2013

I grew up loving to read and write. I have always loved to write stories growing up. Music was my other favorite thing. My mom bought me my first record player when I was four years old and I would play her records. Then she bought me my first Walkman when I was six. With the combination of reading, writing and music, I learned how to write poetry. As I took English classes in middle school and high school, I learned how to perfect my poetry. It was not until I was in college and I would write poems in a forum with other Teena Marie fans. I never saw myself as a Black hard of hearing woman. I saw myself as Joy Elan, a force that was unstoppable. Being Black, Deaf/hard of hearing and a woman were my blessings in disguise and my "triple tax." My "triple tax" or should I say "quadruple tax," if I include being educated, was my motivation to speak up and show the world who I am. My family taught me never to be afraid of whom I am and my teachers taught me that my pen and paper were my weapons. They gave me the tools to break any barriers that I encountered. I am a writer first and poet second. Poetry just happens to be a way for me to express who I am and share my stories. I have written about the struggle of being a Black woman in America, using what I learned in African American Studies. Also, I wrote about being a prisoner of having too much education and working at a job where they thought I was some dumb disabled employee and I fired back at them when they thought they could intimidate me. I am a single mother and it is important for me to bring my dreams to life so I can show my daughter that she can do anything she puts her mind to. If I am using the talent that God gave me to show the world that there can be an educated Black Deaf/hard of hearing woman who is willing to fight for what she believes in, then I know that I am fulfilling my purpose and what God has planned for me.

Verse 1
Getting older
Breaking down faster
Got the body Blues

Chorus
Disability speeds up the body clock
Tick tock tick tock can’t stop
Giving me the body Blues

Verse 2
Crack snap pop
Aches & pains
Especially when it rains

Chorus
Disability speeds up the body clock
Tick tock tick tock can’t stop
Giving me the body Blues

Verse 3
Remedies of yesterdays
Don’t work today
That sucks, I have to say

Bridge
At night, I’m sore
In the morning, I’m stiff
All day my body is singing the Blues
Better yet it’s hollering the Blues

Chorus
Disability speeds up the body clock
Tick tock tick tock can’t stop
Giving me the body Blues

Verse 4
Hard to face to fact
My youth is not coming back
I know some of u feel me especially those with disabilities

Outer
We will all get the body Blues
Tick tock tick tock can’t stop
Lets all sing in harmony at the moon

I got the body blues
Crack snap pop
Living with the body blues
By Leroy Moore
3/16/11

PHOTO BY RICHARD DOWNING

I am writing this story because I still have hope through tears. After you read it you may wonder why and how I come about this hope. I am reaching out my hand, one of the only things I have left to offer you, to ask you to come close and join me. We people living in poverty, we houseless people, we people who have struggled with addiction, been locked up in cages, and rested our heads on the streets to sleep at night must come together and love each other. We are being pitted against each other in hatred, for other peoples’ profit. We must stop this. We must refuse to turn our backs on each other.

I have been living in a domestic war on poor bodies for decades. I did not ask for this war, I got dumped into it.  I am the harmed, thrown away, trampled upon relic of a war against people, but I am still here.  My name is “Trouble,” and it suits me, as people around me have never seen someone get in so much trouble for things they haven’t done. I am an elder living in a wheelchair in your city. I have been houseless for twenty years, spread out over decades, in San Francisco. Add another eight years if you count prison, programs, and my years living in a dingy SRO.  Now I am living in my first housing in a very long time, and I am the daily survivor of slander and betrayal at the hands of other poor folks like me.

I am living all alone, isolated, in this scary world. My friends turned on me. I have been the victim of hateful slander, isolation and blaming for 6.5 years. Every day I wake up and sit alone in my home. This isn’t funny. People I loved, my friends, and other poor people are being offered major monetary rewards to weave stories about me running dogs over in my wheelchair, about me killing babies, about me harming puppies and kitties. They are telling the stories to the police, to the children in my housing complex, and to each other. All the while I look out the window and see that I am being watched, being talked about, and see the fear that has taken over the people around me. I am alone and terrified in a wheelchair with near nothing. And for what? So that there will be someone to blame.

This strategy of dividing and conquering poor folks is being used much more than the corporate media will ever show us. I am a former addict and have been in and out of prison, and so my poor body is the perfect target for the perpetuation of hatred and distrust in my community. People with money, police families, and business families are using me, and people like me, to separate us from each other. They are telling you stories about how I am scary and violent to keep you away from me. They are paying you to tell stories about me and even to come to believe them, to blame bank robberies on me so that they can gain the cash rewards associated with locating the “criminal.” And in doing so we are being used to perpetrate and perpetuate hatred and violence against each other. Ever since 2006 I have been a walking target, or a rolling target, for the creation of hatred and mistrust because I fit the agenda. I am an easy person to blame. I am the obvious protagonist of street rumors and it is not hard to put my name in the blank spaces of fraudulent police reports. But on my back is being created a river of hatred with increasing velocity, and it will catch you if it serves the people in power.

I have reached out for help, but people that were once my comrades in poverty are working against me as agents being paid by the wealthy for their profit. I wheeled myself to a legal aid clinic in the Bayview but there was no ramp to get in. I waited outside for the lawyers to come out and help me, but in the meanwhile other poor people who are buying into the plan to make me a scapegoat went into the clinic and slandered me to the lawyer. I was left alone and afraid outside the building. I did not give up. I went to the public defenders office, to the hospital, to the clinic, but the people I want to rely on went in and bred fear about me. Meanwhile, I went to the police office, but they won’t listen to a poor person in a wheelchair. They sent me to a social worker, and then threw a loophole at me that means I will never be heard out or cared for.

Brothers and sisters wake up and join arms. My hand is still here, outstretched to you, even after six years of terror, hardship, separation, and isolation from you in my time of need. The police do not protect us, and the hatred and stories being spread about us by people who are profiting off of our poor bodies put us all at risk. Today the stories are about me but another day they might be about you, or your mother. I have children, do you? I have a heart, and I need connection, do you? Do not give in. I know it is hard. I am still here, a poor disabled elder in your city. Come close despite the stories. Let’s reach out to each other through fear. I need you, and even though you may not yet know it, you need me too. Let's refuse to participate in the destruction of our own communities for the sake of someone else’s profit.

(Scroll Down for English)

Otro Mundo Es Posible y se esta Construyendo

Yo como miles de gente, he  limpiado, cultivado y sembrado para nunca ver o disfrutar de los frutos de mi labor.

Hemos hecho y limpiado los Jardines mas bellos que es visto en mi vida en las montañas de Berkeley California para gente con dinero, ganando 10 dolares la hora, hemos creado y arreglado casas con inmensas bellezas para nunca volverlas apreciar.

Siempre en silencio obedeciendo ordenes de los mayordomos, los encargados, los          dueños de la compañia, los dueños de la casa, los dueños de nuestros cheques, los dueños de nuestras vidas.

“Siempre en Silencio Obedeciendo” pero no siempre tiene que ser Haci…

 Enero 1994 un grupo llamado los Zapatistas(EZLN) el Ejercito Zapatista de Liberacion Nacional salieron del Silencio, el mismo silencio que usa el Politico,Mayordomo, el jefe, encargado para callar los gritos de la injusticias contra los indigenas y trabajadores.

Los Zapatistas empezaron hablar con un leanguaje que habla de justicia, tierra y libertad, siempre dialogando y trabajando entre ellos mismos..y no lo hacen usando Twitter o Facebook, o periodico o television, lo hacen cara a cara, caracol a caracol, de pueblo a pueblo..

En las Madruga de el 21 de Diciembre salieron en Silencio el Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional (EZLN), vuelven a salir de la sombra de la injusticia y corrupcion que todavia se vive y respira en Mexico en el 2013,se rumoro que Salieron cinco Caracoles en total y que hubo mas de 40,000 zapatistas en las calles de Chiapas.

Los Zapatistas dejaron un Comunicado

http://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx/2012/12/30/el-ezln-anuncia-sus-pasos-siguientes-comunicado-del-30-de-diciembre-del-2012/

“Otro Mundo es Posible, y se esta contruyendo”

En el Comunicado los Zapatistas comentan de como de poco a poquito ellos estan creando ese mundo que tanto  romantizamos nosotros aca en el norte, donde los zapatistas han dejado de creer las mentiras de todos los politicos y todos los partidos politicos,De las organizaciones sin fines de Lucro, que solo traen miseria y injusticia.

Que “La tierra es para que la trabaja” no es un dicho, si no una accion en las comunidades Zapatistas.

Como comunidades Zapatistas, otras comunidades han tomado pasos similares a los de los Zapatistas, como en Cheran,Michoacan donde el Pueblo P’urepecha ha tomado armas, despues de que el Govierno Mexicano no podia asegurar la seguridad de las personas y donde el crimen organizado saqueaban los bosques, que la gente de esa region dependia para sobrevivir.

En los 29 años de vida que llevo yo siempre he tenido que responderle y dar cuentas a mis Maestros, A mi patron, ala autoridad, a los mal goviernos, alas Organizaciones sin fines de lucro o sin fines de ayudar y solo reformar.

Pero en Junio 2011 un grupo de trabajadores,soñadores,desplazados,Pobres, Migrantes,Madre Solteras, tios , tias, abuelas, abuelitos de diferentes clases sociales retomaron un pedazo de tierra en el Este de Oakland llamado Homefulness, un pedazo de tierra que originalmente les pertenecia a los Ohlones los Nativos de esta Tierras, con permiso y humildad el sueño de homefulness se hace una realidad.

Con la ayuda y el apoyo de la comunidad levantamos el concreto y liberamos ala Tonanzin la madre tierra para sembrar una semilla de Resistencia de esperanza y asi poder crear un jardin de hierbas y vegetables que ahora existe llamado Pacha Mama Jardin en el Este de Oakland, El jardin Pacha mama  fue un verdadero esfuerzo comunitario donde con la ayuda de grupos como Retomar La tierra, RAICES, Decolinize Oakland,Phat Beets y con el esfuerzo de voluntarios y miembros de la comunidad plantamos Zanaorias, cilantro, lechuga,Oregano y otras hierbas

 mas sin ayuda de Fundaciones, de Non-profits, padrotes,  sin tener que conprometernos a nada ni a nadien, solo con la ayuda de la comunidad y una organizacion de Raices, llamada Poor Magazine, Prensa Pobre…

En el presente Prensa Pobre sigue creando comunidad y sembrando y desarrollando la esperanza y Resistencia para la comunidad de Homefulness, donde cada jueves se ofrece y compartimos alimentos con nuestra comunidad y compartimos los frutos y vegetables del Jardin Pacha Mama, en estos tiempos donde es dificil obtener un plato de comida o trabajo.

En el futuro no muy lejano Prensa Pobre, planea contruir vivienda y un centro de medios de comunicaion y centro cultural para nuestra comunidad en Homefulness, siguiendo nuestros principios como una organizaciones de raices, sin Pedirles a los Malos Goviernos, Fundaciones, o non-profit por sus Boronas y milgajas.

Continuara……

Engles sigue

Like thousands of people, I have worked, cultivated and planted seeds, never to see or enjoy the fruits of my labor.

We have made and cleaned the most beautiful gardens that I have seen in my life in the mountains of Berkeley for people with money. Earning $10 an hour, we have built and managed houses with immense beauty, only to never see them again.

We have silently obeyed the orders of the stewards, managers, and company owners (the owners of the house, the owners of our checks, the owners of our lives). We have been forced into "obeying always in silent," but it does not always have to be this way.

In January 1994 a group called the Zapatistas (EZLN: the Zapatista National Liberation Army) emerged from silence. They came forth from the silence that uses Politicians, butlers, and carries the cries of injustice against indigenous people and workers.

The Zapatistas began using a language that speaks of justice, land and freedom, always talking and working with each other. They do not use Twitter or Facebook, newspaper or television. They do it face to face, people to people, village to village.

In the early hours of December 21, 2012 the EZLN came out of the shadow of injustice and corruption that still lives and breathes in Mexico today. It was rumored that they left five caracoles (villages). In total there were over 40,000 Zapatistas in the streets of Chiapas.

The Zapatistas left a Press
http://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx/2012/12/30/el-ezln-anuncia-sus-pasos-siguientes-comunicado-del-30-de-diciembre-del-2012/

"Another world is possible, and is being constructed"

The press release of the Zapatistas said that little by little they are creating a world that we romanticize here in the United Snakes of Amerikkka. The Zapatistas have stopped believing in the lies of all politicians, political parties, and non-profit organizations that only bring misery and injustice.

"The Lands Belongs to those who worked the Land" is not only a saying in Chiapas; it is an action in Zapatista communities.

Other communities have taken steps similar to those of the Zapatistas. In Cheran, Michoacan, the P'urepecha people took up arms after the Mexican Government could not ensure the safety of the people, and where organized crime had plundered the forests that the people of the region depended on for survival.

In Oakland, California, people are taking a stand too. In 29 years of life, I've always had to respond and obey to my teachers, my employer, the people who sign my checks, to the bad governments, the nonprofit organizations and other authorities. But in June 2011 a group of workers, dreamers, displaced Poor folks, Migrants, Mothers, uncles, aunts, grandmothers, and grandparents of different social classes took up a piece of land in East Oakland called Homefulness. The land originally belonged to the Ohlone people, the Natives of this Land, and so with permission and humility the dream of Homefulness became a reality.

With the help and support of the community we tore up the concrete and released Tonanzin,Mother Earth to plant a seeds of hope and resistance. We created a garden of herbs and vegetables called Pachamama Garden in East Oakland. The Pachamama garden was a real community effort. With the help of groups like Take Back the Land, ROOTS, Decolonize Oakland, Phat Beets and through the efforts of volunteers and community members, we planted carrots, cilantro, lettuce, oregano and other herbs. We did it all without the help of Foundations, Non-profits, or pimps. The project was completed only with the help of the community and a Grassroots organization called Poor Magazine, Prensa Pobre.

POOR Magazine is creating, developing and spreading hope and strength for the community of Homefulness. In these times when it is difficult get a plate of food, Homefulness offers and shares food with our community, including fruits and vegetables from the Pachamama garden.

In the not too distant future POOR Magazine plans to build a housing center, media center and cultural center for our community at Homefulness, following our principles as a Grassroots organization, without asking the Poverty Pimps, foundations or non-profit for their Crumbs.

To be continued...

Urban Wake-up Call

By Jenny Weston and Menelik/PoorNewsNetwork

“Urban Renewal” is massive displacement and not relocation for residents who are in the extremely low and very low income categories of this community,” Menelik starts out, to the many people joined together in a circle for Poor Magazine’s monthly Newsroom event.

“Urban Renewal” is another name for gentrification- Developers trying to maximize their profit, while leaving countless low-income San Francisco residents homeless due to unaffordability.  Commercial businesses gain hundreds of millions of dollars in profit from retail space.  Meanwhile, these spaces that should be providing affordable housing for low-income San Francisco residents.

Menelik, a lifelong resident to the rapidly gentrifying community of Bayview Hunters Point in San Francisco, works fiercely to hold the city and developers accountable for irresponsible actions that result in lack of affordable housing.  Menelik and other community members created a “Watch Dog Group” to hold developers, low-income unit property managers and the city and county of San Francisco accountable for their actions. 

Through extensive research of San Francisco legislations, Menelik and many others know that there is money available for low-income housing in San Francisco.

For example,

Senate Bill 2113- a special legislation enacted in 2001, authored by then senator John Burton “authorizes San Francisco to receive tax increments and incurring indebtedness to replace the destroyed affordable housing in San Francisco.”

This legislation has been passed to guarantee that the affordable housing units that have been torn down for “redevelopment” must be replaced.

 The California Department of Housing and Community Development certified in 2003 that the agency destroyed 6,709 affordable housing units prior to 1977 in San Francisco, but as of today, only 900 units has been replaced over the past 10 years.  This leaves approximately 5,800 affordable housing units to be replaced. 

 Menelik has countless reports on how people with wealth in this city has broken and continue to break laws. Yet, poor people of color are the ones criminalized for being poor, arrested for sitting outside for “violating” racist laws such as the sit/lie law.

 “This is happening all over the city in SF-Mission Bay, Bay View Hunters Point, all over CA, all over the nation. Everything is being privatized” Menelik explains.

 Privatization is not a new concept.  In fact, it has been used as a systematic way to oppress low-income people of color, particularly the black community.

Dr. Frances Cress Welsing, a world-renowned black psychiatrist states:

“This is a wake-up call for black people in this community and in the nation.

For 500 years in this part of the world, black people have experienced one form or another of racism- white supremacy.  This is not anything new.  This has been our consistent history.”

 The Watch Dog committee has been formed to challenge the displacement of low income and people of color from their communities.  As readers, what can we do? As people who are pushed out of our own homes or have friends and family who are displaced or even as people who may be benefiting from gentrification right now. 

 Menelik answered, “We need support for these issues.  It needs to be in the public eye because most ordinary people are not aware of the laws.  If not, the city is in the pocket of the developers.”

Although I didn't make it to Chicago, I want to share some poems and why I decided to write these poems. One for the late Johnnie Mae Dunson, the other for the late Wesley Willis and Paraplegic MC. I had a multimedia presentation set up with my reading oh well at least you can read some of my poems. ENJOY

Leroy F. Moore Jr. aka The Black Kripple’s Love & Dedications gives my heart through my poetry to my Black disabled community and to Black Chicagoans with disabilities who have lit up the mic from Boogie Woogie Blues to romantic Soul to head banging Rock to Dance Hall House to Hip-Hop on May 18th 6pm @ Poetry Foundation in the Windy City as part of Bodies of Work Festival. Love & Dedications was suppose to give dedication and shout outs through poetry including song and PowerPoint that will mention Johnnie Mae Dunson, Cripple Clarence Lofton, Walter Jackson, Paul Johnson, Paraplegic MC, Wesley Willis disabled musicians who had/have some kind of ties to Chicago. Leroy’s Love & Dedication was planned to be more than a poetry reading, it was going to be a chance to display not only the love but recognize and honor some Black disabled musicians from yesterday to today.

OWED To Johnnie Ma Dunson

How can I write about you
Am I too young need to learn more
I hear you “let it go son, speak the truth!”

Now I’m ready just like Langston Hughes
I’ll talk my blues song on stages
Big Boss Lady still rattling cages

Chicago’s wind blows
Your lyrics through Maxwell street
Where you use to be

From cane to wheelchair
Doctors said you had a weak heart
Wouldn’t survive pass fourteen

First Blues lady on the drums

Making every heart beat
Raw & gritty people got up on their feat
Record business cheated

Gave no respect
Just take take take
Was collecting cans from the streets

Listen & you’ll feel her in your gut
She wolf kicking your butt
Howling & moaning can’t shut her up

Obama who is your momma
She sang “I’m a Whole Lotta of Woman”
Muddy Walters couldn’t swim in her ocean

Books and books of songs
Men begging her to write
But never copyright

Got rip off blind
Just like blind Bluesmen
Should have worked together but didn’t happen

Hold it Johnnie I got to get down dirty

So evil evil can be
Got the Blues
Cause that shit was evil so evil

Jonnie wrote for Jimmy Reed
Women always behind the scenes
Pulling the strings

In 2000 Big Boss Lady appeared
Her first and only from her stomach to your ear
Deep dark Blues 60 plus years made up her career

Back then men controlled everything
Sexism in the music industry
Force to be Big Boss Lady

Was that or nothing

Forget about the bling bling
Just write the true Blues Herstory
With the Black women & disability community

How Am I doing Big Boss Lady
She told me, “son bring it back home”
Ok ok for you out there and everywhere

Johnnie Mae told me to say
She’s the mother & Grandmother of the Blues
Chicago, you got to know you hear me Chicago you got to know
-----------------------------------------------------------------

The Meeting of Music

In a different time & place
They would of met face to face
Being proud of their identities
Giving a middle finger to the music industry

Why didn’t they met years ago
Heads hang down low
As they share the same streets
In the windy city

Both on stages
Writing lyrics on pages
Hard Rock to Hip-Hop
They shared so much but its not enough

Two Black disabled men did their thing
From Hip-Hop Church to The Empty Bottle
Their music was inside and outside
Filling up record stores in Chicago

He needed a ramp
He needed his medicine
Society sometime don’t provide
Just give them a mic & everything will be fine

Both on the streets
Displaying their talents
In disability pride parade and on the corner
Both trying to pay the rent

Like Blues artists on Maxwell Street

How much thing change
A lot stays the same
So sad
both still don’t know each other’s names

Hope this poem solves that today
Believe me Paraplegic MC
The whistle of the wind is
The spirit of Wesley Willis

Telling us that it’s time to blend
Rock & Rap and to comprehend
No more audience its time we sing to each other
Stepping in footprints realizing we r brothers

Wesley Willis screamed Chronic Schizophrenia
Now Paraplegic MC asking Feel That
Both want you to see open your mind right back atcha
The meeting of music without cooperate media

Chi-town has a long disabled music history
I’m here to speak some of these stories
Its time we get on down to their rhythms

Leroy Moore
2013

Krip-Hop Nation (KHN): Adeke Rose, tell us your history writing poetry and how do you connect your poetry to your identities?

Adeke Rose: I wrote my first poem in the 4th grade. My mother read poetry to us as far back as I can remember.  I read poetry so often I could recite it verbatim, especially Ntozake Shange's For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Wasn't Enough. My mother would have me perform poetry for friends, relatives, anyone who came to visit.  I traveled extensively since my father was military. Poetry became my best friend, my confidant,  my lifeboat, my promise of survival.  By the time I started college, performance poetry consumed me.  I chose Adeke as my new identity to reflect my sense of freedom, my connection to my African roots and my desire to write honestly without censoring myself or hurting my family.  I grew as a poet as I rose out of my despair as a result of trauma and healed through my writing. To this day I move back and forth through my multiple identities.

KHN:  I know when I was younger and in school I hated poetry until my parents shared poetry that wasn’t taught in the classrooms back then hint hint.  Did you have that same experience in school but if not how did you find poetry that look and spoke to you?

Adeke Rose: I was very fortunate that my mother had a love for all types of poetry, including poets like Gwendolyn Brooks, Sonia Sanchez, Nikki Giovanni and Amiri Baraka.  As a result I developed a strong love very early. My father turned me onto Gil Scott Heron in high school. I was sort of a chameleon; traditional poetry by day, black poetry at home.  My teacher found me "a little militant" but I was so soft spoken they did not try to dissuade me.

KHN:  Give us some subjects you touched on in your poetry.

Adeke Rose: Homelessness, federal budget, depression, love and relationships, military, sexual assault, disability, self image, domestic violence, suicide, treatment of males in the criminal justice system, poverty, spirituality are some of the topics in my writing. My writing is pretty diverse.  A lot of it is motivational like the poems "success" and "The Solution".  My goal is to enlighten, inspire, and aid in healing.  Even my humorous pieces have a message.

KHN:  Tell us about  all of your books, your first poetry CD, "Autobiography of a Rose”
 and what are you writing about these days?

Adeke Rose:  I have one bound book and three chapbooks, all with a specific themes.  Autobiography of a Rose was written when I developed my progressive illness so my family and friends would have something to remember me. My condition stabilized so  I later selected poems from it for the CD. It is my autobiography in poetic form.

My second chapbook is She Walks In Faith.  It is special as it is my "coming out" as a poet with a disability putting myself on the cover with my crutches. It has a spiritual focus though it is not "preachy".

My bound book Wounded Kings and Warrior Women is a book of poems on love, culture and community.  It includes poems on social issues, black men, self image etc.  This book is special to me as the cover art is amazing.  It was done by my daughter who is a professional artist.

My final Chapbook Football and Desire has some of my best work.  It is a book of love poems; romantic and familial.

 Currently I'm finishing the Wounded Kings CD, a video and my first Novel called The Morning After.  My next project will be a new CD with a strong Social Cultural focus.  It will show the activist part of me in a strong way, tempered with raw, honest introspection.

KHN:  You are also a therapist for people dealing with trauma please explain and how that connects to your cultural work:

Adeke Rose: I became a therapist while I was working at Juvenile Services, with teens charged with a crime. I was concerned with the lack of therapists willing and competent to work with them, especially those that were poor and Black. The disproportional representation of African American males in my opinion stems in part from a general bias that white males need counseling while black males need incarceration; and a resistance toward mental heath services in our communities despite high levels of trauma in some high risk areas. It is my mission to provide services to those who need it in a flexible, ethical, competent yet culturally sensitive fashion.

KHN:  As a Black disabled poet and in my 40’s I’m seeing more and more Black disabled poets on the scene today.  What do you  say to young Black disabled poets who don’t see themselves in societal mirrors?

Adeke Rose: "Mirrors Lie". (Comes from one of my poems).  I strongly encourage young disabled poets to claim their space on the stage and that doing things in a different manner is okay.  We often feel that we have to be the same to be good at what we do. If I need a stool so be it.   If I can't get on the stage, I perform in front of it.  It is also vital to take care of yourself.

Finally connect with other poets with disabilities.  That networking can be life enriching.  I remember once I was in Houston performing and I was really down.   I called my friend 13 of Nazareth who also has a disability and I felt so validated. He knew exactly what I was going through and gave me great suggestions on how to take care of myself on the road.

KHN:  I love music and you have a poem about music.  There is this deep relationship between music and poetry from Blues to Hip-Hop.  Can you share you thoughts about this relationship?

Adeke Rose:  My favorite memories from childhood are all related to listening to jazz, blues and soul with my father and poetry with my mother.   In addition poetry and music can release emotion, and soothe the soul. I believe in music and poetry are siblings. Each with their own identity, yet very closely related. I have several pieces with a music theme.  Poetry keeps me sane, but music has always been my escape.

KHN:  You’re an advocate for victims of violence, have you wrote a poem about the violence against people with disabilities?

Adeke Rose: Yes I have a poem called broken pieces that deals with violence and physical disabilities.  I have another poem that deals with harassment and psychological disabilities.

KHN:  What is the role of story tellers in this computer age we live in today?

Adeke Rose: We restore a sense of humanness and connection.  The computer age has us interacting in a forum where we can't see faces, hear tone of voice or otherwise gauge emotion.   Poetry by its very nature elicits emotion.  We tell stories in our writing that grants permission to feel, grow and heal.

KHN:  I love your poem, "Look The Other Way" at Across Words 2 where you speak about homelessness please tell us about that poem and share some lines of the poem.

Adeke Rose:  The poem "Look The Other Way" was performed at Across Words 2.  I wanted people to see the men and women who are homeless as family.    Any of us could be there in a heart beat. I start off the poem addressing stereotypical views in a non confrontational way, then take the reader on a journey ending with a very personal revelation.

"I stopped and stared completely unaware I was defying common convention. When approached by the homeless tradition dictates that we look the other way, don't encourage him to stay, close our eyes, let the unfortunate be invisible..."

Later it states "Why does homeless mean human-less? somebody loved him, how does this fade out from family begin?"

KHN:  You are a mother, did your poetry help rise your child/children?

Adeke Rose:  My children are one of the best parts of my life.  I was so blessed to have them.
I read poetry with them as my mother did with my.   All three write, and my oldest daughter Bren's poetry is amazing. I wrote about my twins premature birth three months early, my son's disabilities, and other issues with my children.  Writing allowed me to contain my emotions and be totally present for my children.   I struggled knowing that my physical issues resulted in their premature birth and my son's dependence on life supporting equipment and nursing at home.

KHN:  From some of your poetry, there is a sense that you’re an activist tell us about your activism and political education and do you think political poetry like The Last Poets, Sonia Sanchez and more is still needed today.  If so how have you build on this tradition and please share one of your political poems.

Adeke Rose:  In college I was mentored by Dr Acklyn Lynch, a professor in the African American studies Department at UMBC.   His classes really broadened my thinking and sparked my activism. My books are dedicated to him as he made me promise I would publish my poetry.

I became very frustrated when I began to understand the inequalities in our society.    In fact I almost got thrown out of school for participating in a sit in to protest financial aid practices during the period. Fifteen student leaders were identified and went through administrative hearings.  Our attorney Billy Murphy Jr was able to resolve the complaints.

Now my focus is on many inequalities: cultural, gender, disability, economic, sexual orientation... The sad part is there is so much to address.  Political poetry will always be necessary.  The issues may change but the need remains.  Here is one of my poems:

Balancing Acts

I wonder
if the reason we aren't frightened
enough to tighten our belts
and take a reflective pause,
is that we don't understand the cause
and benefits of poverty.
If there were no poor there would be no wealthy
Many believe its healthy
to have an imbalance of assets
I don't recall being asked for my consent
over the way tax payers money is spent
I regularly use my vote
Candidates consistently build up my hopes
Only for them to be dashed
as the political factions clash
and progress gets blocked up
My brothers disproportionally locked up
poverty increasingly stocked up
And we are blinded to the reality
that we may be the next casualty
In this war of survival
They say that to succeed you must
"Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps"
But what if you don't have shoes...
or feet?
It's like Marie Antoinette who indicated that "if the poor don't have bread, let them eat cake..."
It is a mistake
to allow the rich
to determine how to help the poor
Most have never been there before
Never made the journey
From poverty to solvency in one generation
And many cannot avoid the temptation
to blame the poor for their condition
Yet the politicians use ammunition
Like wealth tax breaks
Cuts in health care
medicaid, medicare
And Cutbacks and layoffs
to keep them there.
Yes, most of the poor work. 
Budget cuts eliminating jobs affect people
Usually those who need their job the most
And those cutting them don't care
that many more
are falling down the stairs
From success, to struggle for survival
It's tough when our largest rival
are not terrorists from select groups
But our own politicians who create loops
For some to climb through
And for others to fall from.
I've learned in the end
I cannot depend
on the government
To stabilize my present
nor secure my future
They are prone to forget
reject or neglect
programs that help or uplift
And Social security is neither sociable
Nor secure
So I'm building my own safety net
And I encourage you and yours
To do the same.

            Adeke Rose

KHN:  Check out Adeke Rose's website at http://www.adekerose.com/fr_home.cfm

Please keep an eye out for part two our report on the 30-day action campaign, which will further examine the legality of Maroon’s placement in solitary confinement and take a closer look at his recently published book, Maroon the Implacable. In the meantime, you can stay updated on the campaign for his release from solitary here. Below is a video interview with Theresa Shoatz, released by Solitary Watch in 2011.

A3N:   A key feature of your father’s being held in solitary confinement at, until recently, SCI Greene, a supermax prison, is to not allow contact visits with family and friends. If Maroon is transferred to general population, he will then be able to have contact visits once again. How long has it been since you had a contact visit with him?

 

TS:      It’s been almost thirty years since I've been able to touch my father.

 

A3N:   How has this aspect of his imprisonment affected you personally?

 

TS:      It is extremely painful and mentally challenging. I am still that little girl who craves hugs, and reassurance from her daddy.

 

A3N:   How has the policy of no contacted visits affected the rest of your family?

 

TS:      The no-contact visits cause stress, leading to emotional and physical breakdowns.  The fear this creates often paralyzes family members, and is so debilitating that it prevents some from visiting him.

 

A3N:   What is a no-contact visit with him like?

 

To reach the solitary no-contact visiting room, there’s a tunnel spanning two city blocks, and a barbed-wired fence surrounds this ‘prison inside of a prison.’ The visiting room is cold and 99 percent of the time there are no other family members visiting prisoners.

 

It is mind blowing to think of this 69-year-old man with both ankles shackled, both wrists shackled, all attached by a chained waist belt. This contraption forces him to walk hunched over, and appear older than his real age.

 

A3N:   To underscore the importance of the new campaign to have Maroon transferred to general population, how significant will it be, if he’s transferred, to have contact visits with him after all these years?

 

TS:      After so many years of no-contact visits, I could really use some contact with my daddy. It’s well overdue. Contact visits would be nourishing. My soul is constantly in an uproar and the pain runs deep, yet I continue straight ahead, keeping my eye on freedom.

 

Outside of my daddy, there’s no man on this earth who could turn this pain around. The remedy is an end to all control units, the present day prison system, and freedom for Maroon and all my extended family: the political prisoners who stood on the front lines for our freedom.

 

A3N:   Thank you, Theresa, for sharing such a personal story with us.

 

The second part of this article now begins by interviewing longtime activist Matt Meyer. Matt, the afterword for Maroon the Implacablethat you co-wrote with Nozizwe Madlala-Routledge asserts: “We believe that all people who believe in peace and nonviolence must work for justice, especially in these most grievous cases of injustice and especially at times when oppressive forces would have us distanced from colleagues and comrades such as Maroon, who are cast as ‘violent criminals’ unworthy of our support...Russell Maroon Shoatz must be freed now. His release must become a priority for all human rights activists, peace activists, pro-democracy advocates, environmentalists, anti-imperialists, students, churchgoers, and even progressive Parlimentarians.”

 

Building on the quote above, why is it that you are going beyond the immediate call for Maroon’s transfer to general population, and also calling for his release from prison?
 

Matt Meyer:   For me, the position for peace activists working in the context of restorative justice is clear: there can be no reconciliation without release. 

 

Nozizwe and I also say in our afterword that “we must face the truth about the uprisings of forty years ago.” As you know, Nozizwe herself was a chief negotiator in the process which ended legal apartheid in South Africa, and the two of us respect the work of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, whose commitment to truth and reconciliation has always been coupled with a commitment to ‘heal’ by working for people’s power and the rights of the most oppressed.

 

Here in the US, we must face the truth that the legacy of the 1960s and 1970s remain an open wound so long as key leaders such as Maroon are invisible to the majority of us, tortured in dungeons for decades upon decades.

 

Even one day of the type of treatment Maroon has faced would be wrong in any human rights framework that is not centered on simplistic revenge, hatred, and a cycle of murder and violence. The US criminal justice system, filled with the injustices of centuries passed--based as it is on land theft, slavery, and greed--cannot be understood as ‘democratic’ in any sense of that word so long as Maroon remains behind bars.

 

Aside from many questions which could be raised about the political context of the initial charges and court case against him, the length and nature of his sentence and the way it has been carried out signal grave injustices which make a mockery of any attempt to characterize US jurisprudence as fair or color-blind.

 

A3N:   What is the significance of Maroon’s identification of himself as a ‘prisoner of war’ (POW)? How is this different than simply identifying as a political prisoner?

 

MM:   The United Nations outlines the specific legal definition of the prisoner of war position, definitions which are generally accepted by most participating nation-states, including the US. This definition is rooted in history which goes back as far as 1660, when international military protocol accepted thatanyone who is held in custody by an enemy power during or immediately after an armed conflict, whether combatant or non-combatant, should be classified as a POW. After World War Two, with the Geneva Convention of 1949 to which the US is a signatory, conditions were clearly outlined which require that POWs be treated humanely.

 

For those who lived through the tremendous upsurge of the Black liberation movement of the late 1960s, the position underscores a clear analysis of the relationship between “the Black nation” and the US empire. That relationship, simply put, is one AT WAR. Though the battles may appear to many as covert, and the military powers deeply imbalanced, the position of extreme conflict is nonetheless expressed. This includes the position taken by some people of African descent (i.e., “Black folk, New Afrikans, African-Americans, etc.) that the political status of US citizenship was never chosen by them, but rather, was imposed.

 

In any case, by using the international legal term ‘prisoner of war,’ the question of humane treatment and appropriate jurisdiction in a case of extreme conflict must be squarely faced.

A3N:   You edited the book Let Freedom Ring: A Collection of Documents from the Movements to Free U.S. Political Prisonersand co-editedWe Have Not Been Moved: Resisting Racism and Militarism in 21st Century America. In your opinion how do popular movements resisting US military aggression abroad relate to movements at home seeking the release of COINTELPRO-era political prisoners & opposing the rise of the police state and mass imprisonment since COINTELPRO’s official end in the 1970s?

 

MM:   We must connect the dots between the military-industrial-complex and the prison- industrial-complex. We must begin with the fact that, on the one hand, the military has for too many become the job of choice in an era of vast economic depression and crisis. On the other hand, the ever-increasing rates of incarceration--where now there are more men of African descent behind bars than there were enslaved in the years leading up to the Civil War--suggest that cheap labor is being replaced by forced free labor as authorized by the 13th Amendment, which abolished slavery, except for prisoners.

 

We must do more than understand that an empire in decline requires ever-cheaper means of producing whatever it can still produce and an ever-stretched military to police its dwindling holdings.

 

We must act, in ways faithful to the vision of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who called for a “true revolution” in the American practices of racism, militarism, and materialism. We must be moved to go beyond the false dichotomies of race, and the false splits of tactical difference which seek to make Martin and Malcolm into irreconcilable opposites.

 

We must build coalitions and united fronts against empire, ones which understand that the many US political prisoners represent not only acts of repression from past generations but reminders to current and future movements that we must never stray beyond the confines of polite protest, OR ELSE.

 

Freeing all US political prisoners is both a just and basic human rights demand, but it is also a necessary step in building future movements which can act with militancy, creativity, soul, and a free spirit which we need to envision the ‘beloved communities’ which will build just and peaceful tomorrows.

 

A3N:   How does Maroon’s case fit into this? What is the broader political significance of Maroon’s imprisonment and his contributions to radical political movements since?

 

MM:   One should not be reading this interview for the answer to that question. Maroon’s broader political significance, and his contributions to current movements, is well revealed through a careful reading of the essential new essay collection Maroon the Implacable.

 

His writings on his own reflections on the Black Panthers, on the nature of sexism and matriarchy, on the environment and the need for eco-socialism, on the Occupy movement and how to build effective new movements, go far beyond the current discourse which we find in blogs and what passes for the left press. It is a challenging course in building for lasting social change.

 

--Angola 3 News is a project of the International Coalition to Free the Angola 3. Our website is www.angola3news.com where we provide the latest news about the Angola 3. We are also creating our own media projects, which spotlight the issues central to the story of the Angola 3, like racism, repression, prisons, human rights, solitary confinement as torture, and more.

The Black Riders Liberation Party (BRLP) started in 1996 in a YTS gang prison in Los Angeles when the bloods, crips and other members of street tribes who were incarcerated began to take college courses and forming their spiritual bond of unity. While locked up, those who took part of this revolutionary transition made a vow to work hard towards correcting the destruction that the men have inflicted upon their communities.

We at poor magazine embraced and welcomed our revolutionary brother who stopped by to enlighten fellow comrades on the origin of the Black Riders Liberation Party. At poor we believe in the ideal of collaborating with other souljahz in the struggle because it brings us all together, connecting the dots and ridding ourselves of the “crabs in a barrel” and the “my organization is better than yours” stigma that keeps many of us separated and defeated before we even progress. Bay Area native Shango is the founder of the Black Riders Liberation Party of northern California.

Having learned that the blood and crip gangs spawned from the infiltration of cointelpro to destroy community souljahs such as the Black Panther Party for self-defense, Shango  resided in Los Angeles for a year to learn more about the BRLP and it’s ideaology and principles. Shango also was a student at Humboldt State, and went on to be a representative of the commemoration committee for the Black Panther Party for self-defense in Berkeley, Ca and covered the Oscar Grant trial. While in LA, Shango met up with folks who knew members of the BRLP, and eventually connected with T.A.C.O, the general of the Black Riders (LA), and began building with the organization. He also began working with the Chico justice center and other advocacy groups while living in Watts and in South Central. Shango then took the skolarship he had learned in LA and collaborated with a group of activists involved in the movement and started a BRLP chapter here in the bay area here in 2010 in West Oakland.

It was here that Shango, along with other comrades began to follow in the footsteps of the foremothers and forefathers of the Black Panther Party by having consistent programs such as “feed the people” and the “watch a pig” program where the conduct of the police were being monitored. These programs even began to capture the imaginations of those who participated in  “illegitimate capitalism” and other activities that contributed to the destruction of our communities. The Black Riders Liberation Party also have a awesome newspaper circulating that talks about what is going on in the community and enlightens readers on issues such as po’lice brutality, forums on education and health, feed the people programs and the black commune program. For more information on how you can support the BRLP you can send a email to blackriderslp@yahoo.com.

I started Black Poets of Change in 2012, as a result of putting together a creative way to do my Documentary-The 16^th Strike. Poetry is, and has always been a way to express our innermost feelings. It is poetry that starts the beginning of a music passion. This is why it was so important to have poetry as a part of The 16^th Strike documentary. When trying to figure out a title, a young lady by the name of Nikala Asante’s poem titled- The 16^th Strike would not leave my mind. I eventually got her permission to use her title. (Breaking news I'll be in the SF Bay Area in Black August 2013 to show the documentary.  Stay tune for more details)

Every time we hold a Black Poets Night event, we keep it clean, and only speak of those things that can encourage our communities. Poetry is a language of the heart. And I am happy that this featured poet- “Yahcanon the Poetical Preacher,” is also in the documentary. He is a strong representation of what we do at each Black Poets Night. Check out my website for the next  for our next one at http://www.tonihickman.com/ or our facebook page  https://www.facebook.com/Givebackbuyblack .

By T.Alika Hickman

4/16/13

As a woman of color I Leontyne Smith am a part of the Women’s Resource Center in San Francisco and it helped me gain a knowledge of myself and the history of other women. I as a human believe feeding into the positive energy this program offers has tremendously impacted my life. Now im not ashamed of being disabled and a woman of color that has difficulties in school because of the lack of academics from high school. From this resource center comes a lot of good people, a library of all women’s books, free food and coffee, free access to Internet, support groups, and movies. This program was basically my backbone in college because of the opportunities and the initiatives that took place. The woman’s resource center is the best thing on campus but as we know City College is being attacked. I and a lot of other people will be distraught if this program gets cut off. City College of San Francisco is one of the largest community and junior colleges in the United States and an extremely important resource for poor women of color like myself. The Women’s Resource Center is known to be the most effective organization for black women. It is an initiated and student run organization and their funding comes from the Women's Studies Program. The Woman of Color Gathering was one of the annual events coming from the Women’s Resource Center. Its purpose is to bridge the gap between Black History Month and Women’s Herstory Month. This year the Women’s Resource Center is focusing the gathering on education, with guest speakers Shanell Williams, Associated Student Council President at CCSF, and Sekani Moyenda, teacher and co-author of TAKING IT PERSONALLY: Racism in the classroom from kindergarten to College. The first speaker, Shanell Williams, who is the president of student council and the student chair for the Black Student Union, is fighting for City College students and she is an example of excellence from the background she has. As education was the focus Shanelle talked about how from the first experience as an African American woman being in school disinterested her because she wasn’t gaining a knowledge of self. Shanelle got kicked out of three high schools prior to her graduation. She excelled in school after attending Wallenberg and finally graduated. Though she received her high school diploma she didn’t want to go to College. She expressed the anger she had from living in Hunters Point and because all she saw was violence and self destruction. Coming against all odds to fight for the community she attended City College of San Francisco, because she wanted a positive outlet. Other than doing drugs, black on black crime, and the misconduct of women in the neighborhood. As she spoke about her entry into school at the age of twenty five, people in the audience literally cried when they heard her story of being that at risk youth in the black community yet now she is graduating this semester of 2013 and continuing in an Ivy League College. Women in the audience talked about cancer, asthma, dust, and health care in Bay View as well. One woman had lung cancer from living in hunters Point all her life. There are so many stories out there that people do not know about but as Shanelle expressed her relief of living in the black community became a gift to her dreams. This is to go back into the community and help others go to college and start a non profit organization working for the black community. She left a key note on asking people are they in College to get money or fulfill a purpose? She said if you do what you love and work at it the money will always come. The beauty of the program was destined to be because the other keynote speaker for the event works at the elementary school Shanelle went to when she was a kid. When Sekani Moyenda, an African American elementary school teacher, accepted an invitation to speak at a graduate education class, neither the students nor Ann Berlak, their professor, could guess that her presentation would spark an outpouring of emotion and a reexamination of race from everyone involved. The "encounter” as it was called was an expression of Moyenda's anger at the institutionalized racism of our educational system, a system whose foundations are reinforced and whose assumptions about race are reproduced in the graduate school classroom. Forcing everyone involved to rethink their own race consciousness, Taking it Personally is a chronicle of two teachers and their own educational progress. In processing their own responses to the encounter, along with their students', Berlak and Moyenda meditate not only on their own ideas on teaching and learning, but also redefine the obligation a teacher has to his or her students. Personal in its approach, yet grounded in significant currents of educational thought, Taking it Personally will be a must-read for any educator or educator-to-be who is committed to teaching in our diverse classrooms. I sat down with her after the presentation of this scenario she put together and talked about, and she expressed that everyone has racism in their lives. Her approach to me was so warming, because not only was she a good teacher she is a good person who wants to help the community. As an outcome everybody wants to purchase this book, because it is not just black and white anymore she deals with diversity and the environment she works in is of all different nationalities. At the end of her presentation her main point was to come to the students who are black and fighting for their education so they can help themselves. They are cutting so many things with education that teachers are being laid off left and right. She said she keeps on fighting and when people knock her down she stands up even stronger. She said if people aren’t talking about you something is wrong. The whole audience loved both speakers and there was an announcement for people of color to do a walk out and march. This will help our education and the future’s education. I am proud to be a black woman especially after analyzing these strong women in the community and the stories they shared.

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    Los tambores tienen una manera hermosa de hablar y cantar; nos pueden llevar a un punto ecstático con mucha energía e inmediatamente después, arrullarnos a tal punto de tranquilidad, que se podría dormir en el mismo momento. Yo creo que los tambores nos pueden conectar y reconectar con la Tierra, sincronizarnos a los ritmos de su corazón latiente, y guiarnos de regreso a las maneras de vivir naturales y tradicionales. Yo estaba pasando por muchos cambios, internos y externos. Había estado lejos de mi hogar, México, alrededor de 6 meses y extrañaba mi casa,mi país. Me sentía desconectada de la Tierra, alejada de mi familia y me hacía falta una comunidad con la que me pudiera sentir como en casa. En mi búsqueda por un nuevo hogar, me topé con el área de Fruitvale, una pequeña versión de América Latina en Oakland. Tomé repentinamente la decisión de mudarme allí y en menos de un mes, me estaba mudando a un pequeño estudio en el corazón del área. Era mi segunda noche en mi nueva casa y había pasado casi todo el tiempo desempacando y acomodando mis cosas, así que decidí salir y respirar un poco de aire fresco, mirar la Luna y las estrellas y darme una vuelta. Caminaba en parte sin buscar nada en específico, parcialmente admirando mis alrededores y parcial e incondicionalmente, buscandome a mí misma.

Repentinamente, el sonido de tambores se comenzó a escuchar. Me encantan los tambores, siempre lo han hecho, desde que era pequeñita... pero éstos tambores eran distintos; su vibracióñ se sentía más fuerte, me sentí fuertemente atraída hacia ellos, sentí que algo me llamaba desde el fondo de mi alma. Persiguiendo el sonido, simplemente dejé que mis pies se movieran hacia un destino incierto. El aroma de Copal ardiendo y humeando comenzó a acompañar el retumbar de los tambores y simultáneamente, mientras uno se tornaba más intenso, también lo hacía el otro. El sonido parecía venir de la Hacienda Peralta; un parque, un museo y un centro comunitario a media cuadra de mi casa. Me acerqué más y más, hasta que me encontré frente a un círculo de personas danzando alrededor de unos tambores, con plumas en sus cabezas y con semillas que hacían hermosos sonidos al moverse, abrazándoles los tobillos. Sentí la necesidad de conocer más, de unirme a su círculo y danzar, pero al mismo tiempo me sentía nerviosa y un poco confundida, así que simplemente me quedé donde estaba, congelada. Un hombre se me acercó portando una sonrisa enorme y se presentó como Ernesto, e inmediatamente después exclamó de manera firme y sincera: “!Bienvenida!” Un jovencito que no podría haber tenido más de 13 años se dió cuenta de nuestra plática y también se acercó. Extendió su brazo hacia mí y firmemente me dió la mano; su nombre era Frank, aunque se aseguró de que yo supiera que su nombre espiritual era Chicome Malinalli. “Chicome significa 7 y Malinalli significa hierba medicinal,” me dijo. Supongo que el dicho de que las mejores cosas vienen en 3 es real, porque mientras él terminaba de hablar, una mujer se le acercó y se presentó conmigo como Tere, su madre. Frank la interrumpió y me dijo que los nombres de Ernesto y de Tere eran Yei Cipactli ( 3 cocodrilo) y Coaltyotl Olllin (mujer en movimiento). Con un poco de prisa, como quien quiere evitar detalles minúsculos e innecesarios,  me invitaron a que me uniera al círculo, pues la ceremonia estaba a punto de comenzar. Me prestaron una maraca, una cinta para amarrarme en la cabeza y una bifanda para amarrarme en el estómago; para la protección, dijeron.

Sin clase previa o instrucción alguna, comenzó todo. Sonaron los caracoles y llamaron a las cuatro direcciones; sin pausa, comenzaron a danzar. Yo intenté frenéticamente seguir sus pasos, traté de seguir los pasos de los permisos y de comprender un poquito de lo que estaba sucediendo. Aunque me sentia perdida la mayoría del tiempo, tuve la sensación repentina de haberme encontrado a mí misma. Tuve la visión de que con cada paso, cada vez que marcábamos uno de nuestros pies en el suelo, estábamos practicando acupuntura o mandándole mensajes telegráficos a nuestra Madre Tierra. Me sentí en paz, bienvenida... como si estuviera en el lugar y momento adecuado, en todo sentido de la palabra. Me sentí nutrida, alimentada, entera.

Después de dos cansadas pero muy satisfactorias horas de danza, honramos a las cuatro direcciones una vez más al unísono de los caracoles, nos acercamos más en un círculo y la “palabra” fue otorgada a todos y cada uno de los que estaban presentes para que compartieran sus sentimientos, sus necesidades, su agradecimiento o sus pedidos. Nos abrazamos cálidamente, nos saludamos los unos a los otros y nos presentamos; muchos comenzaron a acomodar mesas y sillas, mientras Tere colocaba comida con aromas de amor y de hogar en ellas. Mientras Tere acomodaba la comida, se aseguraba de decirle a todos (casi obligarlos) a que se sentaran a comer y a que probaran todo. Tere me recordó mucho al arquetipo de madre mexicana, la que nutre, la que cuida, la que protege, la que siempre está tratando de alimentar a los niños, asegurándose de que todos estén bien nutridos, fuertes y saludables. Tere me recordó tanto a mi propia madre... me sentí nostálgica y comencé a extrañar a mi propia familia, aunque estrañamente, por la primera vez desde que había llegado a Oakland, por alguna razón me sentí como en casa.

Comimos y nos contamos historias mientras cenábamos; historias acerca de dónde soy, de cómo de manera casi mágica llegué a la danza ésa noche y finalmente, acerca de ése Calli, de ése hogar, de la familia de danzantes frente a la que me encontraba. Tere y Ernesto señalaron a Frank, indicándole que contara la historia. Así que ahí me encontraba, junto con la familia. Escuchábamos atentos a un niño a quien muchos probablemente ignorarían. El nos contó una historia que, aunque simple en esencia, llevaba con ella sabiduría infinita, así como él. Resulta que él mismo es el jefe y fundador del grupo, Calpulli Coatlicue, un grupo de danza mexica. Todo comenzó hace un par de años, cuando -siendo aún más joven de lo que es ahora-, Frank sintió repentinamente la necesidad de comenzar un grupo propio, un nuevo grupo. Un día durante uno de los muchos eventos comunitaros a los que él y su familia frecuentemente asisten, se acercó a la directora de la Hacienda Peralta en Oakland. Se presentó frente a ella con la integridad y confianza de un hombre sabio, manteniendo la inocencia de un niño, y le preguntó si les permitiría usar el espacio para practicar con su grupo de danza. La directora quedó cautivada con la propuesta de éste niño y quería más información, así que él corrió y le contó rápidamente a su mamá. “Frank, cómo vamos a comenzar un grupo si no tenemos a nadie para un grupo?” -dijo Tere. “Ay mamá, que no ves? Yo llevo el huehuetl (tambor), papá lleva el atecocolli (caracol) y tú llevas el popoxcomitl (el fuego, el humo); ésos son tres de los elementos sagrados. Es como un tripié: Si sólo tuviéramos dos elementos, perdería el balance y se caería, pero con los tres, tenemos igualdad, balance y somos sólidos.” El sonrió y dijo: “Mamá, sí tenemos un grupo!”

Así que, muchas veces siendo sólamente un tripié los que veníán a danzar, comenzaron el grupo Coatlicue cuando la Hacienda les dió permiso para utilizar el espacio y ahí se han seguido reuniendo cada Lunes a las 6 de la tarde.

Es increíble pensar que cuando Coatlicue comenzó, era muchas veces sólamente madre, padre y Frank y que ahora, hay veces que llega tanta gente, que no hay ni espacio suficiente para danzar. Aunque la manera en que el grupo ha crecido desde que se formó ha sido rápida, no es difícil de creer; si todas las personas que llegan a la danza se sienten tan bienvenidas, aceptadas, cómodas y como en casa como yo me sentí, sería difícil creer que alguien no querría regresar. El calpulli Coatlicue es un ejemplo perfecto  del concepto de comunidad llevado a la práctica. Coatlicue comenzó como una familia y sigue creciendo como una. El calpulli nos brinda un hermoso espacio con muy buena energía para que muchos podamos venir y hacer nuestro rezo, conectar con nosotros mismos, con la madre Tierra y con nuestros ancestros; ellos sacrifican mucho de su trabajo y de su energía para que todos podamos generar más energía y sanarnos a nosotros mismos y a todas nuestras relaciones. Todos en el calpulli comparten el conocimiento que tienen, con la única intención de que regresemos a nuestras maneras originales y tradicionales, así como ayudarnos a reconectar con la Tierra y con nuestras raíces, ayudándonos a recordar el conocimiento que no sabíamos que llevábamos dentro.

Así como ha pasado el tiempo he visto a muchas personas que, así  como yo, se han sentido atraídas hacia el grupo por los tambores; sin ninguna explicación real, más que el hecho de que algo les dijo que caminaran en ésa dirección. Yo he sentido a mi corazón sincronizarse al retumbar de los tambores, he sentido mi energía convertirse en una sola con la energía de las personas dentro del círculo y he sentido la sanación, poco a poco tocándo cada rinconcito de mi cuerpo y alma. Ernesto dice que a través de la danza, estamos plantando y cultivando cambio, tanto interno como externo en el mundo y en nuestros alrededores. Muchas de las personas que forman parte de la familia de Coatlicue están profundamente involucrados en la restauración y el crecimiento de nuestra comunidad, en hacer éste mundo un lugar mejor y en conseguir igualdad, justicia y un aumento de conciencia. Tere cree que ésta manera de vida en la que compartimos el conocimiento es la única manera en la que conseguiremos los cambios y mejoras que queremos ver en nuestras comunidades.

El calpulli Coatlicue no es sólamente un bello grupo de personas donde uno puede aprender danza e historia, pero también un lugar donde podemos aprender e inspirarnos al estar rodeados por todos los guerreros dedicados e incansables, conscientes, que viven en pie de lucha y en resistencia, de los artistas, activistas, sanadores, maestros, poetas, cocineros, abuelas, abuelos, madres, padres, niños y amigos que forman ésta familia de danzantes tan diversa, colorida y llena de amor; al final de cuentas, todo es un mismo rezo, una misma nación, un mismo corazón y un mismo pueblo y todos deberíamos compartirlo. Coatlicue, de la mano de nuestro abuelo el huehuetl, nos ayuda a encontrar todas ésas piezas que nos hacen falta de nosotros mismos, coatlicue está constuyendo y aumentando la comunidad, formando y manteniendo a la familia fuerte y estable, unida, como el tripié, como el cantar,  frenéticamente tranquilo de la vibración de los tambores que nos ayuda a encontrarnos y unirnos como úno sólo.

                                                     English Version

                                                             Coatlicue

           Drums have a beautiful way of talking and singing, they can drive us to an ecstatic point of high energy and almost right after that, lull you to such a state of calmness, that you could sleep on the spot. I believe drums can ground us back to Earth, synchronize us to the rhythms of her beating heart, bring us back to the old, natural ways. I was going through many changes, both internal and external. I had been away from home, Mexico for about 6 months and was feeling very home sick; quite ungrounded, detached from my family, I lacked a community to feel at home with. In my search for a place I could call home, I stumbled upon Fruitvale, the “little Latin America” section of Oakland. I made the decision to move there and within a month, I moved into a little studio in the heart of Fruitvale.   It was my second night at my new place; I had spent pretty much all my time unpacking and arranging things around, so I decided to step outside and take a breath, gaze at the moon and the stars and just wonder around... I was partially looking for nothing, partially looking at my surroundings and  partially and unknowingly looking for my self.

            Suddenly, the sound of drums became noticeable. I love drums, I have since I was a child... but these drums were different; their vibration felt stronger, I felt deeply drawn to them, I felt called from the bottom of my soul. Chasing the sound, I let my inner guide get me there. I simply allowed my feet to move toward an unknown destination. The smell of burning Copal incense began to accompany the beating of the drums and as one became more intense, so did the other. The sounds seemed to be coming from the Peralta Hacienda, a park, museum and community center half a block away from my house. I got closer and found myself in front of a circle of people dancing around drums, wearing feathers on their heads and sets of beautiful sounding seeds hugging their ankles. I felt the need to know more, I felt the urge to join them and dance but I also felt nervous and slightly confused, so I just stood there, sort of frozen. A man approached me with a giant smile and introduced himself as Ernesto, immediately followed by a strong and honest Welcome! A young little man who couldn't have been older than 13 noticed we were talking and approached me as well. He extended his arm towards me and firmly shook my hand; his name was Frank, although he made it a point for me to know that his spiritual name was Chicome Malinalli. “Chicome means seven and Malinalli means medicinal herb” -he said. I guess the saying that great things come in 3's must be true, because as he was saying that, a woman came near him and introduced herself as Tere, his mother. They immediately asked me to join them, as the ceremony was about to start. They let me borrow a maraca, a scarf to tie around my belly and a scarf to tie around my forehead; protection, they said.

            Without a previous lesson or instructions whatsoever, they called the 4 directions and right after that, they began to dance. I kept frantically attempting to follow their steps, to do the permission dances and to get some sort of clue of what was going on; although I felt lost for the most part, I had the simultaneous feeling of finding myself. I had the vision that with every step, with every foot we marked on the ground, we were performing acupuncture or sending telegraphic messages to the core of mother Earth. I felt at peace, welcome and like I was meant to be there in every sense of the word. I felt nourished, whole.

            After an exhausting but fulfilling two hours of dancing, the 4 directions were honored again and the “word” or palabra was given to every single one who was there, so they could share their feelings, needs, gratitude or requests. We hugged, greeted each other and introduced ourselves; people started setting up tables and chairs, as Tere sat deliciously smelling dishes on them encouraged (almost pushing) people to start eating and try it all. She reminded me so much of the archetypal mexican mother, the nurturer, the one that is always trying to feed the children, making sure they are all well nourished, healthy and strong. She reminded me so much of my mother, it made me feel nostalgic and miss my family, even though, for the first time since I  had moved to Oakland, I somehow felt at home.

            We ate and told stories over dinner; where I was from, how I magically stumbled upon danza that night and finally, stories about the Calli, the home, the family of danzantes before my eyes. Tere and Ernesto pointed at Frank, signaling him to tell the story. There I was, along with the family. We were listening attentively to a child who many would possibly ignore. He told us a story that although simple in its essence, carried infinite wisdom, just as himself.  Turns out that he is the head and founder of the group, Calpulli Coatlicue, a Mexica danza group. It all started a couple of years ago, when being even younger than he is now, Frank had the urge to start a group of his own. One day at one of the many community events that him and his family frequently attends, he approached the director for the Peralta Hacienda in Oakland. He presented himself with the integrity and confidence of a wise man and with the innocence of a child, and asked her if they could use their space  to practice with the group. The director was captivated by this child's proposition and wanted to know more, so he ran and called his mom. “Frank, how are we gonna start a group, if we have no people?!” -she said, surprised and almost scared. “But mom, we do! Don't you see? I carry the huehuetl (drum), dad the atecocolli (conch shell) and you the popoxcomitl (copal, incense burner); that's the three basic sacred elements. We are like a tripod: If we only had 2 elements, we would be out of balance and fall, but with 3 we have equality and are solid.” He smiled and said: “We have a group!” The other legs of what he calls the tripod are his mother, known by her spiritual name of Coaltyotl ollin- and his uncle (who he calls dad) , Yei Cipactli. So, with manytimes only a tripod showing up, they began the group when the Hacienda gave them permission to use their space and they have been meeting since then every Monday at 6 pm.

            It's amazing to think that when Coatlicue first started, it was a lot of times jut mom, dad and Frank and now there are times when there isn't even enough room for all the people who show up. Although the way the family has grown since it's formation has been fast, it isn't that hard to understand; if everyone who ever shows up feels as welcome and at home as myself, it would be hard to believe that anybody would not want to keep coming back. Calpulli Coatlicue is a true example of community. It began as a family and it has continued to grow as one. They provide the beautiful, welcoming space for many of us to come and pray, to connect with ourselves, with the Earth and our ancestors; they sacrifice so much work and energy so that we can all generate energy and heal ourselves and all our relations. Everybody in the calpulli shares the knowledge that they carry, with the intention of bringing back our traditional ways and helping us ground down back to our roots, helping us remember knowledge that we hadn't realized we had in us.

            As time has gone by, I have seen multiple people who, like myself, were drawn to the group by the drums; no real explanation behind it, other than something telling them to walk in that direction. I have felt my heart synchronize to the beat of the drums, felt my feet move to the beat of Pachamama's heart, felt my energy become one with the energy of all the people within the circle and I have felt the healing, little by little touching every corner of my body and soul. Ernesto says that through danza, we are planting and cultivating change; both inner change and change in the world and our surroundings. Many of the people who form Coatlicue's family are deeply involved in restoring and growing our community, in making this world a better place and in achieving fairness and increased consciousness. Tere believes that this way of living and sharing of knowledge  is the only way in which we will get the changes and improvements we want to see in our communities.

            Calpulli Coatlicue isn't only a beautiful group of people to learn danza and history from, but it is a place where we learn and inspire ourselves surrounded by all the conscious, dedicated fighters, people in struggle and in resistance, artists, activists, healers, teachers, poets, cooks, grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, fathers, children and friends that make up this diverse, colorful, loving and open to all family of mexica danzantes; in the end, it is all one prayer, one nation, one heart and one people and we should all share it. Coatlicue, along our grandfather the huehuetl, is facilitating for so many of us to find the little pieces of ourselves that we were missing, it is building and growing the community, making and keeping the familia strong and stable, like the tripod, like the humming, excitingly calming vibration of the drums that helps us come together as one.

[English follows below]

El problema de la vivienda

El apartamento donde vivo me gusta porque es barato, pero está ubicado en primer nivel y escucho el drenaje de los vecinos de arriba, el suitch del vano, cuando toman la ducha y además cuando mis vecinos hacen el amor con el ritmo del rik rik de su colchon. Pero todo estos ruidos e incomodidades son ahora parte del medio ambiente.

Según los especialistas  la renta de los apartamentos  y cuartos aumenta de precio en el area de San Francisco debido a su proximidad al VALLE DEL CILICON. La demanda de personas y familias que necesitan donde vivir está aumentando. Tambien por ser una area con visitas continúas de turistas de diferentes países la está convirtiendo en una ciudad destina para el turismo, lo que hace que inversionistas de negocios tengan interés en investir en San Francisco y este tambien está afectando el incremento de los precios de otras areas de la Bahía.

La renta de San Francisco esta entre las mas caras de Los Estados Unidos despues de New York.

Los duenos de casa o apartmentos agravan la situación, sintiéndose como pequenos reyes y su reino es el lugar que rentan  y presionan a las personas que viven o comparten la casa con ellos.  Menciono esto porque los trabajadores inmigrantes por su vaja escolaridad tienen un salario muy pequeno con grandes jornadas de trabajo, especialmente las personas que trabajan en restaurantes, esto los no les permite rentar un apartamento pues el dinero no alcanza por lo que se ven en la necesidad de rentar un cuarto en la casa de alguna familia y compartir areas comunes como sanitario y cocina.

Los duenos de la casa imponen su ley no la razon y  las reglas de buena convivencia y respeto, la idea es si yo soy dueno de esta casa yo mando aqui y ordeno lo que quiera y al que no le guste que se baya a otro lado.

Ademas se dan el lujo de poner caras de piedra y gobernar la casa como los presidentes dictadores y militares de Centroamérica.

La renta cada vez es mas cara empuja a vivir en lugares alejados de los centros de trabajo, Esto hace la vida mas dificil y como dice mi abuela, lo que no se va en lagrimas se va en suspiros. Esto es debido que en un lugar barato se debe soportar muchas incomodidades y estupideces del pequeno rey o dictador. Además se gasta mas en gasolina o en gastos de trasporte por bus y lo que no gastas renta lo gastas en tiempo.

Esto tambies es parte del aburguesamiento que es una invasión silenciosa y sin valas en donde el que tiene dinero toma poseción de mejores lugares comerciales con vocación de negocios.

Aburguesamiento incrementa la renta y tambien la comida en una carrera donde el se saca del camino a la gene poco dinero y vajos ingresos econonomicos, al pobres se le hace mas pobre y al rico mas rico

Esta guerra económica se hace cada momento mas grande como  un monstruo. Y considero que el tiene dinero puede vivir donde quiera y el pobre donde pueda, o salvese el que pueda.

The problem with housing

I like the apartment where I currently live because is affordable, but it is located on the first floor so I can hear the drainage from my neighbors upstairs.   I can hear the lever of the bath and I can hear when they take a bath.  I can also hear the sounds/noise of their mattress when they make love.  But all of this sounds, inconveniences, and way of living are part of the environment. 

According to experts, rent fees/prices of apartments and rooms in San Francisco continue to increase due to the area's proximity to Silicon Valley, while the demand of people that need housing continues to increase. There is also the fact that the area has a constant flow of tourists. The tourists are constantly coming to visit from all over the world and that makes this area a tourist destination. This in turn increases the interest of business investors in the area and this increases the prices of housing in the bay area. 

Rent prices in San Francisco are the most expensive in the United States, only after New York

The house or apartment owners make the situation worse. They feel like kings of kingdoms and act as though the space they are renting is their kingdom and behave like kings. Just like kings, they like to pressure/oppress the people that are in need of housing or in need of a place to live.  And I bring this up because migrant workers who have low wage paying jobs due to their low levels of education have intense physical labor jobs and are not able to afford to rent their own apartment, especially folks that work at restaurants. Since they are paid so little money, they have no options but to rent a room in a family house and share the bathroom and kitchen.

The owners of the house impose their own law and not reason, the rules for sharing, living together, and respect. The purpose is to let folks know that they are the owners and as such, they rule.  They can impose whatever they want and if folks don’t like it they can leave. 

In addition, they have the luxury to put their hard faces and govern the house like the dictators and the military in Central America. 

The rent prices continue to increase and push people to live in areas far from job placement centers and from central locations.  This makes life more difficult.  On the one hand, if someone lives in an affordable housing situation, it comes with many inconveniences and stupidity, In particular from the king or dictator.  On the other hand, if one lives in a cheaper and/or more affordable place one has to spend money in gas or expenses for public transportation.  Whatever one saves in rent is spent in with time.

This is also in part of gentrification, which is a silent invasion with out bullets, in which whoever has money can afford to take possession of the   best commercial places/spaces with business potential/vocation.

Gentrification increases rent and food prices.  In a race in which the most unfortunate are taken out of the way.  The poor continue to get poorer and the rich continue to get richer.

This economic war continues to grow every moment, just like a big monster.  I think that people that have money can live wherever they want and the poor live where they can or one has to save themselves as they can/or survive as best as one can.

Mama used to say, “when us po’ folks get evicted, we don’t leave, we just go live in the “sidewalk motels”. GentriFUKation Tours “R” US wasn’t started as an “edgy” piece of performance art, or a protest, or an installation at a gallery, but rather as a non-violent act of art-in-desperation to the violence of removal, colonization and displacement.

My poor body, daughter of another poor woman-body of color has been evicted over 28 times throughout my childhood as a houseless, chyle in Amerikkka. Most of the time we were committing poverty crimes, evicted because we didn’t have the money for rent in a capitalist society that values money over all things, even the housing security of a disabled single parent woman and her children. But so often when we had raised enough money in our mother-daughter led street-based business to pay the rent on a tiny place like the one we had in West Oakland, we were evicted, due the forces of gentrification, rampant re-development and real estate snakkking or what we at POOR Magazine called in another Art-Action circa 1999: Gerrification -so named after Jerry Brown who came to Oakland with the plan to “clean-up” aka evict poor folks out of Oakland and get rid of any trace of rent control being promoted at the time.

GentriFUkation didn’t stop there for me and my mama, as a poor family, we were always at-risk of removal, from scamlords to speculators, eviction, substandard housing, and lack of stability were a constant. Fast forward another 13 years, this time I was facing houselessness again, but this time as the single parent of an infant son taking care of my mother who was now very ill, and as an act of resistance, I had started a small collective house for low-income single parent women like myself,  we called it Mamahouse. It was located in the already gentrified streets of the “Mission” and we were lucky enough to find a severely substandard 3 bedroom available at a mere $1800 a month. Never mind that there were subtenants with wings & whiskers, (roaches, pigeons and mice), never mind that almost nothing worked, ever. We had each other, single parents and children, together, helping and working together, inter-dependently.

We stayed there throughout all the wrong-ness until that landlord from hell burned us out, literally, setting a fire instead of fixing any of the glaring habitability issues.

We found a second home for Mamahouse in the “Mission”, and while it was very nice, it was too nice, and after 2 beautiful years, the 2^nd Mamahouse ended up gentriFUKed again, by a whopping $700 rent increase imposed on us. None of us mamaz could afford that. We tried to re-group, but it was the final blow. I and my fellow poor mamaz were houseless, again.

This last eviction was the final little murder of the soul as my mama used to call it, and this was when GentriFUKation Tours R US was born. Not meant to act as ambassadors, politricksters or non-profiteers with agendas and grant-guidelines, the gentriFUKation Tours R US tour-guides, are displaced, evicted, indigenous and/or houseless peoples who move through the post-gentriFUKed streets with maps of where we used to be, what hipster bar, over-priced restaurant, Tenants In Common takeover of rental housing or condominium was put in our place and the multitude of stories about our forced diasporas, out-migrations and where we are now.

We are instigators and art-in-action uncomfortable-makers. We speak on wite-supremacy, real estate snakkking and the endless attack on our poor bodies of color still trying to stay in our communities of origin.

The Roots of GentriFUKation

At the root of gentriFUKation is colonization. The original act of removal was the lie of discovery by Christopher Columbus, etc, the illegal migration of pilgrims and missionaries and the subsequent theft of land, resources and people of all indigenous nations across Pachamama. The first gentriFUKed peoples in this part of Turtle Island were the Ohlone Nation, still unrecognized by the colonizer government as a tribe. The other root of gentriFUKation is capitalism itself. How it encourages, promotes and arguably mandates the lie of separation and individualism, all rooted in Western, Euro-centric therapeutic crafted norms of sanity and normalcy. How droves of middle-class and working –class white peoples (and Western taught peoples of color) are taught through the multitude of societal messages, corporate media and factory school education to leave their family homes, their cities of origin and their elders so they can live alone and be good, productive consumers, purchasing an endless amount of Ikea furniture, brooms, silverware, towels, blankets, apartments, and so much more. Paying for Euro-centric therapy so they can “get over” their loss of their families and mamaz and cultures and spirits. And in the end, trying to build “community” in places where their sheer act of communing means that the existent community is forced to leave to make space for them.

These are the things that no one wants to say, or maybe don’t even think of. These are some of the issues brought up by the Tour Guides on the GentriFUKation Tours.

The tragic thing is the confusion and shock of what I call the starter gentrifyers or gentrifyer-enablers, when they too get gentrified. Their belief that somehow they are inherently different, that they had nothing to do with gentrification, that it’s the policy-makers and the politricksters, the corporate interests and the Twitter executives that are “the cause of all this gentrification”.

But what they don’t realize is although the hearts and souls of the starter-gentrifyers is in no way like the self-centered hearts of the Face-Book, Google and Twitter hearts or the evil-alien hearts of the Lennar, John Stuart, Chase Bank and Wells Fargo executives, they too are here, caught up in the away-nation, ghetto-izing their elders, forgetting their ancestors and believing, above all, in the lie of independence from their families of origin. And how their presence, if even by default, adds to the sheer numbers of people census-ed in this City,  enables the rampant re-devil-opment of neighborhood after neighborhood, fuels the greed of the landlords and lays the ground-work for the insane level of evictions attacking literally thousands of poor and working-class elders who have lived here for decades if not their whole lives.

To be extremely clear, when I say all these people leaving their families I am not including peoples who leave their families of origin due to the fact that their lives were in danger if they stayed at home, or peoples like my mama who was an orphan and a foster home survivor who literally had no-one, no family to go to, and was all alone raising me, which is why we ended up on the street and living in our car when we couldn’t afford the rent in LA, Oakland and Frisco. No, I am talking about the billions of people who have perfectly good rooms and homes and elders and families who love them and will always love them, whose presence is always welcome and who themselves have bought into that same lie of independence and are now alone in their homes, with no more children and lots of rooms with no-one in them, waiting to no longer be seen as productive in a capitalist, ageist society.

In this way the non-profiteers, volunteers, social workers and activists graduating from endless institutions teaching them how to “help” us poor folks, are in fact the 21^st century missionaries, coming to our communities with “good intentions” to save us, help us, revolutionze us, heal us, without realizing that in this process, they are displacing us. Perhaps, they could take that learning, helping, activating and revolutionizing home, to their own families and homes, communities and neighborhoods and help un-pack the lie of wite-supremacy, capitalist separation and the hoarding of stolen wealth and resources and the endless cycle of displacement.

So yes, the starter gentrifyers will end up being gentrified as well. And then where will they go? Maybe if they listen to the tour guides, on the next GentriFUKation Tours R US tour, humbly teaching, as us poverty and indigenous skolaz always do, they could consider, while they work on legislations, walk in marches and continue to fight gentriFUKation, leaving this city entirely, like many of our conscious “mentees” who graduate from POOR Magazine’s PEopleSkool do, giving their apartment or room to a houseless or evicted elder or family, and then going home to begin re-communing with their own families, their own mamaz, daddys, uncles and aunties, and in so doing, work on their own decolonization, their own embedded capitalist values, their own “inconvenience”.

This would be the ultimate act of revolution as then they would in fact be un-gentriFUKing this stolen Ohlone territory, one person at a time.

This story is an excerpt from Tiny’s upcoming book: Poverty Skolaship 101: A PEoplesTeXt.  For more decolonizing education, art and consciousness led by poverty and indigenous skolaz in resistance consider enrolling in a semester of PeopleSkool/Escuela de la gente at POOR Magazine. To find out about upcoming semesters or on-line classes go to click here To read more POOR Magazine narratives on gentriFUKation click here

Krip-Hop Nation, (KHN) – We just met over Facebook and you are from Auckland City, New Zealand. Tell us why did you reach out to Krip-Hop Nation and what do you do in your home town?

Mahz: Firstly I want to thank you and the KHN for this opportunity I didn’t expect this at all and pretty humbled to be interviewed by you and think what you and others do for KHN and disability community Worldwide is awesome.

There are people like us with disabilities all over the world who love music and hip hop and It’s great to see there’s a movement such as KHN to show that we still have an avenue for expression whether it’s through music, singing, dance, djing, graffiti, art, poetry, rapping, beat making etc.

So mad love to the whole KHN Worldwide!!!

My name is Mahia Mokaraka aka Mahz (pronounced like the planet mars) I am Maori who are the indigenous people of New Zealand (NZ) and a T8-T9 paraplegic resulting from a breakdancing injury in 2006.

As you said we met on Facebook. Last night I was reading through a few posts featured on the KHN Facebook page to keep up to play with what’s happening in the KHN community worldwide.

I saw the name Leroy Moore pop up a lot then realized you were the founder of KHN so thought “Why not message him to say hello and give props for what he’s doing”…not knowing that I would be interviewed as a result.

I’m currently in my final year of a counseling degree, when finished I plan to work with people and families living with disabilities especially S.C.I’s. I’m a student counselor at a local high school in south Auckland, a Dj; writer and a beat maker when that “flash of genius” moment hits me and been a hip hop head since a youngin.

KHN: You are a DJ and write rhymes. How is the music underground there in Auckland, New Zealand as an artist with a disability?

Mahz: I find “disability” quite a broad term which includes both the seen and unseen. I think it’s a hard to gauge especially if we start talking about artist’s who may have unseen disabilities. There may actually be a whole lot of artists in NZ that have an unseen disability that I don’t know about.

However I have a handful of mates, who are uses wheelchairs that rap, sing, play instruments, and beat makers, played in bands or learning to dj other than that it’s a quite scene. Maybe there are more around the country that I haven’t heard of, or up and coming artists keeping a low profile but I can say it’s definitely a quiet scene here in NZ.

KHN: Do you think mainstream and underground Hip-Hop is ready for artists with disabilities?

Mahz: I’d like to say yes that both would be ready to embrace artists with disabilities but I’m kind of swinging between both yes and no. I think the underground scene would embrace it more especially if the music and its content produced by artists with disabilities is relevant, real and people can identify with their message.

On the flipside I think if projects produced are marketable or tick all the boxes for mainstream, then I don’t see why mainstream won’t embrace it. I think mainstream is probably more ready now than it ever will be compared to 10-20yrs ago as I think the idea of gifted talented people with disabilities is continuing to be accepted and awe inspiring nowadays…well that’s how I see it.

KHN: Give us your best lyrics dealing with justice

Mahz: Haha! you put me on the spot here i haven’t written anything specifically on the topic in the past so I’ll just throw something together. Here we go:

Justice

Justice, why must it be, we always gotta fight? Just…
To persuade mind frames, they lines need slight adjusting…
Unjust ways of mankind, plenty I don’t trust in
If my mind was a sign? Mad cuss’n sure describes em
Sometimes, something’s cloud man’s enlightenment
Darkness clouds the soul, price paid for injustice!
Imagine one day life lived without injustice?
See the world through gods eyes, imagine? Just, if?...
Justice prevailed, in God we all trusted
Lives lived righteous, God like intelligence
Gender, color, race, acquired no relevance
Blessedness replaced all disabled judgments
Our opinions, always filtered through positive lenses
“What’s the expense on life without injustice?
Priceless…"
Yet, we lay our lives down to get a taste of justice. I think it’s more a poetic piece ☺

KHN: How does the media report on disability issues there in New Zealand?

Mahz: Besides the normal media outlets such as general TV, newspapers, internet and even Facebook etc. we have a TV program called “Attitude” which screens once a week across NZ solely run by people with disabilities for people with disabilities and they are very active in raising awareness. I think they do a great job it’s balanced in its approach, celebrating successes and raising awareness of issues faced by people with disabilities in our country.

KHN: As you know Krip-Hop Nation is international what do you see the future of Krip-Hop in your country?

Mahz: Right now I see a whole pool of potential for Krip-hop in NZ, by nature we are a country that loves music and naturally gifted musically & in the performing arts. So there is huge potential for growth, development and exposure for artists with disabilities here.

During the process of doing this interview I’ve realized that maybe it’s time that something needs to be done here in NZ to search, gather and develop the talent that lies dormant. I know there’s talent out there somewhere who are likely more talented than I am, it’s a matter of finding them and getting them exposed to NZ and the world.

KHN: How can people hear your music?

Mahz: To be honest I’m very critical of what I put out regarding music I have done. I don’t have anything online as such right now I have a few projects: tracks and beats stored away but i get shy putting them out coz I’m so critical. However I will be working on something shortly for KHN that I’ll post up on soundcloud or facebook

From time to time I upload my mixes on to soundcloud/facebook

https://soundcloud.com/conart
https://www.facebook.com/mokaraka

KHN: Any last words?

Mahz- As I said earlier it’s been a privilege to be interviewed by you, I was blown away that you wanted to interview me. It’s been great this has inspired me to seek other talent in my city/country to encourage them to develop themselves in the areas of music and performing arts.

I’m glad to know there are people across the world such as KHN, who shares the same views and passion about music. Although we may live with conditions that can be limiting physically and/or mentally…that doesn’t hinder the love we have for music and hip-hop!

I hope that this movement grows and that it reaches to all the four corners of the globe and who knows one day, there might be opportunity to work with other artists with disabilities across the globe…that’ll be dope

Finally props to KHN, keep up the good work and all that you do! Somewhere, somehow, someone with a disability will find out about you that will spark a passion within and cause them to pursue whatever they are passionate about, because I know that’s what it’s done for me!

Mahz signing off all the way from Auckland City, New Zealand

One Love!

Saw this cat named Terry on the bus the other day. Some guys are like a breath of fresh air. Not Terry. He’s a breath of cologne. I don’t wear cologne but there’s something about Terry’s cologne. It’s a subtle scent that doesn’t overpower you. You just know it’s there. He wears these velvet jogging suits that are smooth and loose. That’s Terry, smooth and loose.

We ran into each other on the #5 Fulton heading downtown. Riding the #5 can be depressing. All those faces, that twisted mass of tech-washed gentrification that has overrun the city of my birth. I can barely stand it, that sense of entitlement of the techies, the coffee sippers—those financial sector technocrats whose presence radiates so much death of spirit. I try not to look but they’re all over the place so I close my eyes. He got on board on Fillmore Street. The door opened and that cologne hit me. I looked up. “Hey Anthony” a voice called out. I was drawn in by his gaze. His eyes are somewhat unfocused yet radiate a smile contrived only of an honesty of the moment. “What’s happening, Terry?” I said. Terry moves a bit unsteadily, having been in a car accident years ago. Sometimes when talking, his attention drops off. Perhaps it is the area of lost consciousness that hangs like a cloud, those precious moments when he slips into the subconscious street of his mind, where words and songs echo to the surface. Terry—Fillmore born, still here.

We got off downtown. We walked a couple blocks to Market Street. I remembered the way he walked from when I first met him. I was a vocational rehabilitation counselor for an employment training program run by a local non-profit organization. Most of the participants in the program had developmental disabilities. The training facility was an assembly center where the workers sorted, counted, weighed and packed mosaic tiles for shipping to retail outlets. My job was to supervise the workers, which is always uncomfortable because I see myself as a worker and not a supervisor. I hit it off with Terry. We’d laugh and he’d sit and count those tiles like they were poker chips. But he would sometimes lose count and have to start over again. His eyes would drift to the women in the program. He liked talking to the girls, always complimenting them on what they were wearing. I’d say, “Hey Terry, you can’t do that. Ain’t you ever heard of sexual harassment?” Terry’s gaze would drift away for a few seconds. “You’re a motherfuckin’ killjoy” he’d answer, smiling. “You’re right about that” I’d answer.

We walked to Market Street. Terry has moved on to a profession better suited to his passion. He sells mix CD’s. Five bucks a pop. He pulls out a small binder filled with CD’s in transparent sleeves. He asks me what I like. I ask him what he has. Fast jams or slow jams, whatever you want, he tells me. I tell him to set me up with slow jams. He pulled a CD out of its sleeve. He had a playlist to go with it, not digitized and impersonal but handwritten on good, old-fashioned lined paper:

“Ole School Mixed Slow Ballads”

1. Sho’ Nuff must be love—Heatwave 2. Do Me Baby—Prince 3. I’ll be there—Jackson 5 4. Hanging Downtown—Cameo 5. Got to Be there—Jackson 5 6. Do Me—Rick James 7. Never Can Say Goodbye—Jackson 5 8. Between the Sheets—Isley Brothers 9. What’s your sign—Danny Pearson 10. Natural High—Bloodstone 11. Oh Honey—Delegation 12. Be My girl—Dramatics 13. What’s come over me—Blue Magic 14. Sparkle (in your eye)—Cameo 15. Fell for you—Dramatics 16. Didn’t I blow your mind this time—Delfonics

We parted ways. I had my mix CD. It sat in my bag a couple of days. Terry called me and asked me what I thought of the CD and I told him that I hadn’t listened yet but would soon. He called again and again I told him I’d listen as soon as I could. I finally found a perfect time to listen—at work. I popped in that CD and let it play. Now, I don’t know how it happened but I got mellow and loose and hell if I didn’t look at myself and see that I was wearing a velvet jogging suit. And that smell, is it cologne? Damn, Terry got me again. How am I going to get any work done today?

Hey Terry, thanks for the music, thanks for being here. I never knew a jogging suit could fit so well. Thanks.

Going to school at first for me was very overwhelming, not knowing if (after being out of the educational institution for 20+ years) I could succeed at it and feeling inadequate to keep up with those that are fresh out of high school. But now going into my third month, I enjoy going.

Waking up on Tuesday and Thursday mornings feeling fresh ready to see what I will learn today that I hadn't known before makes me feel productive. I normally show up an hour or so early because school is the only place I can go and have that moment of peace without distraction, so when I exit the bus or train I make my way to the ocean campus at 50 Phelan Drive and mount the steps or ramp leading to the Science building then on the elevator to the second floor down the hall and around the curve to room 215 where I am alone for a least 30 to 40 minutes before my fellow classmates join me to wait for our Instructor Neela Chatterjee.

After that class is over, I have a brief break but if I've got food I do as everyone does, eat as you go because I'm rushing to get to my other class which has become my passion: Ethnic Studies 37 with Professor Paliata in Bungalow 706. I rush because I want to get a good seat and I want to be on time. In order to do that I've got to descend 74 steps and a sidewalk that leads to Batmale Hall where I go in and take the elevator to the first floor and out the doors to the sidewalk that separates the track field from the soccer field and down the steps leading to the bungalows.

That all sounds wonderful and it's true for me, but the overall vibe on campus is anything but a smooth transition. It doesn't matter what the forecaster has predicted for the day in the city because at City College it's a whole different "ball game". With rumors swirling around like the fierce winds that push through at any given time without warning and the stress coming from student and faculty alike is overwhelming. Not knowing from one day to the next what's going to happen. Are we closing? Are we staying open? If we're closing then do I get my credits that I've already accumulated? For people like me this being my first semester are wondering, what about us? The faculty are wondering, will my department be cut today? Will I have a job to come to? What about my students? The Professors, Instructors and Teachers aren't here just for a paycheck, they're also here because it's their passion, they love being here, they love what they do and we as students feel that and appreciate them for it.

I am a very talkative people person. I don't really shun away from people but rather embrace them, and that's what I felt when I first entered the campus, I felt that sense of belonging too, no matter what, who or where you come/came from you fit in at "City," like one big family.

While in my classes I talk to my classmates and in passing I talk to different people, I don't know their names but if they want to talk I listen, if they ask questions I answer and the one thing that's been common is, "What's going to happen?" You can't focus on your studies when you're stressed out about the state of affairs at hand. We should no longer be in the dark about where we stand. That's why drastic measures have to be taken, that's why we have the sit-in's, the meetings going on on campus. Is it to much to ask for the truth?

The other day I was in the annex bookstore waiting to make a purchase when a lady walked in and started up a conversation. During our talk she said something interesting to a comment I made. She said "I don't think the Chancellor likes any of us and I have yet to meet her, I don't even know what she looks like". That struck me because, how do you not know what your boss looks like? Yes, that's right, the lady I was talking to is an employee at City and has yet to meet/see her boss. The emails are informational, Dr. Skillman, but your presence would speak volumes. We've seen your representatives on a few occasions but we haven't seen you.

Recently one of our students passed away in a tragic car crash with three of her other siblings (Rachel Fisi'iahi). There was a candlelight vigil held in the Student Union building where friends, teachers, well wishers and family came to share their memories of Rachel. But was the Chancellor in attendance? No, but one of her representatives was.

During the sit-in, students and staff wanted to meet with the Chancellor, some had been there all day long but around 3:00pm her representatives showed up in her place. When asked where was she, we were told "she isn't here, she's out of town at a conference."

What message is she sending out? I know for me it's to say I don't give a damn!

Maybe she is a loving, kind, and compassionate person. I don't know, but if you don't make yourself available to the people how are we really to know who she is? How are we to really know if she is with us or against us? If she never makes herself available. One thing we know she's good at is....laying people off. In my first article I stated that she had laid off 33 staffers. Well, I stand corrected: that number is actually 60 staffers as told to me by Shanell Williams (President-Associated Student Council).

On March 15, 2013 the Acceditation Committee will return to City College, but on the day before (March 14, 2013) there is going to be a walk out @ 1:00pm-RAM PLAZA(Ocean Campus). There will be a BIG RALLY @4:00pm SF-CIVIC CENTER. (All campuses will meet at the Mission Campus(1125 Valencia) at 2pm to march together to City Hall).

We want to make a statement, we want to save our school. City College of San Francisco is widely known and acknowledged to be one of the best community colleges in the country.This current crisis is largely the joint creation of two groups: the Accreditation Commission (ACCIC); secondly the interim administrators who have no long-term commitment to the school. We feel like this is an attack on tens of thousands of Bay Area residents, particularly from low-income, peoples of color and immigrant communites.

Please join us March 14, 2013 to call on the city's ELECTED officials to take immediate action. City Hall must ensure that Prop A funds are used for education as the voters intended. Stand with us in unity and in solidarity!