her capital.

After 7 to 10 years of working in business Ma ma Melida contracted a designer and architect to design a big house for her whole family to move in. Her son, Pa Pa Arturo became an economist for the United Nations, representing Central, South America and the Caribbean Islands. He married my GrandMother, Lotty Lara, an educator. My grand parents had 4 children. Being that my Grand Father had children with different women, a divorce was inevitable.

My Great Grand Ma loved her grand children but she was on her son’s side and her dream of having a family dynasty washed away when my grandfather had his wife and children leave the house, with no money.

In the 1980’s Ma ma Melida came to America asking for forgiveness to the family on my mothers behalf. She asked my mother to go to her funeral to represent the rest of the family. My Great Grand Ma passed away January 13, 1981.

Ma ma Melida always meant business and wanted to produce more money. She received capital gain, prestige, gifts, power, and recognition in society. Unfortunately her liquor business exploited her people, whose life hopes became a bottle of alcohol and each generation repeated that same cycle. This is the price my Great Grand Mother had to pay to live well off and make it amongst the economic, political, and business elites.

.

In the case of my Great Grand Mother it was her ambition that created her accomplishments as well as her downfalls, unfortunately she could not confront the aspect of her life that contributed to exploiting her people as well as her family. Bad decisions caved in her dreams of having a united family. Hopefully the next generation won’t repeat the same mistake.

by Alexandra Cuff and Joseph Bolden /PoorNewsNetwork

Up earlier than I should have been on a bleak Saturday morning, I stared at the early risers on the 49 bus wondering what clever question I could possibly ask Gavin Newsom about his Care Not Cash initiative. From what I’ve read about him, he seems impenetrable and I imagine that he has a million dollar premeditated answer to anything that challenges his precious campaign that is going to cure our city of the disease of homelessness. I wondered how I would perform when finally face-to-face with the golden boy himself. The sun was nowhere to be seen in the San Francisco august sky. I never ended up writing down the address of the Plumbers & Pipefitters Union so I walked around the province of Market Street and Gough for a few minutes in an overcast-bred daze.

When I saw a score of protesters gathered on the sidewalk I realized I had found my location. I walked over and hung out with other Care Not Cash opponents while wondering what we were doing outside when the campaign rally was inside. I didn’t know that these events weren’t open to all. Turns out the bouncers were just there to keep out folks that weren’t Newsom supporters. I walked past and mentioned that I was with Poor Magazine. I was asked for a press pass and responded with, "we are a poor magazine, we can’t afford passes." The man guarding the door looked me up and down to my worn shoes and asked me, with all sincerity, to please keep it outside if I was going to protest. I assured him I wasn’t going to protest and walked up the stairs to the main event.

I had to pass 2 tables of petition-pushers before finding my seat in the white-dominated sea of people dressed in jeans-Friday office garb. I didn’t know what to expect because I’d never been to a campaign rally before so I was pleased to see the breakfast spread and helped myself to some orange juice. Just then I flashed back to Thursday where I spent the majority of the morning at DHS (welfare) waiting to see my food stamp worker. I always thought it would be cool if there was juice and coffee for all the poor folk applying for assistance. I’m sure that will never happen though for fear that people would have more of a reason to follow through with the grueling intake process…just a thought.

The amusement of watching Gavin walking around the room flashing his Ken doll smile and thanking people for coming was interrupted by Jim Ross, the campaign manager, who was leading the masses in a slow clap. And so the pep rally began. All around me the slow clap got louder and louder leading me to look to the back door where I expected the Giants to gallantly run into the room and begin to warm up for a game. With a couple of yee-haws Ross brought the clap to a normal pace and asked the crowd to "applaud for our protesters outside who don’t support Care Not Cash." I felt like an alien while looking around for non CNC cult members and was steadied at the site of Joe (POOR Magazine columnist) who was sitting a couple of folding chairs ahead of me.

Ross held his hands up letting the automaton’s know that they could stop clapping as he announced that the 23,000 signatures submitted to the Department of Elections on July 8th placed the Care Not Cash initiative on the November ballot. He went on to say that as the campaign manager, he’d been really nervous during the whole process. My immediate reaction was to wonder what personal stake Jim Ross had in seeing homeless people’s GA slashed. He also announced that the campaign finally landed a space on 12th and Irving and joked that if anyone has a chair to donate…playing up to the Newsom-is-not-privileged-and-can’t-afford-a-chair-so-we-need-more-money image.

Newsome appeared and immediately gave the enemy a framework: "You all heard there are some rumblings going about. There is opposition. It’s important to get our message out to people. Whoever thinks the current homeless system works is really deluding themselves." I felt like I was in a scene from the sci-fi miniseries "V" where the underground is getting ready to overthrow the invading aliens. Unfortunately, this event hadn’t the least bit to do with revolution. Chuckles went up all around me and a question I had asked myself over and over was answered: How could so many people (apparently from the signatures over twenty thousand) easily go along with an initiative without listening to the opposition when there are people protesting every Newsom-sponsored event. I sadly realized that people are lazy. They want to see the black and the white. There is homelessness therefore we need a cure. Or, Newsom wants to fight homelessness and everyone that doesn’t agree with his panacea thinks the current system works just great. In other familiar words, if you’re not with Newsom, you’re against all homelessness reform.

30 seconds into Gavin’s soliloquy he was interrupted by an person in a Gavin Newsom mask ( a group of activists began a performance in the audience section below him) – one moment I was resisting a politician’s charm and the next I was at a mime troupe performance. The Newsom mimic danced up in Gavin’s face calling "Oh Gavin, Gavin you are so beautiful, I love you" while a couple other perpetrators in the audience asked questions translating to "why do you want to fuck over the homeless people." The protesters represented Gays Against Gavin. I can’t quote any of what I imagine were clever remarks on the protesters part because in no time Jeff Ross, our trusted campaign manager, had gotten everyone to begin clapping in order to drown out the voice of the forbidden other. I turned around to catch the reaction of some of the clappers and caught a woman behind me turn around to her friend and with a numskulled smile ask, "why are we clapping?" Enough said about that disturbing observation. The infiltrators ran around the room handing out, and throwing, anti-Care Not Cash propaganda which mostly ended up on the floor, unread.

Once things had calmed down and the performers were ushered out by angry Newsom cult members, Gavin got on with his own performance. He began, "the truth hurts." The uproar of whooping and applause started up. I scanned the room and thought, yes, the truth definitely hurts. I could only think of the Stepford Wives. But what gospel was Newsom talking about? I was constantly baffled by his sound bites. He’d refer to a victory and I’d wonder who the fight was against? The poor people? Why? He went on to talk about how the money currently spent to fight homelessness is a form of consumerism and with a furrowed brow said, "you see where that money is going when you drive through the streets – it’s an outrage, a disgrace." I noticed his polished getup and thought of how I couldn’t afford to eat at his restaurant if I wanted to and wondered what he knew about an excess of consumerism.

He went on to make fun of the protesters who peopled the July 18th Care Not Cash (CNC) fundraiser at the Cal Insurance and Associates Building by cheapening their direct action approach without addressing the issues that were brought up by the opposition. He scoffed that the organizers provided dinner and transportation to the folks attending the protest making it sound like a bunch of ignorant homeless people were enticed with a food offering. People actually laughed at this. He said, "they can’t debate the fact that truth hurts and that Care Not Cash is going to turn this around. They are avoiding the facts and attacking the messenger." I assume he is referring to himself as the holy messenger.

More cheering from the drones and he still hasn’t mentioned anything about what the initiative will actually do to benefit the poor and homeless of the city. He also mentioned that if people are whining that there are no services they should be supporting CNC so that we can get organized and make change. After going on a little bit more about how the CNC opponents actually inspire him, he entered the final stage of his act and thanked the supporters of the initiative: SF Medical Society, the police and fire departments, the doctors of SF General and of the Haight Ashbury clinic, and the SF City of Neighborhoods.

Newsom then proclaimed "we have a little skit of our own" and two campaign frat boys got up and acted out the "right and wrong way to ask people for signatures and endorsements." They pretty much insulted anyone who has signed the petition because even in the "right way to ask" they never explained the initiative, they just asked more nicely than in the "wrong way" and the actor playing the passersby signed without hesitation. Newsom closed by reminding us of the protesters outside: "A warning – they have the right to yell outside. Stay calm, ignore it. We don’t want a real conflict. We don’t care about what they yell at us."

I thought I might be able to avoid direct contact with the charming supervisor but when his pep talk was over, I realized that’s all it was – a pep talk – and that I didn’t get any of my questions answered. So I approached the half moon of bodies that had gathered around him to ask questions and/or to kiss his ass. While waiting for my turn to talk with the most popular boy in the room, I was present for the discussion that took place before mine. A man of African-decent (1 of the 3 in the room) introduced himself as a homeless man and let him know that the image of homeless folk that Newsom is creating with this campaign is just a stereotype. He asked Newsom if he’d like to be lumped under the category of politician…because we’re all familiar with that stereotype. Gavin’s eyes scanned the circle of us quickly and his lips held a friendly smile as he explained that he’s spent a lot of time talking with homeless people and has gotten their input regarding the initiative.

When my turn came I wiped the sweat of my palms onto my jeans and introduced myself while shaking his hand. I identified myself and a transplant from a middle class family on long island and went on to explain how GA helped me by providing income to contribute to a casual living situation at a time when I had no employment or home. I related that if I’d been denied cash and had to stay in a shelter, I would never have pulled myself together enough to find work or let alone stay in a nurturing environment where I could cook with friends or sleep in all day if I needed. He looked me in the eye and shaking his head with understanding went on to tell me that CNC will not affect anyone’s cash aid that isn’t living on the street.

"Do you mean there is no cut in cash aid for people that aren’t homeless?" I asked dubiously. He explained that only 30% of people on GA are homeless and those are the people they want to help by ensuring they get off the street. Hm. "Well why would you provide shelter vouchers for people instead of cash when shelters are already free? Also, there aren’t enough shelters as of now to house everyone." Newsom assured me with complete body language (an empire’s strike three hand signal) that "this is a voucher-less system!" Then he went on to talk about how we are the last county in the nation to provide cash benefits and that he has spent a lot of time in New York City observing the way in which they are dealing with homeless issues.

"Ah so where are all the homeless people in New York?" I asked. "I’m going home to visit the parents in August so I’ll definitely make sure to talk to homeless people there and hear about how much better their lives are since the city has been cleaned up." Immediately Newsom told me about how horrible the intake conditions are in New York and explained that it’s just a start. I told him I’ve read that the shelters are practically prisons and he agreed with me wholeheartedly. So I asked him a couple other questions, two regarding housing: how the act will affect SRO occupants and where is all of this housing you speak of that the now homeless have to look forward to if CNC passes. I also asked how welfare recipients who are reaching the 5 year time limit this year will be affected by the initiative. His answers were suave and I realized that although my heart was into the investigation, I hadn’t done enough research to ask the piercing questions I fantasized I would be able to.

I thanked him for his time and stood around while Joe Bolden from POOR, asked the golden question: "Are you going to run for mayor in the upcoming election." Newsom gravely answered no and to bring humor to the discussion added, "I would never be addressing homelessness if I were running for mayor – its way too controversial. If I were running for mayor I would be working on playground initiatives." Joe and I walked toward the exit and remarked at how creepily sincere Newsom’s demeanor was

So I still have questions that aren’t answered and realize that I have a lot of research to do, namely in finishing my read of the entire initiative which can be found online at www.carenotcash.org. And if anyone cares, there’s a pretty funny picture of Newsom on the home page that links to a live video stream that provided entertainment to me and my housemates this very evening. I can say that I was pretty disappointed that most of the protesters outside remained outside and more informed folk didn’t infiltrate the campaign rally. I also think it sucks that the Gavin Q&A sessions are not held in public – not even that morning when almost all of the potential questioners were his supporters.

I spent the rest of the afternoon at the AMC 1000 catching $30 in free movies after my boyfriend and I snuck in. Even among all that escapism (free, too) I couldn’t shake Newsom’s face from my mind. I kept thinking of questions I should have asked Newsom. How are people who are living in shelters going to afford medicine on less than $2 a day? CNC says nothing about increased housing for homeless nor does it guarantee any increased services. People supporting Care Not Cash need to start asking themselves questions brought up by the opposition. Folks need to put themselves in the shoes of a mother of four who won’t be able to save a dime towards transitioning out of the shelter when her cash aid is cut. Or someone with diabetes that needs to pay close attention to their diet and medicinal needs.

As the pamphlet that was handed out by the Gays Against Newsome suggested, "Its time that rich San Franciscans stop viewing themselves as the victims of homelessness. The problem with homelessness is NOT that the wealthy have to see people sleeping outside and be asked for money while walking down the street." Are those turning their heads from real solutions and supporting CNC doing so to assuage any guilt they may have from never looking a panhandler on the sidewalk in the eye? During Gavin’s speech, the woman behind me was whispering "poor souls" or "god bless them" at the mention of both homeless people and of those protesting the initiative! I guess it’s easier to let other people do the thinking for you especially when you’re not affected by any outcomes. For those of us that don’t believe in putting the issue of homelessness in the hands of god or in the hands of Gavin Goosesom, we need to keep educating ourselves and others about the possibility of real solutions. And we need to show up and ask CNC supporters and Newsom himself the questions that we know won’t be answered if the initiative passes in November.

To find out more about the Continuum of Care, a plan designed by homeless scholars and advocates to create real change and lasting solutions to homelessness, contact the Coalition Against Increased Homelessness at 415.864.8372.

by Connie Lu/PNN Youth in the Media Intern

Gusts of cold wind rush past my face with each car
passing under the overpass, as I prepare to cross the
street where the First Bay Area Hip Hop Film Festival at SomARTS
Cultural Center is being held to raise funds for the
The San Francisco Bay View Newspaper. The festival was organized by filmmaker and writers Kevin Epps (Straight Outta Hunters Point) and JR (The SF Bayview) in collaboration with many other independent media makers. There are
brightly painted murals filled with vibrant colors on
the outside of the building. The stage inside is
draped with heavy black curtains behind the large
screen in the middle. There is a long table to the
left with a royal purple tablecloth, prepared for the
panel discussion. Apart from the dim lighting are
frequent bright flashes of light from the clicking
cameras that are capturing the many events and faces
throughout the Film Festival. I am sitting in the
fourth row of orange chairs near the center aisle, as
the lights darken in commencement of the first film.

The first short film is called, "Estilo Hip Hop,"
directed by Vigilio Brava. It depicts the culture of
Hip Hop and its influence throughout various countries
of South America such as: Brazil, Chile, and
Argentina. Hip Hop provides an outlet of expression
through dance, vocalized lyrics, and the art of
graffiti to the people living in these countries who
are poor, but are driven to "maximize and optimize
every opportunity". Hip Hop is not only an interest
to them, but a is a true passion that strives and
feeds the creation of new elements.

The next film is "Voice of the Voiceless," directed
by Tania Cuevas-Martinez. It is a powerful
documentary film based upon the appeal process for
Mumia Abu-Jamal, a Pennsylvania journalist who exposed
police violence against minority communities. The
documentary showed violent footage by using effective
film techniques such as, split screens and overlapping
montages of these minority communities being bombed
and residents being beaten and sprayed with
high-pressure fire hoses in 1978. Mumia was then
wrongfully sentenced for shooting a police officer and
has been on death row since 1982. Various Hip Hop
artists and activists throughout the film express
their support to free Mumia, who believes "Revolution
is my religion".

After the film, there is a panel discussion with
representatives from several media sources. Kiilu
Nyasha of "SF Bay View/Black Panther Press" explains,
"The sponsors of the 'Bay View' are refusing to place
advertisements because of the political content of the
articles, which leads to the 'Bay View' not having
enough money". She goes on to express how "The system
doesn't tolerate 'real' free speech". Willie
Ratcliff, Publisher of the "SF Bay View" continues the
discussion and emphasizes, "The great need for young
people in the media because they are the future".

Despite the fact that each representative on the panel
was from a different media source, including KPFA, POOR Magazine/PNN, The Bay Guardian, and Greenscene, I could sense the
unity in coming together for the common cause of
supporting the "Bay View". I was also reminded of my
own role in the media through the words that I write,
which represent the skills I have gained from POOR
Magazine to help shape the media, instead of the media
showing what it wants to portray.

The last film of the night is "Nobody Know My Name,"
directed by Rachel Raimist, who depicts the influence
of Hip Hop on women as artists who are determined to
overcome the demeaning way of the media portraying
women as sex objects and nothing else. Asia One, a
B-girl in the film explains that she felt intimidated
to be the only woman among several men when she first
started breaking. But now, she takes pride in being a
woman in a field dominated by men and hopes to see
more women becoming involved in Hip Hop.

The female artist I was able to connect with the most
in the film was DJ Symphony because she expresses, "I
used to be really shy, but now I'm more comfortable in
front of a crowd of people". DJ Symphony also likens
the turntable to a musical instrument, which I
reminded me of having to perform at piano recitals and
feeling nervous with each note that sounded from my
shaking hands upon the ivory keys. She explains that
it is hard to get respect from the male DJ's because
there aren't that many girl DJ's. But her goal is to
be respected by the men, instead of others seeing her
as, "She's ok, for a girl".

After I left the Film Festival, I realized the vast
diversity of the people at this event that I had not
initially noticed and felt the willingness of the
community to share in the experience of uniting to
support the powerful the voice of the media through
the "Bay View".

by Willie Warren

I once joined a group,

On a Summer of ’93 day;

We challenged City Hall,

And whatever came our way.

Food Not Bombs we were,

Rebels for all to see;

One guy matched my cool,

He was only five foot three.

Shaved head and dark eyes,

Short legs and little hands;

Big heart and eye glasses

Doc Martens and plaid strands.

Known then as the Hobbit,

Cook and drove regularly;

Dubbed as a pillar of strength,

I saw him as J.T. .



When I left Food Not Bombs,

He stayed on at their side;

Saving their face and character,

Until he felt someone lied.

Slowly drifted away from them,

Like the flight of a dove;

Leaving behind partnerships,

And the loss of a love.

Pushing forward with his wound,

To an office without suits;

Got a job different from,

Early years and Vallejo roots.

Helping people fight back, .

When a landlord becomes a jerk;

Showing people protective ways,

And Eviction Defense Network.



They say that time heals wounds,

But they never say how fast;

Challenging his inner strength,

Placing his wound in his past.

His defending caliber had grown,

Through hardships and distortions;

His reputation had empired,

Up to gigantic proportions

Time passed on as usual,

And gave our lives changes;

He saw his vision created,

I saw better salary ranges.

In between our work schedules,

We’d meet and all would see;

A little guy saying, "Yo Willie,’

A big guy saying, "J.T.."



Maybe we’d have a few minutes,

But then, we’re on our way;

Staying in touch was easy,

But meeting had gone astray.

Again, time passes as usual,

Leaving one no worse for wear;

He had grown a few inches,

And I had grown gray hair.

Switching jobs, he got lucky,

His income suffered no pause;

The Coalition On Homelessness,

Drafted him to a greater cause.

Involvement in other groups,

Is where he found his proof;

In 2000 he started one,

It’s called Right To a Roof.



To write this poem about him,

Takes vibes of a straight shooter;

Unknown to him I wrote this,

At his desk on his computer.

To get this info correct,

I had to see him in action;

I joined his group to help keep,

City Government’s ass in traction.

He definitely shows leadership,

In homeless endeavors and such

He’s a humble Vallejo guy,

And thinks he talks too much.

His birth name, James Tracy,

He’s cool and will always be;

A roaddog, partner, and brother,

And always my homey, J.T

.

by Leroy Moore

Frida Kahlo & June Jordan

Together teaching through

Realism art & Poetry

Paints, Paintbrushes, pens and paper

Weapons of the truth

Both telling stories of the people

And their pain

Frida Kahlo in the garden with her students

June Jordan tearing down Ivory Walls with Poetry for the People

Both had a unique style of teaching

That was rooted in community

One stroke of the paintbrush opened a wound

For dark and bright colors so we can see & feel, heal & learn

Influence by their fathers

He was determine to see his daughters strive

Father & mother planted a seed in their youthful garden

Grew up poor and middle-class in New York & Mexico

Kept their individuality

That attracted many

And confused their enemies

Art n Activism

Frida join the Communist Party

June, a Black radical

She wrote, poetry is a political action!

Took their art and views to their community

Wrenching control from Mexico’s military dictator and college administrators

To deliver Power to the People

You cannot write lies and write good poetry!

Yeah, she wrote the raw truth as June puts it

because poetry is the medium for

Telling the truth

June said to speak the truth cause

We have work to do!

Frida painted her pain

Determined to face the truth squarely

With courage & honesty

Creating an open avenue of learning

Building what June calls A Community of Trust

This trust opened black hidden shame

That has been scratching to get out

To be replaced with pride & inner fame

A report card full of As

A in Art, blasting revolutionary words into the market

A in Activism, blowing up the system from in and outside

A in Academia, rolling dead white history

With Poetry for the People, a rainbow at UC Berkeley

Now they are masterminding

Creating a haven for activists\artists

A resting place, palace of vibrant colors on imaginary walls

Razor sharp words producing shock and a calm atmosphere

I can’t wait to get there

June & Frida taught the young

To wear their art & heart on their sleeves

A new generation armed with pens, pencils, paintbrushes, paints & paper

Spoken, written and painted

Following their teacher, June & Frida

On their own paths to the truth

Dedicated to June Jordan who passed last week and will always be remembered

DAMO and POOR Magazine will miss you

By Leroy F. Moore Jr.

by TJ Johnston

I look into Komiko’s almond-colored eyes, searching for the same smile they had when I first saw them in Vancouver. They’re now forlorn and searching for departure times at the SFO International Terminal.

"Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is," she says. I turn to the departure board and notice I don’t have much time. Komiko would soon be waiting to be screened for two hours and after that, sitting on the next JAL flight.

"If you get on that plane," I tell her, "you'll regret it. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. Is there anything I can do to keep you from boarding that plane?" My eyes are tearing. I think it's emotions, but more because of the elderly lady who just passed me wore too much Chanel and Ben Gay.

"You know I love you," says Komiko, "but I need something you could never provide."

I know where this is going: we’ve had this conversation before.

"But I have Medi-Cal," I plead.

"It’s not enough. Japan’s Employee and National Health Insurance Systems can cover my hospital expenses when I become infirm and can no longer take care of myself."

My memory takes me back to our first meeting about five years ago. Before the pharmaceutical lobby squashed it, Hillary Clinton’s Health Care Bill of Rights still had a chance. Those were carefree days. Damn it, if I was a Canuck, I’d have single payer and we wouldn’t be playing this scene. "You don't have to leave this continent," I beg. "We could go to Mexico or Canada to get our cheaper meds."

I'm not sure what else to say. Many of our doctors, out of frustration and diminishing profit margins, don’t see Medi-Cal clients any more. And don’t get me started on HMO’s.

"Besides, we’re still young. If we can risk the hazards of the human heart, we could do the same with those of Highway 101 and super-sized fast food."

"That’s the difference between you and I," she rejoins. "You are reckless and live for the moment regardless of type-2 diabetes. I’m lactose-intolerant. You’re too much man for me."

"Baby, if you stay, I could always continue the fight for health care reform or else, get a real job." Komiko stands there for a moment. The highlights in her jet-black hair shine. That British Columbia glimmer appears once more. Then it vanishes.

"Neither one is possible," she says. I guess we'll always have Canada. Her flight number is called on the PA. She kisses me off, one last time and queues in that final line before the metal detector. I remember it’s lunchtime and I have just enough for a super-sized combo-meal.

by Jewnbug

Born in Mississippi

Afrika Europe mated

Pharaoh Jim Crow decided division regulated

Passin Moses down river

Life savin

Butterscotch baby. passed vanilla.

Until wool of lamb knit sweater

Hot Hot summer days kissed flesh wit caramel sweetness

Passin Moses down river

Cumin ashore 2 Los Angeles

Changes names in courtroom

Hopin 2 forget

Tha brotha that had his black back

Tha children who attacked midnite mysteries beauty

Tha white moma who held her baby 2 her womb only 2 have Bank of America

Cum chargin wit accounts of racizm, lynchin, burnin, murderin!

Tha Dad who he can only wonder bout.

Passin Moses down river

Passin basketball wit brothaz 2 take shots 2-git game

Rejected tha Golden Chyle

N played wit him cuz he ran streetz witout fear

He ran… so his mind… a tyme capsule could jus b still.

Pushed down, pulled up, sent away, welcomed, rejected.

Torn worn pants lookin fo da needle, thread, hands.

Seventeen not on no magazine

Emotions blinded pre-frontal cortex thinkin

Pulls trigger blastin pain

Passin Moses down river

Black Panther on U.S.A most wanted list

Mentored by George Jackson

Martial arts, laws, sports, universal struggles, victories

history, herstory, ourstory

studied intensely. Not acceptin lies.

Questions 2 cum betta undastandin givin birth 2 effective truth

Challenged prison administrations

Advocated 4 prisoners unity 2 combat oppression

His heritage, His experience r credentials 2 learn 2 teach

Chained innocence in San Quentin 6 case…released

Passin Moses down river cums ashore a Revolutionary!

by Joe B.

I’ve thought of this Bush, Ashcroft, and the rest of the Justless Freedom League.

As American citizens are denied lawyers while suspicion, becomes strong a proof these days.

I the Soviet Union is reborn deleting a letter, exchanging star and scythe for star and stripes.

Mr. Art Bell’s boiling frogs is an accurate analogy of how American’s can slowly, subtly, imperceptibly lose their hard-earned freedoms.

The fire is under the pot, water is simmering not yet boiling.

If we keep our mouths shut, ears closed, brains numbed by boob vision, like a proverbial frog we’ll collectively boil and all our rights will be forever gone!

I’ve had my say on that and hope more people WAKE THE FUCK UP… NOW!!!

Excuse the offensive language but I feel that this Evangelical Right Wing, Ministry like Theocracy is reaching more and more into more than for protecting its citizens but expanding into ideological thought police.

The domestic, national, and international quasi legal law enforcement agencies expansion is really a waking nightmare for me because when they [to protect it citizens from terrorist threats] or have already linked television, radio, land-cell phone technology along with micro miniature tracking devices.

I wonder if we’ll ever be able to be along, isolated because we want it a that moment.

When introducing my column I said didn’t want PC’s, tv, and phones hooked up together because too much interconnectedness can be a bad thing. I DETEST BEING RIGHT.

The way to combat this gov./fed/corp/state/wrong or W-media is for decent thinking hackers to take their brilliant tech minds and ferret out teach others to do same without detection.

Though the Carnivore program was discovered which I believe was a test so that other even more intrusive programs can get by without detection.

"I know, Joe you fool, our government’s not that devious or corrupt.
"I guess I’ll be a fool and think different and keep my odd ball thoughts to myself and let others come to other conclusions.

Gifts From Earth.

We need more room, more worlds, but we must safeguard our first one before generations unborn forget, even though many will never see or visit.

Genetic memory ensures an abiding respect, curiosity to return, and for a place to settle.

That’s the last installment of Gifts From Earth.

Hope it got your interest. I must clean my paper covered room. Bye.

by Alexandra Cuff/PoorNewsNetwork Media intern

Saturday afternoon I watched for the first time in my life, a spider capture and kill a fly. The power struggle was amazing. The fly was much larger than the spider but the spider’s attack was so natural, so organized. The web was beautiful. I was standing outside the neighborhood flower shop on 23rd and Shotwell, which was the first of my stops as I entered the free block-party on Shotwell Street on June 29. A rarity in San Francisco, a hot summer day – I had the afternoon off, folks were barbequing and playing live music in the street. Neighborhood youth were spray-painting murals, without harassment. My boyfriend and I, both recent victims of master-tenant schemes to rip off unassuming household members, rode our bikes down Shotwell street to celebrate this Mission neighborhoods' successful resistance to eviction.

Nuevo Ramize (a Flores mercado) is an example of one of the 1st successful cases of surviving unjust eviction during the peak of gentrification in the Mission district during 2001. When the flower shop moved to it’s current space on 23rd and Shotwell a neighbor wrote to city hall to advocate for an eviction based on an allegation that the zone was supposed to be residential. People in the community didn’t see the shop as being out of place. Through petition signing and legal and moral support of the community members, CBOs, and the landlord, Nuevo Ramize is still here. The owner, Carmen Ramirez is going through a legislative process through the Planning Commission to get a parking variance for the shop to gain two parking spots for clients.

Through the heat, the second annual Active Resistance celebration shouted, We Are Still Here. This wasn’t just a summer block party, it was a party to celebrate the victory that residents of the Mission have won in reclaiming our rights to stand up against the economic, racial and social inequities slithering into our neighborhood in the guise of the law and neighborhood rehabilitation. The founding block party was the first publicly recognized party for fighting the eviction of families living at 868 Shotwell Street in February 2001. Although threatened with eviction by their landlord, Khorges, for "nuisance, too much foot traffic in the building, and noise" – all of which were never proved - the Marenco, Recinos, and Barbarosa families were not leaving.

Rogelio Barbarosa brought the situation to the attention of Robert Morose who is a member of PODER (People Organized to Demand Environmental and Economic Rights) and a teacher at Cesar Chavez. Together Morose, Rogelio, PODER (which is a member of MAC, the Mission Anti-Displacement Coalition), St. Peters, and the community, organized weekly meetings, which sometimes saw up to seventy folks gathering together to come up with a strategy for dealing with the eviction. The tactics which were created came straight from the parents, children, teenagers and other community members. The meetings organized marches through the neighborhood which targeted the Khorges' other properties including the property of displaced residents who were already victims of his unfair evictions. Interestingly enough, the owner of these families’ homes also owns a liquor store, other apartments, and a check-cashing mart. The business’ were boycotted and Khorges' lawyer’s office was targeted as a protest site. Khorges finally gave in due to the lost business, calls from Tom Ammiano and other supervisors, and the proactive resistance from the community.

There was a lot representation going down on Saturday. A number of different community members contributed as vendors, educators, poets, cooks, artists, and community planners. Among friends representing were MEDA (Mission Economic Development Association), POOR Magazine, MAC (Mission Anti-Displacement Coalition, and as a vendor, community member Orlando Velez who teaches silk-screening at the Mission Cultural Center and has recently started his own clothing business.
MAC had a couple of tables set up which represented a virtual map of the North East Mission. People were invited to paint and build small models of buildings and neighborhood icons and place them wherever they wanted. This is part of the community planning process, "People’s Plan for Land" which through MAC, is handing the planning process back to the community. The Po' Poets from POOR; Mari, Jewnbug, A. Faye, Charles Pitts and Joseph Bolden performed, some of them doing "slam-bios" others reading pieces of poetry that spoke to the issue of gentrification and displacement. Joseph, (also a PNN columnist) whose poem "Death of a City" spoke of a city unfit to live in, warned us not to "make this cautionary tale come true".

Although the rents are slightly less in the Mission and there has been attention brought to the problem of gentrification, people are still being evicted. More than half of us are renters as opposed to owners here in San Francisco. Rents have dropped off about 10% in the past year but that is menial compared with the 100% rise in the past 2 years. Mom and pop stores are surviving on year-to-year leases. The victories already won are proof that through community solidarity and awareness, we can work to make decisions about our neighborhoods for ourselves. Although I’m aware that I’m still part of this modern feudal system as a tenant, I rode my bike to my rented home with a confirmed hope that not everyone is turning their head when an injustice goes down. I’m also looking forward to next year’s Shotwell Street block party and hope that it will stretch a couple more blocks and that even more of us will be able to say: We Are Still Here.

To get involved with or learn more about the Mission Anti-Displacement Coalition’s Community Planning Process, call PODER at 431-4210.

by Staff Writer

Hello People, Folks

My Mom is my Ancestor

I am a Poetess,

But first of all, I am Cora Lee’s Daughter

Cherished from the womb

Even during the Baby Boom

A country-city girl

My mother was a King, a hero, a survivor

Bred & Born in Georgia, Macon County

Me, I was born in upstate New York

As a Traveler

In a Barn, by a Mid-wife

On a Farm, a Modern day plantation

Name’s not important!

I learned small town values, Hella, good

That sustained me

In Large City Ghetto’s

Hovels, boroughs, projects, Fancy Hotels

And Cardboard Boxes

All from this Lady, my mother,

A Resistance Warrior

Corn bread, Ham hocks, Collard greens, Sweet potato

Loving Mother, Warm and Tender hearted

My Mother was a Hard Working, God loving,

Gospel singing, Giants, Willie Mays , Baseball Fan

Living from Crop Season to season

Travelling up and down the Eastern Sea Board

From upstate New York to Miami Beach, Florida

Left KinFolks and said Westward Ho!

Came to California in a old Hooptee

Took 3 months

Stopping at Churches and Missions along the way

4 children and My step-father the Driver

We had Honor back then

Knew how to be a Brother, a Sister, A Friend

A Good Neighbor

Sharing from beginning to end

Through Thick and Thin

I Remember my Mama

In the Bean field, The Potato field

Sending us to school to learn our A B C’s

Keeping the Camp Fire’s Burning

We did not know much about city living

In fact, I didn’t know much ;of anything

Except a Mother’s Love

If we did without

It was with Style and Grace

No Complaints

Doing without was no disgrace

As I sit here reminiscin’ Life going on bye

I have Strength and Courage

Instilled in me!

For times of sorrow

And times of joy

Although I shed tears, I Radiate Joy

When I am Low I remember my Mama

I feel a warm soft glow

I look forward to all the treasured tomorrows

Of the wonderful care, Mrs. Cora Lee King

Bestowed on her Middle Daughter!

by Joe B.

It was Saturday, June, 22, 2002. I’m suppose to be at Coalition On Homelessness on 468 Turk Street by 10 or 10:30am, the laundry and shower took longer than anticipated.

I arrive 10:45am with a camera missing whatever meeting for brainstorming and a ride to 24th and Church Street to hand out flyers about Supervisor Gavin Newsome.

Newsome’s plan taking 85% of General Assistance monies from houseless and working poor leaving $59 with no guarantee that the monies taken will go to non profits and services for houseless or working poor people.

Noe Valley [pronounced No-E]

Two of Poor’s Interns are there then I realized I didn’t have the anti-home displacement sign.

It’s decided I’ll meet the two folks at 24th and Church near or on Poe which was fine except I don’t use Muni much it seemed another way to get lost yet again.

After rushing home, get the sign, ride muni to Castro street and exit to catch a 24 or 48 bus.

Luckily a nice lady took pity on me and tells me when to leave the transit system.

A 24 Noe bus is here like clockwork and I’m on it.

Its a down cast gray cloudless sky matched gray of federal and government buildings and I do not really want to do this today.

If the sun does break out because of the weather ealier a lot of people will not want to come out ‘kinda just stay in and enjoy the air conditioning, look at tv, dvd’s, listen to cd’s, radio, or under cover with loved ones or alone and stuff like that.

Small dribbles of drizzles are falling so on goes my hooded sweat shirt.

I look, walk, while breathing in the vibrancy of Castro and Noe Valley area; even though the sky is gray the mood, people, stores, cafe’s made the those clouds seem to have a backlight glow.

I went into a Starbucks, bought a White Chocolate with cream and in the mix of feeling lost, assignment not begun and not a picture taken it felt good to just sit, have a warm sweet drink in this little area I’ve rarely visit but will make a special effort for longs ones next time.

This Newsome Plan is an updated to cut general assistance cash payments to $59 dollars or less its call a “Care Not Cash Plan”
which is really
“Creating Crisis Program” for working poor and houseless.

No safety net nothing but hard, broken glass and rusty steel to fall on make becoming homeless easier to fall into and harder to get out of.

It is not known where the houseless, working poor’s money will be slotted for non profits helping those suffering or services that were created specifically for that need but it is known where these monies are taken from:

The very persons who are in the most dire need of it.

So, Newsome is at it again with his how many point plan which seems not to help but further burden those with less placing them in jail.

This Kennedyesqe helmet haired, youthfull exterior hides a shadowy interior.

I don’t want to give this guy any publicity good or bad it should be a balanced portrait.

That what Kapond would advise in his investigative reporter’s wisdom.

Kaponda would say “Don’t judge the man, find out about him from policies of his past, talk to frienes and acquaintances of his before judgement.

I’d like to do that only in the past we know what happens when a powerfull charismatic speaker or group comes together.

Before we know it laws are passed some marking others for slow or lingering death I’d rather be wrong now than than right later for not saying what I think; here is my personal opinion.

I could be wrong but I think Mr. G. Newsome is using distress over the homeless, working poor, to be the next Mayor.

Kapond would say “Gather the evidence, make sure of your facts, look through the transcripts of his political history, how he voted on which issues, then he can be judged fairly.”

That makes logical sense to me but all the time I’m seeing this guy and its always something negative.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I this guy seems too perfect for his own good and up to no good, he has a one dimentional mindset where homeless people are concerned.
If I’m wrong pull my coat if I’m right say “Joe you hit the nail on the head.” Right now the shit is hitting the fan in slow motion and I don’t want to be manure splattered. If this guy Newsome is gonna do what I think he’ll do... he should be out of office, not be Mayor, cool his heels, and not have any chance of even being head dog catcher because he might not like certain kinds of dogs.

Dark Mark, Darth Vader, without a mask, or whatever Dark Star he’s from he should not be rewarded for riding on the backs of houseless and working poor.

Good guy or bad you readers have all kinds of proof watching him.

I’m apolitical myself but email me stuff or tell me things.

Gotta go, hope things work out for us. Bye.

PS sorry, no literary work for now.

HouseCare-Pro Price range:
$25 per day or 100 a week for
1 bdrm. Apt, small House.
4 to 3 bedrooms, $50 to $100 a week,
$5,000 a week for 20 to 40 rm. Homes.
$25,000 by the week or $100,000 for
50 to 100 rm Mansions
Prices are negotiable.
Non drinker, smoker, drugs (unless its aspirin & vitamins)
Not a party animal, Boredom, works me.

For Joe only my snail mail:
PO Box 1230 #645
Market St. San Francisco, CA 94102
Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

by Andrew DellaRocca/PoorNewsNetwork Media Intern

I registered as a San Francisco voter the other day. It wasn't an easy
thing for me to do. I had resisted declaring myself an official California
resident for quite some time. I'm from New York, and there is that whole
New York pride thing that goes along with it. East coast versus west coast.

Throughout my formative years, this rivalry was sensationalized through
the mediums of MTV and the NBA. I hate the Lakers, I love the Knicks. NWA
did their thing. That was cool. But you'd never have caught me putting
them in the same league as Tribe or the Digable Planets. "California is a
beautiful state", Iíd concede, "but it ainít nothing like New York."

But I'm not even from New York City. I'm from a suburb of Albany, about two
hours north of the City-- a very white, middle class suburb -- and let me
tell you, San Francisco blows it out of the water. And so I decided a
couple weeks back to make it official, and I registered. But with
registration comes a responsibility to find out exactly whatís going on
around here, and I began to watch the local news, and to read the Chronicle
(the Bay Area section).

One face that kept popping up all over the news was Gavin Newsom's. I
couldnít ignore him. Not only because he is constantly covered, but because
he kind of looks like me. Put me in a suit, and we could be brothers. And
I kept reading about this guy, about how he is proposing a new program for
the poor, called Care Not Cash. The local media would pound out the message
that this program would be a solution to the cityís homelessness. Care
sounds good, cash sounds good too but, maybe care is better. I donít know.
And so I decided to find out what it, and this guy, were all about.

And now, let me emphasize something: He aint my brother.

Newsome's Care Not Cash measure is designed, supposedly, to "assist" the
poor and homeless of San Francisco, by reforming the current County Adult
Assistance Program. Since the program is designed to assist the poor, I
thought it would be proper to ask the poor, and those who advocate for the
poor, exactly what this proposal would mean, since it is they who would know
best. They were eager to talk about it, and I soon learned a few things
that my perusals in the Chronicle, and my sittings through the KRON 4 news
report, failed to tell me.

Care Not Cash sounds more like an assault on the poor and homeless than a
program of assistance to the poor. It is a new system that its proponents
say will enable the city to spend more on creating affordable housing, as
well as bettering the services for the homeless. However, it offers no
plans on how to do so, nor does it guarantee that the funding will go into
such programs. What it does guarantee is that money will be taken directly
from the poorest people, who are already required to work for the assistance
they receive.

I spoke with Steve Williams from POWER, and he explained, "He [Gavin
Newsom] is going to require that people continue to work, for free or for
cheap, for the city, and then in the meantime he is going to wind up
slashing the money that the people are receiving. So now, basically, people
would be working in exchange for being able to stay in the shelters, working
to be able to get food at St. Anthonyís or Glide; all services that are
right now free. But now people would have to work in exchange for them.î

Care Not Cash will slash the amount of cash that recipients receive by 85%.
I am unsure of how this will cure homelessness. The plan is to convert this
cash into vouchers, and that these vouchers could be used at the cityís
shelters and food programs. However, these programs are already free, and
by requiring them to accept vouchers, the only thing that this proposal does
is take money away from those that receive it.

I found out from the Committee Against Increased Homelessness that the Care
Not Cash measure would actually increase homelessness. By slashing the
amount of cash that homeless people receive, the measure would prevent them
from having the ability to pay for affordable housing if some became
available. In addition, those persons who are housed ìcasuallyî, who cannot
get a receipt for their arrangement, would be unable to pay the rent,
forcing them onto the street. The shelters are full, and so without any
cash to rent a room, more people would be forced to sleep on the street.

When I learned about all of this, I began to think about what an idiotic
proposal it was. If the man is able to manage wineries and restaurants, why
is he proposing such an incoherent plan to the city of San Francisco, and
then disguising it as a measure that will help the homeless? Then I found
out that he plans to run for Mayor, and things began to make sense.
Although his proposal is idiotic, the man is no idiot, he has a plan. Care
Not Cash gives him media exposure. Homelessness is a problem that everyone
in San Francisco is concerned about, and by advocating this plan, Newsome is
able to get his face all over the News. Likewise, he is able to pay for
media time under the rubric of the Care campaign, preventing those
expenditures from being counted toward his mayoral campaign, bypassing
campaign finance restrictions.

Care Not Cash will also help his campaign in other ways. His website
states, ìThe initiative will bring San Francisco in line with almost every
other major California County, thereby eliminating the incentive for
homeless individuals who want cash rather than services to congregate here.î

The argument that slashing cash assistance will prevent homeless people
from coming to San Francisco, and maybe even compel those already here to
leave, entices the tourist industry, and other big business interests. By
promising them that homeless people in San Francisco will no longer be seen,
Newsom guarantees their endorsement for mayor. However, they fail to
recognize that even if some of the homeless decide to leave, there will be
those on the street that have become newly homeless, as a result of this
measure.

Care Not Cash,if passed, will be a failure to all. The measure, and the
man who endorses it, should be regarded with nothing short of mockery.
Those who support it do so only through ignorance, through pure
self-interest, or through both. I decided to write this piece because I am
disgusted with and concerned about Newsome's proposal. After all, I've got
to make sure us middle-class white boys represent.

by Tiny

Eviction Victim

Eviction Resistance

23 times and counting

"cause without equity we all at-risk"

Born from three generations of poor women
and countless generations of

colonized others

Raised children from nothing in a society
littered with jagged edges

Fought and sufferred pilgrim bred white men
in lock step with class and

race privledge

Seized education at all costs

Achieving degrees and promises to life of
supposed ease

Brought down by colonizers

Dressed as landlords and supervisors

Art is her arsenal, dreams, her breath

In a love-hate relationship with hope

A one night stand with Plans

Victim of torture

Flesh of my flesh

Mind of my mind

Conceptualist, Singer, caregiver,

Therapist and O.G. poverty scholar

Hollywood-ghetto-fabulous

Living for the ultimate minute

still to come...

by Joe. B

Read any steamy or technical books lately?

The Anarchist’s Cook Book may set off alarms and I’m wondering if Tom Clancy’s Techno-thrillers are off limits now?

This morning something on KPFA radio was talking about our trusted, beloved, ultimately honest and true FBI.

F.B.I.[Federal Bureau Of Investigation]

You know, the ones that pegged Martin Luther King as "One Of The Most Dangerous Men Alive."

He preached, taught, marched, and died so all people have an equal say and chance in life.

Since September, 11, 2001 America has changed, we’re weary, watchful, some people abroad or in America would say... Scared.

Nearly everything about
an interview with Debra C. Stone, Deputy Director Of The American Library Association Office Of Intellectual Freedom gave me a scary piece of reality.

Its insidious in what Our Friendly Law Enforcement can and will do.

I dread going on line or borrowing books from my local library.

Here is a bit what Ms. Stone said.

"The guidelines are not new, there has been a long history where the FBI has sought information from libraries in pursuit of foreign agents.

Its called the library awareness program and it existed for over 30 year.

Where they would approach libraries and seek information and discover whether that they suspected of being foreign agents (suspicious person(s)

And it came to light in the late 80’s."

Almost forgot folks, some literary flux.

Nostalgia

Men must be gone by sunrise, children stay with their mothers.

I stay for ten months!

Black males were a rare sight then.

They call him beauty.

He impregnates many women.

"Will I ever see any of those children again?"

She said a lot more important things then I tripped over the electrical cord knocking it out of cutting off the current.

Part of what I hear is Secret Courts, stealthy home investigations, Secret Courts, expanded monitoring of homes, phones, internet, probably credit card use too.

[If they break into mine I hope they leave a few thousand dollars]

Plugging it quickly the last piece I words I hear is the FBI does not need to show that its target of investigation is actually involved in terrorism or spying targets can include US citizens.

I press the off switch feeling slightly depressed.

Did I need to know the MW’s IG’s [Men-Women In Gray]

Section 215 Old/New Guide Lines of the Department of Justice for the FBI Words of the Statute.

"The agents can seize any tangible thing.
Anyone want to check these and other laws out look for. Bye.
www.viterbo.edu/library/libinternal.htm , www.search.org/policy o

HouseCare-Pro Price range:
$25 per day or 100 a week for
1 bdrm. Apt, small House.
4 to 3 bedrooms, $50 to $100 a week,
$5,000 a week for 20 to 40 rm. Homes.
$25,000 by the week or $100,000 for
50 to 100 rm Mansions
Prices are negotiable.
Non drinker, smoker, drugs (unless its aspirin & vitamins)
Not a party animal, Boredom, works me.

For Joe only my snail mail:
PO Box 1230 #645
Market St. San Francisco, CA 94102
Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

PS I say confuse ‘em get bunches of books, different subjects
you don’t have to read then just have a bunch say 10 or more a week.
Does one really need credit cards?

Speak in very slow or quickly maybe leave the phone off the hook a lot.

Alternate/Parallel Universes by real
Physicists and other sci tech related research may make a few MIG’s ill.

Just be aware of our friendly neighborhood superpower.

No laws need be broken but show law folks we’re not sheeple to be herded or made to stampede when a few intrusive laws come down the pike.

Its time we learned from our South and Midwest folks common sense survival ways.

What do you think East, South, North, and Westerner’s?

You don’t have to agree with me but think about what’s going on.