While Rachel was at the basic leadership training I went to the National Native American AIDS Prevention Center. I met with Tony and he is speaking about the work he was a recently a part of in Hawaii

Mat talking about media at the National Native American AIDS Prevention Center and National Native HIV/AIDS Awareness Day on March 20th, 2011

June 2000

I mourn his loss tremendously. Not only because he was a good, decent, and committed activist, but also because he was the single most exceptional and talented writer I've ever seen come out of the homeless movement. His writing had enormous potential to create social change. He was able to write every kind of story on every subject and make it compelling, vivid, and inspiring.

He wrote about Doug Ferrari. Doug was a great comedian who ended up homeless in the Tenderloin. Trent wrote his life story so that you could feel the ups and downs of Doug's life. You could see the hell he went through with substance abuse and mental disability. You could see the hellhole slum hotels that Doug was forced to live in. Because Trent wrote that story, he single-handedly lifted Doug Ferrari out of the oblivion of poverty and got him onto the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle. Trent was responsible for enlisting Doug Ferrari's friends to give him a helping hand.

Trent also wrote absolutely brilliant investigative journalism. He wrote about the police persecution of homeless people in Sacramento. He wrote about Hospitality House and the financial misconduct of its past officers. He was just truly a great writer with enormous ability to make a change for the better.

That is why his loss is felt so keenly by all of us who care about economic justice. His loss is more than a loss of a friend. It is an incredibly hard loss to the movement as a whole. And it’s very sad and tragic that he was never given the credit in this life for the greatness of his talent. And now the world may forget his great writing ability, unless we, his friends, are a voice for him now to remind people of how special and fine a person and a writer Trent was.

Los Jornaleros y sus companeros en la protesta contra la criminalización de el gerente de la tienda UHhaul/ Day laborers and allies protest the criminalization of Uhaul store manager.

Monday, February 15, 2010

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Los jornaleros que desde hace varios anos acuden a la calle alameda enfrente de la empresa U-HAUL, hicieron un planton con apoyo solidario de varias organizaciones de la comunidad de San Francisco entre ellas Living Wage, Power, Colectiva de Mujeres, Day Labor Program, Catalist, MUA, POOR Magazine, La Raza Centro Legal  y otras,

Despues de intentos fallidos por medio de cartas enviada a la central que dirige estas    empresas explicandole la manera tan despota e inhumana con que se conduce el manager y la intervencion en el momento de que los trabajadores son abordados por las personas que buscan sus servicios, ademas de imponerles por medio de una lista quien puede o no puede trabajar provocando una division entre estos los trabajadores jornaleros. 

Jose Figueoa dijo: estoy aqui potestando porque el manager de la empesa U-Haul no nos deja trabajar el sale y nos amenaza que si hablamos con las personas que se nos acercan para darnos trabajo el va a llamar a la policia y en ocaciones interviene en el momento de contratacion y nos impide lograr el trabajo.

El hizo su propia lista y a pesar  de que hemos estado formados desde las 5 de la manana para obtener un cliente el solo les da oportunidad a los que le caen bien no importando que lleguen mas tarde nuestra necesidad de obtener un trabajo nos hace madrugar pero este senor nos bloquea.

Roberto dijo: yo he venido aqui ha buscar trabajo desde hace 3 anos y antes que llegara este manager hace aproximadamente seis meses no teniamos problemas esta persona nos ostiga y nos falta el respeto nos grita. 

Sergio un jonalero activista dijo: queremos que dejen de humillarnos, todos nuestros problemas comenzaron por la intervencion del manager, queremos que nos dejen trabajar libremente el llama a la policia con el pretexto de que le gritamos pero eso no es cierto.

Renee Saucedo lider del Day Labor de San Francisco dijo: hemos mandado muchas cartas a la directiva y no han contestado y por esto seguimos pidiendo deje de ostigar criminalizar a los jornaleros y dejen de llamar a la policia deje de anunciarse como un Centro de Jornaleros.

Maria Luna miembra lider de la organizacion Mujeres Unidas y Activas presente en esta protesta mostro su solidaridad como organizadora, y proyectando la fuerza en su voz dijo: no vamos a permitir mas ofensas a los jornaleros, lucharemos con ellos hasta lograr la victoria.
Donaji representante de POWER Gente Organizada Para Ganar los Derechos de Empleo, presente en esta protesta aun bajo la lluvia y el frio y proyectando en su voz la indignacion que sentia como vecina y mienbra de su organizacion dijo; Esta empresa esta en nuestra comunidad y se ve beneficia economicamrnte de nosotros y nosotros no podemos permitir esta injusticia hacia los trabjadores jornaleros que viven aqui, por lo tanto exigimos que pare esta injusticia y si no lo hacen que se vayan de nuestro vecindario.

Prensa Pobre fue la el primer medio en hacer acto de presencia  como reporteras de la comunidad y para la comunidad para denunciar de que manera son injustamente tratados los trabajadores que buscan en las aceras trabajo. Presente tambien su co-directora, y co-reportera  Tiny a quien la lluvia no le impidio llegar en con su bicicleta camara y grabadora en mano e inmediatamente incorporandose planton mas tarde hizo uso del microfono y dijo; yo use mucho tiempo en este servicio. En las epocas que me encontraba sin casa y el trato que me dieron fue pesimo porque me veo como gente pobre por eso estoy aqui porque los jorneleros son trabajadores pobres que estan siendo injustmente tratados.

Otro miembro de una organizacion llamada CATALYST llamado CRIS CRASS dijo: "estamos en contra al racismo y las injusticias que ocurren con los trabjadores de color."

Termino este reportaje feliz de observar la solidaridad de la comunidad y tambiem de muchas organizaciones que dijeron ya basta.         

Engles Sigue

Day laborers made history today.  Supported by several community organizations including the San Francisco Living Wage Coalition, POWER, Women's Collective, Day Labor Program, Catalyst, MUA, POOR Magazine, La Raza Centro Legal and others hundreds of workers marched, spoke truth to power and resisted the criminalization of day laborers by the managers of Uhaul. This march and protest happened after multiple failed attempts to negotiate through letters sent to the central directors running these companies explaining the workers situation.

" I am here because the manager that just started working at U-Haul does not allow us to seek work outside the building and threatens us that if we talk to people who approach us to give us the work he will call the police and on occasions during the time that we were being hired he interferes with us even getting the job,"  said Jose Figueroa, day laborer

Jose explained that the manager made his own list (of day laborers) and although we often begin waiting at 5 in the morning to get a customer, he still only gives the jobs to the people he likes even if they arrive late in the morning

Another worker named Roberto said, " I have been here looking for work for over 3 years and we had no problem. We started having problems six months ago after this manager began working at Uhaul. He harasses us, disrespects us and yells at us and calls the police."

Sam a jonalero activist said: 'We want him to stop humiliating us, all our problems started with this manager, we want him to let us work freely. he calls the police on the pretext that we shout but that's not true."

Renee Saucedo leader of the Labor Day in San Francisco said: "We sent many letters to the director and they have not replied. In our letters we asked the manager to stop criminalizing and harassing laborers, stop calling the police and finally to stop misrepresenting themselves and advertising as a Day Labor Center "

Maria Luna leading members of the organization Mujeres Unidos y Activas represented in this protest showing their solidarity with the workers and said, "We will not allow the laborers to be insulted, we will fight with them to achieve victory".

Donaji, representative of POWER, People Organized to Win Employment Rights, appeared at this protest even under the rain and the cold and said that they felt the indignation of their neighbors: "This company (Uhaul) is in our community and their economy earns money from us and we can not allow this injustice to the laborers who seek work here, therefore we demand that this injustice stop if they want to to be in our neighborhood".

POOR Magazine was the first media to make an appearance, as reporters of the community who are directly impacted by this treatment and crminalizaiton. We were there to report and support on our companeros the day laborers who are part of the community and are being treated unfairly on the sidewalks looking for work. My fellow reporter and POOR Magazine co-editor, Tiny showed up on her bicycle, not detered by the rain, with camera and tape recorder in hand and later stated at the rally,"When me and my mama were houseless in Oakland and San Francisco, we used Uhaul for storage and they always treated us meanly and with little respect and called the police on us many times for no reason, I believe that Uhaul is a corporation that treats the poor very badly which is one of the reasons I'm here in solidarity with the working poor who are being unfairly treated."

Another member of an organization called Catalyst with CHRIS CRASS said: "We are against racism and injustice that occur with workers of color."

As a worker/ reportera for Voces de inmiigrantes en resistencia at POOR Magazine and community activist I was pleased to see the solidarity of the community and the allies on this day and Im here to say enough is enough.

June 2000

Your inspiration, encouragement and ethics will be with me forever. I will miss you. AND I promise to spell better in the future; perhaps.

Taxes en Imigrantes es un Robo/The tax on immigrants is theft

Monday, February 15, 2010;

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Nosotros, los migrantes/imigrantes somos tratados como ladrones por que los residentes estadonidences piensan que le robamos los trabajos. Como una migrante/imigrante trabajadora  debo tengo que respetamente estar desacuerdo con eso, en verdad, la historia verdadera es, que muchos imigrantes han construido este pais. En mi pais de Guatemala. Tenmos un dicho, “Nadie en un profeta en nuestra propia tierra”.

Estamos en restaurantes, hoteles, tiendas, granjas, etc. Estamos en todas partes por que nosotros no le tenemos miedo a nada. Nosotros hacemos cualquier trabajo que requiere trabajar, aun que sea fisico o duro.

Haga se esta pregunta, quien limpia, quien cuida a los ninos, etc. “Los Imigrantes”. Yo pienso que no es justo que somos tratdos mal y que somos ignorados en esta sociedad, no somos mala gente.

Recientemente estado triste por la situacion de amigo. Desde que ha llegado a este pais el a estado pagando sus taxes, todos saben que en todos los cheques que el recibe, hay una deduccion en su cheque. El gobierno le regresa una miseria de cheque. Lastimosamente pero a los immigrantes no le regresan nada.
 

Mi amigo debia originalmente mil dolares en taxes y no pudo pagar esa deuda, ahora su deuda aumentado a cinco mil dolares. Tiene una fecha en que debe pagar ese dinero y si no paga esa deuda por esa fecha, le puden dar una multa. Yo creo que es un robo y un abuso de poder.

Yo creo que gente con un estatus legal son muy afortunados por que no tienen que dejar sus familias para sobrevivir como muchos de nosotros hacemos que dejamos nuestras familias en nuestros paises para buscar trabajo. Estamos muy lejos de los seres que queremos, tratando de construir una mejor vida para nuestra familias. Estamos peleando por nuestras vidas, para sobrevivir. Este pais nos hace sentir como pajaros sin alas o nidos.

DIOS nuestro creador nos hizo a todos igual, DIOS tambien es el dueno de el oro, plata y del todo el mundo, pero desgraciadamente nos estaos comiendo a cada uno. Es suficiente ya no queremos mas humillacion, somos seres humanos, somos seress humanos y e igual que todos los demas.

Engles Sigue

We, the migrant/immigrant peoples are treated as a thieves because US residents think we steal their jobs. As a hard-working migrant/immigrant I must respectfully disagree, actually, the real story is, a lot of immigrants have built this country.  In my country of Guatemala. We have a saying,“Nobody is a prophet in our own land”.

We are at restaurants, hotels, stores, farms, etc.  We are everywhere, because we are not afraid of anything. We do every job that we are required to do, even if it is physical or hard work. 

Ask yourself, who clean things, and takes care of children, etc. “The Immigrants”.  I think it is not fair that we get bad treatment, and that we are ignored in this society, we are not bad people. 

Recently I have been very sad at the plight of my friend. Since his arrival to this country has been paying his taxes, and everybody knows that in every single check that he gets, there is a tax deduction.  The government returns him a miserable check.  Unfortunately the immigrants don’t get anything back.

My friend originally owed one thousand dollars in taxes, but he couldn’t afford his debt, now his debt has increased to five thousand dollars.  He has gotten a due date, and if he does not pay it on time, he could get a fine.  I think it is a burglary, an abuse of power.

I think people with legal status are very lucky, because they don’t have to give up  their family just to survive like so many of us do when we have to leave our families and countries just to seek work.  We are so far from the people that we love, trying to build a better future to our family.  We are fighting for our lives, fighting to survive.  This government makes us feel like birds without our nest or without wings.

God our Creator made us all equal, God is also the owner of the gold, silver, and the entire world, but unfortunately we are eating each other.  It is enough we don’t want more humiliation, we are human beings, and the same as everybody. 

Migrant/Immigrant workers and community members organize a town hall meeting against the violence of immigration raids

Tuesday, August 26, 2008;

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Yo soy el hijo de una ola… una ola de trabajadores indocumentados… una ola ascendiendo y descendiendo… Toda mi vida hemos estado montandos esta ola, una ola de incertidumbre, una ola de altibajos, a veces sin saber si las altas fueron bajas o si las bajas fueron altas. Una ola que se celebró un momento, y fue culpadó a otro. Una ola que emigraro a estas tierras trabajando duro y dando a sus hijos algo que nunca tuvo, la oportunidad - una oportunidad para permanecer a flote; una oportunidad para comenzar nuestra vida en tierra firme. Estoy en tierra y veo las olas. Veo una ola de Pilipinos, una ola de chinos, un a ola de indios… veo una ola indígena a través de ojos indígenas. Ellos son hermosas. Yo soy la ola.

Esta es mi oportunidad - a navegar a través de instituciones de educacion, mientras escribiendo para POOR Magazine. Yo soy un residente legal de un país que criminaliza a mi familia y mi comunidad. ¿Dónde irá mi ola? Veo ahora una nueva ola - fea, fascista; una multitud envuelta en el patriotismo. Esta ola es Control de Aduanas e Inmigracion (ICE). Los ataques a la zona de la Bahía ha resultado en más de 400 detenciones de personas migrantes. El 2 de mayo de 2008, ICE ataco 11 taquerías de El Balazo adonde arrestaron 63 trabajadores inocentes. Los efectos de esta ola terrible prevalecen en nuestra comunidad. El temor, la incertidumbre y la paranoia que siente cada uno de los trabajadores y sus familias no se desaparecen, si no manchan el corazón y la mente. "Adonde iremos si nos capturan? ¿Qué haremos? Tengo miedo. He oído historias" .. . Lo vivimos.

Esta ola de opresión ha ido más allá de lo que creíamos posible. Una ola terrible - como la ola que nos hizo huir nuestra tierra. He leído acerca de un tiempo similar - un tiempo cuando personas fueron golpeadas en la calle por nada-un tiempo cuando las personas diferentes tubieron derechos sólo en papel. Suficiente es suficiente. Miro alrededor y veo que Jim Crow nunca murió, simplemente cambió su nombre a ICE. Él modifico sus técnicas de violencia, pero él sigue siendo el mismo, con la misma cara, con la misma gente que le apoya con mensajes de odio. Un día alguien va a leer acerca de nuestra situación, nuestro tiempo, nuestra ola… y ellos también leeran que a veces, suficiente es suficiente.

Hace algún tiempo, nuestra ola fue celebrada. Apoyada por el trabajo duro que hacemos por salarios bajos. Todavía trabajamos duro y apenas nos pagan, pero ahora, somos llamados delincuentes. Los culpables de la crisis económica. Blancos para el abuso. Hemos vivido con esto por un tiempo. Pero ahora esta hasta nuestro cuello, y estamos haciendo algo al respecto.

A principios de mayo de este año, los miembros inmigrantes de las comunidades del Área de la Bahía, organizaciones de defensa y derechos de inmigrantes, se reunieron para elaborar estrategias de cómo los condados del Área de la Bahía podrían colaborar para poner fin a las redadas de Control de Aduanas e Inmigracion (ICE), que siguen aterrorizando a todas las comunidades migrantes y tienen un impacto directo a nuestra economía local. Consideramos estas medidas de ejecución como una forma consciente de persecución masiva, que penalizan nuestras comunidades y separadan nuestras familias. El número de detenciones y deportaciones de este año ha creado un clima de temor que también pone en peligro la seguridad pública. Las comunidades de inmigrantes tienen miedo de denunciar los delitos, ir a las clínicas de salud - incluso enviar a sus hijos a la escuela. Como un líder en su comunidad, esperamos que puedan unirse a nosotros y hacer más para crear soluciones regionales a un problema que afecta a todas las comunidades en la mayor área de la Bahía.

La Junta del Pueblo del Area de la Bahia será un foro que reúne a politicos y familias que han sido afectados por estos ataques. Residentes inmigrantes de condados de San Francisco, Contra Costa, Alameda, Solano y Marín tendrán la oportunidad de compartir con politicos los efectos de los ataques, así como hacer peticiones concretas sobre cómo los funcionarios electos puedan responder.

La Junta del Pueblo del Area de la Bahia sera en Richmond en el gimnasio de la Iglesia San Cornelio, 201 28th St. Richmond, una ciudad que tiene una población que es predominantemente de inmigrantes y comunidades de color. Muchas familias inmigrantes se han movido a Richmond, porque no pueden vivir en lugares como San Francisco y Silicon Valley por los precios de renta tan altos. Richmond está experimentando en esfuerzos para aprobar una ID Municipal, pero esta también luchando contra las acusaciones de la policía injustas que apuntan a parar inmigrantes cuando estan manejando.

En Engles

I am the son of a wave… a wave of undocumented workers… a wave rising and falling… All my life we've been riding this wave, a wave of uncertainty, a wave of ups and downs, sometimes not knowing if the ups were downs or if the downs were ups. A wave that is praised one moment, blamed at another. A wave that migrated to this land working hard and giving their offspring something they never had, opportunity--an opportunity to stay afloat; an opportunity to begin our lives on solid ground. I stand ashore and I see the waves. I see a Pilipino wave, a Chinese wave, an Indian wave…I see an indigenous wave through indigenous eyes. They are beautiful. I am the wave.

This is my opportunity--navigating my wave through institutions of higher learning while writing for POOR Magazine. I am a legal resident of a country that criminalizes my family and my community. Where will my wave go? I see another wave now--ugly, fascist; a mob cloaked in patriotism. This wave of Immigration, Control, and Enforcement (ICE) attacks in the bay area has resulted in over 400 arrests of migrant people. On May 2nd, 2008, ICE attacked 11 of El Balazo taquerias which resulted in over 63 arrests of innocent workers. The effects of this dreadful wave prevail in our community. The fear, uncertainty, and paranoia felt by each worker and their families do not fade, they stain the heart and the mind. "Where we will we go if they catch us? What will we do? I’m scared. I’ve heard stories".. .We ride.

This oppressive wave has gone beyond what we thought possible. A terrifying wave--like the wave that made us flee our home-land. I read about a similar time--a time when people were getting beat on the streets for nothing—a time when people who were different had rights on paper only. Enough was enough. I look around and see that jim crow never died, he just changed his name to ICE. He modified his techniques of violence, but he’s still the same guy with the same face with the same people backing him up with messages of hate. One day someone will read about our plight, our time, our wave… and they too will read that sometimes, enough is enough.

Some time ago, our wave was praised. Celebrated for working hard for cheap wages. We still work hard and hardly get paid anything, but now, we are criminals. Scapegoats for the economic crisis. Targets for abuse. We lived with this for a while. But now it is up to our necks, and we are doing something about it.

In early May of this year, members of the Bay Area immigrant communities, and immigrant rights advocacy organizations, gathered to strategize how Bay Area counties could collaborate to stop the current Immigration, Control, and Enforcement (ICE) raids, which continue to terrorize entire communities and have a direct impact on our local economy. We view these enforcement activities as a massive form of conscious persecution, which criminalize our communities and separate our families. The record number of detentions and deportations this year has created a climate of fear which also threatens public safety. Immigrant communities are fearful of reporting crimes, going to health clinics-- even sending their children to school. As a leader in your community, we hope you can join us and do more to create regional solutions to a problem that impacts all communities in the greater Bay Area.

The Bay Area Regional Town Hall Meeting will provide a forum that brings together elected officials and families that have been impacted by these raids. Immigrant residents of San Francisco, Contra Costa, Alameda, Solano and Marin Counties will have the opportunity to share with elected officials the impacts of the raids, as well as make concrete requests on how elected officials can respond.

The Regional Town Hall Meeting will be held in Richmond (exact location to be announced), a city which has a population that is predominantly immigrant and communities of color. Many immigrant families have moved to Richmond because they can no longer afford live in places like San Francisco and the Silicon Valley. Richmond is experiencing exciting efforts to pass a Municipal ID, but is also dealing with allegations of unfair police check points which target immigrant drivers.

For more information download flyer for Town Hall Meeting

June 2000

I finally wander into the COH offices around half past noon Saturday, June 3rd. People who call me a workaholic are closer to the truth than I'll ever let on: Money jingles in my pocket, and teeming along sidewalks linking all the many liquor stores of the Tenderloin are the typical legions of dealers and hustlers and runners and lookouts and all the whatever elses I don't care to contemplate and am trying to avoid - all of them choking back the despair of poverty and illness for a few moments at a time… sealing their fates in the bargain.

On Saturdays, all that chaos and misery stays out on the sidewalk because the office door is locked, limiting the measure of turmoil and anguish in the office to only that which we permit, or that which we bring with us.

The office seems empty at first but the lights are on, then I run across a couple of volunteers in the back office. One flashes this funny look to the other, and then they get real quiet. Before I can ask what's up, one of them says to me in that bearer-of-bad-news tone "Sit down, bro. There's something I gotta tell ya."

After he successfully insists that I actually sit down I'm racing ahead to the presumption that A) the bad news is he fucked up my workstation and now he's afraid I'm going to go off on him, and B) an entirely inappropriate level of drama is accompanying our little moment together.

"Trent died last night."

I discard premise A, but premise B isn't disproved. I automatically chant the standard response I learned along the years: "OK, Trent's dead. Everybody dies, man. That's just part of life. How did it happen?"

The volunteer reels off a sketchy account gleaned from earlier conversations with la Tiny. Died homeless last night at Larkin and McAllister. Other people who knew him were present. Suspected overdose. When Tiny had arrived at the scene via some freakishly macabre category of coincidence, he was already in the body bag. One of Trent's companions at the scene reportedly charged that the SFPD officers present "let my friend die." Or hasten the process perhaps?

Later, after the volunteer had finished relating events long on reactions and short on details, I realized that the circumstances surrounding Trent's death would come to light soon enough. He had joined the ranks of San Francisco's homeless dead, and we would be studying his premature demise along with the many scores of others. We will then distill all the year's homeless mortality data into a report to be released (perversely enough) between Thanksgiving and Xmas. That, and Trent's name will go on a list which will be read, and later burned, at an evening memorial ceremony in Civic Center on the next Winter Solstice. The list grows longer each year.

Every year my "private list" - the names which conjure memories of familiar faces - grows longer, too. Call it an occupational hazard.

But this wasn't the case for the bearer of the sad tidings. He'd camped out by the beach with Trent and another homeless COH volunteer for a while about a year ago, and it was clear that he hadn't yet grown accustomed to witnessing the savage mechanisms which render loved ones and friends into statistics. I told him it would be harder when he hears Trent's name read in December.

Trent was homeless, and volunteered in our Civil Rights project. He was bright and talented and sarcastic. He was well-schooled in that anarcho-punk DIY attitude of cooperative collaboration. When he was fully engaged in an issue he could compose some of the most original copy we've ever published. Trent didn't need any of my guidance or encouragement to be one of our best writers, he only needed to find refuge from the dehumanizing and alienating milieu of grinding poverty and homelessness on these quality-of-life streets of San Francisco. He just needed to be part of something bigger than himself that accepted him as he was.

His best work was usually captured in one-shot marathon sessions at one of the civil rights project's workstations - transfixed in the separate reality of focused creation. And that's the only place where Trent Hayward (aka Harpo Corleone) ever found respite from a life of shit. The only reward Trent had found on the bottom of society was a passion for justice, and Harpo was justice's champion. And like many other creative, passionate people - homeless or not - his sensitivity would nourish the roots of his demise.

In an impartial analysis, Trent's death isn't very surprising. His appetite for alcohol and drugs was formidable, and he often carried a clear plastic sport bottle brimming with Royal Gate vodka as an accessory to his urban camping kit. Trent's face frequently bore cuts and bruises - souvenirs of the previous evening's impromptu endover to the pavement or tumble down a hillside at the beach. His smartass wit would eventually devolve into loud confused drunken hostility. Bitterness always lay just below the surface, awaiting chemical release.

Darkness courted Trent. He had a "past." Everyone who's ever been homeless has such a story. The dynamic is best expressed as an amalgam of bad luck compounded by bad choices, or vice-versa. A busted relationship, family violence, drugs, disability, prison, death of a loved one: loss and grief and despair. After someone then internalizes the stigma of their state of homelessness - when they come to believe their lives aren't worth much more than the all the "urination and defecation" that flavors so much of what issues from their persecutors' mouths - getting loaded enough to find fleeting unconscious oblivion in whatever park or doorway you find yourself in is about as good as it's ever going to get.

We had occasionally shared a few beers after 5 pm, trying to relieve the sometimes unbelievable frustration that come from trying to educate a public constantly propagandized by television and all those "horse traders" at the Chron. One such night last December, as y2k drew near and the end of the world was in the back of everyone's mind, we were half-drunkenly speculating that if the Christian Messiah were homeless in SF, what would he be doing right now? I told Trent the old joke that Jesus must be in jail, because that's where everyone finds him.

This led us to the not-so-terribly-clever speculation that he would be in a mental ward, but not in SF because mental health care has been the red-haired stepchild of our Dept. of Public Health for decades. Then Trent got real serious and told me that Jesus would be an addict - that's how we crucify people in our capitalist society.

Trent was trying to become his own savior. He was finding a way out through his writing. When he landed the gig at the GUARDIAN I was excited for him. I told him that no matter if it was shitwork, or if his co-workers ever turned their noses up at him, it still represented a quantum leap up from the STREET SHEET - sex ads and all.

He also wrote an article recently that chronicled the downward spiral of a once-promising comic named Doug Ferrari. More recently, an EXAMINER human interest story told us how the (uncredited) article led to a chain of events where one of Ferrari's successful friends found him living in the Tenderloin and was helping him to regain a career in entertainment. I hope Trent's life had more purpose than to only serve as the agent of another's fortune. If Trent had friends with the means that Ferrari's friends had, he might be with us today.

Through service we grow
in love, deeper and deeper
for so many we touch unaware.
Every so often we must step
back, and then
leave plateaus for higher mastery.
Is this what growing into the mystery
is?
God always suspending us over the abyss
with a child's hands

Saturday, July 17, 2010;

“Our worst men lock up our best men”

--Charles Bukowski

It was my Goddamn Frisco sweatshirt.  I didn’t even buy it.  I found it on a banister, tried it on.  It fit like my own skin.  Maybe it was my own skin. I was riding my bike down Market Street on the way to meet a friend for coffee—a half block from my destination—the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission (PUC), where my friend works.  I think of Market Street and how many times I’ve walked its face, balanced myself on its spine.  I see faces of all kinds—faces that have stories that come from places so deep that I am often saddened that most of those stories go untold.

I was on my bike in my city on my way to meet a friend. Between the both of us, we have a combined 87 years of residence in the city.  I glided past houseless folks, landless folks, elders, Filipinos, yuppies, bikers, artists, office workers, recyclers etc.  As I got closer to the PUC, I saw a group of 6 or 7 goofy looking folks in blue uniforms.  They were gathered near the entrance of Trinity Plaza.  I am a Children’s book author.  In my book, “Lakas and the Makibaka Hotel”, Trinity Plaza was the inspiration for the “Makibaka Hotel”—the site where elders and youth come together to fight their eviction by a greedy landlord. 

The 6 or 7 goofy looking folks were members of the San Francisco Police Department—all men and one female officer.  There’s something about uniforms I’ve never liked.  Perhaps it’s the starched quality or perhaps the dullness of it.  I wore a blue uniform once while working at a fast food establishment, and I currently wear one in my present job as a security officer—guarding the property of a landowner—while, I myself, own no land (The uniform isn’t mine either). The uniforms aren’t fit for Bozo the Clown (which was one of the reasons why I was wearing the Frisco sweatshirt…I wanted something more flattering).  The polyester pants are uncomfortable and my underwear always ends up in my ass.  The cops look as if they have the same problem, although they obviously do their best to conceal it (I think).  A uniform is a convenient thing to hide behind, much like a flag.  The shirt I wear as a security officer is sky blue as opposed to the SFPD’s dark blue (blue, blue…my love is blue), making me look more like a meter maid or MUNI fare collector. 

On this day I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the word “Frisco” emblazoned on it in red letters (Why not Frisco…I was born here).  The cops looked at me cruising on my bike and ordered me to stop, saying: “You know you’re not supposed to be riding on the sidewalk”.  I told the cop that I was less than half a block away from the PUC to meet a friend.  The female officer asked to see my ID. I produced it.  “Have you ever been arrested?” she asked.  “No”  “Are you on parole?” “No” Oh really, she said, as if surprised.  She checked my ID with some faceless person over her radio.  The male officer stood close by, to make sure I knew he was there.  The ID check was swift, performed before I had the chance to bow, do the sign of the cross or slip into a compliant yoga position with my neck fully exposed (lucky me).  Her official sounding radio communication was reminiscent of a Harrison Ford Movie (Without Harrison Ford).

It’s true--I’d never been arrested.  I’d never gotten anything heavier than a parking ticket.  I am a children’s book author and co-editor of POOR Magazine—a fact that doesn’t make me better than anyone else, but certainly doesn’t make me any worse either.  But I know folks who have been arrested and incarcerated—some of the best folks I know.  For some reason I get along with them—often times better than I get along with people who have not served time.  We sit, talk, laugh and eat donuts while watching the world go by.  I stood waiting for the cop to return my ID.  A few yards away were 6 or 7 youth of color, mostly African descended, sweeping the streets and leveling dirt at the base of trees lining the sidewalk.  The female officer returned my ID as if she was disappointed I hadn’t lied about not being on probation.  I looked at her and her nightstick which was almost as big as she was.  She looked like a typical American born Chinese girl from the Richmond District (I shouldn’t say that, I know…it’s profiling), that hotbed of resistance (Thank God for Eric Mar).  I had a sense that it was her first taste of power—but I could be wrong.  The male officer tried to be friendly, thanking me for my time in the same way a prospective employer does when he knows you don’t have shot of getting the job.  I took my ID and as I pushed my bike to the PUC one of the young street sweepers said, “Man, they ain’t got nothing better to do”.  I nodded thinking that it was an injustice that these young people have to sweep streets for officers to walk on.

I watched the news report that said Johannes Mehserle wept on the stand during the trial for the murder of Oscar Grant.  He thought he was reaching for his taser.   I thought of way Oscar Grant was brutalized before the shot was fired--forced down face first, knees on his neck.  He was just a young black man whose life wasn’t worth anything—that’s the message—broadcast on TV and all over the internet for the world to see.  For young men of color, people of color—particularly black people—the blue uniform doesn’t mean truth and justice—it means death—namely theirs, especially if they speak out or resist being violated.  I think of my grandfather who came here as an immigrant from the Philippines in the 20’s.  The Filipinos were brutalized by the police in the cities.  My grandfather was among them, handcuffed to a lamppost on Kearny Street near the Hall of Justice and, ironically, not far from the International Hotel--where our elders resisted eviction while mounted police forced their way through a human barricade 8 deep.

I was upset at being stopped by the cops like that.  Their attitude is that they own you.  My grandfather’s story, my story, my children’s story or anything I’ve written, in that moment, didn’t seem to matter—as well as the stories or lives of the street sweepers that are written in the streets.  The arbitrary manner in which I was stopped, because of my sweatshirt and race, is indicative of the race and class profiling that is perpetrated upon communities of color in our lovely and wonderful city. 

My experience is nothing compared to what happened to POOR Legal Scholar Marlon Crump—in his SRO hotel room when officers stormed in with guns drawn on the wrong person.  To Edress Stelly, Oscar Grant and many others who have died or sustained serious injury at the hands of the police.  I walk my city and look at the big buildings—designed to make you feel small and powerless—in much the same way law enforcement is designed.   Who put those big buildings there to make us feel small? Who are these people that are here to “serve and protect”?  What are they here to protect and who put them here?  Who is profiling them?  Who?  And why do I have to respect them when they do not have an ounce of respect for me or my skin?

© 2010 Tony Robles

June 2000

Like many writers, some of Trent's best stuff wound up being edited. This was edited out of an article the STREET SHEET ran last summer titled "Hate McMuffin," describing an incident where a McDonald's security guard beat up a homeless customer for demanding the same coffee refill that other, non-homeless customers were enjoying without problems. It describes the widening gulf between the haves and have-nots in SF, and anyone who's ever been shit on 'cause they're homeless knows exactly where Trent was coming from. c.m.

If the cause and circumstances leading up to this violent incident are not readily available to the reader at this point, I would like to offer my humble take on all of this. Brother Nicky is homeless. He is treated as a public menace and a general scourge in this fucked up society, but obviously not menacing enough not to take his money from him. He is however, enough of an "eyesore" that his right to a "free" refill of coffee is denied, so he doesn't "hang around" and offend the high standards of your average fast-food glommer.

I also find it infuriating that the "public" these self -appointed guardians are trying to protect from the sad realities of San Francisco 1999 can occasionally step up and prove themselves human beings capable of being sickened and hurt by the way we treat each other sometimes. But who of them speaks for me? Who speaks for Nicky, and who speaks for that man in the suit you think you are trying not to inconvenience? Fuck you and your flimsy, ragged sense of duty. Fuck you and your twisted self- important idiocy.

And how dare you assume you can speak for me, or anyone else. Better yet; just fuck you.

I am.
I am enough.
It's enough that I am.

I see.
I see enough.
It's enough that I see.

I believe.
I believe enough.
It's enough that I believe.

I am.
I see.
I believe.

by C.M.Condeff, age 54
now, age 15 then.

Monday, June 7, 2010;

To close a gap we pull together

hold it tight lash it glue it weld it

chain it nail it screw it kiss it

to close a deal we shake it sign it

pay it cash on the barrel take it

make sure you don't break it

to close a job we check it fix it

pack it sweep it detail it play it

invoice it then haul out and bless it

to close a heart we hit it slash it

stab it in the back till we lose trust

so openly given then we regret it

to close a wound we open it clean it

cover it tender bind it not too tight

hold it safe take good care of it

too close this love outside the comfort

zone we kicked it tried to forget it

but it keeps on coming no way to stop it

to close this gap we learn to love

to give up the power over another

to take power over fear and anger

to close this poem we say thank you

we pick up the pieces glue them together

parts get mixed as hearts heal to surrender

June 2000

We had a routine. I'd be five minutes late. A black coffee with two heaping teaspoons of brown sugar and one orange juice would be the order.

Sometimes Jack and Tommy would be with us; sometimes it would just be me and Trent. We'd be at what he once described in an article as "an oasis," the Wild Awakenings coffee shop. We had a lot to cover-- the diatribes of P.J. O'Rourke, old movies (of which he knew so much more about), the latest SF politics, stories about Boston, stories about our families. Inevitably, I'd admit that our talks made me wish I could be more adventurous. He would laugh in a way that I knew he agreed. After one of his comforting hugs, weíd be off to start our days. These mornings filled with the stories that he so easily penned are what I came to cherish. The loving friendship that sprung from them will forever be with me. Thank you, Trent, for sharing yourself and your oasis.
 

Patty MacDonell and POOR Magazine writer Thornton Kimes worked together, in the 1980's  in the Washington, DC homelessness and poverty activism and action organization, The Community For Creative Non-Violence, and in Des Moines, Iowa in a Catholic Worker-ish intentional community called The Kindred Community--doing the same stuff on a smaller scale.  Thornton's raising hell with POOR Magazine, Patty MacDonell is still making trouble on the east coast.  Patty's article is about something POOR Magazine's poverty skolah superbaby mamaz know well, the never-ending attack on women in America.

"They tried to pass a law like that here in Virginia where any woman who miscarried would be required to contact the police. I emailed the legislator who wrote the law and asked, 'Would I be required to call the police when the bleeding began at the stage where I wasn't sure that I miscarried, while on bed rest? Or would I get to wait to contact the police after I got the devastating news?' He responded angrily indicating that all us angry women who had miscarried and were emailing him misunderstood what he was trying to do."
--Patty MacDonell, commenting on her note in a facebook conversation

When I was 11 or 12 I got obsessed with Henry VIII and his six wives. Henry rejected his first two wives because they kept having miscarriages, still births, and their only living births were daughters and Henry wanted a son. I remember a show on PBS where Henry's first wife had a stillbirth and Henry had a temper tantrum and put all the blame on her. After the stillbirth she understood that her life was in danger. At that age I understood how terrible it was to blame a woman for losing her baby. 

Currently, lawmakers in Georgia want to turn abortion into legal murder and want to ensure that all miscarriages are subject to police investigation.  What this means is that all women who suffer the trauma of miscarriages will then be subject to criminal, murder investigations. 

As abortion is legal in the United states, the purpose of the creation of state laws like this is to go into effect if Roe v. Wade is overturned. Women who lose the babies they want should be comforted rather than prosecuted. This law and others that involve the right of hospital workers to refuse to give an abortion that would save a woman's life, as well as the attempt to defund Planned Parenthood life-saving and abortion prevention services, are proof that the so called "pro-life" movement is indeed a misogynistic, anti-woman movement. It's a throwback to the 16th century, similar to Henry VIII's use of women as decorative, disposable birth machines.   

I have a daughter. This anti-woman, forced-birth movement could endanger her well-being and her life. There isn't a lot I wouldn't do to stop this from happening. Compassionate people, particularly those with daughters, should not ignore this hateful, hypocritical, anti-life movement.