2012

  • Mi Nombre Es Ingrid de Leon/ My Name is Ingrid de Leon

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    Espanol sigue/ Scroll down for English

    30 Abril, 2012

    Mi nombre es Ingrid de leon
    Madre hija y hermana, tia sobrina
    Sobre viviendo de las injusticias y
    El sufrimiento de la vida por el hecho de ser mujer.

    Yo recuerdo de niña recibiendo patadas, cachetadas, gritos y
    un lazo golpeando me en la espalda. Una vara se quebraba en mis canillas y en voz fuerte gritando me: “Yo no soy tu padre pendeja para mantenerte”
    Mis papas me vestían bien, puedo decir, siempre use zapatos de cuero y calcetas para proteger mis pies, por que mi salud era muy delicada…todo estaba bien cuando mi padre vivía.

    Pero el sufrimiento empezó cuando mi padre falleció

    El maltrato cada dia era mas y mas por los celos de mi hermano porque pensaba que yo era la hija preferida de mi papa, todos mis hermanos usaban zapatos y botas de plástico.
    Pasaron unos años y yo quería salir de mi pobreza. Queriendo hacer algo por mi propia cuenta me fui a la Capital de la Ciudad de Guatemala y estaba contenta por el trabajo que tenia, que era limpiar la casa, cocinar, y yo vivía en esta casa ‘tranquila’.

    Hasta que me encontré con lo peor de la vida, quien iba pensar que estando en una casa correría peligro? Pero a veces la casa se convierte en una jaula donde no te puedes escapar por ser mujer. Un Viejo abuso de mi, violándome como si yo hubiese sido un animal, me amarro las manos y la boca. Desde ese dia lloré por haber nacido mujer y por no ser pobre, y por eso me fui de esa casa. No salía a la calle por miedo de que alguien me hiciera mas daño. Era horrible sentirme como un papel de baño que se usa y se tira ya manchado al basurero.
    Llore y me dije no debí haber nacido y sentía que ya no tenia sentido seguir con vida. Pensaba que hubiera sido mejor no tener alma ni corazón para no sentir dolor ni culpa por ser mujer. Necesitaba desahogarme y decir lo que me atormentaba pero por vergüenza de lo que diría la gente no me atrevía a decir nada. Si le digo a mi mama, que va pensar de mi? Era la pregunta dentro de mi Corazon dia a dia. Después de un tiempo me case con un hombre mayor que yo, pensando que me trataría bien, pero me equivoqué, el maltrato fue mas que cuando me quede sin mi padre. Seguía sufriendo el maltrato de mi esposo(ahora ex) y el abuso de el porque el decía, “con Dios no existe el divorcio”

    Regrese a la casa de mi madre y las cosas empeoraron pues ya no estava sola. Segun mi cultura la mujer pierde su valor cuando tiene hijos sin estar casada o si se queda sin esposo .
    Solo valemos y merecemos respeto de la gente si tenemos a un hombre a nuestro lado. Por eso seguí llorando por el echo de ser mujer y sin valor y sin futuro.
    Yo no savia que hacer solo agarraba mas coraje con migo, yo no quería ser yo. Mas coraje me daba por no poder cambiar el ver nacido. Todos los díaz renunciaba a la vida, no solo por eso, también porque mi hermana siempre me hacía quedar mal con mi mama diciendo mentiras de mi, me dolía porque paresia que nadie me amaba. Empecé a golpearme yo sola, cada dia mas y mas. Quería cortar mi cuerpo, sacar mi Corazon y enseñarle a mi familia y a la gente que yo no era mala persona. Me mordía los brazos me arrancaba el cabello y muchas cosas mas me hice.

    Me vine a este país, gracias a Dios el me cuido todo el viaje ningún coyote me hizo daño no me paso nada. Al llegar a este país me sonreía, pensé que me había escapado de tanta maldad y empecé a sentir libre y feliz. Empecé a amarme por lo que era, una mujer. Podia trabajar y decidir que hacer con mí dinero.

    Pero una mañana, Las malas cosa empezaron a llegar y mi vida, se convirtió en un tormento que muchas veces pensaba tirarme del puente o debajo de un carro.
    Muchas veces le pedía a Dios que me enfermara para que mi familia me amara, pero no pasaba nada. Me odiaba mas y mas, tanto que cuando me veia en un espejo me enojaba mas y me golpeaba diciendo “Ingrid por que naciste, estupida! si nadie te quiere” decía llorando. Pensaba que yo era mala y mas ahora que estoy aqui.

    Un dia alguien me dijo, “tienes que quererte a ti para poder querer a los demas, piensa en tus hijos si te mueres quien va ver por ellos si no estas tu, No seas egoísta” me dijo
    muy enojada. Le conteste “yo no soy egoísta”, ella se sonrió y me dijo “claro que si nunca piensas en ellos tu ya no te perteneces tu perteneces a tus hijos trabajas para ellos vives para ellos piensa si as vivido toda tu vida tratando de agradar a tu familia
    y no lo as logrado no lo aras nunca. Mejor disfruta cada día de vida que tienes y disfruta a tus hijos y deja de llorar y deja de culparte” dijo mi amiga, entonces me di cuenta que tenia razón.
    Fui a la Iglesia y el pastor predico diciendo “usted tal vez vino hoy con el corazón roto y pensando ¿que ase en este mundo? alo mejor le han dicho que no sirve para nada.
    No les crea usted vale mucho porque Dios le ama y usted es hermosa porque Dios lo a hecho a su imagen y semejanza de el, somos sus hijos” dijo el pastor “además y si tiene problemas y a pensado asta quitarse la vida !No lo haga! El problema no es mas grande que Dios nunca. DIOS es mas grande que el problema” dijo el pastor. Desde que escuche eso me di cuenta que era verdad y ahora amo la vida y estoy feliz de ser mujer. Dios me bendijo con 4 hermosos hijos y es una bendición decir que soy madre, hoy mas que nunca me amo y amo a mis hijos, también a mis hermanos. Ya no lloro como antes porque se que los amo y si ellos no sienten lo miso yo no los puedo cambiar, yo se que Dios me ama. Mi deseo es que las personas que están pasando por problemas se lo dejen a Dios y que se amen y se acepten tal y como son, porque todos somos hijos de Dios, blancos, negros, altos y bajos, gordos o flacos el nos ama.


    Ingles Sigue/English Follows

    April 30, 2012

    My name is Ingrid de leon
    Mother, daughter and sister, aunt, niece
    Surviving on the injustices and
    The suffering of life for the act of being a woman.

    I remember as girl getting kicked, slapped, and screamed at,
    A rope hitting me in the back. A rod broke in my shins while screaming loudly at me: "I'm not your father, dumb ass, to provide for you!"
    My parents dressed me well, I can say, always wore leather shoes and socks to protect my feet, my health being very delicate ... everything was fine when my father was alive.

    But the suffering began when my father died.

    The abuse increased every day more and more from jealousy of my brother because he thought I was my father’s favorite—all my brothers wore plastic shoes and rubber boots.
    I wanted to get out of my poverty. Wanting to do something on my own I went to the capital of Guatemala City and was glad for the work I had found. I did house cleaning, cooking, and I lived in a house that was ‘tranquil'.

    Until I was exposed to the worst thing in life...who would have thought that being in this house would put me in danger? But sometimes the house becomes a cage and you can not escape for being a woman. An older man violated me, raped me as if I were an animal. He tied my hands and covered my mouth. From that day I cried for being born a woman and for being poor. I had to leave that house. The news didn’t leave the house for fear that someone would do more damage to me. It was horrible to feel like used toilet paper and get thrown away in the trash for being used.

    I cried and told myself I should not have been born and that it no longer made sense to stay alive. I thought it would have been better to have no soul or heart to not feel pain or guilt for being a woman. I needed to vent and say what tormented me, but was ashamed of what people would say. I did not dare say anything. If I would have told my mother, what will she think of me? That was the question in my heart every day.

    After a while, I married a man older than me, thinking I would be treated better, but I was wrong. The abuse was more than when my father passed away. I suffered because I was abused by my husband (now ex) and later he would say, "With God there is no divorce.”

    I returned to my mother’s home and things got worse, for I was no longer alone. According to my culture, women lose their value when they have children without a husband. We are only worthy and deserve respect from people if we have a man at our side. So I cried for the fact that I was a woman without value, without future. I didn’t know what to do. I would just grow angrier at myself. I did not want to be me. I would get more angry for not having a choice of being born. Every day I renounced life, not only because of that but because my sister always made me look bad in front of my mom, telling her lies about me. It hurt because it seemed as though nobody loved me. I started beating myself every day more and more. I wanted to cut my body up, take my heart out and show my family and the people that I was not bad person. I would bite my arms, tear my hair, and many other things I did to myself.

    I came to this country. Thank God no coyote hurt me, nothing bad happened to me at the hands of the coyote. Arriving in this country I smiled, I thought I had escaped from so much evil and began to feel free and happy. I started loving myself as a woman. I could work and I could decide what to do with my money.

    But one morning, the bad things began to happen in my life, it became such a torment that I often thought of jumping off the bridge or throwing myself under a car.
    Many times I asked God to get me sick so my family would love me, but nothing happened. I hated myself more and more, at this time when I looked in a mirror I would get angry and beat myself saying "Ingrid, why were you born, stupid! no one loves you.” I would say this crying. I thought I was a bad person, especially here in the US.

    One day someone told me angrily, "You have to love yourself to love others, think of your children. If you die, who will look after your children if its not you? Don’t be selfish." I answered, "I am not selfish." She smiled and said, "Clearly, you never think about your children, you do not belong to yourself. You belong to your kids. Work for them, and all your life work trying to please your family to no avail—you will never please them. Better enjoy every day of life and enjoy your children and stop blaming and mourning.” I realized that she was right.

    I went to the church and the pastor preached, "You may come today with a broken heart thinking, what good is this world? Maybe they have told you, you are no good.
    Do not believe them, because you are worth a lot. God loves you and you are beautiful because God has made you in his own likeness. You are his children." The pastor said, "If you have had problems and are thinking of suicide, do not do it! The problem is not ever bigger than God. God is bigger than the problem." Since I heard that, I realized it was true and now I love life and am happy to be a woman. God blessed me with 4 beautiful children and the blessing to be a mother. Now more than ever I love and I love my children—my brothers also. I do not cry like before because I love them and if they do not feel the commitment to love me I can not change me. I know God loves me. My hope is that people who are experiencing problems leave their faith to God and to love and accept each other as we are, because we are all God's children: black, white, tall, short, fat or thin, He loves us.
     

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  • This Poem is in honor of Mamaz/Este Poema es en honor a las madres

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    This poem is in honor of mothers

    (The "anthem" i wrote for the welfareQUEEN's theatre production- dedicated to my fellow QUEEN's Vivian, Jewnbug, Queenandi, Tracey, Estrella, Dharma and Laure and especially my Mama dee - for without whom there would be no me)

    (Espanol sigue)
     

    This poem is honor of mothers…

    Houseless mothers and poor mothers

    Low-wage mothers and no-wage mothers

    Welfare mothers

    And three job working mothers

    migrante mothers

    And incarcerated mothers

     

    in other words

    this poem is honor of

    INS-ed with,

    CPS withed and

    Most of all

    system messed with

    mothers

     

    This poem is honor of all those poor women and men

    And yes I said men cause don’t sing me that old song

    About gender again

     

    Who fight and struggle 

    And steal and beg

    in every crevasse

    And corner to keep their kids in a bed

    Who dress and feed with tired hands

    Who answer cries over and over again

     

    This poem is in honor of those

    Mothers who deserve to be coddled

    And loved ,

    Fed and protected

    Instead of criminalized,

    Marginalized

    and rarely respected

     

    Who can barely make it but always do

    And still raise all the worlds' people

    Like me you and you

     

    Can I get a witness?

    This poem is honor of mothers

    Who can barely make it but sometimes do

    And still raise all the worlds' people

    Like me, and you and you

     
       
     
     

    (En Espanol)

    Este Poema es en honor a las madres

    Este Poema es en honor a las madres...
    Madres Desamparadas y madres pobres
    Madres con bajos salarios y sin salarios
    Madres de Bienestares
    y madres que trabajan tress jales
    Madres Migrantes
    y madres encarceladas

    en otras palabras
    este poema es en honor a
    MIGRA- nisadas
    (CPS) molestadas
    y mas que nada
    madres
    attakadas por el systema

    Este poema es en honor a todos esos hombres y mujeres
    y si, dije hombres tambien porque no me cantes esa vieja cancion
    sobre genero otravez
    Quien pelean y luchan
    y roban y ruegan
    en cada brecha
    Y esquina para mantener a sus hijos en una cama
    quienes visten y dan de comer con manos cansadas
    Quienes responded gritos una y otra vez

    Este poema es en honor para esas
    madres quienes se merecen un apapacho
    y amor
     Alimentacion y protecsion
    En vez de ser criminalizadas
    Marginadas
    y rara la vez respetadas

    Quienes apenas pueden sobrevivir pero siempre lo hacen
    y todavia crean toda la gente de el mundo
    Como yo, tu y tu.

    Quien puede ser testigo?
    Este poema es en Honor pa’ las Madres
    Quienes apenas pueden sobrevivir y aveses pueden
    y crean toda la gente de este mundo
    como yo y tu y tu.

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  • Senior Survival School at Canon Kip

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Senior Survival School

    Learn more about community resources, your rights and advocacy!

    Especially for homeless or marginally housed seniors and people with disabilities, but all are welcome!

    When: Wednesdays May 2nd, 9th, 16th & 23rd

    1030-2pm

    Canon Kip Senior Center

    705 Natoma Street San Francisco, CA.

    This session will cover information about safety, housing, transportation, healthcare, and  many other important issues and community resources.  Seniors and people with disabilities who are homeless or marginally housed are especially encouraged to attend.

    Classes are free of cost, and lunch will be provided.  The site is wheelchair accessible.  To request other accommodations for a disability, please contact Sarah Jarmon.  Providing at last 72 hours advance notice will help ensure availability.

    To register, please contact Sarah Jarmon at 415-703-0188 x302 or sarah@planningforelders.org

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  • Don't Look Now, It's Al Robles

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    (Editor's note: May 2nd 2012 marks the third anniversary of the passing of the poet Al Robles. Uncle Al was a board member of POOR Magazine and my uncle, mentor and spiritual father.  We honor him by featuring the following poem from poet Pete Yamamoto's newly published collection of poems entitled, "Journey" Poems by Peter Kenichi Yamamoto.  The collection is dedicated to his close friend Al Robles.  Pete Yamamoto is a former tenant of the I-Hotel, whose new collection of poems give honor to elders, people in struggle and those who fight for social justice)

     

     

    Grey hair pulled to a short ponytail.

    High forehead and a tan face.

    Mustache and a wispy grey beard.

    You are wearing hiking boots.

     

    Flamboyant Hawaiian shirt of many colors.

    Blue denim vest with many pockets.

    Your glasses framing wide eyes.

    Your hands pointing, fingers relaxing.

     

    Your mouth slightly open.

    A  straight back on a smallish frame.

    Yet healthy and able to run after a fleeing bus.

    Your thirty five pound backpack filled with notebooks and free lunches.

     

    Al is talking.

    Talking.

    About everything.

    And nothing.

     

    Al is pointing.

    And he is saying:

    "It's gonna be O.K., now!...."

    Al dodges and throws a few low punches like a flyweight Filipino

    fighter.

     

    Then slaps your hands and arms and shoulders.

    Grabs you in a "Brothers" handshake and says

    "Porget i-it!!", and

    "Are you CRAZY?!!!" "Are you KIDDING me?!!!"

     

    The sun goes down after a hot day.

    Al still has energy, his body doesn't stand tired.

    He has power in his bent-legged stance.'

    The inner "Ki" power of Zen.

     

    Then raises his chin and says:

    "Hey man!"

    And shrugs his backpack farther up his shoulder.

    The roosters square off ready for the cockfight.

     

    I am laughing at this sensitive non-ego man.

    This humble yet strong guy who asks:

    "Hab you had your breakFUST yet?"

    And looks earnestly and interestedly into your eyes.

     

    Then:  "Far out!!!!"

    And as you are leaving:  "Love you brother!!!!"

    And embraces you.

    Al, leave me alone, you're killing me!!!

     

    The sun has been down for a long time.

    It is dark.

    Talking about grains of rice and Asian people.

    Pretty girls, and poetry, and imagination.....

     

    "Come to me my melancholy ba-aby!!"

    You just came from somewhere.

    When you leave you will go to somewhere.

    And now you are here rapping with ME!!!

     

    rappin' carabao in the dark.

    Dancing among the caribou.

    A throaty breathy shafty shakuhachi.

    The clear tones of Kulintang.

     

    Sorria can't cook enough rice and adobo.

    Manong Freddy can't pick banjo fast enough.

    Ayson cannot smile weakly and simply enough.

    Primo has just kissed Geraldine in lieu of payment for lunch.

     

    I'm getting drunk offa one single beer,

    Diones is yelling about "shit-disturbers"

    Sorro is clucking his tongue in his cheek.

    Your daughter, Okashi, smiles for you that bright, wide smile of hers.

     

    Your poem about Nisei who went through concentration camps.

    Your admiration for Carlos Bulosan.

    The new I-Hotel is a sweet victory for the people.

    My eyes fill with tears again and again.

     

     

    (c) Pete Yamamoto May 24, 2009

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  • Those Are Your Hang-Ups ( Mother's Day 2012)

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Leroy
    Original Body

    Those Are Your Hang-Ups

     

    Verse 1

    Breaking your assumptions

    By just living

    Black disabled man out in public chilling

    So why are you illin

     

    Chorus

    I’m an uncle minding my own business

    Looking out for my mix race nephews

    Why do we scare you

    Mind your own business

     

    Verse 2

    You are so confuse

    Just don’t know what to do

    Keep an eye on me while calling the police

    Thinking u need to get child protective service

     

    Chorus

    I’m an uncle minding my own business

    Looking out for my mix race nephews

    Why do we scare you

    Mind your own business

     

    Bridge

    Go from pity to scared

    Open my mouth

    Now you are in fear

    Frozen & you refuse to hear

    In front of my nephews

    Standing right here but u don’t care

     

    Verse 3

    Trying to enjoy Mother’s Day

    Isms never take a day off

    Just another day but I had enough

    My sister, nephews & I trying to have a good time

     

    Outer Verse

    Minding our own business

    Please don’t interrupt

    Those are your hang-ups

    Don’t make them ours

     

    By Leroy Moore 5/14/12

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  • SPECIAL GUEST POST: Class Antagonisms Inside the Fundamental Contradiction of National Oppression

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

    April 10, 2012

    Having just passed the 19th, & quickly approaching the 20th, anniversary of the L.A. Rebellion, We should be reminded here of what Rodney King whimpered as he stood in front of a bank of microphones surrounded by class enemies & neo-colonial politicians.

    We should remember how he’d been dressed in that non-threatening cardigan sweater, white shirt, & black tie. How his hair had been tortured into submission by a jheri curl. We should reflect, as well, upon how timid & spooked he looked & on how concerned & stern those who flanked him were as well. That was a Kodak moment. It was staged to foster an image of contrition & resignation. Submission. A victim.

    Rodney King had been led to believe, thru a bourgeois sense of reasoning, that the Rebellion was really about him. That the reason New-Afrikans & Mexicanos took to the streets of South Central was the result of his filmed beating.

    That, of course, is typical of mechanical, bourgeois thinking. What it’s not typical of however, is someone from the ‘hood. And this cuts both ways. No one in the ‘hoods & barrios, ever thought it was about Rodney King. We’d all seen the film, over & over like everyone else. But that was par for the course. We’d always seen that - long before anyone had caught it on tape.

    Actually, We’d experienced much more than that. Why, it’s safe to say, that hoods have gone to War with each other, in vicious waves of internal (intra-class) combat, for much less than that. Tho’, because of a general colonial mentality, which prevents the challenging of (from bottom up) oppression, the same “hood” forces will not, in any systematic way, wage war on the pigs! Or for Freedom, Land & Socialism.

    Rodney King, alone & of his own accord would not have thought to hold a press conference to ask the asinine question (in the form of a whimpered request), “Can’t We all just get along?” The fact of the matter was We were getting along. New Afrikans & Mexicanos were getting along just fine. What we couldn’t overstand was why he was admonishing Us for getting at the exploiters of our communities? The impression he gave, with his handlers’ hands up his back, like a ventriloquist doll, was that a “Race Riot” was going on. As if we had begun to kill each other, or burn & rob each other’s homes. His handlers compelled him to send up a false flag - a diversion. But, you see, this was the very thing that exposed the class interests & reactionary politics of the Uncle Toms that had been designated to handle him & by extension Us!

    Let’s go back for a minute, let’s talk social development (“history”). There exists a fundamental contradiction in Our lives that, like an elephant in the room, no one wants to acknowledge. Here’s the thing, as a consequence of the war waged upon various Afrikan Nations by European powers, those of Us captured & kidnapped where taken out of Our own self-determining social developments & violently forced into Euro-amerikan his-tory. This is not simply a clever play on words. This is a reality. We lost the ability to control Our own destiny. Read that again.

    From that time until now, the fundamental (basic) contradiction between the U.S. oppressor Nation & Our own oppressed, & colonized Nation, has been the governing imperialist relationship. Which is to say, Us not being in control of the qualitative factors that determine Our lives as a people. A Nation!

    Our tradition of struggle against this fundamental contradiction has taken on many faces - some hidden or obscured, & some open & hostile. But all of these have been to resolve the fundamental contradiction & to regain Our independence. While there have been bona fide struggles to resolve the contradiction, there, too, have been reactionary, neo-colonial struggles, waged by internal enemies loyal to the oppressor Nation & culture, that have tried time & time again to subvert & control Our destiny for the benefit of the capitalists.

    They’ve come among Us, always imposed from above, stirring up emotions & giving lip service to “progress”, “equality”, “justice” & “prosperity”. These always within the colonial confines of the oppressors’ arrangements. And none, collectively, ever materialize, because without a resolution of the fundamental contradiction - that is, the freeing of Our productive forces from U.S. imperialism & the governing of Our own affairs, We’ll remain a “minority” within the Amerikan system (as opposed to a majority in Our own) & subjected to the established bourgeois social contract, i.e. colonialism. Neo & Post.

    We can parade all thru the empire with “black” congressman, “black” mayors, “black” governors, “black” police chiefs, “black” supreme kourt justices - hell, even a “black” president - & absolutely nothing will alter the genocidal relationship that governs Our national oppression here because the “blacks” are a part of the colonial apparatus. They have made a strategic alliance with the capitalist-imperialists to act as go-betweens in Our oppression & exploitation.

    This is a conscious class stand. The “black” petty- bourgeoisie is not innocently confused, like say Mrs. Johnson across the street is about our national oppression. About the existence & subjugation of New Afrika. They are well read, have travelled & are experienced - they have just chosen sides against Us & in favor of Our historical enemies! And, the sooner We recognize & internalize this, the better off We’ll be.

    Black ain’t nothing but a color. As a designation of Our national Identity it has played out. It is a superficial overstanding at best & a foolish & dangerous analysis at worst.

    We have no collective control over the qualitative factors which determine our lives. We do not, in other words, control Our destiny. Not as a people (Nation) or a state (government). We are not a free, self-determining people. We were, before contact, kidnapping & national oppression - but not now. And until this fundamental contradiction is resolved, until New Afrika is independent of U.S. imperialism & neo-colonial domination, We will remain at the continual mercy of Our historical enemies & their warped worldview. A worldview that breeds, promotes, encourages & finances predation & exploitation!

    Which brings Us back to Rodney King & “Can’t We All Just Get Along”. The question that begs an answer is: Who is this “We” he spoke of? The rebellion was against what was generally perceived as the system & particularly against exploiters who parasitically attached themselves to Our oppression, chose to bleed our communities of the little finances we were able to have. The masses, in their choice of targets, were only re-appropriating the wealth they’d invested in these stores & businesses that were then taking that wealth out of the ‘hoods & barrios & giving it to the enemies of Us all. So “We”, the poor & exploited, were already “getting along” with each other. Who We didn’t get along with were those who’d exploited Us. Who’d bled our areas dry of finances while flooding our areas with a bunch of crap & b.s.

    It wasn’t the Crips, Bloods or Surenos who’d pulled Rodney King out of his car & beat the hell out of him. Nor was it the Black Libertarian Army or the Brown Berets. So, why was his press conference directed at Us in the ‘hoods
    & barrios? This also alerted Us to whom had arranged this press conference. The next question in line with his request is: What exactly did he mean by “Get along?“ As in, “Can We All Get Along?”

    Didn’t Our “Getting Along” with national oppression lead Us to this point? Didn’t We “just get along” after they kidnapped Us, colonized Us, hung Us, neo-colonized Us, imprisoned Us, ghetto-ized Us, miseducated Us, un-employed Us, assassinated Our leaders, drugged Us, infected Us & sent our youth to fight other oppressed peoples for them? Didn’t We get along during all that? Getting “along” with U.S. imperialism & our own genocide, has gotten Us into this sordid ass state.

    “Getting Along” allowed the pigs to feel comfortable with pulling Rodney King out of his car & beating the hell out of him. The pigs didn’t fear reprisal from the Black Liberation Army for harming one of Our nationals because when they imprisoned Our combatants We “just got along” with that. Re-read that.

    But you see, here’s the thing - that was not Rodney King’s words, nor his thoughts. Probably not even his will. No, those who were pulling his vocal cords were those who had a vested interest, a stake, in the system - as it was before the Rebellion. Those who had made a political & economic (class) alliance - with the imperialists! His now famous quote was actually a message from our class enemies by way of someone who they thought we could identify with. But, of course, his (their) words fell upon deaf ears because those who’d been treated just as bad (& some even worst) were out in the streets looking for a better day.

    All the things people labored so hard to manufacture, at minimum wage jobs, but could not afford to buy, they got for FREE. People were getting food, clothing, diapers, shoes & whatever else they could never afford, but always needed. And this in an Empire who’s wealth began upon their conquests & continues upon their exploitation today. Let Us not forget that the U.S., as an Empire, has never supported itself - EVER! It was born a parasite & grew to prominence - as a parasite. It is today a parasite. But in the wealthiest Empire on the planet, in the history of the world, people are starving, hopeless & generally without.

    The repression required to keep Us “just getting along” is a massive effort undertaken by every branch of the oppressor government: Executive, Legislative & Judiciary. In fact, laws are enacted to maintain bourgeois hegemony over both internal & external colonies. Both Federal (National) & State (Regional) laws function to keep the oppressed tethered to the floor of the Empire. There is a general & a permanent state of war that governs all relations between oppressor & oppressed. Sometimes it’s hidden & tactically called something else - usually something with a benign name that sounds well-meaning. You know like “War on Poverty”, or “War on Drugs” - “War on Gangs”. They militarize everything having to do with relations between oppressed & oppressor Nations. It’s all part & parcel of the general & permanent state of war between Us & them! And just because We ain’t ready, organized & responding to it don’t mean it’s not a war. The ‘hoods, barrios & reservations are virtual prisons. The schools are half-way houses & the prison industrial complex is doing big business. It’s a war alright. Ready or not.

    A permanent state of war must exist in order to maintain fear in & control over the internal colonies. This permanent state of war is called colonialism. When they allow someone who looks like you to govern you, for them - this is called Neo (New) Colonialism. And, when they let a “black” run the business, as in Rock Bottom being president of the U.S. - this is called post-neo-colonialism. But colonialism all the same. The system is capable of morphing at moment’s notice in order to survive & continue to oppress. As Butch Lee pointed out, “it can even appear as its opposite in order to evade destruction.” The slogan popularized by the old Black Liberation Movement, “By Any Means Necessary”, actually embodies what the U.S. system of capitalism is really about. In practice. Always.

    They will select a “black” sock puppet to be the president to demonstrate to their investors that they are color blind - turn right around & imprison 800,000 New Afrikans. Then, the sock puppet president, turns around & appoints various women to his team to show the people it is not patriarchal - but the same system is waging an authoritarian war on women & children. Tho especially women & children of color - those from the internal colonies (New Afrika, Puerto Rico, Aztlan & Indigenous Nations).

    And, of course, We have to contend with the loyal-enemies of the Empire. These are the ones who go hooping & hollering about “racism” & “discrimination” - boo-hooing about how exclusionary the system is - and yet they really only want in. They want “equality” - to be equal with the very ones they claim are “racists”. They use terms like “OUR government”, or “OUR troops in Afghanistan” - “OUR police Force”. They are clamoring against “discrimination” because they feel they, too, should be allowed to prey on people. They want to be “equal” in the system of capitalism. They don’t want to stop the problem - they want to be a part of it. Why else would they ask for “equality” without calling into question the entire grotesque apparatus?

    This is what makes the petty bourgeois class of “blacks” so dangerous. They have the resources, approval & backing of the imperialists to carry on their campaigns of accepted forms of protests, even when it appears to question the bourgeois laws of the enemy. For instance: they’ll support both a new trial & the release of Mumia Abu Jamal, only because we can prove that he was wrongly convicted as a part of a frame-up . And while We go on to link this frame-up with a total array of colonial maneuvers carried out to keep New Afrika oppressed & exploited, they’ll pull back at “racism” and ignore Our need for self-determination. This, because their class interests reach an ending at calling into question the fundamental contradiction. We can demonstrate this by the fact that there is no support for Sundiata Acoli, Jalil Muntaqim, Sekou Odinga or any other New Afrikan prisoners of war. Anything that points to the challenging of the fundamental contradiction - that calls into question the actual National Oppression of New Afrika - the petty bourgeoisie will ignore, reject or outright deny support for. This would not be in accord with their class interests as parasites upon Our misery, their collaboration with our oppressors. So, within the framework of their accepted forms of protests, as loyal enemies (as oppo-sames), they can call Mumia’s capture, incarceration & conviction “racist”, “discriminatory” & “questionable”. But that’s where it will end. That’s the parameters. That’s the function of this class. To appear as staunch defenders of “black”, or “Afrikan American”, rights, progress & equality only within the boundaries of established imperial rule. Which is to say only as “citizens” of the oppressor Nation - as “minorities” needing special handling. Victims.

    And here we are back at Rodney King. Once the spontaneous L.A. Rebellion had run its course, brought under control only secondarily by the National Guard - it’s primary weakness, of course, was its spontaneity - the U.S. government enacted a counterinsurgency policy called Weed & Seed. This directive was issued straight from the White House, from then president George H.W. Bush. And, let Us not forget, that this same pig had, from February 1976, to November of that same year, been Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. So he was no stranger to counterinsurgency programs.

    Weed & Seed was a counterinsurgency program much like the Phoenix Program run previously on the Vietnamese people to, it explicitly said, “neutralize the Viet Cong by assassinating its cadres, destroying its bases among its people & strategically winning over the Vietnamese population”. That is exactly what Weed & Seed was about as well. In the ‘hoods & barrios of South Central.

    Once you see New Afrikans as an internal, colonized Nation & not simply as a “black minority of discriminated against U.S. citizens”, you’ll begin to overstand the interchangeability of military tactics used against other colonies around the world. Not only did Weed & Seed implement a weeding out of “troublemakers”, i.e. combatants, leaders & political adversaries, but it seeded points of contention & distrust amongst the various participants in the Rebellion & Resistance that grew eventually into what’s happening now between almost every ‘hood & barrio. These conflicts did not fall from the sky. Their origins are on Earth, issuing from designs that serve someone’s needs. The idea is to follow the conflicts to the point of interest. Which is to say, who is benefiting from the conflicts? Keep the term Weed & Seed in mind as We go forward here.

    Nationals of two oppressed & colonized Nations (Aztlan & New Afrika) are involved in shooting wars. Yes, these conflicts largely involve lumpen (criminal) elements. Those involved in street org activity. The lumpen element to a degree played some significant roles in the Revolution of the 60’s & early 70’s. Especially those who were able to transform their criminal mentalities into conscious Revolutionary mentalities. Even tho’ it’s largely lumpen elements in contention in the ‘hoods/barrios, regular, working-class people, students & children, are also being affected by these clashes. But the thing is, the combatants are nationals of oppressed Nations - those the U.S. government has already deemed “social dynamite” & have slated for liquidation thru one of its various methods of collective death & destruction. So, once the enemy culture saw the mass unity during the Rebellion, measures thru Weed & Seed, were undertaken to divide, so as to be in a better position to CONQUER, these elements who obviously had no qualms about rebelling against oppression.

    Here’s one of the tactics they used: On Florence & Normandie Avenues, the acknowledged point of origin of the Rebellion, New Afrikans were shown on film pulling a Mexicano priest from his car, yanking his pants down, while he has on the ground, & spray painting his private parts black. This was not what it actually was reported to be. While this priest was, in fact, Mexicano, he’d been pointed out by a Mexicano as a child molester & was thus disciplined by the first group that got to him. But because those who got him were New Afrikan & he was obviously a Mexicano & no sound was attached to the video, the media was allowed to mis-interpret the scene as they wished.

    And this is what they did. So, there was Reginald Denny layed out after being pulled from his truck - after he’d yelled “get your black asses out of the street” to the Rebels - & then beaten. And across the street was the Mexicano priest, pants pulled down, private parts painted black - & the Rebels were seemingly targeting anyone who wasn’t New Afrikan as they passed. This is what it looked like from the helicopter & after the news people interpreted it as such. But that wasn’t true.

    The Rebels, the lumpen, had just had a very physical brawl with a few dozen L.A.P.D. pigs over their manhandling of a fellow by the name of Marc. During the Rebels’ battle to free Marc from the pigs clutches, a radio call came out which instructed the pigs to retreat - to leave the area. They got into their cars & left. Then the Rebels walked up to Florence Avenue & were attempting to secure the intersection from all vehicle traffic - that is: all vehicle traffic. Any motorists that attempted to pass had their vehicles bombarded with stones, sticks & bottles. The tactic was to secure the intersection against the eventual return of the L.A.P.D. Which, is must be added, has its 77th Division (a notoriously aggressive & hostile station) right down the avenue of Florence at Broadway. So, the idea, on a purely spur of the moment level, was to secure the main intersection from any & all flowing traffic. What is interesting to note is that the young Rebels & lumpen weren’t trying to “start” the L.A. Rebellion. And it certainly wasn’t about the Rodney King beating or verdict. Tho We’d all seen that too. Where earlier in that fateful day the four L.A.P.D. pigs were acquitted after a trial for the taped beating. While it most definitely wasn’t the central factor, it was however one more nail in the coffin of belief in the system. This, if only for a few days, while Rebels re-appropriated various goods & demolished certain structures they knew were used to exploit & extract wealth out of the area. Local, mom & pop shops, were not destroyed or looted.

    However, by showing over & over the corner of Florence and Normandie, Reginald Denny’s stoning, the priest’s painting & the chaotic attempts by the Rebels & lumpens to secure the corner, the impression of “Madness” & “Racism” was projected out into the city, region, state & the Empire. And, of course, like most things involving a challenge to capital, exploitation & private property, the states’ propaganda machine put its own spin on these events. With a few agents on the ground, in key places, doing whisper campaigns, it wasn’t too hard to convince right-wing street (& prison) organizations that it was the “Racist blacks attacking Mexicans”. Thus began the acrimonious flow of orders to “get even” that issued from the tombs of the SHU units. Check the stats - after the ‘92 Rebellion, the hoods & barrios across L.A., Watts, Compton & Lynwood erupted in lethal clashes that have culminated in the hostile stand off that exists today. In the midst of the Rebellion nevertheless, there came a ceasefire order observed by some of the most dangerous & combative street orgs within the New Afrikan communities. Eighty percent of the sets complied with the cease fire. Bitter enemies blended across color lines in South Central, Watts & Compton. This was in the historic spirit of the 1965 Watts Rebellion that saw a ceasefire & blending of the older New Afrikan street orgs in favor of United Action Against the L.A.P.D. & National Guard. Weed & Seed was to prevent this from happening again.

    Once the streets orgs agreed upon a ceasefire in 1965, they, unlike the Crips & Bloods of 1992, had a social movement to join as an alternative. A social movement that was increasingly becoming an armed revolution. Malcolm had been murdered earlier that year, in February. The Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM) was active, & nightly on the bourgeois news, images of civil rights protests were being shown. There existed a more obvious exposure of the fundamental contradiction. New Afrika was being rapidly de-colonized. The system of capitalism was morphing again, looking, searching, for new ways to maintain its control over the internal colonies, while simultaneously struggling to get new colonies in Vietnam, South Amerika & Afrika. The following year, in October, the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense would start. And, too, would the United Slave Organization. Most of the street org combatants who’d come together in a cease fire during the 1965 Watts Rebellion, would go on to join either the Panther Party or the United Slaves. A move that wasn’t lost on the FBI who, thru its Counterintelligence Program (Cointelpro) worked tirelessly to exacerbate pre-existing conflicts between individual combatants that inevitably spilled over into gunfights & murders.

    The same tactics were used against the Crips & Bloods under Weed & Seed, after the 1992 Rebellion. Same war, different names of the maneuvers, same objective. What should come across as evident to Us as We reflect on the various tactics used against Us over the centuries is that the enemy has more faith in Our ability to get free than we do. Put another way, the enemy has had to implement so many ploys, to hold, control, exploit & now to eliminate Us that for Us to sit & point these things out make even the most astute observer appear as a wing-nut conspiracy theorist. Tho of course, it’s no theory when its actually happening, as Butch Lee & J. Sakai point out in Rethinking New Orleans, it ain’t a conspiracy when it’s done out right & in the open - it’s a strategy. Why else would the imperialists have to implement plan after plan - sometimes elaborate & varied - to contain New Afrika (or any other colony) if for (1) it wasn’t capable of breaking Free, (2) it wasn’t an asset & (3) it wasn’t able to turn it’s oppression into the actual defeat of the empire itself?

    Oftentimes the reaction to an issue can be a lesson unto itself. In this instance the enemy’s reaction to Our very existence is quite enough for those with eyes & ears, to recognize the vast potential in our collective ability to break de chains. Of course, the fact remains that the chains which bind - that at this stage are psychological - are so thoroughly in place that the masses have to be convinced that they are oppressed. Consciousness will not fall from the sky. Nor will people be moved to action by mere thoughts, or ideas in anyone’s head. On both accounts material, earthbound, tangibles - food, clothing, shelter, Land, & control of destiny (Socialism) will motivate the masses. People are moved by interests.

    So, in closing, it never was about Rodney King, the verdict, or any singular thing at all. These, however were accelerants, or sparks, at any given time, but the basic most fundamental thing that causes Us to struggle, to resist, is that We are not collectively free to determine Our own destiny. That we are under the thumb of U.S. imperialism. And this imperialism is administered thru colonialism - colonial violence (violence both armed & unarmed). Violence does damage (physically or mentally) - in the streets or in the schools. Thru police shootings or cultural hegemony. The colonialism is in place to exploit Us through capitalism. Let’s be clear on this. Because whether the people are conscious of this or not, it is the reality We are in. And it follows that it will be Our recognition, challenge to & resolution of this fundamental contradiction that will end Our National oppression. Without overstanding this, We’ll continue to be played on Amerika’s Ferris Wheel of “citizenry” - dazed & confused. Being led by the “black” bourgeoisie to meekly just “get along” with Our oppression. Hau!

    Rebuild!

    You can write Sanyika at:
    Kody Scott D#07829
    P.B.S.P-SHU/C-7-112
    P.O. Box 7500
    Crescent City, Ca 95532
     

     


     

    Tags
  • "Fight for Freedom"

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    April 23, 2012

    This spring, Abdullah aka “Papa Bear” came to the PNN Community Newsroom with some deeply disturbing news.

    Papa Bear is a double vet who volunteered for the Vietnam War, he reports, “because my country said, 'fight for freedom.' At 17 years old, I was very proud of my country[...]. I felt that I should fight for my country and freedom.”

    Papa Bear's tour ended when he nearly bled to death in combat. He says, “I was legally toe-tagged in the morgue for a day and a half. When they made their first cut for my autopsy, I woke up.” He says, “I bled to death. But it wasn't my time.”

    Now he is a disabled Vietnam veteran in San Francisco. He's been houseless since Bush implemented a policy to “re-evaluate” vets and has been struggling to survive.

    On top of all this, “I got Homeland Security checking me out cause of my name, Abdullah. My dad is Arabic, he's Saudi. They don't look at my record, they don't look at my life.”

    “Why am I being hassled because of my name and my family? It's like, I gave my life for this country, seriously,” says Papa Bear.

    After Papa Bear came back from the dead, the doctors held him for research for two and a half years. In addition to the time served training, fighting, and as a research specimen, Papa Bear now struggles with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a host of physical problems relating to his injuries.

    Homeland Security agents appeared at Papa Bear's place of work, on the corner of Van Ness and Geary, where he panhandles. Papa Bear reports, “They showed up and talked to me: 'We're homeland security. We just wanna know what you're doing.' I'm homeless, I fought for this country. I'm like, why are you guys bothering me?”

    It is absurd that Homeland Security is going after this person and many others with “high threat” names. Folks, even including veterans like Papa Bear, are getting criminalized because their names are connected with racist, colonial fears of “terror.” It is especially notable that the US touts its dignifying treatment of veterans with one hand, while criminalizing the poverty that many veterans experience with the other. The double-standard of "terror" is turned against people like Papa Bear in this case, whose services were used in a national campaign of terror against the Vietnamese. Lots of vets like Papa Bear were compelled to participate in these acts, to demonstrate allegiance to the country in dehumanizing massacres... and now suspected of not being patriotic enough? After all the things Papa Bear did that he was assured were patriotic, he's still a suspected terrorist at the most basic level. What must a person of color do to be free of criminalization in this country? Was "patriotic" participation in mass-killing not enough?

    Lisa “Tiny” Gray-Garcia of POOR Magazine commented, “There is this bullshit lie of the War On Terror, which is obviously full of so much mess that it's not even funny, cause I know [Papa Bear] was born here, for whatever that means—I think this is just a new level of insanity.”

    Papa Bear is also getting hassled by local police forces. This month alone his blankets were taken from him, the police were called on him for pan-handling, and he got power-hosed in one of the city's nightly attempts to “clean up” the streets of San Francisco.

    Papa Bear thankfully has a good chance of getting off the streets in the next six months. “I have a new agency working on my veterans benefits, and it looks good. It looks like I might be receiving my pension again.”

    Tags
  • TURF Stopping BIG Tobacco

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    mari
    Original Body

    With tobacco there is terrible withdrawal, it is almost impossible for a lot of people. I did, I went cold turkey, they never had any patches in those days but grass was not difficult, alcohol not difficult, but tobacco – OH MY GOD” – Anonymous

    Within my childhood home, four of my family members smoked and chewed
    tobacco. I have a feeling they would have expressed similar struggles attempting to
    quit using tobacco. As the oldest of six siblings and cousins residing in my twelve-
    person household, the affects of second-hand smoke caused each of us health
    related issues as we grew older. The youngest of the cousins seemed most severely
    affected.

    I was born and raised in the beautifully diverse city of San Francisco. As most
    residents of San Francisco can attest to, this city suffers from many health issues as
    a direct impact of alcohol, drugs, and tobacco usage. For as long as I can remember, I
    was living with asthma; a respiratory disease that affects many children and adults,
    particularly in dense cities like San Francisco.

    Asthma ontinues to affect numerous youth living in low-income areas due to high
    concentrations of tobacco smokers, especially in the Bay Area. Unfortunately my
    asthma has gotten worse throughout the years I have been hospitalized on several
    occasions as a result of second-hand smoke inhalation on my way home from school,
    work, and even in my enclosed apartment building. If San Francisco City Officials
    truly wanted everyone to have the opportunity of health equity, then a decrease in
    the number of tobacco retailer outlets in San Francisco would be of top priority.

    Tobacco companies aggressively campaign for worldwide distribution and
    advertisement. Though my dad, aunt, and uncles brought their smoking habits from
    the Philippines, they were unable to leave behind their addictive habit of tobacco
    use once settling in the U.S. The tobacco industry often targets families like mine:
    immigrant, low-income, and brown. Tobacco industries are known for targeting
    youth like myself as well as people lacking resources to stand up to the tobacco
    industry to fight against the deadly addiction of tobacco use. It was for this reason
    that I made the decision to make change where I could. This is why I joined the
    Tobacco Use Reduction Force (TURF).

    TURF is a program through the Youth Leadership Institute (YLI) made up of eight
    diverse youth advocates committed toward improving the health of San Francisco
    residents, particularly those living in vulnerable communities, by crafting and
    passing a tobacco policy. TURF’s first round pushing for a policy limiting tobacco
    permits in San Francisco was in 2008 – 2010. As a team, our experiences taught
    us crucial lessons that prepared for us for our second attempt of passing a tobacco
    policy in San Francisco. My personal involvement began with YLI seven years ago
    as a youth advocate. Through trainings and expert interviews, I overcame daily
    challenges and developed skills that helped me become a leader.

    As a youth advocate working on tobacco prevention for the past seven years, I have
    seen few positive health changes in my community. Easy tobacco access is an issue

    in low-income communities of color such as mine. Tobacco usage is still the most
    preventable death, yet people continue to abuse their health when buying these
    harmfully addictive products that will potentially deteriorate their health and the
    health of others. “If you are addicted to smoking, purchasing tobacco products is
    basically like buying your own death”, mentioned Jesus Sicairos, a member of the
    TURF team.

    As Jesus put it, people are essentially “purchasing their own death”, which has been
    made possible with the excessive availability of tobacco outlets on just about every
    street corner in some areas in the city. In an effort to restrict tobacco accessibility
    and promote a healthier San Francisco, the TURF team will advocate for a citywide
    policy.

    We are currently drafting a policy that will reduce the number of tobacco stores in
    communities most saturated and inundated by excessive tobacco retailer outlets.
    We are striving to create uniformity for all San Francisco supervisorial districts.
    Our policy will create sustainable change that will benefit residents, community
    members, and youth striving for better health and access to clean air.

    Tags
  • A Revolutionary Party Platform

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

    April 10, 2012

    "If there is to be revolution, there must be a revolutionary party." (Mao Tse-Tung)

    We the people, the 99%, of these United States in recognition of our shared oppression under the current, corporate-dominated government do hereby propose the establishment of a revolutionary political party. Such a party would be launched outside of the established parameters and would not be dependent upon corporate financing or subjected to its lobbying influence.

    Our people’s party will recognize and acknowledge the following:

    * The genomic breakthrough by the Human Genome Project of the new millennium confirms the biological, singular human race to which we all belong regardless of color or other differences. In short, there’s one race, the human race, and we all descended from Africa, the Motherland of humankind. While racism persists, we will de-institutionalize it through our revolutionary education and media, fighting bigotry with international solidarity, appreciation of differing cultures, and revolutionary politics. We will become the new men and women who will forge a new, nonracist paradigm.

    *  The Constitution is a flawed, antiquated, and racist document that needs to be amended and updated. 

    In 1970, the Revolutionary Peoples Constitutional Convention (RPCC), led by the Black Panther Party assembled some 10,000 people in Philadelphia to rewrite the Constitution.  It was written in 1787 by British Aristocrats who were slave owners of Africans, poor Europeans, and others; excluded indigenous peoples and all women, and referred to the common people as “a great beast” and “scum.” It still authorizes States to import Persons but the tax or duty cannot exceed “ten dollars for each Person,” and although the 13th Amendment abolishes slavery, it’s still protected ”as a punishment for a crime.”  Moreover, its 27 amendments cover civil rights but no provisions are made for human rights.

    * The real minority is the opulent one percent whose cumulative wealth exceeds that of at least 45 percent of the U.S. population.

    * The disparities in wealth and the ever-increasing poverty and decimation of the majority, the 99%, demand revolutionary change, not merely reform.

    * The current political system must be abolished and replaced by one that enshrines into law human rights encompassing the basic right to live and thrive in a modern, global reality. Such human rights, comprising our collective needs, are as follows:

    1) Environmental Protection. Scientists are now certain that the earth is warming as evidenced by catastrophic floods, droughts, wild fires, and the ongoing extinction of countless species. E.g., 90% of the planet’s big fish are now extinct. Every human being is affected by global warming and its horrific consequences. We must urgently move to create sustainable, green energy.

    2) Clean, fresh water. Climate change and environmental pollution are infecting and threatening our access to clean, drinkable water. Corporate profiteering and privatization of this vital resource, without which life cannot exist, must be stopped.

    3) Healthy, organic food. The virtual elimination of the family farm as the main agricultural producer and its replacement by agribusinesses such as Monsanto has wreaked havoc with the food system and introduced genetically modified produce and patented seeds that have jeopardized domestic and global food production. Such arrangements must be completely transformed and reorganized to provide for the equitable redistribution of food worldwide.

    4) Full employment and job security. The global multinational corporations have enjoyed a race to the bottom in low-wage labor contracts moving from one nation to another to maximize profits. We propose a universal living wage for workers worldwide to compel companies to remain in their countries of origin, save shipping costs, reduce their carbon footprints, and provide full employment at living wages to their employees.

    5) Universal (single payer) health care. Health care is human right and as such should be guaranteed to every person living in the USA. Medical care should be a vital service provided by the government (the people’s revenues), not a for-profit business. Nursing homes should be phased out in favor of independent, community living
    .
    6) Affordable Housing. Every person should have the human right to shelter from the harsh elements, privacy, and space in which to extend or raise a family. Today’s budget cuts will virtually eliminate subsidized housing in the face of massive homelessness and critical need. The “fastest growing public housing” is prisons, and when those residents are released, they’re denied Section 8 (affordable apartments) because of their prison record -- a clarion call for recidivism, or back to slavery. Gentrification, home foreclosures and urban removal must be stopped.

    7) Universal Education and Job Training. The current race to the top, a continuation of the Bush Administration’s no child left behind debacle, has practically destroyed quality education in public schools. We need to provide all our children with a free, quality education from preschool to graduate school. Such education should teach us critical thinking, encourage current events discussion and debate, as well as required studies on the histories of Africa, Asia, and Latin America, their indigenous peoples and their contributions to the arts, sciences, and literature. Job training should provide students with the latest tools and skills in construction, technology, and agriculture. Such training and education should be instituted in the prisons to assure employment upon release.

    8) Affordable childcare. Businesses, schools and colleges should provide onsite childcare to employees with children and parental leave for newborns and childhood illnesses. Government subsidies should apply where needed. Such provisions have succeeded in other countries with very positive impact on employee productivity.

    9) Social Security, unemployment insurance, and the safety net. In a country as wealthy as the USA, every person should be guaranteed an adequate income during hard times, illness, disability, and aging infirmity.

    10) Justice and Peace. We demand an end to the current system of injustice that has institutionalized a prison industrial complex tantamount to chattel slavery. We want the immediate release of political prisoners and immigrant detainees, especially parents. We advocate abolition of the death penalty, trying children as adults, insanely long sentences and prolonged solitary confinement. We demand an end to the criminalization of drugs, racial profiling, and immigrant detention. Prisons should be transformed into places of educational productivity and therapeutic healing with the ultimate goal of being phased-out altogether. We demand that aggressive, imperialist wars be terminated and that peace be given top priority in policy making. All political prisoners and prisoners of war should be immediately released.

    11) Gender Equity. Women’s liberation gave women more employment within the capitalist system at a lower rate of pay, double duty at work and home, token representation in Board Rooms and politics per se. It changed the all male pronouns and gave us more access to sports and construction jobs. But men are still totally dominant, and the abuse of females is worse than ever, beginning with the fetus (selective abortion), infants (infanticide!), and lack of respect for girls, mothers, and grandmothers. Male supremacy is alive and well everywhere, which translates to aggressive wars and no balance. Women are more than half the population, and should be at least half of all governing bodies (from city counsels to Congresses). There should be equal pay for equal work, compensation for caring and household work, and respect for women’s right to self-determination and reproductive choice. We recognize the equal human rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people to live openly with respect and fair treatment in our communities.

    We also recognize that in order to finance the people’s needs, we would need to nationalize at least some industries. Since life in the modern world requires utilities such as gas, electricity, and telephone communications, we think these industries should belong to the people and provide for their basic human rights as described above.

    Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and, accordingly, all experience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. (The Declaration of Independence)


    The Black Panther Party’s Ten-Point Platform & Program of 1966 had some of the same points tailored to the needs of our Black communities, closely replicated by other groups in our original, revolutionary Rainbow Coalition. In this global era we think it’s appropriate to forge an international party that embraces all cultures and ethnicities.

    Comments welcome at www.kiilunyasha.blogspot.com

    “People of the World Unite!”

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  • The White Sand Beaches of Market Street

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    White Sand Beaches of Market Street

    By Tony Robles

     

    A manong I’d met a

    While back but whose

    Name I couldn’t remember

    Recently approached me on

    Market Street

     

    Hey Pinoy!

    He said

     

    I recognized him but

    Didn’t know from where,

    When or why so rather than

    Pretend I said:

     

    Oh Manong, long time no see,

    I’ve missed you so much.  How

    Are you, how is your family?  Oh

    How I’ve missed you, you link to

    My ancestral and indigenous past

    (etc. etc. etc)

     

    The manong looked at me like I’d

    Lost my mind but smiled anyway

    And we were out on a sunny day

    On Market Street, just the two of us

     

    He looked at me through

    Thick glasses, the wind blowing

    Through his thick head of hair

    Overcome with gray and flecked with

    Embers of memory dust

     

    Have you ever been

    To the Philippines?

    He asked

     

    No, I said but

    Told him that I wanted

    To go someday

     

    You should go,

    He said, they got

    White sand bitches

     

    You mean

    Beaches?

    Yes, bitches.  You

    Hear of Boracay?

     

    Yes, I heard of it.

    Are there any other places

    In the Philippines with

    White sand beaches?

     

    Yes…but Boracay is

    A resort, hotels and

    Bitches all over

     

    I looked at the manong’s

    Hair that was slowly

    Turning sandy white like

    A beach

     

    I felt the

    Breeze in

    Our faces

     

    We were in

    Boracay

    Tags
  • Al Robles

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    This Carabao has gone home to the village

    Come to me, my melancholy baby

    Baguio Ifugao winds that blew away

    YOUR POETRY breathing words

    INTO SMITHEREENS OF CARABAO DUNG

    kEARney Street manong

    Manilatown Igorot

    Ifugao Mountain traveler, Tagatac -seeker

    Dancing and sucking between the juices

    Somewhere between The fish head AND THE Ox-TAIL

    LIES THE ANSWER.

    BENEATH THE WInTER SNOW, maybe.

    Or wait until the white snow melts in the spring,

    about ten in the morning when dogs have deep thoughts.

     

    The spirit that he celebrated lived in him throughout.

    The spirit of the manong,

    Of the giver, the helper, the survivor, the never sell-out, the dreamer, the provider, the visionary, the joie de vivre, the compassionate, the human.

    The spirit of the manongs and the manangs, the manangs yes,

    Particularly of that time

    But eternal and universal at any time, any place…

    Like you, my brother, even though now, you,

    manilatown carabao have gone home to your village.

    Tags
  • Preying on Disabled People for Military “Service”

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Bad News Bruce
    Original Body

    It was 1971, and I was 20 years old. I was sitting in bar in a small town in Maine. With a beer in one hand a guy taps me on the shoulder and says, “Would you like to make $100 a day?” That would be equivalent to a thousand dollars today. I didn’t ask any questions, I jumped on it. I took the job and found out my duties were to eat live rats and chickens to scare people. I found out other people with disabilities were put in the same situation as part of the “freak show.” Transgender men and women would go as bearded women and “half-man, half-woman.” People with scaling diseases would be called snake men and snake women. People with downs syndrome were called dog boys. Looking back, people with disabilities were being made into animals. Back then I was too ignorant to see it, I could only see pictures of dead presidents floating in my eyes. This was not the last time I was preyed on – the military also manipulates people with disabilities.

    I was put in special classes for “retarded” students all my life because I didn’t fit into the cookie cutter of society. In school I was bullied and told by my teachers that I couldn’t do what other children were doing. They told me I wasn’t qualified for anything besides menial labor – they told me if I tried I would fail. A psychologist pulled a survey out of his desk drawer as “evidence” that I wouldn’t succeed.

    Poor people with disabilities are often taken advantage of. Just like the Freak Show, people from the military waived money and promises in my face. The military likes to target people with learning disabilities, especially autism and dyslexia, because they think they will be better at following orders and not questioning what they’re told to do. The government sends young people video games as a way to train them to be good soldiers.  The scores are transmitted to the government. The higher the scores, they are invited to come to military bases to train. When someone is autistic, they are happy to see that someone is taking an interest in them. When they stopped the draft in 198X, they needed a new way to recruit.

    The government should not have the right to monitor children or send them bribes. According to the government and the military, the lives of young people with disabilities – especially poor people and people of color – are expendable. The military needs to stop preying on the rest of the world the way they prey on people with disabilities.

    Classroom curriculums should reflect all the accomplishments of people with disabilities and prevent students from going into the military. There should be more training for people with disabilities to use their alternative gifts. People with disabilities can do whatever they want – it’s the society that is disabling. We don’t need to change at all. I have written two books, I’m a staff writer for an online magazine, and I am an anchor person for a local TV show on activism. I’ve gotten two awards from the City of San Francisco and the Board of Supervisors. I decided a long time ago that the system is wrong and that most of research is generated by people who’ve never lived through it. It took 50 years to learn to use my own internal guide to heal my community.

     

    Tags
  • Help Stop the Eviction of 3 Families by US Bank on 16th and Mission

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    Help Stop the Eviction of

    3 Families by another Greedy Bank

    The 99% Spring of Actions Continues!

    Join us for a Press Conference to demand

    that US Bank not evict 3 single moms

    and their children

     

    WHEN:  Thursday April 26

    TIME: 12 Noon

    WHERE:  US BANK, corner of 16th & Mission

     

    For more information contact Tommi at tmecca@hrcsf.org or call 415-703-8646.  If you cannot come, please call the US Bank Mission Branch on Thursday between 12-1 to tell them not to evict the families outside:  415-575-2800

    Tags
  • Manong Al of the International Nipa Hut Hotel

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    Oy! Manong!... is that you?

    I saw you- again walking Clement Street
    strong like bamboo, swaying like fronds of palm trees
    furry hat for a crown
    caped in a denim jacket
    that salt-and-peppered beard wiggling with wisdom
    glasses tilting at a glance while
    starting each sentence like this:
    "hey- man- dig this..."
    nudging my arm with a: "... you know what I'm saying?..."
     
    you're hopping
    your thoughts hopping
    hopping that 30 Stockton Line
    hopping down to Onlok/ Manilatown Senior Services
    to make sure Mr. Lee or Manong Freddie made his doctor appointment
    hopping to the step of a timeless crazy zen poet
    holding the stance of a giant
    unfolding the stanzas and encantations of a street-side sage
    half of which we'll only get a glimpse of understanding
    "dig this..."
     
    we will honor you through our memories
    we will see you strolling in J-town and
    in between book shelves at City Lights Book Store
    we will see strutting between rows of "one thousand carabaos"
    lining both sides of Kearney Street
    bowing and lowing in honor of you
     
    ... take your place, not in a palace of crystal nor gold
    but sitting royally on a simple wooden box for throne
    in the International Nipa Hut Hotel
    in a memory that will never die
    We will love you always, Manong Al Robles!
     
    Dig THAT!
     
    Tags
  • Extractions Only

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    Aie! that pain! Lower left rear tooth is the focal point. It’s an open faucet that fills my head with pain! My head so full of pain that any capacities I’d had, for empathy or abstract cognition are drowned in pain. Pain so bad, I thought I was gonna puke. Further, the absence of an action plan addressing the issue gives rise to rampant anxiety.

    On the off chance that I remember that I need help, while actually in the vicinity of some person or organization that is there to help, I do ask for help. I don’t gethelp. I get a Xeroxed referral sheet full of referrals that fall instantly into two groups: the remotely possible, and those that either categorically excluded(able-bodied, middle-aged, unaccompanied, male)me, along with those that I know are out of date. Like the listing for McMillan Center at 39 Fell.  Put another way, the maybe & the no

    There aren’t many in the “maybe” group. Only Tom Waddell Clinic and Potrero Hill Health Center. Tom Waddell Clinic only offers dental services on Monday and Thursday mornings and only for six people per morning. Oh, BTW, that isn’t six morepeople or six new patients, it’s six total. So folks start lining up for a chance to be seen by a dentist at four in the morning. They wait in line, outside, in the cold until almost eight when a person opens a door and passes out the six numbers. If you’ve got an appointment but you don’t get one of those numbers, then your appointment is simply canceled, not rescheduled, even if you’ve been waiting there since four thirty in the morning. The first 19 Polk of the morning won’t get me there until six, which is simply too late.

    The listing for Potrero Hill Health Center claims that P.H.H.C. offers dental health services, opens at eight in the morning and is located at 1050 Wisconsin, around the block from my pal Chris’s place where I sometimes crash. That’s an easy choice. No wait, let me get this straight. It’s a very easy decision but it’s an extremely limited choice!

    I get there a little after eight. It’s in the right place and it’s open. Most of the people in the waiting room are sitting. There aren’t many empty seats. The men’s room is out of service. A few different folk stand before the registration counter. One sits in a stroller. I’m standing on pins and needles. I’m next.

    The woman behind the counter (and Plexiglass bandit barrier) says something like “How can we help you today?” I say “I need to see a dentist.”  First she tells me “Oh, we don’t do that here.” I recall standing there for a sec with my mouth hangin’ open and my world starts to spin at the edges. I think I said something else. Then the story changes to ‘emergency dental only’ which means “extractions only” and she’s asking me which tooth it is, as though they are eager for me to be rid of my teeth. The whole world’s beginning to spin, now. Maybe it’s me. My modest hopes of X-rays and a cleaning, of keeping my teeth, seem remote, now. I feel like I’m Oliver Twist and I’ve just asked for more gruel. I tell her “I’m on Healthy SF”, playing my last card. She informs me “Oh, we don’t take HealthySF” and I’m in a SF City & County PUBLIC HEALTH CLINIC!?!

    I make an inarticulate noise. A City & County health employee jus’ told me a City & County health clinic won’t accept the City & County health plan. WTF? My world spins hard now, ‘cause this is to fuckin’ much! She politely asks if I’d like to wait to be seen and I honestly don’t know and can’t decide due to how wigged out I am. How long might I be waiting? How am I gonna pay? What’re they gonna do? Will they stop if I tell them to? Um, I don’t want to be here anymore. I say “I gotta think” and my feet can’t feel the ground as I’m walking out the door.

    Tags
  • The White Sand Beaches of Market Street

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     (Author's note: The Filipino word Manong is a term of respect reserved for an elder)

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    White Sand Beaches of Market Street

    By Tony Robles

     

    A manong I’d met a

    While back but whose

    Name I couldn’t remember

    Recently approached me on

    Market Street

     

    Hey Pinoy!

    He said

     

    I recognized him but

    Didn’t know from where,

    When or why so rather than

    Pretend I said:

     

    Oh Manong, long time no see,

    I’ve missed you so much.  How

    Are you, how is your family?  Oh

    How I’ve missed you, you link to

    My ancestral and indigenous past

    (etc. etc. etc)

     

    The manong looked at me like I’d

    Lost my mind but smiled anyway

    And we were out on a sunny day

    On Market Street, just the two of us

     

    He looked at me through

    Thick glasses, the wind blowing

    Through his thick head of hair

    Overcome with gray and flecked with

    Embers of memory dust

     

    Have you ever been

    To the Philippines?

    He asked

     

    No, I said but

    Told him that I wanted

    To go someday

     

    You should go,

    He said, they got

    White sand bitches

     

    You mean

    Beaches?

     

     

    Yes, bitches.  You

    Hear of Boracay?

     

    Yes, I heard of it.

    Are there any other places

    In the Philippines with

    White sand beaches?

     

    Yes…but Boracay is

    A resort, hotels and

    Bitches all over

     

    I looked at the manong’s

    Hair that was slowly

    Turning sandy white like

    A beach

     

    I felt the

    Breeze in

    Our faces

     

    We were in

    Boracay

    Tags
  • Roblesque (To Al Robles with Love)

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

     

     

     

     

     

                ¡Silencio!  Al Robles is missing

    It’s way too quiet around here these days & we miss him

    This one of a kind poetic daredevil

    Transplanted culture personified  …  Adobo con Bebop

    With an awe-inspiring playful impish smile

    That always let the best in us know we were at home

    Lifting up tradition anytime it lost its balance & tried to fall

    Trading the tallest of tales in the park

    Conjuring strength in ageless Spirits older than time

    Or locked in a musical trance, happy to be completely

    Under the spell of a Bobby Enriquez tune @ Bajones

    A Pinoy Homeboy on a mission

    The strength of his soul reborn with every Poem

    A loveable rascal defying description

                ¡Silencio!  Where is he?

    Al, the Fillmore Flipster

    Stalking creativity with a vengeance

    Finding pieces of creativity & truth everywhere

    In everything

    The eternal essence of intelligent existence

    Leading him on, dancing word circles all around him

    There were days when none of it made any sense, but

    Then it was funny & beautiful, ridiculous or ugly

    More than once it was both inspiring & tragic

    Historic landmarks in the making, a blossoming

    Myth building Poems, tons of Stories needing to be told

    And they came pouring down like an unstoppable flood

    A furious Waterfall

    Out of the mouths of angry misused Farm Workers, and

    Found themselves all tangled up in the irony of

    A meal of Pilipino Soul Food

    With a side of Mangos & Collard greens for dessert

                ¡Silencio!  If you were you listening

    You could see the tongue in cheek brilliance in the way

    He tasted every word as they rolled out of his mouth

    In the way he digested the ambiance of Poems being born

    And followed the rhythm of words as they came swaggering

    Dancing in the streets of North Beach & Cesar’s Latin Palace

    Squashed inhibition & found a good part of his heart in the trance

    Of hotter than hot Jam sessions @ Jimbo’s Bop City

    Al, a Fillmore Flipster, a clever predictable trickster

    The undisputed Poet Laureate of Manila Town

    Who comfortably wrapped himself in a mixture of

     

    Smiley Winters, Kulingtang, Flip Nuñez & Sarah Vaughan

                ¿Silencio?  The Muse is in mourning

    But there will never be enough tears

    To wash away the legacy of his vision

    The spiritual pride & integrity of his Poetry

    Lives in the resurrection of the I-Hotel

    Hides behind the hungry laughter of city slick Hustlers

    Is buried beneath stolen visions & the exposure of

    Soulless big time urban magicians who sell fantasies

    To the disillusioned

    His powerful word magic conjured

    The reclamation of otherwise unacknowledged young men

    Young men who’d left their all a world away

    On the other side of a sea of broken dreams

    But never forgot to take the time to heal, rejoice & laugh

    As they partied, gambled, danced the Cha Cha & romanced

    Nights & sore backs away @ the California Hotel

    Held up the economy on Columbus & the clubs on Broadway

    And almost wore out the pavement up & down Kearny & Grant

    Then came to on the same old farms picking fruit the next day

                ¿Silencio?

    NO!  There is no sadness strong enough

    To erase the hipness of his vision

    Al Robles, our Fillmore Flipster, our eternal trickster

    Magnificent Manong!

    It will never be over & we will not be silent!!!

    Tags
  • Freedom from Bullying

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    I don’t wanna go to school, I hate it! Everyday it’s the same thing. I have to endure being bullied, like when I was in the third grade I ran to the restroom crying because I had had enough. I stayed in there because I didn’t have to worry about the bullying in there, the name calling, pulling my ponytails or saying ugly things about me, that was my safe haven. As I sat there I felt nobody liked me or loved me.

    My classmate came and asked if I was okay but I didn’t answer her I continued to cry so the teacher followed a few minutes later asking the same question of course I answered her with no ma’am. She asked if she could come in I said no.

    In America bullying has become a real serious problem and children just like me so many years ago endure the harsh treatment everyday.

    Because you don’t always know who to turn to, you keep it to yourself. Kids are bullied for many reasons, it could be because the color of your skin, it could be because you’re considered by societies standards poor/less fortunate, it could be because your hair is longer than someone else’s, the problem is so wide spread and there are many reasons why. In some cases it’s not kid on kid bullying, you can be bullied by teachers and other staff the ones who are supposed to help you and even at your place of employment.

    I was in middle school and everyday my teacher ”the coach” teacher picked on me because due to my religious beliefs I couldn’t dress out for P.E. he made a point to harass me every chance he got in and out of class and after reporting him things only got worse to the point I just learned to deal with it as does so many people do. But in the end he was fired.

    As I think of it now the United States of Amerikkk was founded on bullying, in how the Europeans traveled to America where the indigenous peoples were doing just fine. But because it wasn’t to their standards, they(the indigenous people) needed to be refined and better structured….in other word to be more like them. But I say who made them politically/un-politically correct in their way of thinking.

    I remember in high school there was a fellow student named Drew, Drew was a very nice and soft spoken person but because he was considered special needs he was timid and they picked on him everyday. He was thrown in the trash cans, he was stuffed in the lockers, many times other kids knocked books out of his hands and one time they set his desk on fire with him in it. One day he talked to me about how he felt, it was sad. What was even more sad was I could relate to him.

    There are those who don’t deal with being bullied very easily. Some choose suicide as a way to deal with the agony of being the target of someone else’s bullying which equals to FEAR. Some choose to kill because that’s the only way they know how to ease their discomfort.

    The point is bullying is a very ugly attachment to have to oneself. It is fueled by FEAR. Fear will cause you to do things that you wouldn’t ordinarily do; but I have to ask what are you really afraid of? What gives you the right to treat other people in a way that makes them feel uncomfortable and miserable? We can ask this question over and over again and may never get the answer that will soothe the memory and agony of being bullied whether it is in your past or still present. I always wondered did I have a sign plastered to my forehead that read PICK ON TERRILYN TODAY which was everyday. Many years later and thanks to facebook most of the people that picked on me daily got the opportunity to make things right….they apologized.

    Tags
  • Poesia Pa Nacido y Criado en San Francisco

    09/24/2021 - 09:05 by Anonymous (not verified)
    Original Author
    Tiny
    Original Body

    April 24, 2012

    Yo soy la hija de los ancestors de estas tierras
    Yo soy el elgado de las raices debajo del asfalto
    Yos soy la medicina que cura tu veneno
    Yos soy la semilla que nutre la tierra
    Yo soy el aire. El fuego el agua1
    Yo soy el barro , la luna, la marea, la madre la hermana!

    Yo soy la heredera de la medicina sabia y genuine
    Yo soy la sabia la energia magiaca de la fotocintesis
    Yo soy tu abuela que en las plantas te hablan
    Yo soy el olor del copal en tu alma

    Yo soy el poder del cambio en las palabras
    Yo soy la vibracion que eleva a los cahidos
    Por que soy la extencio de la enrgia sagrada
    Soy un cuerpo de 33 anios que canaliza 500 sobre su espalda

    Yo soy machete, Montania, Pluma y raiz!
    Yo Soy dos espiritus, soy tu dolor de cabeza
    Porque entre mas golpeas mas fuerte se hace mi malesa
    YO SOY LA HEREDERA DE ESTAS TIERRAS

    Yo soy la hija de los casadores, de lospescadores, de los obreros, de las obreras!

    Yo soy el Papel de los despapelados, la manta del friolento,
    Yo soy la ventana para nombrar el golpe el llanto la muerte y el sufrimiento
    Y despues sanarme con mi propia semilla a pesar de que extermines a msi hermanos
    Vibracion de vida que se vuelve muerte, muerte que se vuelve palabra que funda un para siempre, esta tierra es mia para siempre!

    Yo soy la Hija de los ancestors que habitaron estar tierras
    Que cuidaron estas tierras, yo soy la hija del que invento el fuego. Del que camino herrante hasta encontrar las cuatro estaciones y sembrar con el vientre de su mujer

    Yo soy la hija del purepecha o del Maya, o del tolteca, yo sola messica,
    El maiz, la historia tu raiz, yo soy del color de la tierra para recordarte
    Que ya estaba yo aqui antes que le pusieras nombres que solo te representaran a ti

    No voy a pedir permiso y tus terminus de esclavitud ni los pienso repetir!
    Yo soy la hija de los ancestros duenios de estas tierras!

    Yo soy la hija, la madre la abuela, la Heredera!

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