2009

by Patricia Morales/Voces de inmigrantes en resistencia

For English Scroll Down

Los periodicos, las noticias, y en general, todos los medios de comunicacion tratan de criminalizar a los adoloscentes Latinos indocumentados. Por ejemplo, los medios de comunicaciones nos hechan la culpa de la crisis economica que hay en los Estados Unidos, especialmente a los jovenes que estan en la carcel juvenil, que los periodicos se enfocan en los jovenes que salen de juvenil y siguen haciendo crimen para generalizar que todos nosotros somos asi. Esto es propaganda racista lo que los periodicos como es SF Chronicle estan diciendo. Al contrario, por cada adulto que este en la carcel, el estado hace dinero del trabajo de los presos y solo les paga 35 centavos a la hora, es una forma de esclavitud que la mayoria del publico no conoce.

Fue la noche, una noche muy oscura, una noche fria, fria como la primera lluvia del invierno; pero no estaba lloviendo esta noche, no mas una noche fria y nublada como siempre en Daly City. Yo caminaba con mis amigos difrutando nuestra adolescencia, y ni me di cuenta de que hora era. No andabamos haciendo dano a nadie, no mas platicando y diviertiendonos en el vescindario adonde vivimos. No sabia que es un crimen salir con tus amigos en la noche. Dos de la manana, y tratando de llegar a la casa, sin coche y sin ningun bus que pase a esa hora. Despidiendome de mis amigos estaba cuando me di cuenta de una patrulla que se nos asercaba. Aprendieron sus luces y la sirena y nos asustamos todos. Corrimos del temor. Ya sabiamos que solo eran dos policias y tres de nosotros. Al que tenga mala suerta que lo agaren. Fui yo. De repente se vinieron hacia mi y yo no supe que hacer y me agarraron y me preguntaron donde vivia y que andaba aciendo ahi a esas horas y yo no savia que contestar. Me senti como un pajarito que le cortaron sus alas y no pude volar, solo sentia miedo porque nunca me habian agarrado la policia. Se me vino a la mente mi mama, como se iba sentir cuando se enterara. Me llevaron a la estacion y le llamaron a mi mama. Los policias le hablaron con poco respeto. Mi mama no habla ingles, me pasaron el telefono y estaba llorando. Su voz llena de temor por que le habian dicho que me iban a pasar a el control de Inmigracion.

Esta es la historia de un adolesente que handa como cualquiera caminando en la calle. Casi lo deportaron por que era menor, estaba en la calle en la noche, y no tenia papeles. Por algo tan sencillo como estar afuera en la calle sin documentos migratorios y ser menor de edad la policia y las cortes sienten que es justo asustar a una familia con desplazamiento. Este es solo uno de los casos de abusos policiacos contra menores de edad Latinos que pasan todos los dias. Ahorra, si la policia y las cortes dicen que no son racistas, les pregunto si esto hubiera pasado si el menor de edad hubiera sido un guero de pelo rubio y ojos azules. Apuesto que si era un nino rico lo hubieran regresado a su casa sin problema.

Otro caso que me enoja mucho por que es obio la injusticia es el caso de los trabajadores de El Balazo. Esta gente fue arrestada solo por trabajar, y entonces fueron encarcelados y les pusieron grilletas en sus tobillos y la corte demandaron que ellos se reportaran al centro de inmigracion tres veces a la semana cuitandoles la oportunidad de trabajar para apoyar a sus familias. Estos trabajadores nunca le hicieron ninguna maldad a nadie y ahorra ellos estan voluntariamente regresando a sus paises y el la pinche migra ni les esta pagando el vuelo de regreso, ellos tienen que pagar con su propio dinero para ser separados de su familia. Que injusticia!

Asi que aqui esta el otra lado de el discurso sobre inmigrantes. Esta lado y estas historias nunca son representadas en los medios de comunicacion como el SF Chronicle. Por eso es importantisimo y verdaderamente revolucionario el trabajo que hace POOR Magazine. Si no fuera por POOR y organizaciones tratando de contar la verdad en los medios de comunicacion, como supiera la gente de que nos esta pasando a nuestra comunidad? Los ignorantes racistas de Norte America, que solo so un porcentaje pequeno pero controlan a los medios de comunicacion, solo ven que nosotros no tenemos documentos migratorios como ellos, pero nunca recuerdan que ellos mismos son inmigrantes tambien.

Engles Sigue

The newspapers, news, and in all the media general are trying to criminalize young undocumented Latinos. For example, the media blames us for the economic crisis that exists in the United States, especially the young people who are undocumented and are in juvenile jail, the newspaper focus on Latino teenagers that evade the law and try to generalize for an entire race. This is straight up racist propaganda that major media outlets like the SF Chronicle are perpetuating. On the contrary, for every adult who is in jail, the state makes money from the work of prisoners and the prisoners themselves only get paid 35 cents an hour, this a form of slavery that most of the public does not know about.

…It was night, a very dark night, a cold night, as cold as the first rains of winter, but it was not raining that night, just another cold and cloudy night as always in Daly City. I walked with my friends, enjoying our adolescence, and I hadn’t realized what time it was. We were doing no harm to anyone, just talking and having fun in the neighborhood where we live. I did not know that it is a crime to go out with friends at night. Two in the morning and trying to get to home, no car and no bus passing at that time. Saying farewell to my friends I was when I realized that a squad car approached. They turned their lights and siren on…we are all afraid. We ran out of fear. Already we knew that there were only two policemen and three of us. The one of us with bad luck would get caught… It was me. Suddenly they cornered me in and I could not figure out what to do. They grabbed me and asked me where I lived and what was I doing out at those hours, that I must be up to no good. I felt like bird who got his wings cut off and could not fly. I just never had felt this scared because I had never been arrested. My mom came into my mind, how she would feel when she found out. I was taken to the station and they called her. The police spoke to her with very little respect. My mom does not speak English. They passed the phone to me and she was crying. Her voice full of fear because she had been told that I would be handed over to the control of immigration to await my deportation…

This is the story of a young Latino arrested for a curfew ticket and threatened to be deported because of a misdemeanor that should only be punished with a ticket. This young man was almost deported because he was a minor, he was on the streets at night, and he had no documentation. For something as simple as being in the street after curfew without immigration documents and the police and the courts felt it was fair to scare a family with displacement. This is just one of the cases of police abuse against young Latinos that happens every day. If the police and courts say they are not racist, I wonder if this would have happened if the minor had been a Guero, blond hair and blue eyes, and from the right side of the tracks. I bet that if it was a rich boy the police would’ve gladly returned him to his home without problem.

Another case that upsets me very much because it is obvious injustice is the case of employees of the El Balazo Taquerias. These innocent people were arrested just for working, and then they were imprisoned and branded with tracking devices on their ankles and the court demanded that they report to the immigration center three times a week, thus denying them the opportunity to work to support their families. These workers never did anyone any harm and some of them are voluntarily returning to their countries. Since this is a deportation you would think that the state would pay to have them deported, guess again, the voluntary deportees will have to fund their own deportation, yes you read it right, they have to pay with their own money to be displaced from their families. What injustice!

So here's the other side of the argument on immigrants. This side and these stories are never represented in the media. This is why the work that POOR Magazine does is so important and truly revolutionary. Without POOR Magazine and organizations like POOR trying to spread truth through media, how would the public find out about what is happening to our community? The ignorant, racist “Born Americans’, who are a very small percentage of the population but control big corporate media, look at us migrant workers and can only see that we do not have immigration documents, like they do, but they never remember that they themselves are immigrants too.

by Adrienne Aguirre/PNN Race, Poverty Media Justice Intern

Mire al fondo para español

one of the first things we learn to do
is move
its what we do

movement is embedded in our existence
strung on the chords of our DNA songs of resilience

SO AS WE EXIST
WE MOVE
SO WE CAN EXIST...
an excerpt from Migrant Movement a poem by freddy gutierrez

There’s something exhilarating about Halloween. The air is different, charged with an electric current, and this breathable voltage makes anything seem possible. Taking a deep breath, I’m filled with the feeling an all-or-nothing gambler gets when victory is imminent, despite all the odds. It is a day of transformation, where the janitor strolls the Embarcadero in Super Mario overalls, a restaurant worker struts by in checkerboard mod, and where victimized youth don the skeletal, war-painted faces of their ancestors to fight for the safety and wholeness of their families.

For these youth, Halloween doesn’t mean candy and frivolous costume parties; today, dressed head-to-toe in black, they simultaneously mourn and fight against the abuse inflicted by ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the agency that has been terrorizing their mothers and fathers and destroying their families.

Two brown, white, and black faces meet mine.

"Excuse me, do you know where the ICE protest is?" "Yeah, two blocks down that way, to your left," one of the skeletons tells me, her brown hand pointing me in the right direction. Thanking her, I move briskly towards Ferry Park.

ICE, formally known as the INS, is the government titan responsible for the devastation of brown families, arrest of immigrant mothers and fathers, and unspeakable brutality against impoverished labor under the guise of "gang control." Approaching Ferry Park, a shifting black mass overtakes the green. An army of black bodied skeletons, an ocean of black, brown, and white, slapping palms and patting backs, hums in rhythmic solidarity.

We form a circle on the green, a symbol of unity and wholeness. The emcee takes the mic, inviting stragglers to join the ranks of the resistance.

I hear a girl on the phone near me, "Yo, where my Frisco peeps at? They’re stuck on BART, they won’t let them through!"

Though outraged at the impediment of their youth allies, those present hardly seem surprised. Time freezes for a moment, faces searching other faces for a solution to this obstacle. The girl moves away from the circle, phone still perched on her ear.

The circle focuses.

"We didn’t cross the borders. The borders crossed us!"

"Abajo con ICE!"

"Que queremos? JUSTICIA! Cuando? AHORA!"

Five young men take center circle, carrying a large drum with them. A hundred fists thrust upward. The steady drumbeat lifts their voices into the autumn air. Listening, my mind drifts back, remembering the story of my father.

My father, a Political Science and Law professor in the Philippines, was stripped of his education upon arrival to the United States. Years of education and experience meant nothing in comparison to his brown skin, landing him a low-paying job as a paint carrier at a local mechanic shop. Recounting his experiences, he recalls not only his inadequate wages but also being the subject of psychological abuse.

"He pointed a loaded gun at you?!" I exclaimed.

The wealthy owner of the mechanic shop apparently felt the need to prove his manhood from time to time and, threatened by my father’s 6’1 presence, his dad became the target.

"My father’s brown skin proved a barrier throughout his search for employment, denying him access to the teaching jobs he loved; my dad was forced to adjust his resume, essentially dumbing himself down in order to obtain employment. He was always either overqualified or underqualified. His educational attainment and experience could not outweigh his immigrant status and brownness."

A cheer goes up from the crowd, bringing me out of my reverie.

"Who’s got the power? The youth have the power!"

"Who’s got the power? WE got the power!"

The youth have arrived, despite the efforts of law enforcement to detain them on BART. A new wave of energy washes over the resistance. The small park is overflowing now, generations strong against the injustices of ICE. The circle expands, welcoming the new additions to the movement. The mic travels from youth to youth, a common thread of justified anger and passionate dissent linking the beautiful words the youth offer their ancestors, mothers, and fathers. The mic listens intently, amplifying these sentiments for the rest of us to hear.

These words of power send us on our way, the march is beginning.

Faces press against the glass eyes of the concrete and steel giants looming over us on either side. Office workers point and whisper to each other as we wind down the streets of downtown San Francisco, a river of bodies rushing towards our final destination: the ICE building. This river teems with life, signs reading "MELT THE ICE!" held high, bobbing to the beat of the liberation.

"Ain’t no power like the power of the people ‘cause the power of the people don’t stop!"

Espanol Sigue:

una de las primeras cosas que aprendemos a hacer
es mover
es lo que hacemos

movimiento está incrustado en nuestra existencia
ensartado en los acordes de nuestra DNA

Canciones de la Resistencia

Existimos
Realizando movimientos
Para poder existir ...
……un extracto de Movimiento de Migrantes un poema por Freddy Gutiérrez

Hay algo emocionante acerca de Halloween. El aire es diferente, cargado con una corriente eléctrica, transpirable y esta tensión hace cualquier cosa parecer posible. Tomando una profunda respiración, estoy llena de la sensación que obtiene un jugador cuando la victoria es inminente, a pesar de todas las probabilidades. Es un día de transformación, donde se ven trabajadores caminando por Embarcadero en overoles Super Mario, mesera de restaurante vestida de tablero mod, y donde los jóvenes víctimas se visten en trajes esqueléticas, la pintura de guerra en sus rostros honrando sus antepasados para luchar por la seguridad y la integridad de sus familias.

Para estos jóvenes, Halloween no significa dulces y fiestas frívolas de disfrazes; hoy, vestidos de cabeza a los pies de negro, honran sus ancestros y luchan contra los malos tratos infligidos por ICE, la agencia que ha estado aterrorizando a las madres y los padres para la destrucción de familias migrantes.

Dos caras cafes, una blanca y una negra se enfrentan a mí.

"Perdone, ¿sabe usted dónde es la protesta de ICE?"

"Sí, dos cuadras abajo esa direccion, a su izquierda," uno de los esqueletos me dice, su mano de color cafe me apunta en la dirección correcta. Agradeciendo a ella, paso rápidamente hacia Ferry Park.

ICE, formalmente conocido como el INS, es el titan del gobierno responsable de la devastación de las familias migrantes, la detención de inmigrantes de las madres y los padres, y de inenarrable brutalidad contra la pobreza laboral con el pretexto de justificacion de "control de pandillas". Acerco a Ferry Park, una masa de negro supera el parque verde. Un ejército de esqueletos de cuerpos negros, un océano de negro, marrón y blanco, protestando en una forma rítmica en la solidaridad.

Formamos un círculo en el campo, símbolo de la unidad y la solaridad. El emcee toma el micrófono, invitando a los rezagados a unirse a las filas de la resistencia.

Oigo a una chica en el teléfono cerca de mí, "Yo, adonde estan mi gente de Frisco? Están atrapados en BART, no les permiten pasar"

A pesar de su indignación por el impedimento de la joven y sus aliados, los presentes apenas parecieron sorprendidos. Tiempo se congela durante un momento, se enfrenta a otro y se enfrenta a la búsqueda de una solución a este obstáculo. La niña se aleja del círculo, teléfono encaramado en su oreja.

El círculo se centra.

"Nosotros no cruzamos la frontera. Las frontera nos cruzo a nosotros!"

"Abajo con ICE!"

"Que queremos? JUSTICIA! Cuando? AHORA!"

Cinco hombres jóvenes tomaron el círculo central con un gran tambor. Un centenar de puños empujaron hacia arriba. El constante ritmo ascenso sus voces en el otoño de aire. Escucho, mi mente se deriva atrás, recordando la historia de mi padre.

Mi padre, un profesor de Ciencias Políticas y Leyes en las Filipinas, fue despojado de su educación a su llegada a los Estados Unidos. Años de educación y la experiencia significaba nada en comparación con su piel morena, dando le un trabajo de bajo pago como transportista de pintura en un taller mecánico local. Recuento de sus experiencias, el recuerda no sólo su insuficiencia de los salarios, sino también ser objeto de malos tratos psicológicos.

"Señaló una arma cargada a usted?" Yo exclame.

El rico propietario de la tienda mecánica aparentemente sintio la necesidad de probar su hombría de vez en cuando por que se sentia amenazado por la presencia mi padre que media 6'1, mi padre se convirtió en el objetivo.

"La piel morena de mi padre hizo una barrera a lo largo de su búsqueda de empleo, negándole el acceso a la enseñanza de puestos de trabajo que amaba, mi padre se vio obligado a ajustar su resume, esencialmente olvidando sí mismo en el fin de obtener un empleo. Fue siempre demasiado calificado o no calificado . Su nivel de estudios y la experiencia no puede pesar más que su condición de inmigrante y su piel".

Una alegría sube de la multitud, con lo que me forzo fuera de mi ensoñación.

"¿Quién tiene el poder? Nosotros tenemos el poder!"

"¿Quién tiene el poder? Nosotros tenemos el poder!"

Los jóvenes han llegado, a pesar de los esfuerzos de la policia para detenerlos en BART. Una nueva ola de energía se lava más en la resistencia. El pequeño parque es desbordante ahora, las generaciones fuerte contra las injusticias de la ICE. El círculo se expande, acoge con satisfacción las nuevas incorporaciones a la circulación. El micrófono de jóvenes viaja a la juventud. Un hilo común de la justificada ira y la pasión que une el disenso y las bellas palabras de los jóvenes que ofrecen a sus antepasados, sus madres y padres. El micrófono escucha intensamente, amplificando estos sentimientos para que el resto de nosotros escuchemos.

Estas palabras de poder nos envio en nuestro camino, la marcha á comenzado.

Rostros de prensa contra el vidrio, los ojos gigantes del hormigón y del acero se ciernan sobre nosotros. trabajadores de oficina susurran el uno al otro como el viento por las calles del centro de la ciudad de San Francisco, un río de cuerpos creados en virtud de prisa hacia nuestro destino final: el edificio de ICE. Este río lleno de vida, los signos de lectura "Derritimos el ICE!" en alto, al ritmo de la liberación.

"No es ningún poder como el poder del pueblo porque el poder de la gente no se detiene!"

by Bruce Allison/PNN

The mayor has found another loop-hole for the mid-season budget cuts. The smallest of the cuts is to the Mayor’s office which is a total of $541,870.

The area that the mayor is using from the San Francisco City charter is 3.001.

Basically, this says that the portion of the charter states that the mayor has “wide and varied powers”.

The portion of the budget that will be hit the hardest is Public Health which will receive a 26 million dollar cut under the mayor’s new spending plan. Due to the hosing of the public a pandemic is possible due to the way officials are handling public finances. I guess all we can do is pray that doesn’t happen because nobody is working to prevent it.

At this time there is also a lawsuit that may be held in the city for not holding a real public impact hearing, which usually occurs when there is a cut in Public Health. The last one was held at the department of public health which is a violation of the state law which governs Bealinson hearings. The hearings are supposed to be held in the County’s Board of supervisor’s chambers.

Due to San Francisco city and county’s unique position the mayor has pulled a fast one. If it was held at the board of supervisor’s chambers then this most likely would not have occurred. Because the majority of the supervisors including an unlikely one (mayor’s appointee Alieto-Pier) would have voted against the cuts.

Since the mayor knows that, he has used this loop-hole in the state law with assistance from the city attorney. With the present board there may not be a way to have this stopped, putting us all in danger.

by Mari Villaluna/Indigenous Peoples Media Project

I spent five months of my life walking and praying for Mother Earth. Praying that people around the earth will start to take care of our home in a way that our ancestors knew. Praying that my descendants will be able to see Jean Charles Island in southeastern Louisiana, which is threatened by land loss and climate change.

When the Longest Walk 2 walked through the United Houma Nation Terrorrity in southeastern Louisiana, we walked through Jean Charles Island. We were told that in one generation this island that the Houmas live upon will not be here anymore due to climate change, and land loss. While being eaten up by insects, I looked over at my praying partner and said, “Imagine one day, our descendants won’t see this land where we are walking on. That’s why we are walking to save the lands we have left.”

This memory echoed in my mind when PNN assigned me to a story on the UN Conference on Climate Change that is being held in Pozan, Poland. I remembered the Houmas and thier struggle to physically keep their land. I remembered how Hurricane Katrina was at a category 3 and then due to climate change it rose. I remember living in the east coast and how sometimes there would be very warm winter days. Everyone would say how beautiful day was, but all I could think about how climate change played a role in the abnormality of a east coast winter.

I contacted a fellow longest walker named Marek Nowocien, who is Polish and attending the conference and doing media around it. He mentioned how there was over 10,000 people there, which includes governmental, NGO (non-profit), and Indigenous peoples from all over the world in attendance. Many organizations are present to speak about the human rights of Indigenous peoples to the land as it ties into the destruction of Mother Earth. Many times when the environment is talked about, Indigenous peoples are systemically left out of the process. This conference was no different, in that Indigenous peoples once again challenged values of the environmental community (I couldn’t think of a better word).

Global Forest Coalition, The Wilderness Society, World Rainforest Movement, Global Justice Ecology Project, Via Campesina, the International Youth Delegation and the STOP GE Trees Campaign united as Indigenous and non-indigenous peoples to redefine what the United Nations/Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation (REDD) considers a forest. As of right now, the UN views corporate industrial tree plantations as forests. In a press release by the above groups, they stated “Plantations are not forests. Forests are diverse ecosystems and plantations are void of biodiversity. The UN definition endangers Indigenous Peoples, forest dependent people, peasants, small farmers, biodiversity and exacerbates climate change.” The UN that is talking about climate change is also the same one helping to promote it by leaving this definition the way it is.

These groups are challenging the UN to change the definition of forests so it recognizes the difference between native forests versus plantations. Ana Filippini from World Rainforest Movement (Uruguay) stated, “The conversion of native forests to plantations is bad for biodiversity, people and the climate. Human rights, especially women's rights, are being violated where there are plantations, and they should not be defined as forests.” These are the changes to the definition that the groups are proposing:

Forests are defined as 'a terrestrial ecosystem generated and maintained primarily through natural and ecological and evolutionary processes that are home to most of the world's biodiversity'.

Plantations are defined as a crop of trees planted and regularly harvested by humans that do not provide habitat for biodiversity.

"The definition of forests under REDD is utterly ridiculous", stated Sandy Gauntlett, a Maori indigenous rights activist from New Zealand, and representative of Global Forest Coalition. "It leaves wide open the ability of countries to destroy their natural forests and replace them with industrial tree plantations-which destroys wildlife habitat and displaces indigenous and forest dependent communities. New Zealand is an example of the disaster of tree plantations-and now we are in the process of developing genetically engineered trees for plantations", he continued.

All these groups agree that, “"If it is not resolved, and REDD applies this definition of forests, the global community could miss the chance of avoiding dangerous climate change and the 1.6 billion people who depend on forests for there survival will continue to be negatively affected." Dangerous climate change can be avoided by the simply changing of a definition of a forest. I started to think about the United Houma Nation and how hurricane after hurricane their land is being lost. I remember how every member of that nation used the words climate change and land loss over and over again. I remember the sad look upon their faces as they talked about losing their land and how climate change is at fault for that. I thought about all the corporations, governments, and international organizations are at fault for climate change. With just one simple definition of a forest, many global indigenous peoples could still keep their Nations alive with their traditions and way of life.

To get involved, please contact:

Orin Langelle, Global Forest Coalition media coordinator +48 696 723 046

Gemma Tillack, The Wilderness Society +61 427 057 643

Ana Filippini, World Rainforest Movement +48 785 260 455

by Adrienne Aguerrre/Race, Poverty, Media Justice Intern

It was the first cold Sunday the Mission had seen in weeks. The bilingual
language of resistance, unrest, and revolution drifted down the escalator
shaft at the 16th and Mission BART station, causing me to quicken my
step.

How little things have changed.

Emerging from the station, I see a few familiar faces amongst the modest crowd of people gathered in the small square, all listening attentively to the woman speaking at the microphone. Signs screaming "Affordable housing,living wages, and universal healthcare!" in black ink titter above the
heads in the crowd, jittery before beginning the short march to 24th and
Mission. The white paper of the signs is just barely discernable against
the dirty white of the San Francisco sky.

The weather reads my mood, chilled, tense. I don't know these people, I
have never shared their experiences, and yet here I am, picket sign in
tow, in solidarity with the exploited masses. I, who have had healthcare,
housing, and enough to eat all of my life, joined this fight for justice
at the baby fat age of 12.
As a 12 year old, knowing absolutely nothing about modern art, I really
had no business wandering around SF MOMA that day.

What I saw, however,
and the immeasurable pain it caused me, has been etched into my psyche
ever since. I remember the exhibit, the words of suffering and anguish
scrawled across blood red walls next to the photos of their authors. People forced from their homes into desperate poverty, prostitution, and drug use, sleeping next to dumpsters on makeshift cardboard mattresses. They all watched me with hollow eyes as I read their apologies, their pleas for help, and their disappointed dreams.

We're marching now, past doorways where indigenous voices unite with our own, where chants of "Si se puede!" ring proud from all sides. These eyes are not hollow but tired: tired of being unappreciated, of working for slave wages, of being cast aside as a subhuman source of cheap labor. I
can feel the restlessness, the desire to march with us overpowered because
these workers are simply too strapped for cash.

It's Sunday but for these people, there is no such thing as a day of rest. Some marchers pause to say hello to the friends and family they protest for, giving them quick handshakes and warm embraces. Though few, we are loud, a single united voice marching along on centipede legs. Approaching
our destination, more familiar faces greet us, more tired eyes meet our
own. As the speaker from United Healthcare for Workers takes the mic, I
remember the messages of hopelessness and despair on the walls of SF MOMA.

Not here.

This kind of despair demands to be addressed. Here, the power lies in the
hands of the victims, where those who can't afford to be housed, to have healthcare, or even to take a day off from work to march on a Sunday can educate the public about what's really been going down. Karl Kramer, a
member of the SF Living Wage Coalition, described the rally as a "beginning," a "movement to overturn the current conditions." Bob
Offer-Westort, from the Coalition of Homelessness, put emphasis on unity,
pointing out that those without access to jobs and low-wage laborers are
affected by a lot of the same conditions and need to join forces in order
to effect change.

Ten years later, the depression has lifted. I no longer see those in
poverty as weak or powerless. I realize now, the artist's depiction of
the poor and homeless did them no justice; the artist responsible for the
exhibition in SF MOMA ten years past neglected to reveal the strength and
will to survive so necessary to those in poverty. It is precisely this reason why my presence is necessary at this rally, precisely why I choose to help the resistance. I am a person of privilege, yes, but this
immeasurable strength, this consequence of injustice, cannot be ignored.

by Joseph Bolden

One Lone Voice

Sun smooched Saturday, prayer to holy trinity, and 100 to 200+ Kegal exercises
[think maintaining strength, stamina, and endurance].

Above explanation is all you’ll get from me folks.

Now, besides converting a dingy, dirty one-room-apartment into a save clean haven for a dear and troubled friend, food, making it a sanitary sanctuary.

I must ready myself for relatives, friend, be out of town for the upcoming holiday, return for events to be planned for the coming year as many people are doing at this time all over the world.

The radio show won’t be done this say because my place is still not fit for guests to drop by, missed lunch but will make up for it Sunday.

As I left the Main Library with a book I
ordered, crossing the street I see a young woman standing on the island where a bus stops picking up – letting passengers off exclaiming loudly
“LEFT RIGHT, BLACK WHITE, MARRIAGE IS A HUMAN RIGHT.”

She seems completely alone with a few car honking encouragement.

It’s still early in the day “so why not dash out a column” I thought.

Not much to say except like the lone voiced woman in the street
I hope to always be on the best side of history.

One must remember when all kinds of Slavery then as now was seen as the norm, violence against women, persons of same sex orientation, religious,
racial hatred, and marriage to any other than ones own people was against the law until recently in 1967.

There has always been at first one lone voice trumpeting new ideas they were always in the minority whether in social issues or new ways of applied sciences.

Eventually other voices chimed in adding to that one lone voice.

There were times in our recent past where a voice rose so high that fear demanded the sacrifice of death.

America on the one hand boldly chose a new path and new President-to-be
while simultaneously stepped backward making yes on Proposition 8 a fear many have on the sanctity of marriage.

If it’s so sacred, strong, and venerable an institution based on mutual love though children may form families.

Marriage is first and foremost about two individuals and though we’re use to seeing man and woman isn’t there room
for same sex unions of males and females?

As for the tired line
“There can be no children issuing from “Those kinds of unions.”

That is a fallacy in that Gayell’s are able to give birth and males with help from females friends can also provide offspring for male couples to nurture.

Adoption’s an option but even that made many hetro men and women feel threatened.

Which only shows me that for all the so called in-the-good book-crud the real fear is if it really came down to it both
couples raising families are no different its just a different dynamic and only years will tell what the effects will be.

Right now all I see is blind fear, envy, hatred, and religious intolerance as same sex Marriages not civic unions gain in approval.

Yes, Mayor Gavin Newsome on May 16, 2008 said. “Its inevitable, whether you like it or not, Its gonna’ happen.”

He’s no lone voice but neither are the folks who decided it would not stand.

Those people are on the wrong side of history, they may even know it and still voted for Marriage only between a man and a woman ploy.

Maybe Mayor Newsome galvanized bigots and religious folks everywhere but he is right in that the tide is changing.

Its last hurrah, a mean spirited “No Way, Not Today” votes. Those folks may have won a skirmish, small battle, but war for them is lost.

Because they are rapidly losing ground if what use to be and what is.

Fundamental change is afoot they can no longer deny people rights.

Its sad really as their power base lessens,
their children think, act, vote differently, those that
cannot hear the change, see writing on the wall, or waves about to wash over them will
have to live through this new time when most if not all their monumental power is shifted and lost breaking upon many multiple waves of change ocean seas.

Here’s to hoping that I for one can see and anticipate the coming breaking waves along the shoreline.

Send Comments to www.poormagazine.org or
www.telljoe.

by Thornton Kimes/PNN

PART I: RACE AND…

Avoiding Gay Pride events is easy. I hate excessive commercialization and cooptation of any movement that is an engine driving real social justice change. Also, sexual minorities are non-white and poor too, though you wouldn’t know it the way the gay rights struggle is shaped and fought. However, looking in the mirror would be damned difficult if I didn’t go to San Francisco’s Dolores Park November 7th, 2008.

November 4th a majority of Californians voted against Gay Marriage. Both sides thought they could win, the vote was said to be close. The result wasn’t a surprise if you paid attention to the campaigns for and against, though the post-vote analysis was interesting.

Class, economics, and race—the three-legged elephant race to the voting booths. Voters younger than 40 are less troubled by gay civil rights than voters older than 50, who appear to be stuck in “the good old days”. Voters in their 40’s are hanging by their fingernails to financial stability and don’t want the boat rocked at all. Numbers don’t lie, mostly, but people can dance the Tango with them, so exit poll stats are being challenged.

Movements get results both from a tight focus on getting their problems solved and by making alliances with other injustice-plagued groups. Today, organizers hoping to defeat the anti-Gay Marriage Proposition 8 virtually ignored Black and Hispanic voters, expecting them to “get it” automatically and vote accordingly. It didn’t help that so much energy went into voter registration and vote-for-Obama efforts there wasn’t much left over. Five years ago non-white gay non-profit/activist organizations got 3.1% of the money given out to such groups in general by gay foundations.

In 2004, gay marriage and racism had their way with San Franciscans’ psyches, like the poltergeists in the movie, they’re baaaaaack. Les Natali, owner of the Badlands gay dance club/bar in the Castro neighborhood, found himself eyeballs-deep in controversy because black customers were getting the “we don’t want you here” vibe, something Black America has been all too familiar with from White America. Black gays, like comic Rodney Dangerfield, get their no respect everywhere.

Black Americans get pulled over for “Driving While Black”, are the largest ethnic group in the 2-million-strong population in our prisons—the whole dirty laundry hamper of stuff we know so well and do our best to ignore until the blowback explodes in our faces.

San Francisco is not friendly to or affordable for its Black population, which has been jumping ship for East Bay communities like Vallejo for years. Mayors, Gavin Newsome included, make appropriate faces and comments and do nothing meaningful to change the situation.

A San Francisco Gay Guardian editorial said there were plenty of progressive Black citizens on the right side of the Gay Marriage issue today. Amos Brown, senior Pastor of Third Baptist Church, the biggest Black church in the city, was the only face I recognized on a television news report, the gay press reported that Brown almost had the microphone torn from his hand during a passionate pre-November 4th pro-Gay Marriage sermon; the associate pastor responsible later apologized for his tactics, but not for being equally passionate and on the other side.

It was clear the Third Baptist congregation isn’t united on Gay Marriage. Traditional conservative Christian values and views are only part of the explanation for that. Black Americans are very practical, pragmatic, “show me the proof” and “what have you done for me lately” in their approach to life and activism. White Americans would be too if we were the ones only 40 years removed from getting the right to vote, live anywhere we want to, etc.

In the 1980’s I flirted with modern pagan religion. One of the major rules of thumb of, shall we say, very decentralized Wicca, is that whatever you do, for good or evil, comes back to you turbo-charged three times over. If Gay San Francisco was the best friend and ally Black San Francisco had, right now, fighting for their causes, “I scratch your back, will you scratch mine?” would get very real results.

In-your-face activism has its place, but geeeez, leave the straight Christians alone unless you plan a bottom-to-top campaign of coffee drinking, meal eating, door knocking, whatever gets you face-to-face. Recent gay newspaper letters to the editor express just that patient nose-to-the-grindstone focus.

Part II

ECONOMICS AND…

Po’ folks, straight and otherwise, get jiggy with it whether or not their wallets are anorexic or fat. I do the math every day and it always comes out looking yucky. That old saying “No money, no honey” lurks in the back-brain shadows, making it tough to wrap my head around those cold equations.

Get married? It’s hard work enough just me taking care of me, much less having a wife or “domestic partner” along for the bumpy ride. San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsome rather suddenly, to me, started this round of the Gay Marriage Circus in 2004. I see at least a partial smokescreen to cover his moves to do more and more damage to poor and homeless citizens.

News stories then focused on how many more tourists would come to spend their money in tourist trappy San Francisco when Gay Marriage stuck to the wall. Get married? What about some of my neighbors, hanging by their painted fingernails to Polk Street, what used to be a very visible gay presence in the ‘hood, the place once called “Polk Gulch”, now known by the much more mundane monicker “Polk Village”.

Can low-income transsexuals, drag queens, et al, pay their ever-increasing rent, eat, and do whatever else is a necessity while the Tenderloin District is gentrified from both ends, creating a really truly hard place for the rock to squeeze?

Newsom is a businessman turned politician who defends the interests of wealthy San Franciscans (gay and straight) and nobody else. The fact that some poor and homeless citizens are gay won’t stop him from continuing to find ways to do damage, and the economic crisis freaking out the upper classes simply makes it easier.

Too bad the local gay movement doesn’t seem to care. Gay San Francisco can be an effective political weapon to use on some targets, but how can anyone trust someone who supports one oppressed group while throwing another under a bus?

It takes a village to raise a kid, a generation to forget where you came from. The “gay agenda”, driven from the East and West Coasts, has a population kept constant by folks from the heartland and less friendly parts of the coasts. Has becoming “Generation Big Disposable Income” been a good thing?

If it is true that the 3rd generations of immigrant populations, firmly embedded in American culture, stop speaking their mother tongue, it seems very true that native social immigrants lose their groove. Are we that easy?

What happens when you get relatively fat and happy? A little history lesson may be in order. Start with the 1970’s. Martin Luther King and Malcolm X are dead, some civil rights victories happened while Chapter One of the assault on Great Society welfare policies is being written. Gay rights is burning the fuse too short to put out, especially after Harvey Milk’s life and amazing political career end in assassination in San Francisco City Hall.

Later, Black America got drugs, black-on-black crime, teen pregnancy and other interesting things in under the Christmas tree; Gay America got AIDS, ACT UP (AIDS COALITION TO UNLEASH POWER), Queer Nation, et al. Gay activism got louder, more in-your-face. Black and Gay culture lurched in parallel into everyone’s televisions, i-Pods, etc, whether Tipper Gore or other folks liked it or not.

Gay America started out outlaw, edgy, alive and on the sharp end of the stick when it came to deep-pocketed corporations like Coors. Now Gay Pride and other things gets corporate mega-bucks sponsorships, etc.

Gay Pride parades may frighten the horses back home in Iowa, but it looks like an ever-escalating “cutting edge” merry-go-round to me (“Look Ma, no hands!”). I’ll watch (or walk in) the parades when the floats are gone and the same energy that burst back into the streets after November 4th after being gone way too long is the vibe all the time.

PART III

LOOKING OUT, LOOKING IN

For the fourth time in 19 years I’m enrolled in San Francisco’s Welfare program, called General Assistance (the “better” version, that is, a little more money trickles down, is called PAES—Personal Assisted Employment Service). In 2003, the third bite of the tiny GA apple, I went to the San Francisco AIDS Foundation to see if I could do my Workfare assignment there instead of sweeping streets or cleaning public transit buses.

The AIDS Foundation (which is still on the alternative Workfare list…) interviewer turned me down without explanation. Being concerned that your Workfare “volunteer” is willing, able, and isn’t using some mind-expanding substance on premises is only intelligent and necessary (a concern recently discusses at my current assignment site…).

Speculation is one of the oldest mind games and one of my guesses involved the man’s gaydar being turned off that day, but being relatively fat and happy can kill empathy for other folks under the thumb of our society. Was that it? I’m also not even close to being the second coming of Joe Montana, built more along the lines of Babe Ruth, though I can’t hit, pitch, or drink like him.

I moved on. The California gay movement needs to move on to what is really important, fix what’s broken, and maybe even take those icky dollar sign-shaped glasses off. It never pays to jump into the deep end without looking and thinking first.

Is Gay Marriage vitally important, or the fact that the President of Iran doesn’t even believe homosexuals exist there, where they are stoned to death if exposed? The police in Thailand parade transsexuals and others from go-go bars and other tourist establishments in front of television cameras to reveal them as “frauds”. Other parts of the world are just as bad, or worse. America is a teddy bear compared to that.

The gay movement and some of its allies (the San Francisco Bay Guardian…) treat Gay Marriage as an inevitable progression from where we were 30 years ago to today, despite the fact that “Gay Marriage” could replace “Democracy” in George W. Bush’s mouth and mostly the same attitude towards changing the world would be working for what many of us want with the worst strategy.

I’m on both sides of the fence. I get Gay Marriage, I essentially agree—Marriage is one of those Big Deals almost everyone thinks about and wants to do. Be careful what you ask for, you may get it.

Half of straight marriages fail, the other half don’t. I’m a child of divorce, my sister married three times, my father remarried once, my mother never remarried and I haven’t hitched-up yet. I almost got a Black step-father (and step-brother) in the 1970’s, but rural Texas wouldn’t have liked that very much. My sister is hangin’ tough with her third marriage, mostly, I think, because she doesn’t want to do damage to the dreams of her two teen sons and much younger daughter.

Our parents divorced before I hit high school. Sticking with jobs longer than 5 years is a challenge for me. Marriage?

I think if the fundamentals under and around Gay Marriage aren’t there—strong basic equal protections from sea to polluted fish-depleted sea, not just California—Gay Marriage will become just another check on the list for folks who can pay for it.

Consensus isn’t easy, and the bigger the group looking for it the more time it takes to get it. Right now that is California, with everyone still playing by the “all the cool stuff comes from Cali” playbook—in this age of YouTube, 24/7 news, blogging, etc—a court will have the last word for a while in a few months.

Is this the best we can do? Winner take all campaigns and elections lead to attitudes I’ve had in-my-face (and read about): “You lost, get over it!”

Feh! We use courts to administer woefully bad justice and protect minorities from the tyranny of the majority mostly because too many of us, including me, are too busy surviving—and too fundamentally lazy (in some cases scared—that could also be me…) to BE the kind of society we want so badly.

Consensus? Whose consensus, and what kind of consensus-building? Lefty political folks and those on the center and right mean different things when “Consensus” and “Consensus Builder” get buzzworded about. I’m sick of “you lost, get over it!” even when it benefits me. How about you?

Back to Dolores Park. I loved it. It was no frills, it was no corporate excess (it was apparently text-message-and-e-mail organized by two teenagers and I still don’t know who they are…), it was hard to get to because thousands of people were in the street getting to the park. There was chanting, dance music, lots of people dancing.

I later read that the drag queen who spoke to the crowd soon after I arrived realized that if he didn’t do something nobody would. After inspiring most of the crowd to return to the streets and the Castro neighborhood, he participated in an all-night sit-in at 18th Street and Castro and called his father to talk about being gay for the first time. His father was okay with it. November 7th was a lot more interesting than I originally thought.

Years after her death, anarchist Emma Goldman was drafted into saying, “If I can’t dance I don’t want to be part of your revolution” (in her autobiography she talks about apparently scandalizing a sense-of-humor-challenged young man who tried to confront her about being a good and energetic dancer…). Protests usually aren’t much fun, especially if the police don’t like you, but dancing for social justice change is my kinda revolutionizing—even if I do suck as a dancer.

by Leroy Moore/illin n chillin-PNN

Blind musicians who were once good musicians during their young days established the South African Disabled Musicians Association (SADMA) in 1997. The main reason for the formation was to assist young disabled musicians who can not get record deals and were left out of the music industry and could not participate in opportunities which the country offered for musicians e.g. music talent searches by big companies like Coca Cola. The organization caters to all people with disabilities and different genres of music. This interview is with Sam Nooge representing SADMA.

Krip-Hop: Give us some background of why Musicians with disabilities are discriminated against in the industry?

SADMA: People see disability before listening to the artist's music. As a result, people come to unfair conclusions about the artist. People with disabilities are kept outside their communities at a very early age and are placed in educational institutes that are for children with disabilities. They then grow in the environment where people see very little of them and later in life they are introduced to the community as complete strangers and every thing they present is considered inferior and of no value. Some of them in the process develop inferiority complexes. Maybe it is different in your country. There they do have an opportunity to mix with able-bodied artists due to communication and mobility. Music today is about artists who do more dancing than the actual singing. Unfortunately, most disabled people are not into dancing. Commercial recording studios are not user-friendly for artists with disabilities either.

Krip-Hop: Tell us more about your future goals?

SADMA: Our future goals are to improve and expand our recording studio so that we can accommodate more artists. To establish a commercial recording studio for purposes of business. To establish a music training facility. We want to train people with disabilities as sound engineers. To offer training in business skills and the music industry. To promote our musicians locally and internationally. To promote music festivals and concerts for people with disabilities locally and internationally. To acquire a mobile recording studio so that we can reach disabled musicians in the far away rural and poor areas of our country. To establish a radio station and television station for people with disabilities.

Krip-Hop: Have big musicians in South Africa and in the US helped you at all in your work?

SADMA: No. Big musicians in South Africa and in the United States of America have not helped us. I hope you will assist in talking to Americans like Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles Foundation, Teddy Pendergrass, etc.

Krip-Hop: Give us a view of what happened to music during apartheid?

SADMA: South African music was confined to South Africa and blacks could not play with or for whites and vice versa. Blacks could not perform in the well-equipped venues that were for whites only.

Krip-Hop: How do you reach an international audience and the youth?

SADMA: We have not been exposed to international audiences. It was a first when our artist Coach Matlawe performed in Beijing. Once the documentary that includes our organization is finalized, Coach and other overseas people with disabilities will inform you. The youth we reach through our music talent search for more artists with disabilities.

Krip-Hop: Have any of your artists traveled to the US?

SADMA: NO.

Krip-Hop: Has the government supported your work?

SADMA: Government has assisted us by creating a conducive atmosphere for recording people with disabilities and supporting our programs somewhat financially, although not sufficiently. We were expecting the government to help in marketing our artists and launching them locally and internationally.

Krip-Hop: Do radio stations in South Africa play your artists?

SADMA: NO.Projects we intend embarking on need huge financial resources. To be able to achieve our goals financial resources are needed. People who have financial resources can partner with us by contributing funds that will serve as capital and those people will be shareholders who will receive dividends once the business starts making profit. We are also in the process of raising funds and things are looking promising. Should our sponsors keep to their promises we shall soon be having our own premises with an additional recording studio and a video studio. It will then be a matter of raising cash to be able to run the organization professionally.

by Joseph Bolden

Sunrise Ceremony/Why Are You Here?

First, a year or two ago from a few friends I heard about Alcatraz,

A.I.M. American Indian Movement co-founder Dennis Banks (Leech Lake Ojibwe). taken over December 1969 which in later began the longest walk from Alcatraz to Washington, D.C. in 1978.

4 – 5am to 9am is the time all is to take place but with lots of people, equipment, children, and infants human errors crept in.

All in all it was a well organized affair though scary to me especially when first waking at 2:40am in the morning hoping not be late because of my legendary rotten sense of direction.

This year I was given the opportunity to witness the Sunrise Ceremony.

From the bottom of my hear I apologize for petty musings on the cold, about time, mean spirits about the crowded space prior to boarding on the ship.

Yes, many people on the rock made it difficult to see personages and speakers near a ceremonial fire.

I had gotten lost after finding the restroom after the ship had landed along with others before heading up a steep hill.

Not as cold as first though but I bundled up wearing double socks, two shirts, raincoat, scarf, and gloves given to me by the person who personally invited me.

It less cold as dawn slowly creeps into an overcast gray morn.

After finding a few of my group they and I decide to leave on the first of the four boats berthed temporary here.

From there an F-bus home, sleep, and bart ting out of city.

Money gone, bart card unable to cover exit how was I to get out of the terminal?

I got out when the bart attendant let me leave by the emergency exit.

When mama arrived the question is:

“Bring any food?”

“No.”

“Bring extra cash?”

“Uh, some went to food, trips, movies…”

“Girlfriend.”

“No”

“Why are you here?”

“I need a break from the city.”

“So you’re here with no money or food.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“Ran out of money.”

“What happened to all that money saved?”

“Got used up I guess.”

“Why are you here?”

“I had to get away and
this is my haven.”

“Why are you here?”

“Its Thanksgiving,you're family.”

“Oh… ok let’s go home.”

On to Fairfield, Ca.

for a quiet, restful Thanks taking-

giving weekend holiday.

Everyone peacefully enjoy yours.

Send comments to
www.deeandtiny@poormagazine
or

www. telljoe@poormagazine.org

by Marlon Crump/PNN

I awake everyday, even up here, to watch, listen, and secure you. I don't care what day you are due up here with me, mom, for I've always heard you cry, before and after they took me. I'm never leaving you, as we are bonded for eternity.

Before I decided to chronicle the "Idriss Stelley Foundation" series, last year, Idriss' spirit channeled through my soul and communicated with me to his mom, mesha Monge-Irizarry through this poem. (This poem continues throughout this story.) I called it: IDRISS'S ADDRESS. For everyone that reads this series conclusion chronicled by POOR, you all will see why.

On the morning of June 13th, 2001 at 7:45 a.m, mesha worked literally 25 hours due to the shortage of staff. An hour later, she received a phone call that will forever haunt her:

"Mom, I need $2,000 or I am a dead man tonight!"
This would also be the last time she would ever hear her son's voice again. Mesha was stunned by these terrifying words, and very afraid. Her son seldom asked her for any money, given the fact that he was a marble union worker. Idriss wouldn't go into further details over the phone, and promised her that he would explain everything when she got home from work.

"Me and Mama Dee left out of this theater (Sony Metreon Theater) about a half hour before Idriss was killed." POOR Magazine/POOR News Network, Co-founder "Tiny" Lisa Gray-Garcia would later tell me.

Ma, I heard and saw you cry internally, even today, I can see your very tears plague your heart. God called me home seven years ago, and I've hovered over you since:

I'm sure that his girlfriend, Summer Galbreath, will never forget those awful words by Idriss Stelley:

"Summer, you know that I am going to die tonight!"

With that, Idriss was in a somber mood for the rest of the day. While inside one of the movie theaters at the Sony Metreon Theater located at 4th/Mission St. He and Summer went to watch a movie, called "Swordfish" starring John Travolta. In the movie, there is a scene where Travolta lights up a cigarette, seconds later, Idriss does exactly the same. A security guard approached Idriss and instructed him to put out his cigarette.

In the "Darkened Theater" (Which was titled by the San Francisco Chronicle during its "Use of Force" series last year that published its own "version" of Idriss's death.) Idriss Stelley stood up and faced the audience. "If you have families or loved ones, leave now. Something bad could happen!" Idriss exclaimed.

Almost immediately, the movie patrons stampeded out of the theater like a wild herd in heeding his words. All but one, an African-Descent man, who was asleep in the theater, unaware of the commotion. Summer had went to use the restroom and was also unaware of what was going on, which is what she asked Idriss seeing everyone had cleared out.

"Baby, go home, I don't want you to get hurt." Idriss said "Go home to your family." Summer left, but did not go home and was outside with everyone that left the theater. At this point, Idriss is all alone in the theater, shy of the gentleman who was still asleep. He then dialed 9-1-1 on his cell phone.

"mesha, there are cops everywhere!" Summer said frantically over the phone to let mesha know what was taking place. "They say that he has a gun, but he ain't got no gun! I told them not to hurt him!" The call then drops. Immediately, mesha calls Summer back.

It is exactly 11:09 p.m.

I got called from heaven on that deep dark day, 7 years, 5 and a half month today. Though my life was abruptly cut short, ma, I heard you cry:

Before and after the hail of gunfire tore my body, I heard you on the phone to attempt to save me, but didn't even get to see me, as you heard me die:

The moment that mesha Monge-Irizarry called Summer back, she heard the shots rang out in the background that killed her only child Idriss Scott Stelley. A barrage total of 48 shots is what it took for numerous officers of three San Francisco Police Department precinct stations to calm down a young man who was clearly suffering from a total mental breakdown.

Use of Deadly Force

Those very shots from June 13th, 2001 at 11:09 p.m. still rang out to this very day in mesha's mind, which caused her to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. (PTSD) "Why wasn't I there to shield his body with mine?" she often asks herself.

The three S.F.P.D precincts that "responded" to the 9-1-1 call by Idriss and Summer harshly evacuated everyone from the Sony Metreon Theater, "with shotguns" according to witnesses, employees, movie patrons, and spectators to the chaotic scene. The precincts that responded were the Tenderloin Task Force, the Bayview and the Mission District Station.

During the evacuation, the Black gentleman who was asleep in the theater was seen by a witness led out in handcuffs through a back entrance.

"What the f!@#$ is wrong with y'all!" the man was heard yelling to the cops as he was being taken away. "He didn't have a gun, but you all had weapons!"
In fact, the only "weapon" that was discovered on Idriss was a Thumbelina-sized carving tool (hooked to a thin pager chain) that the officers would later claim he tried to cut one of them with.

Summer saw the man in the theatre an hour later as he awaited interrogation by one of the Homicide investigators at the S.F Hall of Justice. The man later "mysteriously disappeared." The unidentified man was later regarded as an "unreliable source" due to alleged intoxication.

mesha was hastily driven to San Francisco General Hospital by a friend, grasping onto an ounce of hope that Idriss was still alive. Upon her arrival, she saw two officers at the Emergency Room entrance.

mesha approached a triage nurse to find out if Idriss had been admitted. Like so many mothers, she received the words that no mother ever wants to hear.

"Your son died at the scene." said one of the police officers. "You need to come with us to the Homicide Division." (mesha was so shaken up, in a state of shock, that she doesn't even remember ever riding in the patrol car.)

My demise remerged your very soul, giving velocity to your courage and commitment to save others. My departure from the clutches of the wickedness that's plagued you and everyone, will never be in vain:

At 5:30 a.m. mesha called Summer to give her the terrible news. "Baby, your man is dead." Once the word "dead" registered in Summer's ears, she started screaming at the top of her lungs. All along, while she was being interrogated, she kept asking the officers "How is E? Tell me how is E?!" (Idriss's nickname.) "Don't worry, darling, he's fine. He's going to be just fine." kept contending the investigators.

"It is internal policy that when there is a shootout, everyone must empty their gun" Holy Pera, from the S.F.P.D Homicide Detail Division replied, when she was asked by mesha three days after Idriss's death, "Why so many bullets?" There was never any real "shootouts" because of the blatant fact that Idriss didn't carry a gun for the officers to justify an officer-involved shooting via unjustified use-of-deadly-force in Idriss's case.

Or is it possible that the officers emptied their firearms to mislead investigators as to which officer fired first, during the ballistics investigation?

After the officers killed Idriss, they allegedly tried to perform C.P.R. on him for 45 minutes.

They then dragged his dead body through an emergency exit of the Sony Metreon into a dark alley away from public view and scrutiny. Idriss' body was riddled with bullets that ranged from his skull, exploding his brain, his neck, chest, arms, abdomen, thighs, calves, etc., etc.
Idriss's body was practically covered from head-to-toe with bullets holes and blood.

It was also reported that there were bullet holes in the walls by an exit door of the theater. Was Idriss actually trying to flee despite the hail of bullets that ultimately took his life? This is mind shattering, given the fact that Idriss's entire body was now literally shattered to shreds, yet now there was an attempt from Idriss's killers to "revive him?" by performing CPR? On a man whose brain matter is splattered on the theater seats?

What was really taking place in that "Dark Alley" from a "Darkened Theater" may still remain a mystery, unless new information would ever surface.

"Idriss Stelley's case is at the root of the 40 hour mandatory mental health training." said S.F. Public Defender, Jeff Adachi in 2002, a year after Idriss's death. These sentiments by Adachi were somewhat ironic because mesha, herself, conducted comprehensive, "de-escalating" police intervention training series, at the S.F.P.D. Academy and for the S.F. Sheriff's Department until 2000, while she was successively the program manager of La Casa de las Madres, Woman, INC., SHANTI and Hayward Emergency Shelters.

In the past, mesha has also repeatedly offered her technical assistance to prior S.F. Police Chiefs, Fred Lau, Earl Sanders, and current SFPD Chief Heather Fong. In addition, she offered the same to S.F. Sheriff Department. "All, but to no avail." mesha stated, disappointedly, but not the least surprised by their overall lack of response.

They may have taken my life, but my soul and spirit will continue to inhabit, comfort, and cloud you. I've sent you many loved ones, shielders, and protectors, for you are always right as rain:

In 2003, mesha won an out-court-settlement (after she sued the City of San Francisco over the unjustified use-of-deadly-force against Idriss) for the sum of $500,000.

After her lawyer Andy Schwartz collected 35% of the money, she entered a business partnership with the remaining $250,000 with Willie Ratcliff's Liberty Builders, Bayview, INC., while keeping $25.000 to open IDRISS STELLEY FOUNDATION and keep a (clients and services) rolling fund.

"I did this in the hope to strengthen Black and Brown ownership in the SF Bayview District." mesha said during the interview.

A day after the SF "Fajitagate" scandal exploded, (indictment of 12 top brass officers) mesha was issued an apology in 2002 - at her mediation in front of a retired judge, towards a possible settlement from Heather Fong, was just nominated Deputy Chief that very day, before being appointed to head the S.F.P.D. by S.F. Mayor Gavin Newsom in 2004.

Fong's words in front of the City Attorney:"On behalf of our department and the City of San Francisco , I apologize for what happened to Idriss. It was wrong, and we want to make sure such thing never happens again" Mesha's attorney was gasping, ecstatic.... But she immediately knew that such contention, occurring during a CONFIDENTIAL mediation process, was inconsequential in terms of outcome of her case.

Ma, I heard, and please stop crying, for I'm no longer dying, anymore. You were reborn and revitalized to save others like me, tell people like me, and given a heart like jewel to forgive anyone, even the killers of me:

mesha publicly forgave the police officers for their execution of Idriss, something most moms or fathers rarely, if ever do. She decided to use the rest of the money to create the grassroots, nonprofit organization that would hold law enforcement accountable for unethical conduct(s) during the course of their duties: THE IDRISS STELLEY FOUNDATION. "I could not entertain the thought of spending a penny of Idriss's blood money on myself! mesha exclaimed.

You may have not got my justice the way it should've been served, on the other hand I placed it on your shoulder, and assured you I'm always there, never past tense:

In September of 2004, mesha took the S.F.P.D. Citizen's Academy Training 15-week course to get a better understanding of the organizational culture of the entire department. While mesha was attending, she learned the fundamental basics that a police officer would need in order to "serve" and "protect" the public.

She learned tackling techniques, applications of containment through pain-inflicting physical measure and weapons. mesha could not bear to participate in target practice, which was totally understandable.

Just a couple of years ago, mesha showed me a picture of herself, between Ltd. Flores and Chief Heather Fong while holding her graduating certificate.

Don't ever think for a second, mama that evil will prevail, for my supreme father has toured me through the gates of heaven and hell. Many get so discouraged, despite how hard they fight, but little do they know of the glory that is yet to come. That day is coming, they shall all see:

As I prepared to wrap up the interview, mesha concluded with her final thoughts of hope, strive, and commitment towards keeping the soul and legacy of Idriss Stelley alive to help others who've experienced her pain.

"Two nights ago, I dreamt of a storm raging through my bedroom. Idriss was sitting on my bed while dead leaves accumulated around us on the bed sheets. Then without transition, we held each other, looking down the Sphinx River and seeing the bodies of our ancestors drifting down the dark waters. Some of them were rotting, others chipping bones, while others were mere transparent shadows. I felt that Idriss is calling me."

Before I packed up my paper and pen, mesha gently tapped my hand. "But it ain't over until the fat lady sings. I will not rest until we make substantial strides against illegal racial biased policing and lethal force against our Sisters and Brothers. Let's keep going safe and strong in serving and protecting each other."

As I hugged her goodnight, she quietly told me to "keep a stiff upper lip" and not to take any �wooden nickels".

"In Pro Per Power!" she said, giving references to my civil suit against the City of San Francisco via S.F.P.D. misconduct last year, when I represented myself with no one to help me. Though I was unsuccessful, I will never misrepresent myself in heeding those very powerful words because they forever echo in my heart.

Epilogue:

After the Idriss Stelley Foundation was created through the settlement case of Irizarry vs SF City & County & SFPD it has been changed to the Idriss Stelley Action Resource Center since May, 2008. It is located in the heart of the S.F Mission District, 2940 16th St., Suite #209 , SF , CA 94110 .

The center provides the following free Direct Services:

24-HR Bilingual Spanish Hotline 415-595-8251;
the hotline answers crisis calls and inquiries to:

- ISARC,

- Education Not Incarceration SF Chapter,

- SF Copwatch

- FORWARD (services for Families of Parolees),

- Black and Brown Equitable Drug Policies Coalition,

- and is the weekend back up for Sonoma County PACH, Police Accountability Clinic Hotline.

* Know Your Rights training;

* Support Groups;

* one on one Counseling;

* Attys' referrals;

* Community Altars;

* Volunteer & Youth Internship Program

* over a hundred yahoogroups hosting for Survivors of Police Misconduct, Grieving Families, local and nationwide Social & Racial Justice Activists

* Low cost professional translations (Eng/Spanish/French)

* Technical assistance to newly forming Police accountability centers

* and Cultural awareness and organizational behaviors seminars

For more information or to request provision of free services:
iolmisha@cs.com (ISARC)
or call (415) 595-8251

http://mysite.verizon.net/vzeo9ewi/idrissstelleyfoundation

by Phil Adams/Race, Poverty, Media Justice Intern

I know what it is to be used by the government for the profit of a few corporations. Since I have become a veteran I learned the planes I flew in were from Lockheed Martin, weapons I used were from Colt-Remington, and the computers I used and soda I drank were procured from Haliburton. I have learned that the blood shed in Iraq was for the purpose of buying items from these corporations. At this point I believe that private corporations play more of a part in decision making within the government than the citizens do. With this corporate bail out I believe our country has transferred public finances to private hands and private debt onto the public.

It was around Ten o'clock in the morning when I showed up at the Mortgage Bankers Association's annual conference. I walked into Moscone Center and immediately felt out of place. The hall was empty with high white ceilings and empty booths. Bland colored banners with lame catch phrases and stock photos urging me to invest in real estate, obviously designed by a drowsy office worker somewhere only to be tossed into the dumpster the next day. I knew I stood out, the only people in the room were pale fat sixty year olds with saggy faces and business suits, six uniformed police officers, the hazy eyed brow beaten convention staff and me, a twenty something year old from Richmond in a leather jacket. Eventually one gray-haired convention staffer mustered up enough courage to ask me if I needed assistance. I saw him eyeing me through his thin-rimmed glasses. I took a breath and looked at him for a second knowing he was making minimum wage and probably coming on retirement age, the placard on his chest reading event staff made me want to ask him the same question. I told him I was interested in learning about the Mortgage Bankers Association. I must have touched some type of robotic knee jerk reaction for his occupation because he pointed me to the information desk and went back to standing at the door with his walkie-talkie. At this point I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere and I knew I was about to be asked to leave.

About an hour later the protest started. It was organized by A.N.S.W.E.R. SF. The reason I was there was to find information and do a little venting of my frustration. I knew that there was a corporate bail-out and I knew it had something to do with the mortgage industry. The whole time I was asking myself, why should we give money to corporations. Don't they have enough already? It was fairly cold that day--on the sidewalk the protestors formed a semi-circle off to the side of Moscone Center barely enough to fill the sidewalk. That's when the chanting started. Natalie Hrize stepped up on the two crates she was using as stage and shouted "jail them don't bail them!" We were loud, we were charged but unfortunately it seemed like there just weren't enough of us. I think the problem is not enough people know exactly what happened with the corporate bail out plan.

I recently attended a lecture by Dr. Jack Rasmus. He enlightened me to a few of the facts on what's happening on Wall Street and how the elites are furthering their war on the poor and working class of this nation. There isn't one direct cause of this economic downturn but there is an explanation behind it. It's pure and simple greed.
Politicians have been in the process of deregulating the banking and lending industry since the mid-90s. Basically they are putting fewer rules on how these guys trade and go about business, pretty much letting them make it up as they go along. The real problem started in 2002 when our fearless leader George W. Bush got together with Allan Greenspan to lower the federal interest rate to 1%. That means that the banks could borrow money from the government at a 1% interest rate. I wish I could get a loan at 1% interest, I guess I have to have a huge banking corporation first.

The reason behind this rate decrease was that Greenspan was on his way out and didn't care and our fearless leader needed to win an election and keep the illusion that everything is fine. During this brief rate decrease between 2002 and 2004 mortgage companies wrote 4 trillion dollars in mortgages and half of them were bad loans that they would not have written under normal circumstances. This made their companies look so good on balance sheets that they would sell stocks in their companies around the world. Other countries were investing in our market because it looked really good even though there were bad predatory lenders giving people houses knowing that they wouldn't be able to make payments. Eventually the federal interest rate went back to normal and it came to light that the people they convinced to take these loans would not and could not pay them.
The problem with the bailout is that it's like throwing money in the closet hoping the monster will go away. The bailout is based on a strategy called liquidity. That means if you give the bank some money they will lower the interest rates on these mortgages and people can stay in their homes and pay off these debts. That or possibly lend to other people honestly at a fair rate. Instead what they are doing is hoarding the bailout for their balance sheets serving their shareholders and investors. This is the systemic root of the problem.

There is a way to solve this problem. These companies don't need or deserve a Bail Out; we the people deserve a Bail Out. We need to reset all the rates to the way they were before 2002. This would alleviate the strain that a lot of people are feeling right now with high rates that these companies have imposed trying to save their own asses by screwing over everybody. That and instead of using tax money, the government needs to repatriate all those offshore tax shelters in the Caribbean and in Europe that these CEOs and investors have hid their stolen money at. Force these cowards to bail themselves out instead of profiting off of conning honest workers.

by Joseph Bolden

The Claus Crap, Correct It!

My turkey day was tiring.

I went to my first Sunrise Ceremony

On Alcatraz, in fact its my first visit ever.

Slightly chilled, solemn but nearly spoiled by my worries of being on time and literally missing the ship, I tend to get lost easy just like my flaky gay/gayelle radar, my geographical sense of direction is equally wonky.

Arriving in the early dawn along with dozens of cold citizens awaiting instructions on embarking, disembarking and safety tips while cruising on the ship.

I'm glad for the experience, may do so again� maybe?

Later in the day a pre Thanksgiving party where I live then off to meet family and friends out of town.

It was then I begin noticing something slightly off or odd from the corner of my eyes.

No big deal but on Bart going away, in advertisements, returning to the city I see�

Ads on a new product which usually isn't unusual but Santa Claus looks slightly different.

Thin with traditional red suit, white beard, sack of toys on a sled � then it hit me!

Santa looks soft because he's a she!

My first reaction is, "Aw Crap, can't we guys even have our St. Nick without him being feminized?"

Wait a sec', why am I steamed at a new cell phone ad?

An old movie came to mind "Skin Deep" staring the late John Ritter.

One shapely women is a lovely, stacked, sexy, bodybuilder Ms. Raye Hollitt in a black bikini showing off her muscular physique and ready for Ritter.

I think, why not place her, Ms. Leslie Morris, or one of the Weather Girls of "It's Raining Men" fame.

Maybe sensuous Plus Size Models, or a just as lovely naturally over developed busty magazine stars.

I wouldn't mind sitting in their laps feeling warm and comfy telling em' what I'd like for Christmas.

Ok, not too massively muscled ladies seen on websites of giant amazon women though maybe too they also can wear the red suit and beard as well as Santa's extremely healthy helpers.

I just want Santa male or fem, be they caucasion, black, brown, red, yellow, or any of rainbow hew in between to be a strong, fierce claus able to kick the mud out of Christmas hating folks.

Oh, and the elves should be just as well built, fit and healthy looking cause Santa sometimes needs backup.

I may not be on radio for a while because an un greatfull or desperate grinch-DJ ripped off radio equipment at San Francisco Liberation Radio (.) Net.

But manure happens and one rolls with it.

Joining a gym, bike riding, walking, swimming, raunchy, dirty, naturally healthy sex with a woman or two also an added bonus when it offered.

Folks, my short term goal is owning a Jack LaLanne Power Juicer and finding Terry Grossman, M.D. "The Baby Boomer's Guide to Living Forever."

I must say its hard to find that book to buy it's borrowed from the library, that book for me as is worth keeping as a reference for when its promise is done.

I'll place it with other immortal works in the Smithsonian Institute.

I don't want much out of life� living way beyond my appointed exit visa well, that's something I gotta' try for.

This could be my first test as one of those future immortals-who-don't-know-that-they are.

At least I have a heads up clue to the proposition being that I'm a mid boomer.

Born between 1946 and 1964.

I was born 8 years after the first crop of boomers, 10 years before the last '64 group so when I heard of and saw the book I knew I'd better buy it if possible and other reference, guideline books for this new age we're in.

Besides I'm curious to find out how bad the
80's and 90's or Gen'X and Gen' Next er's will do.

How badly will they screw things up in the 21st Century as each generation before them had fouled things up before correcting some of it.

It is time to go and to everyone enjoy both holidays safely and stay alive to see next year.

Send Comments to
DeeandTiny@poormagazine.org or
Telljoe@poormagazine.org

by Marlon Crump/PNN

"S.F.P.D, don't conspire with I.C.E!"

(Immigration and Customs Enforcement.)

"No Human Being is ILLEGAL!"

"Stop Illegal Raids!"

"Municipal I.Ds NOW!"

"Free Trade is not Fair Trade!"

"Newsom, meet with us your constituents!

40% of all San Franciscans are Immigrants!"

The sounds of these protest signs by numerous Immigrant Rights protesters and supporters couldn't have spoken louder than the outcries of the protesters, themselves. These signs, carried by protesters and supporters took their siege on the steps of San Francisco City Hall on a nippy, dew-dropped sunshine-shifting, Thursday afternoon, in response to the sieges/ raids (deportation) that were unrelenting against migrant workers, at the hands of I.C.E (Immigration and Customs Enforcement).

The lack of intervention(s) by the City of San Francisco itself, vs the immediate intervention and outrage for numerous San Franciscans, shows everyone that once again the real power comes from the voice and actions of the People...........not the politicians.

This day of December 18th, 2008 marked the day of the International Migrants Day as proclaimed by the UN General Assembly. This was also a landmark, in sink with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which celebrated its 60th anniversary a week ago.

As "proclaimed" by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

"All human beings are born free and equal
in dignity and rights
and that everyone is entitled
to all the rights and freedoms set forth therein,
without distinction of any kind,
in particular as race, color, or national origin."

The ongoing battle/movement for the Rights of Undocumented migrant Families, Youth, Workers, and people in general in the face of City, State, and ultimately the U.S Government continues.

This year's Migrants Day occurred at a time when S.F's Immigrant Community is facing unbearable budget cuts to critical public services.
Today's Migrants Day also occurs at a time where the Human Rights of all Undocumented Immigrants are constantly under attack, alongside of the budget cuts.

"My basic concern is that they (I.C.E) are deporting the Youth, 12 and up." Ray from H.O.M.E.Y (Homies Organizing the Mission and Empowering Youth) explained to me as I kept my other ear to the rally. "They're deporting these kids to unfamiliar countries with no money, no clothes, and no families to go to once they get to that country that they are deported to."

H.O.M.E.Y was just one of the estimated 30 organizations that saturated the steps of S.F City Hall to voice their total opposition to the rampant attacks against Undocumented Immigrants.

Teresa Molina of POOR Magazine's Voces de Inmigrantes en resistencia program which teaches POOR Magazine’s brand of revolutionary – change journalism to migrant workers was there with me re-porting and sup-porting on the important action for PNN.

"Young Latino people are being picked up (racially profiled) by the S.F.P.D for small offenses." Abigail Trillin from the San Francisco Immigrants Legal Services explained to me. She further explained that minor offenses often turn into felonies, which then are reported to I.C.E by the S.F.P.D.

Constant questionable traffic stops of people of presumed Latino ethnicity have not gone unnoticed as well. Elizabeth Alexander of the Central City Collaborative (also in attendance) brought awareness of this issue to me, a few weeks ago as I strolled through the Tenderloin District on my way to a meeting.

"We've had multiple cases of young looking Latino men being stopped and accused of running red lights and having expired tags." said Barbara Lopez, of La Voz Latina Project of Tenderloin Housing Clinic. "They (S.F.P.D) are pretexts to uncover unlicensed drivers and tow their cars."

The San Francisco Immigrants Rights Defense Committee has revealed a platform of proposals to make Dignity a matter of Equality, and Due Process of law a reality for all San Franciscans, including Immigrants.

In recent months, the administration of S.F Mayor Gavin Newsom has taken a number of measures that have had a wounding impact on Immigrant Families and threaten to undermine the fundamental Human Rights principles in San Francisco .

The Committee calls on the City of San Francisco
to do the following:

* Uphold the 1989 Sanctuary City Ordinance, including ending Racially Biased Policing and all law enforcement's harassment.

* Revise San Francisco 's new Juvenile Justice policy, implemented this past July, because it denies due process to Immigrant Youth by requiring that probation officers refer these youths to I.C.E.........before a hearing.
(Undocumented Immigrant Youth breaking the law must be routinely processed through Family Court, not the Adult Criminal Justice System, as it now stands).

* Announce a specific date for the implementation of the Municipal ID program.

* Advocate to stop Federal Immigration raids, and any S.F.P.D collaboration with I.C.E. that tears Immigrant Families apart.

* Preserve funding for essential services for all, including Immigrant Youth and Families.

As I continued the painstaking process of reporting and supporting, the chants tremendously increased solidarity for the Rights of Undocumented Immigrants, deafening my eardrums:

"Who's City?"

" Sanctuary City !"

"Who's City?"

" Sanctuary City !"

"As proud San Franciscans, we're just asking for the right to be accepted." Adoubou Traore, executive director of the African Immigrant and Refugee Center said to me, amidst the crowd's chants. "If our rights are violated, there is NO due process. Africans are the most recent group of immigrants to San Francisco . We intend to fully participate in its community."

Se ve, Se siente"

"El Pueblo presente esta"

"We are greatly alarmed by what is a growing climate of fear and repression that is taking over our communities." Lamoin Werlein-Jaen from the Unite Here Local 2 Restaurant Hotel Worker's Union stated to me.

He expressed his growing concern to the crowd regarding the I.C.E raids, and the rapid, subsequent retaliation ramifications , retaliations that are often aimed at the Undocumented Immigrant Community, should they so much as demand their right to their very own Rights.

"¡Si, Se Puede!"

"¡Si, Se Puede!"

"For me, it is very significant that today's event really showed all of the suffering and struggles that the Youth, Families, and people who are affected by the raids are going through." Teresa Molina of POOR Magazine De Voces Immigrantes said, with a bit of hope towards the end to the I.C.E. raids.

"As a Christian Minister and follower of Jesus Christ, I believe that when we welcome the stranger in our midst, we are welcoming God among us." Reverend Brenda Vaca of Nueva Vida Ministries said to me "In the Christmas Season, we remember a young family wandering in the cold night looking for a warm place to rest. Jesus and his family were migrants."

There were numerous members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, themselves that were apparently in support of Migrants Day and the end to the criminalization of the Undocumented Immigrant Community:

Supervisors Chris Daly, Jake McGoldrick, Ross Mirkarimi, David Chiu, the recently elected Eric Mar, John Avalos, and David Campos were in attendance. All of them voiced their concerns, and support for Undocumented Immigrants' Rights.

Supervisor-elect David Campos for District 9 gave assurance to everyone in attendance that he would exhort his fellow board members to push towards ending the attacks on the Undocumented Immigrant Community, speaking as a former Undocumented Immigrant himself, from the country of Guatemala .

"We will NOT accept second class status!" Campos ' voice splashed into the crowd. Campos informed everyone that on January 15th, 2009, the issue of "Municipal I.Ds" and the Public Safety Committee will be presented on the Board of Supervisors' Item Agenda list for review.(On public television broadcast.)

Another S.F Supervisor Elect, Eric Mar of District ended his support speech: "Keep holding us supervisors accountable!"

by Freddy Gutierrez

one of the first things we learn to do
is move
its what we do

movement is embedded in our existence
strung on the chords of our DNA songs of resilience

SO AS WE EXIST
WE MOVE
SO WE CAN EXIST

and the people moved
see how they liberated their bodies from structure
codifying migration techniques
in what can be identified
as stylistic individuality
creating their own language
bodyrock talk
mountain top vernacular
not speaking the king's GMO tongue

for their roots are grounded points of view
achievements of existence that branch out
stemming from philosophical shifts
moving in a way that moves us
so move out our way

move out the way
for we have always been a people of movement
since our pigment was one and the same
choreography the color of rubber and leather
on the tap dancing
huarachando
feet of a young child
bound on the balls that balance
bouncing crossing
an imaginary line in the sand
off the banks of El Rio Grande
or the West Bank
or the Mississippi

the people don’t dance for pennies,
never to reinforce borders
they dance they move
for movement is at the core of our universe
contracting
expansions of biological oratorio
the people move to dance personal expression
with a vocabulary of gestures
ushering urgency for an American dream beyond the currency

the people move
like barefoot tribes
with the names of our lineage lining
the souls of self sacrifice
the Rite of Spring

the people moved
before dance became acceptable in proper society
before they wanted our arms to pick their cotton
pull their weeds
and gather harvest that we planted

the people moved
presenting point of views
cultivating a world of hues
always reflecting the contemporary climate

the people moved
as an amalgam of who they descended from
with movement initiated with emotion
expressively from our own drive
and desire for a higher standard of living
for a safe place to make their children a true face

as sons and daughters
of marginalized migrant mothers and fathers
the adepts of motion,
this friday we'll move
with the moves they taught us
mobilizing the community

for this country has an ambivalent relationship to the body
motion sickness

but little do they know
that the only cure is to keep moving
and so
we MOVE
WE MOVE
WE MOVE

by Katrina Nellisa Twila Tuokoi/PNN Indigenous Scholar

My mother is a descendant of Tongan Chiefs, Fijian princesses, German-Irish businessmen and whalers, Portuguese sailors and British midwives and Anglo-Indian housewives. She was born in the capital city Vava’u, in the Kingdom of Tonga. The island which I consider my homeland is made up of lush greenery and wide sandy beaches.

My father was a teacher, his father was a teacher, his father was teacher [whose mother was pure Samoan from Apia], and his father started the first school in Haafeva which is another in Tonga.

My ancestry and my family have always played a significant role in my identity. I always identified myself as Tongan but never lost sight that my lineage is from all over the world. But my heart is Tongan because the values Tongans cherish are the ones I cherish too. A huge value is humility, which deals with a wealth of spiritual and Godly knowledge and values rather than material and physical worth. We didn’t always have a tola, which is our equivalent of a dollar. We’ve mainly relied on the barter system, which is like a fisherman trading a bag of fish for a bag of yams from a farmer. Now we deal with white European capitalism.

However, Tonga wasn’t always this way. In fact Tonga wasn’t always Tonga. Chiefs from as far as the Solomon Islands, New Zealand and Samoa sent warriors to defend the islands. However the Dutch in 1616 came and were followed by an onslaught of many European countries to settle, send missionaries, spread their gospel, form colonies and eventually destroy the culture.

Today we have the last Polynesian Kingdom in the world. On the other hand, we have the poorest country in the South Pacific but we have the strongest cultural indentification throughout the islands. I myself was raised in America as a McDonalds kid, and all I know of my ancestry is what I’ve read in books and my one visit to Tonga at the tender age of twenty. Now I write of the degradation of these islands that outside forces have pushed upon them. What I recall now which sums up the poverty of the islands is my aunt’s paycheck when she was a nurse of twenty five years for two hundred pa’anga for two weeks, which adds up to one hundred US Dollars which U.S. nurses get paid twenty times as much.

Her husband also has been working in the medical field for almost three decades as a Physician’s Assistant and he makes a little more than she does. Though they do not make the “big bucks” that the American doctors and nurses make, they live comfortably in a split-level two-story home with three bathrooms and seven bedrooms that are inhabited by their five children, two grandchildren and various extended family and visitors from overseas. The plantation that the house sits on is home to many little gardens where the family grows several groves of food such as taro, yams, bananas, plantains, which are just to name a few. Therefore, although this “little” family that is headed by parents who are professionals makes perhaps less than a tenth of what they would in the United States and subsist off of less than $US20,000 a year for a family of 10-15 people, they are not only surviving but they are thriving.

Thus far, makes poverty not only a global issue but also a matter of perspective.

Lea ‘a Lina/Lina’s Line leaves this question for all you readers out there – What is poor? In essence, how do you define poverty? What does being poor mean to you?

by Staff Writer

Where:2926-2948 16TH STREET #301 (at Capp st- I blk below Mission st) in San Francisco

When: 12:00 5:00 pm - Saturday, January 10, 2008

Cost: $1.00 to 100.00 or anything in between.

Lunch Served @ 12:00 � Music, Karaoke, and Poetry REading All day!

Children and adults of ALL ages welcome � Multi-generational art lessons and activities will be offered by POOR Magazine and FAMILY Project teachers all day. Come and paint a part of four large Murals of Art & Inter-dependence. Paint a corner of a wall in honor of an ancestor, an elder, a child�on Inter-dependence

Donors of 25.00 or more will have an office machine officially named after them. Donors of $50.00 or more will have part of a wall named after them. Donors of $100.00 or more will have a doorway named after them. Donors of above $100 will receive a surprise�

For more information call (415) 863-6306 or online at www.poormagazine.org

POOR Magazine�s new classroom and offices are shared with fellow fighters for justice SF living wage Coalition, and CISPES.

by Tony Robles/PNN

Ain't nothin' I can
say, nothin' I can do,

I feel so bad, yeah,
I feel so blue.

I got to make it right

for everyone concerned

Even if it's me, if it
means it's me what's
gettin' burned.

"So Very Hard to go"

Tower of Power

The faces glide across the pane glass window. They come into focus and just as quickly fade. I stand inside a department store on Market Street of which I am a security guard. It is 1990 and I am a man. I remember walking down this street with my Grandma. I remember Market Street bearing scars and pockmarks created by bulldozers and jackhammers. I didn’t know what was going on. I imagined riding the Muni bus and getting swallowed up by the ground. I’d ride the bus with my eyes closed until Market Street was in the distance. I was just a kid. I didn’t know that San Francisco was making way for the Bart system. I only knew that I didn’t want to be swallowed up.

I’m dressed in my polyester security guard uniform. I look out the window at the new shopping center that has risen out of the ground. It’s the new San Francisco Shopping Center and people flock to it as if it was a religious shrine. I look out the window. Shoppers come in and out and are being watched by the cameras on the ceiling—especially the black shoppers. I was in the loss prevention department. The plainclothes officers in the department carry badges and handcuffs. I carry the polyester on my back.

I was mad at the new shopping center across the street. I was mad at the engineers, the architects, the cement masons—all of them. I was mad at the entire structure and what it represented. I saw the big cars and the tourists and the business people and the young. I saw them walk through the swinging doors. I watched the houseless people watching the shoppers carrying bags as they left. I watched.

I remembered what was there before the mall. The Emporium Department Store stood there alongside smaller businesses. I used to go to the Emporium when I was a kid to sit on Santa Claus’ lap. On the roof were carnival rides. It was a magic place.

Even more magical was a place a few doors down. It was a Chinese cafeteria called Joe Jung’s. My grandmother used to eat there. We’d walk inside and grab a tray. I’d slide the orange tray across the rail, gliding past all kinds of delicious food; chow mein, fried rice, pork noodle soup, roast beef, turkey and my favorite, lime jello with fruit cocktail. Grandma wore colorful scarves and big sunglasses. She would pay for the food and we’d sit with other Filipino elders. Grandma would talk and laugh in Tagalog. I would listen and not listen at the same time. I was busy with my lime jello. The elders would laugh while I sat slurping at it.

I didn’t know it at the time but my grandmother’s friends were survivors. They were the manongs and manangs (Filipino word of respect for elders) who came to America in the early days. I watched them eat their rice. They would look at me and smile. I wondered what they were thinking. I imagined what they looked like when they were young. It would be years later that I would see their faces in black and white pictures in a book called Liwanag—a collection of Filipino-American writing whose pages talked about our resistance as Filipinos against those who would colonize our lands and our minds. The words were written by such writers as Al Robles, Oscar Penaranda, Serafin Syquia and Lou Syquia. I remember the laughter of my elders at Joe Jung’s.

I stood looking at the San Francisco Center. I refused to go there. People told me of the massive floors and the circular escalator but I couldn’t have cared less. I still heard the laughter of my elders and the smell of chow mein and the sound my plastic tray made as it slid along the rail. I wondered what became of the elders. I wondered if the shoppers knew what had once stood in its place. I wondered what the shoppers stood for. I wondered if they would care.

© 2008 Tony Robles

by Marlon Crump/PNN

"Mama, why is no one doing anything about these killings?" asked 16 year old Takeyah Chandlier to her mom, Asale (Sala)-Haquekyah Chandlier.

Asale (Sala)-Haquekyah Chandlier looked up at her daughter as if she was witnessing the earth unfold, and vowed to her, "Baby, you will NEVER have to EVER ask me that question again. From this day forward, I will do something about these killings!"

Back in June of this year, a 15 year old kid was murdered in front of the Philip and Sala Burton High School in San Francisco, CA in broad daylight. Devastated and distraught that the killings have failed to come to a screeching halt here in San Francisco (especially in S.F neighborhoods with young men of color), Takeyah came home to her mom in tears, and cried on her chest.

The body count surrounding young men of color, as well as all young men in general in this country and (worldwide) is a plague that has become even more fatal than the AIDS virus, itself. Asale (Sala)-Haquekyah Chandlier decided to implement a vaccine to the violence that forever infects the youth, using them as its host.

Sala decided to formulate the ONE LIFE WALK.

One Life Walk is a marathon movement of communities of color to unify, and eliminate the rapid violence and homicides San Francisco, CA. It is anticipated to grow into a mass non-violent movement, and inspired by the works from the likes of Ghandi’s lead in India, King lead in the Civil Rights Movement, and many people, everywhere continue to do every year on the AIDS Walk.

"One Life Walk" is featured on Sala's radio talk show "The Real Life Mermaed."

"We have only ONE life to live." Sala would later exclaim to me during an interview." It is our responsibility to live this "One Life Walk" healthy, sane, calm, cool, and collective without embracing the violent thoughts of hurting someone else to a point of death!"

Asale (Sala)-Haquekyah Chandlier attended POOR’s monthly Community Newsroom, on December 2nd, 2008. This particular meeting was unlike any other in POOR's history, due to the significant transition that was going to be a tearful reality. All of us, staff/family of POOR Magazine/POOR News Network was being forced to move from its headquarters of the Grant Building, and all of us were going to be reminiscent of what the office space meant for them in the past.

As we all traded moments of sorrows, war stories, and solace of the office space's memories; the spirit of the late great poverty hero, "Mama" Dee Gray-Garcia (co-founder of POOR) blanketed our soul with her eternal eldership in easing the pain that plagued our reluctant hearts from having to depart from what was now the past. Her spirit silently carried our own into re-porting and su-pporting for others in another space in the future.

Sala expressed her feelings and her memories of what the space meant to her in the past, as well.

Over a week later, I conducted an interview of Sala regarding the "One Life Walk" at the San Francisco Main Public Library, in the lower level which had a cafe. Despite her encountering numerous difficulties of long traffic delays, battery death in her cell phone, and keeping track of her car's parking meter during the interview; Sala still managed to arrive and meet me. She was determined in getting "One Life Walk" out into the world.

After we both managed to drown out the sounds around us, of high heels, distinct conversations by nearby patrons, and the slight windy brushes by passer bys, the interview got underway.

I looked into the dark ocean-like eyes of Sala and concluded that this, alongside of her caramel-complexioned features, and easy smile could've easily convinced someone that she did have qualities of a mermaid 20,000 leagues under the sea, or a "Real Life Mermaed" fighting to end the endless deaths on the streets.

”Two Amazon women bad to the bone!" Sala said excitedly to me and in reference to Yolanda Banks Reed, a friend of Sala and comrade of hers in the movement. "We're talking about two justice fighters representing and fighting for equality for all, meaning giving justice where justice is due!"

"The One Life Walk is an expression of the 50s and 60s where people came together for anything that had to do with injustice." Yolanda Banks would later state to me. She also explained that there was a lack of unities in the communities of color towards combating the issues that were negatively impacting them, daily.

Sala told me that she considered herself as a "character." She referenced her qualities similarities to some of her favorite fictional characters, such as, Batgirl, Wonder Woman, Cleopatra Jones, and real life people that were her inspiration, Christie Love, Angela Davis, and Johnnie Mae Gibson who was the first African-American F.B.I Agent, Ghandi, Nelson Mandela, Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, Elizabeth (Embeth) Chambers Ranch, and her very own mother, Dorothy Davis were her life's inspiration.

Asale (Sala)-Haquekyah Chandlier was born in Chicago, IL. At age 4, she was taught by the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense on how to read. After she became grown, Asale moved to the southside of Los Angeles, CA to start her activism against the degradation of women.

The typical derogatory slurs of "bitches, sluts, tramps, and whores" yelled by young men have often fueled Sala's anger towards their damaging degradation to the reputation of young women, on a daily basis.

"I began becoming concerned about humanity issues." Sala said. "I began my work by feeding the homeless in Downtown L.A (Los Angeles) "Skid Row." I found myself concerned about what each individual had to offer within themselves from their own mother's wombs."

In 2006, Sala (and other community members) of the Bayview Hunter's Point District unsuccessfully ran for the Board of Supervisors seat of District 10 against the current incumbent, Sophie Maxwell.

"Creativity has the ability to fill our children's lives with possibilities." Sala said, in her motivational address of youth empowerment, while she and other candidates were collectively interviewed by every at POOR.

"One Life Walk" is ABOUT and COMMITTING to life." Sala explained. "It is about putting a 9-1-1 urgency on the ongoing massacres, commonly called "homicides" of our minority children, especially African-American children here in San Francisco."

"We are here to tear down the violent death thought by wearing the thought pattern of committing to life. The commonly called "African-American" people and the fabric of their foundation are built on a lie. They're not spiritually fed, but only given religion."

Sala presented a detailed explanation of what her whole definitive analogy of what religion meant to her. "Religion is only an outside deity. For example, God he, Allah he, Jesus he, the Father he, the Son he, the Devil he, and the Angel he. None of these outside gods are from within giving all credit to the patriarchal thought pattern which is based on the fatherhood doctrine which has nothing to do with the inner life."

She also is a firm believer that men are not the superior being over the women. "The Creator Eloheem (“Eloheem” is defined as “God” in Hebrew.) has given the women the divine position to be the carrier of life." Sala explained. "If these truths are not told, women will continue to give up their divine birthright. By these common sayings that the man is head of the household and the only connection to God (Eloheem) is the greatest lie ever told on Planet Earth. It is the downfall of the whole wide world.”

"If men and women don't rise to teach their children of who they really are, as boys and girls, as women and men, as husbands and wives; we will never be able to rise in humanity giving justice where justice is due and giving equality where equality is due."

I continued to listen to Sala interesting analysis of religion and thought about this more thoroughly after the interview. The question as it seemed was intended to raise awareness of how much time is spent by a human being towards studying themselves, as opposed to studying the above said gods she stated above?

The interview became even more emotional for Sala, as she further discussed for the urgent need for more community involvement to silence the violence, and the massacres (homicides as defined by corporate media) of the youths in communities of color among themselves.

Sala expressed her disgust towards the City of San Francisco's failure to end the violence and homicides (massacres) among the youth. "The children are not seeing what is really happening, tangibly."

After the unfortunate death of the young man at Philip and Sala High School, and the emotional breakdown by her daughter Takeyah; Sala felt that a higher power was calling her to do something about the violence.

"One day I awoke at 10:a.m. I woke up my daughter and said, "Get up and let's go for a walk. Takeyah got up, got dressed, and we started to walk up Latona St. While walking up Latona, we made a left turn on Bayview St. (in the Bayview Hunter's Point)."

Sala then asked her daughter, "Would you walk for your friends that have died?"

Takeyah was silent.

" I said would you walk for your friends that have died, Takeyah?" Sala asked her, with a bit of an edge in her tone of voice, and bearing a fiery blaze in her pupils. Takeyah looked upwards at her mother.

"Yes mama!" was her daughter's response.

You can meet the "Real Life Mermaed" live at "Metaphormous" on Sunday January 11th, 2009 at 5:30 p.m on 111 Minna St South of Market. (SoMa) This is also a fundraiser for youth and families. This event is aimed at raising $5,000 for the family of Elizabeth Chambers Ranch. The fee is $10.00 at the door and the contact phone# is (415) 756-5378. One Life Walk phone# is (415) 287-7481.

by Phil Adams/PNN

I’m a 25 year old mixed Latino/black male USMC veteran who lives in the East Bay. Racial profiling and police abuse of power is very real to me and in fact plays a part in my life every time I’m in a public place. I have been arrested for jay-walking and put in handcuffs without explanation and repeatedly pulled over for no reason. Police abuse is very real but for once it has gained some attention.

On January 7, Several reporters and poverty scholars from POOR Magazine/PNN re-ported and sup-ported with several thousands other organizations and folks at the demonstration at Fruitvale BART the day before Oscar Grant III's funeral. There was a large shrine taped off for the memory of Oscar Grant III. There were many lit candles and personal statements from people who knew him such as “You will be missed”.

“This has to Stop, as a black mother I can’t stand by and see our children murdered,” Queennandi, member of the welfareQUEENs of POOR Magazine and fellow staff writer spoke an impassioned scream into the mike for all young men of color.

“Let’s call them the Po’Lice,” Tiny, co-editor, and formerly incarcerated founder of POOR came up to speak ending by talking about the connection between the case of young black mother Nadra Foster’s own po-lice terror because of a call by other so-called media-justice makers at KPFA and the police terror of Oscar Grant.

The general theme for all the speakers was that we will no longer accept another missing generation of men and this injustice will not stand. Numerous chants filled the air:

"Organize or die"

"No justice, No Peace"

One thing I think all the demonstrators knew is that it’s time for change and that we as a community working in solidarity will be the only way that change can occur.

New Year’s eve 2009 a BART police officer Johannes Mehserle shot and killed Oscar Grant III in an attempt to restrain him on the Fruitvale BART platform in front of a crowded train car. BART will not release the security footage of the event and the officer has resigned so BART claims no action can be taken. Numerous videos of the slaying were taken by the cell phones and cameras of onlookers and released to various media outlets. Those are the facts.

The city of Oakland has been plagued with police brutality and mistrust of the police for decades. What do you expect from the city where the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense was founded? Being a 25 year old male of mixed racial background I have to ask people, how much things can change in a little over 40 years. This country was built on hundreds of years of slavery with vast economic gain due to free labor making it one of the most powerful nations in the world you think an addiction to free labor and money like that can just change overnight? Economic gain from free labor is the whole reason we have the most incarcerated people of any nation and we have to deal with this Orwellian police state. And that is the reason why Oscar Grant III was shot in the back in front of a crowd by a BART police officer.

Oscar Grant III was hard-working young man holding down two jobs. Oscar Grant was a father. Oscar Grant was a son.. At the protest I had the chance to interview Sharon Raffety whose son had grown up with Oscar in Hayward, CA. She reminisced on when they were younger how they used to play little league and what he was like in the second grade. Oscar grew up in a religious household, his mother was a reverend and growing up his life was steeped in the church. Sharon told me like all young men he had his share of troubles but "kids make mistakes" and like most men do he matured and went on with his life. Before Oscar was killed he worked at Farmer John’s market and a Kentucky Fried Chicken to provide for his four year old daughter who is now missing a father.

As far as I am concerned if, you shoot an unarmed person in the back you should go to jail I don’t care if its a mistake or you were angry or drunk or its a warzone, you shoot an unarmed person who isn't resisting in the back you should go to jail. But that would be equal justice. Not Just-US!

Editors Note: DUE
TO THE TERRIFYING REALITY OF GLOBAL AND LOCAL Po'LIce TERROR FROM EAST
OAKLAND TO PALESTINE TO KPFA - ONE OF THE POOR MAGAZINE MURALS CREATED
AT SATURDAY's PAY TO PAINT OPENING PARTY WILL HONOR OSCAR GRANT, IDRISS
STELLY AND ALL THE SPIRITS OF MURDERED YOUTH, ELDER AND DISABLED
SCHOLARS VICTIMIZED BY Po'LICE TERROR IN AMERIKKKA AND ACROSS THE
GLOBE!- PLEASE COME AND HELP US CREATE THIS.. BRING YOUR IMAGES OF
ANCESTORS AND FOLKS- AS WELL, HELP US CREATE THE FIRST DRAFT OF
THE DECLARATION OF INTERDEPENDENCE WHICH CALLS FOR NO ENGAGEMENT WITH
THE -Po'LICE - EVER!!!

by RWS

Time Warp

He wears a white

T shirt with a

Gold chain dangling

From his neck

Calls everybody

Homey, even the

White guys

Carries a mini

Boom box

Radio

He’s 44 years old

And has never

Held a job

He had a bad

Car accident that

Left him disabled

He now works in a

Warehouse heat sealing

Cellophane packages
courtesy

Of a job training
program

It’s his first

Gig

but his real job

Is recording cassette

Tapes

He calls them

“mix tapes”

He has all

The slow jams

From 30 years ago

He sell ‘em for

2 dollars a pop,

sometimes 3 for

5 dollars

He talked me into

Buying 2 tapes

The other day

I didn’t have the

Heart to tell him that

I don’t listen to
cassettes

Anymore

I gave it up

About 10

Years ago

All my music

Is on CD’s now

But I keep it

To myself

Guys like him

Are just like

Good music

They never go

Out of

Style

© 2008 RWS