2010

The pretty and the grizzled, the kind and the embittered, all have lives and stories they have worked hard for that with God’s bidding may help other’s. In this process I survived to learn that fear comes in many forms, flavors and textures.

This story took place between 1988 and 1995. I was a lead Communication’s Specialist with the engineering department for Swedish Hospital Medical Center. The latter five years were a nightmarish experience I will never forget nor how it affected my future after that job. It followed me to my next job where I also worked very hard only to help cause me to be equally smeared and to fall further into depression, PTSD and a finally a schizophrenic break. PTSD grows out of this interminable pressure over periods of time.

For moments I only hear the click click click of the circular clock. Industrial cool white tube lights painfully overpower my vision leaving few shadows but for edges of computers and alarm systems on the console around me.

Absently for hours I now realize I am clenching my diaghram forgetting to breathe. I look into the reflection of monitors to see who is behind me at the plexiglass window. No one is there in this moment of tense respite. Soon an engineer or team of two walking by the window mouthing unheard explicatives through sarcastic smiles or making sleazy hand motions aimed at me will appear. Who knows what new round of cruel lies and engineered derision or death threats they have spread creating an entangling web around my weary life throughout this campus juggernaut.

I worked hard to protect and prevent blowing a whistle on the dangerous fryable asbestos “life and death” issue presented to myself and another I was aware of by one of our contractors; their was great concern expressed by him on a weekly basis. He could have lost his job had he talked to anyone else other than us Communications Specialists; I thought I would surely lose mine once my steely nerves gave way and which did happen leading an eventual future of mental illness. “Asbestos is estimated to account for 3,400 to 8,500 new lung cancer cases in the United States each year. The disease type Mesothelioma is a cancer of the lining of the lung, heart or abdomen.” (Goldberg, Persky & White P.C., The Mesothelioma Center, 2010, pg. 1)

I gave my department managers and supervisors many chances to correct this issue internally. They chose instead to fake studies with negative results and lie like well-heeled politicians. There were weeks of lies to save the hospital money and perhaps a bonus. A co worker who wanted revenge against the department called in OSHA. OSHA declared the situation all over the hospital very serious and so a long period of asbestos removal began. My manager called me into his office and asked me why I had to do this? He said, “We are all going to die some day.”

It all could have been avoided if the asbestos issue had been dealt with internally. But instead management tried to save money at the health risk of its mostly oblivious staff and contractors and patients who were all unaware. We were all exposed.

Click click click goes the circular moon-shaped clock. That continuous sound pounding coffin nails by the inch into a coffin three quarters in the ground already. The sweet smell of metal combined with the dull, creamy scent of oil based paint was all that permeated the air. It felt like there was nothing organic within miles but the orange peels left in the garbage can from dinner. And possibly what was left of myself.

For the first two years I was their welcomed, bright golden boy being greased for a lead position and an eventual recommendation for management. When I later was offered the supervisor position, I refused it do to the management philosophy of “divide and conquer” of the workforce and how they tried to make them feel “alone and on edge” so to avoid their uniting as a team and to close the union shop.

I feel as though I am waiting for Godot in a bank vault mausoleum. Ironically, the dispatch office used to be an old bank vault before Swedish gobbled it up. With the continual character assassination caused by lies fed to the hospital and human resources to get rid of me; also human resources lead me on that I could transfer to another department without any real intention of ever helping me at all; I felt my days of work to pay my bills, survive, and pay my college loans back were numbered and that I would end up pretty soon joining the growing numbers on the streets. A whistleblower basically has the “perspective of one who has been pushed not just out of the organization but halfway out of society, ending up with no career, no savings, no house, and no family.” (C. Fred Alford, Whistleblowers, Broken Lives and Organizational Power, pgs. 97-98)

Everywhere I see the maze of gray and white sprayed walls support this life-sucking fortress known as Swedish Medical Center . I feign a joke and a practical laugh to someone needing help at the window to my aft. Their ghostly eyes a disappearing reflection on the battery of monitors. For the next jump of time, I furiously dispatch needed work on the phone, respond to orchestras of unrelated and related alarms and finish writing work orders and organize calls for an undeserving skeleton crew of engineers.

Did I tell you I also did call cord repairs to help out Biomed, repaired canister vacuum cleaners and made extension cords for environmental services, and helped the engineers with an array of patient room needs, repairs in mechanical rooms and jump starts for desperate customers and staff wanting to depart. I did this to help get a break out of the dispatch office but to also help work get done expeditiously to help workers get their equipment back so they could get their work done in a timely manner. My goal was to aid other department’s desperate needs and keep work from being left waiting or forgotten in the daytime jumble. Yes, in addition I wrote all the training manuals and trained and oversaw the staff as a lead Communications Specialist.

Does that make me valuable? Since no one else bothered to do work to my knowledge beyond their job descriptions you might think so. Did my honed sense of humor gain points? Enough that they would pick me off slowly with an array of lies used as slow torture like how it was spread that I had AIDS disease, that I was gay, dumb, mean, evil—any lie they could use to make me a leper in the Swedish community. I forced snickers and cruel stares everywhere I went and most people stopped being friendly, or even talking to me. I was alone in that prison to face whatever cruelty they chose to dish out. Human Resources even asked me if I was going to ever get married? Even though I am straight, this was an illegal question they asked to see if I was gay which is what they perceived me as do to the lies and smear campaigns spread about me. SMC was known to be anti-homosexual. I stood up for gay worker's rights and anyone being targeted the best I could. I tried to put an end to the targeting of others (those before me as well until my number was called; I tried to put an end to this) so it would not happen in the future to other’s. This was an additional issue to the asbestos issue. When the lead engineer (who was a married, closet homosexual) took out his anger and frustrations on me, I tried to defend myself and could not get help. I was foolish to believe Human Resources would help. Instead when the lead swingshift engineer and other engineers next turned on me and targeted me, Human Resources turned on me as well because they went with the majority as it became too difficult to band-aid this disasterous situation. The other engineers were afraid of angering the lead, so they were forced to turn on me as well. I hoped to pay off my college loans and survive financially as I had no one to turn to, before I was destroyed by the smear campaign and falsely fomented rage aimed at me. A lot of this cruel targeting was caused by a really ignorant day dispatcher as well who had connections to the HR department and the Director's secretary. I just had to continue working under fire and kept it light with as much humor as I could conjure. It was only a matter of time as I was psychologically slipping away and would be permanently politically ruined and forced into banishment. “As a psychopathic creature, the corporation can neither recognize nor act upon moral reasons to refrain from harming others. Nothing in its legal makeup limits what it can do to others in pursuit of its selfish ends, and it is compelled to cause harm when the benefits of doing so outweigh the costs.” (Joel Bakan, The Corporation, the Corporation, the Pathological Pursuit of Profit and Power, pg. 60)

Click click click went the mechanized cricket, a reminder that 5 hours in a frenzy of crazed, but mindful zen action engaged in the flow went by in what seemed like a few minutes. It is the end of a long shift (sometimes double shift) where I now gather my belongings robotically and flee this elongated coffin into the shadowy night’s bustle.

Shifting about at the bus stop, I restlessly gazed about at what the lamplit night might bring hoping to not be a victim of violence (I had been mugged and witnessed Crip gang attacks on my bus and in a bar where I lived) before the warm, lonely oasis of Metro arrived. I no longer hear the tick tocking of the dispatch clock and yet woke to the fact I am tense still and reluctant to breathe. With a large, forced exhultation of breath, I jumpstarted myself allowing color to return to my translucent face.

Over the years I would face repeated sexual harassment from the lead engineer and a seriously hostile work environment*; a collective attack on my person. Once collapsing from this job my despoiled reputation would be spread to my next job down Broadway at Safeway where I was then again targeted and driven to a schizophrenic break. My depression was pounded into PTSD which was pounded into a psychotic break over this course of years. Imagine this after knowing and being repeatedly told by your workers and management that you are the best communications specialist they had in the position. I oversaw all the dispatching employees with genuine care and concern. This series of events and attacks left me nearly homeless and in a state of isolation and complete desolation.

My parents and friends were freightened by my experiences and could not believe anyone would treat me that way. They knew what a kind soul I was. They were deep in denial. They repeatedly dismissed me and my serious troubles as if nothing were really wrong each time we met and that to mention it was a burden for them that they did not want to hear. They did not want to be bothered with the details either and so years of terror were dismissed with the proverbial wave of their hand. All the time I had become just a paycheck away from homelessness. I fell into a space where I was mostly alone and for almost a year I hardly could get out of bed. I had been diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder, while my psychiatrist overlooked the crucial clinical depression and PTSD which was hardly recognized at the time thinking that only happened to war veterans. I spiraled further into darkness and there was little remorse.

Tick tick tick, How will I sleep tonight? How can I face a succession of tomorrow’s with no hope? I didn't realize this yet, but this was to be only the beginning of a series of nightmares that would last the next twenty years...

*Any action that materially affects the value of your job is an adverse employment action. A discharge is clearly adverse. A demotion, cut in pay, denial of promotion (if someone else gets that promotion), or denial of benefits would also be considered adverse. The Department of Labor will also recognize a claim against a "hostile work environment," although courts still disagree about what employer actions would make the workplace sufficiently "hostile." Other employer actions that have been held to be adverse and therefore against the law, include a refusal to hire or rehire, blacklisting, reduction in work hours, reassigning work, transfer, denial of overtime, assignment to undesirable shifts, reprimands, threats to discharge or blacklist, providing unfavorable reference, damaging financial credit, close supervision, unpleasant assignments, evicting from company housing, and a sudden drop in evaluation scores after the protected activity.

latest poem in reflection of 1995
I propose we listen
and not lie, hearing
feathery logic simply undone, lingering
between each morbid sigh.
I know what it is to caste the lowest die, ignored
for ignoble lattitudes, impertinent
energy from eltist idioms.
Impressed I am
into confined crystaline stature;
burned to ashes my pitiful sum.
and then blood sprays bright red
turbidly with new found
turgid fingers, full of life
and handfuls of joy,
bursting, releasing
from my old scuttled hulls,
screaming through shackled stature of
personally impaled statues;
ignored for a clutching century of
personally held breath, gasping
for new gathered life, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh .

Check out these articles and more on our sister sites at Real Change and the International Network of Street Newspapers: INSP Vendor Blog: http://www.insp-blog.org/ INSP Main Website: http://www.street-papers.org/ Real Change Blog: http://www.insp-blog.org/realchange/ Real Change Main Website: http://www.realchangenews.org/ 

The San Francisco Building and Planning Commissions are attempting to fast-track a new condominium construction project, slated to replace a long-dead gas station and active Green Cab parking lot on the north-east quarter of the intersection of 16th Street and South Van Ness Avenue.  This involves the Mission Plan of the Eastern Neighborhoods Plan, and is a violation of it.  Housing for the poor (30% of AMI—Area Median Income—rent paid) is a priority.  In small print, but it’s there!

Two blocks away, at 14th and Mission Streets, is Senior-only housing; the Mission Hotel, a Single Room Occupancy (SRO) building, is half a block away--with another 100 or so resident seniors.  Most of them walk with canes.  The proposed structure will have 88 condos and a 44 space garage in the basement, an increase in traffic generating more respiratory illness in a population already suffering more than its fair share—along with more traffic period, more cars to worry about crossing the street, etc.

16th Street, from So. Van Ness to Mission, frequently hosts film festivals.  The block is less gentrified than others, but that is changing too, as POOR magazine poverty scholars can see from a third story window of the Redstone Building.  New nightclubs, more noise at night, fewer of the original businesses and residents of the area around. 

Small businesses on the 2nd and 3rd floors of the Redstone Building will lose fresh air (ventilation) from their windows, which will increase the odds of catching respiratory diseases (colds, etc) for the people working in those offices.  Residents of the neighborhood on Capp, between 16th and 15th Streets, will endure 2 years of construction noise and pollution.  There is an elementary school, with a (concrete) playground behind the 16th and Mission Walgreens store, on this block of Capp Street as well, half a block from Ground Zero.  Active construction sites, with lots of large moving parts (trucks, etc) are not good for children, who do not respond to stimuli around them the same way adults do.

The Green Cab Company will likely be forced to close.  There aren’t many alternative spaces in the city available, considering all the other Eastern Neighborhoods (and other areas) construction activity going on, the fact that the (local) taxi industry is highly competitive and the awarding of Taxi Medallions is a whole other story (perhaps a novel-length work) all by itself!

Readers of these poverty scholars’ words here have an opportunity to make a difference in how the Mission Plan of the Eastern Neighborhoods Plan is dealt with.  You can contact Jeanie Poling, an Environmental Planner in San Francisco’s Planning Department.  The address is 1650 Mission Street, Suite 400, SF, CA  94103.  Contact by phone is:  415-575-9072 (fax # 415-558-6409).  Poling’s email address is:  jeanie.poling@sfgov.org The address of the condo project is 490 So. Van Ness Avenue, the case number of it is #2010.0043E. 

Capitalism pushes the cult of individualism. But true wealth comes from family, connectedness and giving (and that doesn't mean presents...).


I hold the world…
or try to…
 
on my broken back ..

I have carried worlds and toasters –
the guts of a hundred evictions, couches and king-sized beds
and everything else- 
…on my broken back

I have carried the love of some people and the disdain of others
the hate of a thousand landlords, welfare workers,  
and a few hundred angry creditors..
and my broken family….
….on my broken back….

— excerpt from My broken back by tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia

Interdependence – what is it really? In a capitalistic society raised on the cult of independence and the notion that an individual's personal advancement are the most important thing to strive for, how can we really comprehend — or more importantly, practice — true interdependence?What are our personal models of interdependence? And as we approach the co-opted and colonized Christmas holidaze — or what I now have dubbed Capitalismas — how will those of us trying to be practitioners of interdependence translate some sense of spirit and true care-giving to our families and communities?

Mine is a story of survival common to many families subsisting in poverty all over the world. My mother was a poor woman of color who was one paycheck away from homelessness.  When she lost her job and became disabled it was necessary that I drop out of school in the sixth grade, at age 11, so I could work to support us. Contrary to Western (US) capitalist standards where healthy families are made up of individuals whose personal advancement and fulfillment are considered paramount, I am honored that I could help my family, that I could help my mother, and like poor children all over the world, I am aware that without my help she would not have made it.

I learned by default that the core concept of interdependence is sacrifice, sacrifice not for ones' self, but for others —not in a minimal, time limited, "I've got to go on with my life, you are holding onto me, holding me up, or just plain holding me" kinda way — but in a selfless, "I love you, you raised me, you are my elder, my child, I am there for you" way.

These values didn't come to me easily, for the first part of my life I was raised on US television, US schools, washed re-visionist, Euro-centric history perpetrating US values of independence, ageism, separation, and individualism  It wasn't until my early twenties when I was blessed to study with ethnic studies scholars that I began to articulate my values about family and togetherness, eldership and care-giving, to realize that my struggle to care for my mom by any means necessary could be viewed as resistance and heroism, or just plain normal.  It was here that I started to claim my own voice.

Everything began to re-defined, rooted out and examined, especially notions of mental and community health.  I re-examined my own organic decision to care for my mama as an adult within new contexts: From a western psycho-therapeutic perspective, my mom suffered from a mental illness. But from the perspective of almost every non-western culture from Asia to Africa and all in between, nobody is ever left alone, the way they are in the U.S.  Here, alone-ness, "independence" is valued as a virtue, a strength, a form of normalcy, a barometer for sanity — whereas in other cultures togetherness, the group, the collective, is the norm. So, from a non-western belief system — or "deep structure" as they say in Black psychology — did my mama really have a mental illness, was there even such an "illness" I wondered, or did we as a society have an insane and twisted notion of what sanity was? Perhaps my mother's worst problem was that she had no extended family. 

The Homefulness Project at POOR Magazine was born from the struggle and resistance of a poor people-led/indigenous people-led movement to self-determination and has been built on our indigenous values of  intergenerational teaching and sharing, eldership, and interdependence. These are revolutionary concepts within a US capitalist,individualistic system.

A system based on dominant US culture alone inhibits community love and care-giving, pathologizes togetherness as co-dependence, perpetuates isolation, and at best, ghettoizes people in need, people alone, people no longer seen as productive. And just in case you are fraught with any kind of pain or guilt for your lack of caring, involvement or sacrifice for your elders or family, you can resolve it with a Capitalismas gift 

To truly comprehend, integrate and practice interdependence, we must look into our own lives, families and communities. Are you encouraging or enabling, even if by default, an elder in your life to be incarcerated in a senior ghetto or have separated yourself from your children's lives and/or education? Are you making decisions based solely on what fits with your time, your future, your success?  And finally, at this time of year when we are supposedly filled with some sense of spirit and love rooted in an indigenous, Christian, Jewish, or pagan tradition, the most important question remains:  What, if any, connections, efforts or real sacrifices, are you making in your life for others?

Tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, poverty scholar, poet, lecturer, revolutionary journalist, daughter of Dee and mama of Tiburcio is the co-founder of POOR Magazine and the author of Criminal of Poverty: Growing Up Homeless in America, published by City Lights Foundation.

Read about Homefulness- launched on the values of Inter-Dependence more: http://www.poormagazine.org/homefulness

Students who attended the Genoa Industrial School for Indian Youth in Nebraska in 1910, when this photograph was taken, were mostly Sioux, placed off the reservation and away from their families. The Indian Child Welfare Act reacted against this long history of displacement as well as against the Indian Adoption Project of the 1950s and 1960s.

“I have been working in the Housing Authority for over twenty years, we do not work with Indians, Indian tribes, or the Indian Child Welfare Act. Never have...never will”, said Myron Standing Bear, father of two and Native American social worker, as he repeated the words said to him by a case worker at the San Francisco Housing Authority to POOR Magazine’s Indigenous News-Making Circle. This horrible sentence launched his families’ journey to his current state of homelessness

Mr. Standing Bear, who suffers from congestive heart failure, has been living out of his car with his two disabled teenage sons, who like him are members of the Oglala Lakota Sioux Nation. He was granted guardianship of his two sons by his tribe, a sovereign nation located in South Dakota, under the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA). The ICWA is a federal law that seeks to keep American Indian children with American Indian families. Congress passed ICWA in 1978 in response to the extremely high number of Indian children being removed from their homes by both public and private agencies.

In August of 2009, the family was informed of their approved Section 8 Voucher, a list they had been on for 11 years. Upon finding a home, however, they were told by their worker that they were immediately being taken off of the Section 8 housing list where they had reached rank #1 and put on the Public Housing list where they are currently number 564.

On September 16th, 2010 a meeting took place between Mr. Standing Bear, two S.F.H.A administrative officials, and an advocate for the S.F. Coalition on Homelessness. At this meeting, he was told by one of the officials that none of his supporting documents that were issued to him through the Sioux Tribal government, were “legal and binding." This included his documentation of guardianship, a letter of recognition by the Oglala Lakota Sioux Nation, and even a will signed by three witnesses--licensed attorneys with a notary seal. The terms of his will were that Standing Bear will have guardianship of his two sons until their 21st Birthday.

Because of this denial of services based on discrimination by the S.F. Housing Authority, he and his two sons have been forced to live in a car.

As I listened to the horrible tragedy of Myron, I was reminded of my great grandfather who is member of the Sioux Nation and how the history and herstory of native peoples in the US is riddled with struggle, theft and resistance, and how we must advocate outside and around all of these government systems of oppression if we want to get any justice. At POOR Magazine we have implemented the UN declaration on Indigenous Peoples as a resistance document for native peoples struggling with false borders, globalization and the abuses of the rights of indigenous peoples across Pachamama in poverty.

“I have been an advocate for my people for the last 17 years, I know what my rights are, and yet it seems like I can’t get any justice,” Myron’s voice faltered as he concluded, “I am only trying to get the basic human rights of housing for my family.”

Burgers, Fries and Hegemony: An Unhappy Meal

By Revolutionary Worker Scholar

Fast food. There was a time when there were no fast food restaurants in San Francisco. The closest fast food establishments to the city were McDonalds and Taco Bell—both located in South San Francisco. My father would take me there once in a while—an occasional excursion—a treat, but it never took the place of the Filipino food we ate at home. I remember the first fast food restaurant in ever saw in the city—in 1974 or so—a Jack in the Box on the corner of 7th and Market Streets. It looked strangely out of place, almost adolescent with its candy lights among the more adult and long-established businesses. Somehow, the presence of a fast food restaurant seemed beneath the elegance that was Market Street.

I’d gone downtown to attend a training session of a new job I’d gotten and arrived early so I walked into the Jack ‘n The Box on First Street for a cup of coffee. The restaurant was empty, except for one other person. I sat down wearing a sport jacket, white shirt, tie and cheap shoes I’d gotten from payless during a two for one promotion. In short, I looked like a midwest funeral director minus the pasty skin.

I waited at the counter. The crew was all Raza women, their voices in Spanish confined within walls of tile mixed with bubbling, splattering grease and running water—every other word submerged in kitchen noise, finally managing to escape through the front door. I took my coffee, 2 creams and 3 packs of sugar and started writing in my journal. I was writing my thoughts about people who had come before me—my elders—the community of poets whose voices spoke out against gentrification in Manilatown, Fillmore, Hunters Point--whose voices still cry out in resistance to the demolition of the Transbay Terminal--a mere 2 blocks away from where I sat nursing my coffee, privileged to be able to write my thoughts.

A few minutes went by. An African descended man of about 60 years of age walked in and sat a few yards away. He sipped coffee and kept to himself--engaging in a dialogue with someone whose presence I could not see but feel. I looked at the man’s stained clothes, his backpack and worn suitcase. He spoke with a deep twang mixed with laughter, words flowing like a river from some region that is forgotten but moving quietly under a night sky so deep that it lives in our dreams. I couldn’t make out with the man was saying. But as POOR Magazine co-founder Mama Dee used to say, it was one of those conversations that go way back, where the words that didn’t get said come up for air and do not get resolved but rather, dissolve.

10 minutes or so went by when the door to the kitchen area opened. A woman’s voice rang out “You have to go now!”  The African descended elder looked at the woman. Why do I got to leave? He asked. The door closed. The man picked up his coffee and bags and headed to the door. I followed and asked him how much he paid for the coffee. He told me it was a senior coffee. He told me his name was James. My father’s name is James, my best friend’s is too. I never met a James I didn’t like.

“Why was this man asked to leave?”

I posed this question to the restaurant manager, a Raza woman in her mid 30’s. She was dressed in a Jack ‘n the Box blue issue uniform. We have a 30-minute seating limit, she answered, pointing to a sign that said 30 minutes. I informed the woman that I had been sitting in the restaurant longer than the man—why hadn’t I (With my Mid-west funeral director attire) been asked to leave? She explained that the man frequents the restaurant and that, despite seeming well-behaved at the moment—had assaulted her employees and caused disturbances. “These people make trouble in my restaurant” she said. These people? It was heartbreaking to hear her talk this way. I told her that the man was a paying customer and that he was entitled to sit and enjoy his coffee just like any other paying customer.  I also added to the good lady that it was not her restaurant and not her employees. She just looked at me and recited store policy, as if it were some kind of ancient and Holy Scripture. I told her I was not going to patronize the restaurant in the future and that I’d urge others to do likewise.

When I finished speaking I turned towards James. He was gone. As I left and headed to my appointment, I saw the Transbay Terminal that is being torn down to make way for a new transportation hub. What happened to the houseless, landless people that used to sleep on its benches and scale its stairs? How many of them have been asked to leave, how many are in jail, how many have died? Is there no room left to have a cup of coffee, a moment of pause—at least one inch of this earth where we can truly be human?

© 2010 Revolutionary Worker Scholar

Navajo Nation Council Tables Water Rights Settlement
Grassroots Dine’ (Navajo) Vow to Stand Against Oppression
 
WINDOW ROCK, AZ – Due to pressure from the community, the Navajo Nation Council decided to put off voting on the Northeastern Arizona Indian Water Rights Settlement Agreement (NAIWRSA) and gave one week for public review but did not specify what the review would look like. The Council is set to consider the legislation again on Friday, October 8th but the date is subject to change.
 
Legislation No. 0422-10, also known as NAIWRSA, sponsored by Council Delegate George Arthur has faced increasing community criticism in the last few weeks.
 
More than 160 concerned Dine’ (Navajo) marched, rallied and then packed the council chambers to send the message for the council to “VOTE NO!” on the water rights settlement. Children, elders, parents, students and others from throughout the Navajo Nation joined together in chanting, “Water is life! Save our Future!”
 
NAIWRSA was created by lawyers including a non-native, Stanley Pollack, with the Navajo Nation as an attempt to resolve water rights claims of the Navajo Nation and Hopi Tribe for water from the Little Colorado River and from the lower Colorado River.
 
Dine’ community members have raised concerns that NAIWRSA gives the Navajo Nation only 31,000 acre-feet per year of 4th Priority Colorado River water, which would not be available in times of drought, and would require more than $500 million of new federal funding to pay for pipeline infrastructure to deliver water to communities in need. The federal funding would have to be appropriated by U.S. Congress.
 
One pipeline would be built to send Colorado River water from Lake Powell on the Arizona-Utah border to the reservation.
 
During the special session Hope Macdonald Lonetree, Council Delegate from Tuba City, raised concerns on the council floor regarding the document as being flawed & different than what was presented to the Navajo Nation committees. Specifically, exhibit A was not located in the agreement and the issue of the agreement being distributed to delegates moments before the meeting. She motioned for the agenda item to be stricken from the agenda but failed to gain votes.
 
Delegate Amos Johnson motioned to table the legislation and to give one week for council delegates to take the agreement back to their communities for review. 49 voted in support, 32 against with 7 not voting.
 
“It is appropriate for the Navajo Nation to consider Hogan level family’s water rights and they have an obligation to do that, to take it to the communities for their input which has not been the case,” stated Milton Bluehouse Sr. former Navajo Nation President. “The more informed the people are the better the decision will be made, with respect to their rights.”
 
Hope Macdonald Lonetree asked, "Why would we waive our rights to the water for just a promise of federal funding, when we know historically the appropriations have not come to Navajo?"
 
“Why was there no deliberate and detailed consultation with the affected Dine' communities?” said R Begay a concerned Dine'. “Why has this process been so secret? What does Stanley Pollack have to hide? This is an extension of colonialism and genocide against our people. We will stand against this oppression.”
 
“The most important thing to show our leaders is that we are watching them, we are making sure that they are accountable to their communities and what we hold sacred as Dine’ people,” stated Kim Smith, resident of St. Michaels. “Water is an essential part of our way of life, our ceremonies, our livestock and most importantly, it’s our future. We are calling on all Dine’ people who value their future, their sacred water to join us when the council goes back into session and let them know we want them to VOTE NO!”
 
Concerned citizens for Dine’ Water Rights along with organizations such as Dine’ Care, To’ Nizhoni Ani’, Black Mesa Water Coalition, Council Advocating an Indigenous Manifesto, ECHOES, and others are calling for another rally and march at the next council session.
 
The date and time have not yet been set. Visit www.dinewaterrights.org for further details.
 
“This movement to oppose the Arizona Water Settlement is about our children, and we will not waive their water rights, not now not ever,” Stated Ron Milford, a concerned citizen with Dine’ Water Rights.
 
“Only one percent of the water in this world is water we can consume,” stated Daniel Tulley a Dine’ student from Phoenix who made the trip with a caravan of ASU students to Window Rock to voice his concerns. “Worldwide water shortages are facing us, we need to protect what we have here, because it is sacred and we need to protect it for future generations.” 

A letter from Mama Dee to the Poverty, Race and Media Justice mentees at POOR Magazine

We have read all of your applications. Many of you have had access and privilege beyond anything we, a poor, mixed race, single mama and daughter and many of our fellow poverty skolaz we work, advocate for and struggle with, have every known.

Many of you have had exciting extracurricular and postgraduate volunteer work. Exciting is the operative word here. Some of you have had well-paying and interesting jobs as well.

When I see that kind of race and class privilege experienced by people, some still in their 20s and contrast it with all of us poverty skolaz, in their 30s, 40s, 50s and more, who have never had the opportunities most of you have had, I am almost at a loss for words and thoughts.

You owe so much and yet I do not want to see people helping others out of guilt because it often becomes nothing more than positivism, something you can forget when you go back to the next interesting job or advanced education program.

We, the originators of POOR , have come from poverty and only because of our intelligence and an ability to organize our thoughts, itself a form of privilege, have we been able to take these experiences from poverty, racism and suffering and be at one with them, to create this grassroots organization that hopefully gives opportunity to others who have experienced similar backgrounds.

Do you have the ability, I wonder, to understand the nuances of your access and privilege? Your health, your optimism, your dental care and on and on and on

We need people who have the ability to understand the subtle and not so subtle differences between yourselves and the people with whom we work.

I wasn't impressed by your insights on your applications. I didn't get the feeling that you were in touch with what I'm talking about.

It is possible for you to learn. However, places like Global Exchange that provide exciting volunteer work for people with privilege to keep them stimulated and excited is not what we are here at POOR.

There is a lot, a lot, a lot of drudgery in poverty- very little intellectual or creative stimulation. Much sadness and much, much frustration and isolation.

What can you do about this?

Beyond all else you need to see those tiny differences that occur between yourself and those that exist in poverty. That is the beginning.

We at POOR need people like yourselves that can do the frustrating tedious chores like grant writing and other types of fundraising as well as other administrative work. You need to pay your dues with work that is not very exciting. Working with the political events and assisting impoverished and disenfranchised people in writing from their voice and their experience is the exciting part. Even copyediting for these folks is more interesting than some of the day-to-day frustrations of maintaining our vision.

If you are interested in being here at POOR, you will be required to help with both, whether or not, you are bored, annoyed or frustrated. It is part of running a grassroots organization and it is what we do.

You can benefit by using your strength and optimism and abilities that have come to you from privilege and access to help us and I hope that, at least in part, you experience some of the boredom, frustration that we have experienced. That, in fact, you do not feel intellectually stimulated. That you are annoyed and have a pervasive sense of hopelessness from feeling overwhelmed like us and the people with whom we work.

From these feelings you will learn about poverty. Be thankful if this happens to you. Include them in your resume. They are more meaningful than any travels in India, Africa or other faraway places with strange sounding names, Ivy League college degrees or honor's from the dean's list, Phi Beta Kappa or Magna Cum Laude, stimulating and informative college classes, books with new and edgy thinking or any of the cumulative warm and happy holidays that you've experienced with family and friends.

I did not see any mention of this kind of experience on your resumes. I did see a lot of near cliches about wanting to "help" people.

I suppose you have gotten in the habit of writing this kind of resume because it is what graduate schools and good jobs require, but if you work here at POOR I would want you to rewrite your resume including these feelings based on your experience here and then convince future employers that this is in fact the way a resume should be written.

If you want to work at POOR you can let us know in writing how you understand what we expect of you. Do tell us what you think you can learn here as well.

Debajo en Espanol

Our family of POOR Magazine poverty, race, migrant, disability, youth and indigenous scholars hold in our collective hearts the pain of Oscar Grant’s mama and all the mamaz and daddys and tio’s y tias, y abuelas y abuelos who have lost children to the culture of deadly force, abuse and murder called the Police in Amerikkka.

Brother Oscar Grant, along with Ayana Jones, Idriss Stelley, Amadou Diallo, Sean Bell, their families and so many more victims of Po’Lice terror are honored on our altar of ancestor heroes in resistance at POOR Magazine. We send our prayers of healing and deep love. And with the utmost respect for the mama and families, we also stand in solidarity with many thousands of families and community members who are collectively screaming Enough!. No more killing of our babies, racial profiling and harassment of our communities No more lies about protection, and service. No MORE po’lice terror EVER!.

So is a world without para-military occupying soldiers, rooted in white supremacy, trained to kill, armed with weapons of mass destruction and sworn to loyalty to each other's protection above all else, possible?

For the masses of corporate media propagandized, born and bred into the cult of independence, institutional and structural racism and the bootstraps mentality it might not be.

US dominant culture works hard to separate and alienate our elder’s scholarship and traditions from our youth’s minds, our cultures out of and away from our communities and our ancestors teachings crushed and replaced by lies of wealth and privilege for all. We are taught  that our own personal happiness is of the utmost importance, that everything needs to happen immediately, and simply and our happiness is tied to how much we have and own not how much we know and how many people we are caring for.  We do nothing as a society to truly care, protect and hold our women and mothers and children so there is NEVER abuse of a woman or a child by someone so lost in their own struggle and or addiction that they perpetuate violence on the people they love.

Can we envision ourselves collectively, interdependently, dreaming and holding our ancestors teachings?

How does this happen. It begins with us breaking through the hypocrisy of our own lives on the daily. Recognizing our own impulse to resort to po’lice calls in situations of struggle cause it’s easier and faster to solve a “difficult problem” But of course it’s much deeper than that

As an indigenous people-led, poor people led, family created, arts organization, launched by a landless, indigenous mother and daughter in poverty POOR Magazine practices ancestor worship, eldership, care-giving and interdependence with a mandate of no Po’Lice calls ever. We have implemented a Community Council process based on our indigenous teachings which includes a meeting of all peoples involved in a conflict meeting for as long as it takes to hear everyone’s perspective with ground rules of respect and love and care-giving and inter-dependence.

And this process is always lengthy and messy and sad and strange and revelatory and beautiful. It’s not perfect, and always extremely difficult. But why shouldn’t it be. Why would or should solving human personal and organizational struggles ever be easy.

As a mother of a young child, and a survivor of both domestic violence and child sexual abuse, I am most concerned about how women and children aren’t protected in this society and I realize that we have much to learn about caring and protecting all of Creator’s peoples.

POOR Magazine’s Community Council is only one humble, in-organization example of people-led accountability, there is much to learn from other people-led accountability projects such as the Audrey Lorde Project , Alwaysasafespace and CUAV, as well as revolutionary concepts and ideas from groups like Critical Resistance and Incite.

But it really begins with re-thinking all of these things and the ways in which so many of us have been informed, taught, racialized and lied to about the notion of  safety and security itself. And how security has been equated with guns and walls and batons and tasers and then this concept of so-called security is used by multi-national corporations like Halliburton and Blackwater to make money on the backs of our fear and our desire for a simple answer to that fear.

Finally it is most important to remember that we are people, with culture, spirit, love and care and protection hard-wired in us. We must work harder, think deeper, dream bigger, love stronger to care for each other inter-dependently. Always.

En Espanol

POOR columnist and police brutality survivor, Marlon Crump tells about his legal battle against the SFPD.

Marlon Crump

PNN Tuesday, November 20, 2007;

"There is nothing more frightening, more scary, more terrifying than someone opening and coming through your door..........unannounced."

Last year the San Francisco Chronicle ran a month long series entitled "Use of Force" in which they chronicled past events of misconduct by the San Francisco Police Department. At the time, my case was still being investigated by the police oversight agency, the Office of Citizens Complaints (O.C.C) so nothing was written regarding my own brutal encounter with S.F.P.D members.

Just last month, the two-year anniversary of my worst police encounter occurred. On October 7th 2005 a dozen members of the S.F.P.D. stormed the AllStar Hotel, single room occupancy on 16th/Folsom Streets, where I still live. It was almost midnight. I was in my room, preparing to leave to pick up some food from the store with my food stamp card when suddenly my door lock clicked opened.

The next thing I knew, I was staring down the barrels of numerous guns carried by a squad of officers yelling obscenities at me. This is an image that will be forever seared into my memory and one that still haunts me to this day. One of the officers was a young short Filipino man, with a receding hairline named Officer Angel G. Lozano, I would later learn he had falsely prompted his assisting fellow officers and their commanding personnel of his "possible location of a black male armed robbery suspect, wearing a long black leather coat" at the AllStar.

Prior to his "capture" of me, he was with another fellow officer, a short Chinese man with a dark crew-cut named Raymond Lee.

Both officers swore to the AllStar Hotel Resident Manager, Robert Williams that I was a suspect in a robbery and that they needed a spare room key for my unit. By this time, nearly a dozen officers had arrived onto the premises. Despite the protests by Mr. Williams, he finally relented and relinquished my spare room key to the officers.

All of this was occurring as I sat inside my room preparing to go to the supermarket, unaware of the near-death experience that awaited me and forever changed my life. After a negative identification by the witnesses and victims of the armed robbery incident that took place in the area, Officer Angel Lozano was ordered on his walkie-talkie to let me go, and he gave me back my spare room key.

The very moment the police stormed my SRO, I knew that every single police procedural protocol was shattered--civil and privacy rights. Everything in my life was torn apart in that instant, just like the rip inside of my long leather black trench coat. I needed to seek retribution from a legal perspective, as I wasn't the type to always march with a picket sign, or violently fight back.

Justice doesn't ultimately mean having to resort to illegal or violent means. I would speak out against the injustices I endured by speaking truth, even if it meant a long hard struggle. After making a complaint with the Office of Citizen's Complaints, I filed a California Government Tort Claim against the City and County of San Francisco, on October 14th, 2005.

An investigator named Sandra Garcia was assigned to my claim and about two months after the initial filing and the incident, it was denied. "I spoke to a sergeant of the Mission District Station and they stated there was probable cause to detain you and no officer did any damage to your coat. He recommended that your claim be denied, Mr. Crump." I really wasn't surprised by this initial denial.

Throughout my ordeal, I've learned that just about any city government agency and police department will go through any lengths, even if it's a violation of state or even federal law to conceal any of its member's wrong doings, and ultimately, to discourage a complainant from demanding accountability.

I began attending a weekly meeting at San Francisco City Hall held every Wednesday by seven members of the Board of San Francisco Police Commissioners, which governs the SFPD and the Office of Citizen's Complaints. I also learned that unwarranted intrusions into an S.R.O tenant's room happened frequently and I decided to raise this issue to the police commissioners.

During the next two years I frequently attended, my case of unwarranted action by S.F.P.D members was sustained last year, and I pursued a civil action against San Francisco as a pro se litigant this year. I was also anticipating some sort of disciplinary action to be brought towards Lozano, Lee, and the rest of the officers of the Mission District Station that took part in that course of action.

Unfortunately, because of last year's right-wing/patriotic U.S. Supreme Court ruling of Copley Press in San Diego, a ruling that prevents a citizen from accessing a police officer's complaint history, or being present at a police review hearing during an intended disciplinary action upon an officer accused of misconduct; I may never know what discipline, if any was ever imposed upon Officer Lozano and his assisting personnel officers. This very ruling still causes a great controversy. I did, however, discover that Officer Angel G. Lozano has a past history of misconduct.

After viewing an old archive last year on S.F.GOV website, I found out that there was possibly disciplinary action against him in May and December of 2001, but of course, with Copley Press and certain provisions in State Law and the Peace Officer's Bill of Rights, I was able to access very little.

It took me nearly seven months to even obtain a police report regarding the officer's conduct upon me. I received the practiced responses over and over again. "Oh it's a slow process", or it might be "privileged information" or "your case is still being investigated". It was only after constant complaining at the police commission hearings that I finally received a copy of the original from Hall of Justice.

After examining the document, I was even more certain of Officers Lozano and Lee's lying. A huge paragraph in the "Narrative" section of the report, regarding the dialog between Lee, Lozano, and resident manager Robert Williams was blackened out. Why? Because there was something of an improper procedural protocol and of an incriminatory nature they tried to desperately conceal, and this was confirmed after I received another copy of the same police incident report before the year 2006 ended.

This particular report showed the paragraph in which the "sworn" statements by Lozano and Lee were that the suspect was wearing a brown jacket, tan pants, he stood about 5'7-5'8 tall with a baseball cap, which was completely different of my description as I stand 6'3 wore a long black leather coat, white dress shirt and black slacks.

The report also failed to mention that the key was demanded repeatedly from Mr. Robert Williams. The common denominator between myself, and this robbery suspect was only the color of our skin. Officer Angel G. Lozano apparently has a history of brutality and misconduct according to insider sources. Lozano's lack of proper procedural protocols is a potentially dangerous threat towards every citizen, but particularly for those living in an S.R.O Hotel, or in a community that is considered "poor" or of "color."

The brutality I endured at the hands of a poorly trained, highly unprofessional, and possibly violent police officer could have happened to anybody and with fatal results. That is why I continue to fight against this injustice by representing myself. I cannot risk turning over my case and my humiliation to the City, state or some unconcerned lawyer. I urge all of those who have suffered a similar fate in our criminal injustice system to speak out and fight their own battle. We cannot continue to allow our safety, humanity and well-being to be threatened at the hands of law enforcement officials.

A single mother relates the horror story of displacement out of San Francisco Public Housing into Homelessness

The deep sounds of never ending, mind-numbing,headache generating traffic bombarded the weather-beaten glass of the 6 motel (not to be confused with the pricier Motel 6), as I sat with displacement survivor and former Valencia Gardens tenant Linda William.

Driving up highway 80 East I kept referring to my friend and fellow PNN writer's careful directions, " Its sort of near Vallejo" she had said quietly on the phone, the weight of her horrendous dilemma flooding her voice, " I couldn't actually afford a motel in Vallejo, they were too expensive and all the cheap ones were filled" , she concluded wearily

It had been almost two years since Linda took the "sweet deal" offerred by Housing Authority to move out of her long-time residence at Valencia Gardens in San Francisco, Valencia being one of many hundreds of public housing projects in the Bay Area and across the nation labeled "bad" and targeted for "redevelopment" which resulted in the massive displacement of low-income tenants from public housing to essentially "a piece of paper" i.e., these tenants were handed a section 8 voucher and alot of promises of available market rate or privately owned low-income housing projects but ended up, like Linda, homeless, or as those of us in the know say; public housing was better than no housing, "they gave me a section 8 certificate and said I could go anywhere with it, of course I had always had a dream of moving out of the city with my 2 kids and I thought this was my big chance"

As Linda spoke the hairs stood up on the back of my neck, I, too, was relying on a pending section 8 certificate to stabilize the ever unstable housing of myself, my mother and my 9 month old son, but from all the recent reports out of the Bush administration, this "stable housing" might remain a dream.

"So with that certificate I started the search for housing in Vallejo, Fairfield and Marin, "Linda continued her story unphased by my uh huhs and head nodding, "well whaddya know, I found closed wait lists on almost all the low-income housing units in all of those places and all the rest of the landlords wouldn't even return my calls when I told them I had section 8" As Linda continued to explain how she transferred her certificate to Alameda County hoping for better luck in Oakland, I remembered the hideously classist and racist experience of trying to find an apartment when I told landlords that I was on section 8, "Ohhhhh noooo, I don't think so" they would say, dreams of welfare moms dancing in their collective land-holding heads.

"Eventually, I found a place in the middle of so much gang-mess, that one of my babies almost got shot last month, so I gave up and moved to this motel and now my section 8 worker is telling me that it doesn't matter anyway, cause due to the Bush-inspired cuts they probably won't have any money left in the section 8 program to fund another apartment for me anyway…and I'll end up homeless….." her voice trailed off into sadness and the whoosh of the highway filled the rooms silence

Linda was referring to the very serious cuts that the Section 8 program is facing due to the Bush Adminstrations' cuts to the program of 1.6 billion causing places like New York city to lose millions of dollars for existing section 8 vouchers and Alameda County not having enough money in May to even cover the rents of vouchers already in use.

"and now I hear that people are being offerred more sweet deals by housing authority to move out of the Bayview so rich people like Newsom and his buddies can make big bucks redeveloping the Bayview…."Linda paused to hold back an onslaught of tears, " all I can say to those folks is; Don't be fooled.. Hold onto what you have… Valencia Gardens had its problems, but it was still my home…it was still housing…"

To tell your story of eviction or displacement call PNN at (415) 863-6306 , to get involved in fighting the redevelopment effort of the Bayview call Bianca Henry at Family rights and Dignity (415) 346-3740,

Marlon Crump reports for PNN on Victims of Covert and Electronic Terror Rally at City Hall for the first time.

Marlon Crump
Thursday, October 22, 2009;

“Stop Group Stalking!”

“Stop Electromagnetic Weapons!”

“Stop Defamation of Character!”

“Stop Electronic Torture!”

“Restore Human Liberties!”

The voices of victims resisting the above covert acts of terror took to the front entrance of San Francisco City Hall on a humid October 14th, 2009 afternoon. Their voices finally began to penetrate the voluntary deaf ears, from the above said protest signs, handmade.

One of the signs given to me by a fellow protestor spoke its own voice, in big black bold letters: “STOP ORGANIZED TERROR!” I was also given a button that said, “Freedom from Covert Harassment & Surveillance.”

There was a visibility from fear, anxiety, and isolation of resistance in the air towards the acts of terror; covertly occurring upon them by the steps of the very city officials, who have the authority to aid them.

“This event means to expose crime committed against humans, by U.S. Government Agencies.” A protestor stated to me. He later told me that he produced a documentary film regarding “brain implants.”

My presence at this rally was my duty, without question. Being a reporter for my family of POOR Magazine/POOR News Network, I’m committed like my comrades to re-port and sup-port for the unheard voices intentionally silenced by corporate mainstream media, locally and globally.

I’ve been on numerous marches and protests since living in the Bay Area of San Francisco, for the past five years. Many of them pertained to the issues of poverty, racism, oppression, police brutality, budget cuts, etc, etc. These issues are always at the root core for the resistance within our work at POOR.

Today’s protest rally, “International Alliance Against Covert Electronic Abuse Global Human Rights Protest” was the first of its kind that I’ve ever re-ported on, and sup-ported for, to date.

This was not just a local crisis call to end an injustice for T.I (Targeted Individual) victims in cities, such as New York, Los Angeles, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and here in San Francisco. This was also global crisis call to action from victims to end the terrorism that appeared to be “too far-fetched” for “media coverage.”

T.I victims currently have a movement to end this crisis in the United Kingdom, India, and three cities in Canada.

“We protested in front of the Legislative Assembly Building and near Medical Science Building of University of Toronto on the 14th of October. We started at 10.30 A.M. There were 5 people in front of the Legislative Assembly, and I, Galina Kurdina.” Galina, a T.I. said to me via email, in detailing “People approached us and we distributed about 10 fliers.”

Unfortunately, Galina also stated that a women attempted tactics to implement a scanda upon them. Eventually she was scared off when one of the protestors offered to take her picture, and she fled the scene. The rally continued on.

“One student of University of Toronto, sweet boy, said to us that, in his opinion, these experiments were disgusting, another person wished us to continue our struggle.”

In front of S.F City Hall, a C.B.S 5 News crew of two bypassed us, as we were numbered neared twenty. An undisclosed source later told me that they were told to ignore us. No corporate mainstream media coverage of covert terrorism intended to capture this event. “That doesn’t surprise me, everybody.” I yelled to them.

“That’s why we do what we do at POOR Magzaine because of them!”

In “Electronic Harassment” and “Targeted Individuals” (featured on www.poormagazine.org) many of the voices heard in both stories have often been covertly covered, ridiculed, discredited, harassed, with the end result leading them into fearful, faithless isolation.

An “Enough is Enough” stance from everyone at today’s rally was an awareness to the public regarding the categorical use of advanced deadly technology, organized stalking, microwave, directed energy, electromagnetic and mind control weapons often used against them.

This action was to be the first of many in the future. This one was the beginning to the demise of a bizarre seemingly invisible means of covert terror meant to control, harass, intimidate, and even experiment from persons or persons unknown. It didn’t matter to all of us who, what or where they were on this October 14th, 2009 Day.

It wouldn’t matter to everyone on whether or not any of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors and Mayor Gavin Newsom would listen from the inside. I didn’t even matter if the organized perpetrators, themselves would appear to intimidate everyone in covert fashion, and “support” the cause.

The unheard voices of the International Alliance Against Covert Electronic Abuse needed to finally be heard on the outside.

After I was picked up by Anti-Organized Stalking Activist, T.I Organizer, Christine Lynn Harris a T.I, (Targeted Individual) and director of ISARC (Idriss Stelley Action Resource Center) mesha Monge-Irizarry, my comrade we soon found ourselves across the street from S.F City Hall before we knew it.

The three of us stood alongside of each other, as we awaited the arrival of the other unheard voices, victims of covert terror. For Christine, this event was nearly a year dragged into the making.

Hit with strange severe sophisticated technology. Stalked by suspicious individuals (some possibly S.F.P.D Officers) during her daily activities. Emergency hospital admission on numerous occasions for severe radiation damages to her organs. Individuals appearing at her home costumed as phone technicians.

Ignorant and disbelief from people questioning the level of her sanity, despite documented proof supporting her claims. Consumed with constant physical and mental torture, while being forced to be attentive to her surroundings anywhere she goes. (Tactical component covert acts used by what some are calling, “The Crazy Makers.”)

Not to say the least, her very life threatened with a marked C.D, and even her car illegally towed in retaliation for speaking out.

“All of this over a f!@## piece of paper!” Christine often exclaimed to me. She previously sent the attorney general's office a letter concerning misdeeds of the president of the homeowners association. A short time later, Christine received an ongoing onslaught of electronic attacks, and covert stalking after voicing her concerns.

The sun scorched us. It pushed away rainy clouds, but it failed to prevent T.I (Targeted Individuals) voices from joining the rally.

They arrived a short time later, eager to get their unheard voices underway. Some of them were from California cities, such as Modesto, Fresno, Marin County, Oakland, and Berkeley.

“This makes me feel that I am not the only one going through this.” A T.I protestor said to me. She began to explain to me, (while fighting back tears and showing expressions of hopelessness) the horrors of harassments by S.F.P.D Officers, false accusations made towards her, and the removal of her driver’s license and car. “My father died when I was eighteen from electromagnetic weapons.”

After some pleasant verbal exchanges with onlookers, passer bys, an S.F.P.D Officer, a media crew from S.F. VID (who interviewed Christine) and a couple of S.F Sheriff Deputies, during the first few hours, we all went to the side of the street curb, and waved our signs to oncoming motorists.

To our surprise, many of them cheerfully honked their horns in support. For four straight hours in the heat, some of us (including myself) wearing black, we received horn honking praises from the oncoming drivers.

“Today feels very exciting because this is groundbreaking from victimization of T.I.s, towards a proactive grassroots effort all over the world.” mesha explained to me.

“I think it was a mission accomplished because we had about twenty people show up for the protest, a reporter from S.F Vid, and the rain cleared up for us today.” Christine said to me. “I think that we got the acknowledgment we received.

"God sees everything!"
Revelations 18:21

A family in poverty, Larry, Bessie and Charlie, vs. the System and Poli-tricks

Marlon Crump/Poverty Scholar/POOR Magazine
Tuesday, October 24, 2006;

The walls are covered by a collage of pictures of people who have fallen as a result of San Francisco Police Department (SFPD) violence; mostly black youth and youth of color whose lives were stolen and cut short. Set within the walls is a feeling of revolution and liberation and also a deep sadness.

The Idriss Stelley Foundation (ISF) is a safe haven as well as an underground railroad for people who have been brutalized by the SFPD.

Idriss Stelley was shot and killed by SFPD at the Sony Metreon on June 13 2001, "48 shots, 9 officers, as he stood alone in an empty theater." A shrine to Idriss is set in one part of the room. Mesha Monge-Irizarry, mother of Idriss Stelley started the Foundation. Mesha is a phenomenal woman. She is truly a privilege to be around.

For the past month Mesha, myself, and many others have been meeting to plan the march on October 22nd against police brutality. It was at these meetings that I first met Bessie Berger and her two sons, Larry and Charlie Wilkerson. Bessie is 94 years old, Charlie is 59, and Larry is 57. They are living homeless in San Francisco. Bessie and her sons had come to the meetings to voice their concerns and tell their stories of harassment by the SFPD.

Like Bessie and her family, I have dealt directly with police brutality. This past Saturday marks the one-year anniversary of a traumatizing assault committed against me by the SFPD in my own home. On October 7th 2005 twelve armed police officers broke into my room at the All Star Hotel. The All Star Hotel failed to protect my rights as their tenant, which is a part of the long legal battle that I am currently caught up in. The SFPD wrongly accused me of a crime I did not commit and entered my room in the early hours of the morning. This is only one example of the kinds of police brutality that I, and many others, living in Single Room Occupancies (SRO's) have had to endure. The stories Bessie and her sons tell are all too familiar.

Mesha and Myself met with Bessie, Larry, and Charlie at the Idriss Stelley Foundation to hear their story.

Bessie is in a wheelchair and is in dire need of a new one. She has trouble seeing and hearing. Both of Bessie's legs are severely swollen. Bessie is a small, gentle woman of incredible spirit and she does not let her age slow her down. Bessie was well respected by the motorcycle gang, The Hell’s Angels, who referred to her as "mama." Bessie's family tree extends from a nineteenth century U.S. Navy Admiral named Allen Schley to Edgar Allen Poe.

Larry and Charlie are both silver haired men. Larry speaks from the heart and he has a stern voice. Charles has a more joking character and ads a comic sense here and there. Their voices contain anger and frustration. They are both tired.

Larry and Charlie are true examples of one of The Ten Commandments "Honor thy mother and thy father." Larry and Charlie's great concern is the well being of their mom. Bessie is bathed daily by her sons either from The City's resource facilities for the homeless or from a one night hotel room that they obtain from the little money they have. They continue to care for her even while under the pressure of the harshest of times economically, socially, and politically.

Larry and Charlie are both strong, capable men. They are able to care for their mom but they too are having health problems of their own. They are unable to care for themselves because most of their money goes towards the care of their mom. Bessie only receives a combined total of $800 a month, half of which goes towards her Medicare, she is left with only $400 a month.

Larry, Charlie, and Bessie have only been back in San Francisco four months. They briefly lived here in 2001 during the administration of Mayor Willie Brown.

Four months ago they lived in Palm Springs, California. Both Larry and Charlie worked industrial jobs to support their mom, each making $6.25 an hour. They worked opposite schedules so that while one was working the other one was taking care of their mom.

They lived in Palm Springs and faithfully paid their rent on time. They paid the standard cost of first and last months rent, and the security deposit that totaled over $1200. The building attendant took their move-in deposit and rent, never submitted a receipt, and never turned the money into the management. As a result of the building attendant's criminal conduct they were evicted by the property management. Bessie and her sons immediately brought a legal action upon the management, but they were unsuccessful and the case was mysteriously ruled out.

The All Star Hotel's handling of my situation on that fateful night last year was similar in its complete disregard for my wellbeing. Being evicted from your own home or having twelve unannounced police officers with guns burst into your room are experiences no one should ever have to endure.

Losing practically everything they had Bessie and her sons sought food and lodging from relatives. Bessie in the past had always welcomed family into her home and cared for them in their times of need. Now in need herself, Bessie asked her relatives for help. The same relatives she had always housed and fed would not take her and her sons in. Larry recalled their situation with anger.

"They did not care for one of their very own who had cared for them when they all had nothing! It really breaks our hearts but we've managed to survive this long. Someone will help us, I hope," Larry concluded sadly.

The family also endured a heart shattering loss of a loved one. In 2001 while staying in Lake County, Bessie's great grandchild, eight year old Tyler James was killed by a drunk driver, named Mark Shifflet. Shifflet struck down Tyler while driving at 70 mph. A California Highway Patrol (CHP) officer arrived at the scene and astonishingly allowed Shifflet to leave the scene of the accident. The accident occurred on Highway 175 in Middletown. It was later discovered that Mark Shifflet had previous D.U.I arrests. But on this tragic night Shifflet was never given a sobriety test. The release of Shifflet was criminal negligence on the part of the CHP officer. The family lost the case in court and Mark Shifflet and the CHP officer walked away unscathed and unpunished.

I am also waiting for the day in court where I will see legal action taken on my behalf for the criminal conduct that was committed against me by the SFPD at the All Star Hotel.

Bessie, Larry, and Charlie have had to endure much harassment and abuse. In 2001, Bessie and her two sons approached Mayor Willie Brown, to seek his help in obtaining services. According to Larry and Charlie "We did nothing wrong, we didn't provoke him, we weren't aggressive. We just wanted him to direct us to the right facility to care for our mom because we were all homeless. He says he didn't like the way we looked and he immediately called security to escort us out. That really hurt us a lot, because we felt he could really help us."

Shortly thereafter, the family caught sight of Mayor Brown at an event in front of City Hall. They again asked for his help and Mayor Brown showed the same discourtesy towards them as he had done before. They have not received any different treatment from the current administration.

They recently tried to seek refuge at the Salvation Army but the director refused them entry because of Bessie and her age. Larry and Charlie told the director, "Look, she's 94 years old, ma'am. We'll be damned if we have to separate and put her in some nursing home. We know all about the evils of neglect in those kinds of places. She is our mother and we are not leaving her to be mistreated!" The director looked at all of them, with a cold and scornful glare, then replied, "I don't care, ok? She's not our damn problem or fault. She should be in a nursing home and not with her sons."

The response by the director of the Salvation Army towards Larry and Charlie is a prime example of the "Western" notion and belief in individuation. Dr. Wade Nobles, a tenured professor in the Black Studies Department at San Francisco State explains individuation in POOR's fourth issue, "MOTHERS" in the article "The Nature of Mama."

Dr. Wade Nobles says,

"I believe that capitalism and much of the construct in Western psychology emerge out of the same philosophical grounding, and that philosophical grounding is based on the idea of separateness, distinctness, domination, fear, and exploitation. So, capitalism is just the economic system that parallels individuation as a psychological system. It's not that it promotes it, it certainly does reinforce it and allows for it to exist, because individuation would never challenge some of the precepts of capitalism. Capitalism says I've maximized my profits, minimized my loss; in order to do that, I have to exploit others. I won't exploit others if I believe that others and I are the same. So if I believe in individuation, then I certainly have a free license to exploit others."

Larry and Charlie are committed to staying with their mom and caring for her themselves despite what the dominant response is,a committment which like my editor Tiny says, is supported and practiced in POOR Magazine's indigenous family organizing model for poor, and/or homeless families trying to survive and thrive in the US.

Bessie and her sons have been living out of their car. Their car has countless miles on it and they dread the day that it will no longer work. If their car breaks they would be forced to find storage for all of their personal belongings or lose everything.

Since our meeting an unfortunate event occurred. On Sunday October 15 their car was broken into, the registration, all their ID papers, and social security information is gone. This is an unusual theft and they are devastated.

They have continually been harassed in Golden Gate Park by the SFPD. The SFPD have intimidated, verbally assaulted, and insulted them. On one occasion an officer yelled, "No you are not suppose to know or do anything, but be like you people already are, poor and uneducated!"

Bessie, Charlie, and Larry have had to struggle to be triumphant against the criminalization of poverty. As Tiny Gray-Garcia at POOR magazine said, they are Poverty Heroes.

In closing the interview Mesha and I asked what they wanted San Francisco to do to aid them in their needs. Bessie replied, "I only want the city to please help me and my sons out. I also want the city and the mayor to order the police to leave us alone, because we are not hurting anyone. We just want to be helped and not disrespected."

Since the time of our meeting with Bessie, Larry, and Charlie on September 30th at the Idriss Stelley Foundation a short video was created of their situation, and can be viewed at

http://www.current. tv/studio/media/13670557?

You can view Mesha's article about Bessie and her sons at the Idriss Stelley Foundation's website:

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

The Idriss Stelley Foundation (ISF) will be hosting a benefit, after the November elections, for Bessie and her sons, which will help to purchase Bessie a new wheel chair.

You can make donations to Bessie and her sons by sending a check to:

ISF, 4921 3rd Street, SF,CA, 94124, attn:Justice4Bessie

ISF also donated a cell phone to the family. You can call Larry Wilkerson at (415) 368-2261 (415-DOT-CAMI). You can also log on to Justice 4 Bessie Berger, set up by ISF, to show your support, by emailing

Justice4Bessie-subscribe@yahoogroups.com,

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Justice4Bessie.

A life-long Mission resident fights eviction for all of us

"I will continue to fight! I'll bring this all the way to the supreme court if necessary.." Jose Morales' voice was loud and clear, seamlessly moving between English and Spanish as he outlined his refusal to be illegally evicted from his residence of 40 years in the Mission district of San Francisco.

Jose Morales, is a Latino elder, a migrant, a Mission resident, a worker, an advocate. But, perhaps most importantly he is a human being. And the so-called laws that govern property in the US are inhuman. Jose has been fighting eviction for the last 14 years with landlords who use the laws with impunity. Their most recent tactic included an Ellis Act eviction, claiming they , the landlords, want to move in to his unit and therefore he must leave.

As I watched the powerful, almost superhuman Jose, speak at a vigil in his honor held in front of his residence on Sunday night, his voice and spirit moving effortlessly past his body which was almost completely bent over at the waist due to his disability,I realized he was speaking for all of us, moving for all of us, fighting for all of us; for the Salvadoran migrant elder who was recently evicted from his residence of 40 years on Harrison street in the Mission and who now cant even afford to take care of his disabled wife in Laguna Honda, for the families who right now face eviction from their homes in The Bayview due to Lennar Corporation removing people for so-called redevelopement, for the elders in the California Hotel in Oakland who were threatened with eviction when the housing developer mismanaged their property, for us, POOR Magazine, and all the small businesses and non-profits who work in our building and face eviction from the new developer who bought our building and three others down the street for the sole act of speculation and so-called redevelopment and for all the poor people of color who are endlessly displaced, gentrified and removed from our homes, our neighborhoods, our land.

As a houseless and evicted child, struggling with my poor mama in eviction court to stay housed and throughout our loca vida there was never a time that I felt strong like Jose. I was terrified, I was demeaned. I was tired. And I was only a teenager and young adult.

"Speculation is an act of urban terrorism," James Tracy, a revolutionary poet, researcher and housing advocate spoke at the vigil and went on to encourage the crowd of over 50 people huddled around Jose's rickety steps leading up to his small flat and papered with the "documents that prove Jose's landlords' guilt" to realize that it is necessary sometimes to "stand in the way" of the laws and systems like the Sheriffs department to ensure that our communities don't completely get destroyed and dismantled. He went on to describe seeing Jose on the bus in the City always talking optimistically, never considering giving up the fight and saying one of his favorite comments, " I have the best lawyer, God!

"Everyday Jose pushes us to struggle more," Eric Quesada, one of the organizers of Sunday's vigil, spoke about the struggle to encourage and fight for Jose's case Eric went on to explain that the advocates have gotten an extension but only for a week and they are hoping for more. He concluded with a request to people in the crowd to contact Sheriff Hennesey's office to demand a longer extension for Jose Morales's case

St Peters' Housing Committee, Delores Street Communitiy services, Mission SRO collaborative organized the vigil while other organizations like POOR Magazine and Planning for Elders committed to being there for Jose as long as it took.

Luscious tamales and chocolate were served by organizers with candles to the shivering but determined crowd. At 7:00 pm the Canal 14 (channel 14) truck arrived and the cameras zoomed in on Jose. He stood up again- his small frame rising up above the crowd in the twilight, "Sigue Adelante- Continue moving forward- i Will Not give up !" Jose's voice traveled up into the heavens, directly into his lawyers office.

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The long black gate  8/27/10

People are breaking in
And theres people trying to escape
Our cargo weight
Selling shit  sold  about
And contain shit that stakes place
It’s a see through wall
It ain't to far past you see those bombs
It’s a war I was told
The people, the cartels
And the border police are so cold
Driving downhill daily
You just see these clouds of smoke

Border Bros.  8/28/10

Back, black en la frontera
More cameras with droids
We like pizza slices
Capitalism is the noid
Classist people to me are hemroids
U.S. is a playgrounds for us toys
At the boarder searching to be free
Stopped again by sellout motherfucking police
They separate themselves, you and me
But the wealthy run through just vacationing

Crystal Rey    8/29/10

With all the bullshit at the front gate
The community still danced the Crystal Rey
Ninas y ninos took over the stage
Know one dared leave until it rained
You could feel the tension, seen in the face
Killing our culture on a daily base
And 600,000,000 more that they pay
Juarez, El Paso, soon all the U.S.A

La mujer obrera(the woman worker)  8/30/10

In the 40’s and 50’s industrial age jobs were shifty
We laced the whole boarder factoridly
Disorderly, historically
La mujer el trabajo, toda via abajo
Working the line with much unpaid overtime
From the fields to the factory
Puro pinche pecos ella stackidly
Bodies were shifted cog in the wheel
Made of wood, cotton and steel
There ain't so room to heal
Women organized as they always do
Mother abuelita y me tia too