We Need the Community to Speak Out about the Termination of Homeless Coordinator Nancy Johnson

On September 19, 2012, low-income parents at the Berkeley Unified School District (BUSD) spoke out against the cutting of funds for the McKinney-Vento Act from $34,000 to $17,000.  The McKinney-Vento Act is a statute to assist families facing housing issues because of a lack of resources in the education of their children. The proposed cut came amidst an economic depression.

In the following months, many community members came to the BUSD School Board meetings, and sent numerous emails to the Co-interim Superintendents (Javetta Cleveland and Neil Smith) requesting the BUSD increase the funding for the McKinney-Vento Act and to continue the contract of Ms. Nancy Johnson.

Ms. Johnson has been the Homeless Coordinator for the BUSD for the last 15 years, and has been a valuable asset to families and students receiving assistance under McKinney-Vento Act.  As a retired teacher, employee at Berkeley Oakland Support Services, and resident of Berkeley, she has a vast reservoir of knowledge pertaining to issues of class, race and homelessness. Her institutional knowledge on the McKinney-Vento Act in the BUSD is unparalleled.

As a result of the community's voice and vigilance, the BUSD Board Members decided that the District Staff should meet with the community that receives McKinney-Vento assistance to decide how services are provided. Many of us were adamant that Nancy Johnson's services  are greatly valued by the community.

In a disingenuous move of bureaucratic duplicity, the District hired two half-time positions, and unilaterally terminated Ms. Johnson's contract.  She was given until the end of March 28, 2013.  This move by the BUSD was beyond the boundaries of our wildest imagination. We did not request Nancy Johnson's termination as the Homelessness Coordinator.  We requested the opposite. This action goes against the spirit and intent of the McKinney-Vento families, students, and community.  We are requesting the BUSD cancel this irrational response to our call for additional resource for the McKinney-Vento Act.

The community of  BUSD students and families are devastated by the District's move to terminate Ms. Johnson's contract.  Her first hand knowledge of the familial history of the many of the BUSD students receiving assistance under the McKinney-Vento Act, combined with her unequaled institutional knowledge are irreplaceable to the community. The termination of Ms. Johnson's services goes directly against the wishes of the students and parents at the School Board meetings. The parents and families know what services they need. Therefore, we are requesting that Ms. Johnson be retained until the end of the  2012-2013 academic year. 

According to BUSD's own statistics, approximately 10 percent of BUSD students are identified as eligible for assistance under the McKinney-Vento Act, and most of them are students of color. If the BUSD is serious about shrinking the well chronicled “Racial Achievement Gap," people like Nancy Johnson are needed to assist the BUSD in providing a free and quality education to all of it students.

We are asking that you support us in this goal by emailing Board Members stating that you would like Ms. Johnson's contract extended until at least the end of the 2012-2013 academic year. Contact them at: Karen Hemphill, karenhemphill@berkeley.net, Josh Daniels, joshdaniels@berkeley.net, Judy Appel, judyappel@berkeley.net, Beatriz Leyva-Cutler, BeatrizLeyva-Cutler@berkeley.net, Juliette Mueller, juliettemueller@students.berkeley.net, and Co-interim Superintendents Javetta Cleveland, javettacleveland@berkeley.net and Neil Smith, neilsmith@berkeley.net

Krip-Hop Nation:  Lets get this out of the way.  Yes you are my girlfriend so I wanted to interview because of your deep relationship with disability and your musical talents and of course our relationship.  It all well 99.9% involves disability with other factors.  Please explain.

Darla Lennox:  My life since childhood has been centered on disability since my parents are both deaf and being the oldest, I learned advocacy from a young age. From growing up in a deaf and hearing culture, I just felt it was a natural fit for me to work with persons with disabilities—physical disabilities and developmental disabilities, which I did in various group homes and sheltered workshops. Then in 2000, my son, Daniel, was diagnosed with autism and it was also at this time I made the decision to leave group home work for good and go back to school to major in social work with the primary goal being, I didn’t want other families to go through what we (me and my ex-husband) went through which is when you get the diagnosis of autism, there is no handbook or guide, there’s a lot of well meaning advice and a lot of “You should do this and you should do that”, of what you should do next. It’s been a lot of learning along the way with Daniel, what works and doesn’t work for him, a lot of reading and connecting with other parents who are also raising a child with autism. You know when Daniel was diagnosed, a family member said, “God chose you special and knew you could raise a child with autism since you worked with disabilities.” I am a spiritual person but I don’t feel God chose me special, it just happened and if I didn’t raise Daniel, who would? You do what any parent does, you raise your child the best you know how with lots of love, faith, patience, hope, and a good sense of humor! I do think because I worked with persons with disabilities, when the diagnosis was made, I kind of already knew this was where it was heading and just resolved to learn what I could about autism. Yes, I had so many questions and I reached out to one of my aunts who also had and lost a child with a disability, for answers, for support and guidance. She was and still continues to be a support for me.  Whew, did this answer the question? You know I could go on and on. mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Symbol">J

KHN:  Please please give us your side of the story how we met.

Darla Lennox:  I’ve got a big ol’ smile thinking about it. We met through my ex-husband, Correy, back in 2006 when he went to Berkeley to interview you for his documentary on the historical treatment of persons with disabilities (which has not been made yet but really needs to be because the time is WAY overdue for this story!). He mentioned to you that I had been working in the field of disabilities for a long time and that I also couldn’t stand the “r” word, which his documentary also focused on—its overuse in popular media. We began emailing each other every so often over the years when your nephews were born , you sent me an email telling me you were an uncle again and you would pop up on Facebook chat to say hi and give your best to my family. I would listen to your radio show and being on Texas time, when I tuned in, it was some lady talking about vegetarian treats!  It really wasn’t until the summer of 2009 after I had already separated from my ex that I shared that news with you. Something in me told me, “Tell him, you know you want to get to know him better.” So I did and we began having long Internet conversations and we didn’t talk on the phone till about 2 months later. I don’t know why we didn’t talk on the phone sooner!  What started out as a huge respect for your work, poetry, and radio shows turned into friendship and then turned into love.  We just connected and found out that we had a lot in common. Me reaching out to you that summer of 2009 was the best thing I could have done because I found and fell in love with my soulmate.

KHN:  You tried out for the X Factor.  Tell us about that experience and your long history of singing.

Darla Lennox: The X Factor is about the image. Yeah, they’ll tell you there is no age limit but as I stood in line in Dallas waiting for my turn to sing, the man in front of me, who was in his mid-40’s and had a great rock voice, was told, “You’re not what we’re looking for.” I was told the same thing after 2 days of standing in long lines hearing Adele’s “Rolling In the Deep” over and over again and people trying to sing like Mariah Carey.  I sang “Get Here” by Oleta Adams, my signature tune and turned on my charm but it wasn’t enough. So back home I went. It was a great learning experience of what these talent shows are looking for and how hungry people are when it comes to singing and sharing their gift with the world. That’s how I feel. I love to sing and I’m not interested in becoming the next Adele and filling stadiums. I would be content to sing in a little smoky jazz club with a cello player and piano behind me while I connect with the people sitting close by. I’ve been singing since the age of 7-8 when I, along with my childhood friend, Laura, would sing the Bee Gees in her basement for her family. Never mind the fact that we didn’t know all the words to “Tragedy” just the chorus, but they sat there and smiled and clapped. I joined choir in the 8 ^{color:black">th} color:black"> grade and continued to be in a choir until I graduated community college in 1991. In between singing in choirs, I also sang at weddings, some talent shows at the fair, a gay bar, and Jewish temple for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I loved singing Hebrew at the Jewish Temple because the words and notes just seemed to float and when I hit that last note, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  It was the most wonderful feeling and afterwards having women who travelled from Florida (I was living in Michigan at the time) tell me that they come every year to hear me sing (I sang 2 years straight for the holidays) was truly humbling. This is why I love to sing, why I want to sing-to make that connection with people and move them to feel things in their heart whether it be happiness or sadness.

KHN:  As a working class mother tell us how do you fit your singing into you life and what is in your future when it comes to your singing?

Darla Lennox:  I haven’t been able (yet) to fit singing into my life at this moment as I’m trying to resolve some sleep and anxiety issues for my son but decided the best thing I can do to get myself out there is try open mic. I’ve done karaoke and enjoy it but with open mic, anything goes and while I don’t play an instrument, I hope someone will give me a chance just to open up my mouth and sing. I’ve been going back and forth deciding whether or not I would like to try out for The Voice. I’m a fan and love the fact that they really are just listening to your voice and it would be amazing to have coaching from any of the artists on the show to become an even better singer. I’m not a perfect singer by any means but it would be great to get coaching on singing songs out of my comfort zone (which is typically ballads-r&b, old school soul—aka Anita Baker, Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Nina Simone).  And the exposure would be wonderful too. I’ll keep everyone posted!

KHN:  Your son, Daniel has autism, as an advocate tell us what do you think about this public awareness about people who are autistic and gives some example what is happening locally for your teenage son.

Darla Lennox: As you know April is Autism Awareness Month and people are aware of autism because it happens in 1 out of every 88 children, but now I have read that the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) is now saying that autism is being diagnosed in 1 out of every 50 children. Autism has been at the forefront of the news for quite a while now and I’m all for awareness but what we need, as families of persons with autism, is acceptance for our loved ones! I support Autism Society of America because they really work hard to get more resources for families with autism and they do it in a way that is respectful and appreciates people with autism as they are (at least this is my opinion). And I know I’m gonna get some flack for this but I’m not a huge fan of Autism Speaks because the commercials play the melodramatic music that autism is a horrible tragedy and that children with autism do not like hugs, do not smile, etc. My son is very affectionate, smiles, laughs, and hugs. There was a video, oh I want to say 3-4 years ago, that they put out where they were talking to families of children with autism and one person talked about wanting to strap herself and her son with autism in a car and driving off a bridge.  This is extremely troubling and you have seen the numerous stories in the news about children and adults with not only autism but other disabilities being killed or hurt by their loved ones. Stories like this can be avoided with ACCEPTANCE of autism, ACCEPTANCE of disability as a natural part of life! One person with autism is just that, one person. My son is not “Rainman”, he cannot tell you how many toothpicks you’ve dropped on the floor. He is not able to talk but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have something or nothing to say. And while he has some behaviors (such as the not sleeping) that are stressful, I love him as he is.  What’s happening locally? Well, there is an autism support group where I live but I stopped attending after the first meeting when I realized I was the only one with a teenage son with autism and the rest had really young children who were repeating what they were hearing  and one parent said, they wish their child wouldn’t talk so much. I just shook my head thinking, “I would love for my son to talk so much, to say anything” and just felt a disconnect. There are many services for children with autism when they’re young but they’re practically non-existent the older they get, particularly when they are teenagers.  Puberty is hard enough but when you add autism to the mix, it can be a trying time for the teenager and the family.  This lack of services for teens with autism isn’t just an issue here, it’s an issue everywhere.

KHN:  You also have a daughter, Ana, that is not disabled, tell us as brother and sister growing up together what was like as a mother making sure that both got enough attention from you and realizing that Daniel would get more attention.

Darla Lennox: Anna’s father and I always made sure as the kids were growing up that we took the time to have a mommy/daughter or daddy/daughter night to get her out of the house and have some fun because she wasn’t just a sister, she was also a third caretaker of Daniel. People ask me if Anna will take care of Daniel after me or Correy are gone and I say no and they are surprised. Anna has been a 3^rd parent of Daniel all her life, she deserves to have her own life outside of her brother and it’s up to us as his parents to make sure we have people we trust to take care of Daniel’s long term needs after we’re gone.

KHN:  You grew up with Deaf parents tell us is there a community/organizations for children of Deaf parents and was there pressure on you as a hearing child at that time?

Darla Lennox:  Yes, I am known as a CODA (Child of Deaf Adult) and there is a CODA organization where they have yearly conferences across the United States and the world where CODAs get together to meet and share their experiences of growing up with deaf parents. I went to one conference in 2010 and it was a wonderful experience that opened up a lot of memories for me. My brother and sister also went with me and it was wonderful having that time to bond and share our memories with other CODAs.  The CODA conference is one place where you can be you and people understand if you break out into signing as you talk because it’s just a natural part of you. Yes, there was a lot of pressure on me growing up as the oldest child of deaf parents because at that time, there was no videophone to make phone calls to businesses, there was no relay yet, there was the oldest child making the phone calls to the electric company or the car loan place on “hey the bill will be late this month” or interpreting doctor visits with the parents. I didn’t question why I had to make the phone calls or interpret, I just did it because they were my parents and I wanted to make sure that whoever they needed to talk to understood that they were deaf and that I would be interpreting the conversation for them.

KHN:  On a relationship tip:  As a White non-disabled woman going out with a Black disabled man give us what kind of reactions you got from being in public with me.

Darla Lennox: Oh man, that look when we are walking down the street and you put your hand on my shoulder for support, it’s the “oh she must be his caretaker” look. Or that time we took the bus to Golden Gate Park and there were no more seats so you sat while I stood and held the strap and you were rubbing my thigh and this older lady just stared us down especially when I leaned over and kissed you. Yet she didn’t bat an eye when a couple sitting right next to her were on each other’s lap! I’m going to kiss you on the city bus, in a restaurant, or as we’re walking down a street and I don’t care who looks!

KHN: What kind of insights you have witness from going out with a Black disabled man?

Darla Lennox: That I’m still learning about aging and disability and I see it when you’ve walked too much in a day, your hips start hurting, especially your lower back and I saw this for myself one visit when we spent the day in San Francisco to see Candy Kane at Biscuit N Blues. The next day we got together with your sister, Melissa and the boys at the park and it took you a little longer walking back to the bus stop afterwards. That evening I just massaged your hips and lower back the best I could so that you weren’t in so much pain and we just chilled at home the next day.

KHN:  What does the world needs to know about dating a person with a developmental disability and what are the general assumptions in the general public about intimate relationships when it comes to non-disabled dating a person with a disability?

Darla Lennox: The world needs to know that just because someone has a developmental disability or any other type of disability doesn’t mean that they don’t want a relationship and it certainly doesn’t mean they can’t have one either.  This is my first time being in a relationship with a disabled man and what I’ve found is you gotta be honest and ask questions if you don’t know, particularly when it comes to getting intimate. You can’t act like the disability isn’t there because it is and while one sexual position may not work (yes, I said it “sexual position”) because it doesn’t feel right physically, there are others that may and you go for it! Touch itself can happen in a variety of ways and as long as you are both open and honest with each other about what you do or don’t like, its all good.  And on that note, don’t underestimate the power of a good phone sex call!

KHN:  What are your thoughts about marriage and the state knowing the fight for people who are LGBTQ and the penalties against people with disabilities if they get marry.

Darla Lennox: I don’t think the state or anyone has any business dictating whom people can and cannot marry whether it be man/man or woman/woman. How does one gay marriage affect a heterosexual couple’s marriage? It doesn’t! People need love and they should love whom they want to love. Now as far as people with disabilities getting penalized for getting married? That’s a load of bullshit because people with disabilities who get SSI or SSDI need it to pay for their housing, meals, transportation, clothing, etc. and to say “Well if you marry your disabled or non disabled partner, you will lose your check”.  It’s rare for anyone to be able to live on one income in a relationship, not to say it can’t be done but with things being as high as they are these days, a couple needs their income. People with disabilities want marriage just as much as gays/lesbians do, to have their relationships recognized and be given the same rights as nondisabled married persons: the right to visit their husband/wife in the hospital, to be added onto their insurance policy, etc.

KHN:  Is it true that mothers who have children with disabilities are nine times out of ten are their full time advocate even in a marriage?

Darla Lennox: I would say more times than not, this is true not to downplay the role of fathers because there are many fathers who do so much for their children. I know for myself, there could be 2-3 adults in the room who can give Daniel a hand but he always comes to me to help him. Mom is who more children with disabilities gravitate to, mom is the one who keeps the records of doctor visits, who knows what the child can or cannot have as far as allergies go, and who the child will go to when they are sick and tired.

color:black">KHN:   color:black">You’ve been writing lyrics to your own songs.  How many songs have you written and what subjects you write about?

Darla Lennox: I would say it’s about 30-32 songs I’ve written and many of my songs are about love, falling in love (gee, I wonder who the inspiration was for those songs?) finding strength in yourself and finding yourself again, having faith when life gets you down, and the power of sisterhood.

KHN:  You have sing at weddings and other events.  Where else do you want to sing and where do you want to take your singing talent?

Darla Lennox: See earlier question—jazz clubs and The Voice!

KHN:  Who are your top three singers and why?

Darla Lennox: 3?? Really Leroy, like I can limit this to 3 singers?! 1. Tie between Nina Simone-because of her politics, her artistry, and amazing voice and Aretha Franklin because she is the reason why I wanted to sing and her powerful voice.  2. Stevie Wonder-because no one else can play the harmonica like him, because I love his songs and politics, and if I have to pick a final 3^rd singer, 3. Peter Gabriel because he is an amazing lyricist who knows how to write songs that pull you into the human condition—grief, love, despair, hope, I love his voice and his ongoing work for Amnesty International.

KHN:  You are also a poet.  Do you turn you poems into songs and do you see Poetry and Songs interchangeable?  Share one of your poems/songs with us.

Darla Lennox: Yes, sometimes. I’ve got a poem that is leaning towards a song and it’s about Daniel. I’ve got to get back to it and see where I can go with it.

Okay, here’s a poem that was inspired by my son. I don’t have a title for it.

What is “normal”?

Who decides it?

How is it that you, he, she, society seems to know what it is and compare and

contrast him to it?

Do you think if you look up autism in the dictionary-you will find a picture of my son?

I think not yet loved ones fret when their friends’ young grandchild is twirling in circles in the backyard

“Oh no, the child has autism!”

Taking a simple childhood pleasure and make it clinical slapping the label of autism on it

“Oh of course it’s autism, “normal” children do not spin around.”

‘Can my child catch it?”

“Catch what?” I ask.

“That, that autism thing?” they ask as they look at my child.

“No!” I answer in a defiant, disgusted tone

Thinking to myself, “Damn movie, “Rainman!” makes people ask me stupid questions about my son, “Does he have special skills?”

I say, “Well he seems to know where I hide the Oreos, does that count?”

They shake their heads incredulous at my flip remark

Perhaps I’m not anguished enough

They’re no longer blessing my heart or “blessing his heart”

when I say my son has autism

Damn that Autism Speaks!

They do not speak for me nor my son

Commercials that talk about the warning signs of autism

I understand and can appreciate now

As I did not get these warnings twelve years ago

The diagnosis was autism

but life was not over

as many thought it would be

Yet here I am today

growing disgusted

listening to experts who say a child with autism doesn’t return smiles

Says who?

One child with autism is just that-one child.

My child with autism smiles, he laughs, he loves, he speaks with his eyes

when the words don’t come, he sprints through the house

he shrieks in joy, happiness, frustration and anger

He knows and understands a lot more than people

give him credit for

He can be goofy and he can be a little shit

And it has nothing to do with autism

It is a 15 year old boy named Daniel

who loves Swiss Cake rolls, his mom, dad, and sister, Anna,

to ride on go karts,

and oh yeah, he also has autism.

So again I ask, “What is normal?”

And who are you, he, she, and society to compare my son

To this word, this standard?

Who are you to define my son by this label-“normal”, “autistic”?

His name is Daniel, thank you very much,

and he’s my son.

Darla J. Lennox

KHN:  What is in your future when it comes to your family, career, music and your relationship with Leroy Moore?

Darla Lennox:  For the near future, continuing my work in vocational rehabilitation working with persons who are Deaf and who have Autism find employment that is meaningful and tailored to their needs; getting my daughter through these last couple of months of high school as she graduates in June; getting into some open mics and possibly The Voice, continuing writing and finishing my book about growing up with and around disability and securing a job and resources for Daniel in California so that within the next 2 years, so I can move there and be with Mr. Leroy Moore all the time!

KHN: Tell us a cute thing/and on the other side what piss you off about Leroy

Darla Lennox: A cute thing? Oh the way your voice becomes soft at the end of our nightly calls when you say “Good night”. What pisses me off about Leroy? When you get heavy into your work and projects and forget to give me a call or say hey. I know you’re a hard workingman baby, but dang, throw your girl a bone or better yet a kiss sometimes! 

KHN: Any last words?

mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Darla Lennox: color:black"> Thank you for being who you are and giving recognition to all of the amazing women in your life and in the world for this month. Thank you for interviewing me, I really enjoyed it. Much love baby, always

Papa Bear took a seat near the edge of POOR Magazine’s Community Newsroom circle, settling into his chair as another poverty-scholar-reporter finished speaking. He’s POOR’s “Panhandler Reporter,” joining the newsroom for his monthly report: a state of the city address for houseless people, based on what he witnesses and studies daily in the Tenderloin.

He leaned forward in his chair and gestured slowly with his hands as he taught. “Sit-lie is moving up on the outskirts of the Tenderloin,” he explained, referencing the San Francisco ordinance, passed in 2010, that criminalizes houselessness and poverty by making it a crime to sit down on a public sidewalk. (Fascinatingly, although my white, college-educated ass has sat on many a public sidewalk in San Francisco, I have yet to be ticketed or harassed.) “If they don’t give you a ticket for blocking the sidewalk in front of the office buildings, they’ll give you one for sit-lie.” Although sit-lie passed in 2010, Papa Bear’s story suggests that enforcement is picking up in areas that are undergoing most intense gentrification.

Papa Bear continued, “There’s a new security company in town: Legion Security.” He described the all-black Legion cars that had seemed to surface in the streets overnight. Legion has taken over security for the building nearest to where Papa Bear usually stays. They’re making his life more and more difficult, although Papa Bear has certainly been there longer than this new security company has.

“And,” Papa Bear sighed slow, pained, “People are still dropping like flies. I’m getting a little nervous that I’ve been living and breathing the atmosphere in the Tenderloin for 8 years, sleeping on the street there.” He was succinct, clear, hurt by the words: houseless people in the Tenderloin are dying, many of them.

As the uneasiness and grief settled over the newsroom, someone asked Papa Bear if he had any ideas about why so many people were dying recently. He paused. “I never assume, and I never guess.” Although he knows the people and the place so well, he didn’t try to explain away the crisis. He let it hang in the air, heavy and unresolved.

Someone else raised her hand and said that, since Papa Bear is a veteran, the VA might have something to offer him to help him find housing. He nodded along with her as she explained her suggestion. “I want my own pension to pick my own place,” he said softly, precisely. He continued by explaining that they’ve taken his pension away and would take away his decision-making power over where and how he’d be living, if he went through the VA. Before he rose to head back to the Tenderloin, he closed his report, saying simply: “I dislike having someone else live my life I’m supposed to be living.”

Lydia Brown Takes Us Around Autistic Community Politically & Culturally

Leroy Moore: Lydia, I saw your powerful video about the resent killings of people who are autistic by love ones and care takers. What has been your work around this issue?

Lydia Brown: Unfortunately, the very people who ought to be most supportive in their lives routinely murder autistic people. This is a common trend across disabled populations and is by no means a unique phenomenon in the autistic community. The video to which you refer was filmed at the Autistic Self Advocacy Network’s second annual vigil in Washington DC, as part of a National Day of Mourning for disabled people murdered by family members or caregivers—this event has been coordinated both years by Zoe Gross. I hope to be able to lend my voice to the fight against such gross injustices against disabled people. If my words or my work or even my very existence might lend credence to the unfortunately radical idea that disabled existence is no less worthwhile or valuable than able-bodied, neurotypical existence, then I may well succeed in some small way in turning the tide against the attitudes that dehumanize us and lead to our murders.

Leroy Moore: Being a person of color is it harder to get your ethnic community around disability issue and have you experience racism in the autistic community?

Lydia Brown: I am in a unique position where I am a transracial adoptee—my parents are white. As a result, I have largely been disconnected from the Asian, Asian-American, and Chinese communities, and find myself at times a stranger everywhere. That said, I have experienced casual racism and micro aggressions in both the autism and autistic communities. For example, discussions about social attitudes toward autistic people or availability of support services frequently center and privilege North American and Western European perspectives while systematically dismissing and de-legitimizing (or else, tokenizing or appropriating) perspectives from communities outside the white North American/Western European experience. Ableism is also frequently compounded by racism and classism that result in public policies on service eligibility and provision that disproportionately deny access to necessary, quality services for autistics of color and poor autistics. Partially as a result of this phenomenon, white, upper-class autistics and their families are much more likely to be able to successfully advocate for necessary services or against unjust actions than poor autistics and autistic of color and their families.

Leroy Moore: You describe yourself as a Radical Leftist please explain.

Lydia Brown: As one of my friends (who identifies as a progressive, liberal Democrat) put it, I apparently make her look conservative. I use the term “radical leftist” to describe myself because it’s about as accurate and descriptive as I can get without resorting to labels associated with particular ideologies that may or may not align with my particular beliefs. My politics are heavily influenced by Marxist pedagogy (though I’m not a Marxist), in that I am concerned with a transformative vision of social justice that moves beyond an upper-class, white, cis-het, liberal politic and toward a pedagogy of unlearning oppression by deconstructing imperialism and postcolonialist social structures and rhetorical constructs. I analyze societal institutions, cultural locations, and social structures in terms of axes and hierarchies of oppressive systems, intersectionalities of oppression and privilege, and identity politics.

Leroy Moore: You work at the Disability Cultural Center at Georgetown University. What has the center done and is doing?

Lydia Brown: The Disability Cultural Center does not exist yet. I am leading the initiative to establish and sustain a Disability Cultural Center on campus. The purpose of a Disability Cultural Center will be to coordinate, sponsor, and fund educational and social programming on disability pride and power, disabled identity and culture, and disability community and history. This fall, we formed a planning committee for the future center comprised of members of the Georgetown University community and stakeholders in the surrounding Washington DC area. Currently, the committee is working to spread awareness of the initiative, garner support from community stakeholders, and write the formal proposal for the establishment of the center.

Leroy Moore: Do you think legislative avenues must solve all of our problems?

Lydia Brown: Certainly not. Legislative advocacy and public policy work are important and have their place, but these are by no means monolithic solutions to systemic problems. In fact, disabled people face many problems for which legislation or policy changes pose no solutions. For example, a state could pass a law regarding hate crimes on the basis of disability (perhaps by enumerating disability status of a victim as an aggravating factor in an offense motivated by hate), but the existence of that law—even if enforced—would not end the epidemic of hate crimes against disabled people. It certainly would do nothing to address the systemic socialized and acculturated ableism that leads to them.

Leroy Moore: What do you think of all of this right and left wing media on this so called high rates of autism and other mainstream media frame around autism?

Lydia Brown: Fear-mongering has always been a common rhetorical tactic in constructing disability as something pitiable, undesirable, and threatening. Sadly, discussion of autism in the mainstream media frequently falls into the same tired tropes. This type of public discourse leads to a callous disregard for the value and dignity of autistic existence that disproportionately funnels millions of dollars into cure-oriented (that is, eugenics) research while severely neglecting research on quality-of-life issues across the lifespan. It would be almost laughable if the same rhetoric didn’t directly contribute to the attitudes that enable judicial officers and the media to justify and excuse the perpetrators of hate crimes against autistic people.

Leroy Moore: Would you ever think about running for political office and do you think a disability activist should run for office?

Lydia Brown: It’s not out of the question, but it’s certainly not an idea to which I’ve given too much thought. As I mentioned earlier, public policy advocacy on issues that impact disabled people is unquestionably important and necessary. Holding elected office could provide a disability activist a robust platform for addressing much-needed policy reform from an insider’s position, though such a decision should be undertaken with consideration to the significant amount of time and effort that must be invested for a successful political campaign, as well as both the potential advantages for and barriers to effecting meaningful change. It’s definitely not a choice for everyone, but yes, we should be able to participate directly in the policy-making process.

Leroy Moore: Do you think people see the cultural, art, advocacy and stories of people with autism?

Lydia Brown: Outside the Autistic community? Generally not. The predominant narrative of the lives of autistic people—when we are the narrators, rather than those around us—is what is known as the self-narrating zoo exhibit. This phrase encapsulates the prevailing notion that the only appropriate and legitimate narrative any autistic person has to share is that individual’s personal and private experiences as an autistic person, and that our theories and musings on politics, identity, culture, philosophy, or policy are inappropriate, unnecessary, or somehow illegitimate. When mainstream media does recognize the advocacy work of actually autistic people, it is usually presented like inspiration porn—a feel-good, human interest story that exploits the trope of disabled people as mentally defective and infantile by portraying anything we do as extraordinarily special and sweet simply because we are disabled. There are a few exceptions to these trends, but unfortunately, they have yet to enter the mainstream. Spaces like the Autism National Committee’s annual conference (AutCom) and the University of New Hampshire’s Autism Summer Institute often provide grounds where autistic people immersed in autistic culture engage with non-autistics genuinely concerned with becoming effective allies. Other spaces where Autistic culture flourishes, like Autreat and many small, private email lists, are largely unacknowledged by the neurotypical majority and provide spaces centered around Autistic people.

Leroy Moore: What are the main campaigns that you see are important to your community?

Lydia Brown: - Ending hate crime
- Ending healthcare discrimination (especially with regard to denial of life-saving treatment)
- Closing institutions and abolishing segregated schools, workplaces, and residences
- Ending abusive practices in educational and treatment settings (including restraint, seclusion, and aversive)
- Developing more equitable policies and practices for equal access and opportunity in housing, education, and employment
- Expanding access to augmentative and alternative communication for both autistic children and adults
- Shifting research dollars toward quality-of-life and lifespan issues

Leroy Moore: Tell us about the work of The Autistic Self Advocacy Network and what are they working on now?

Lydia Brown: This month, ASAN is launching the Autism Acceptance Month website (www.autismacceptancemonth.com) as part of a history of campaigns by autistics and allies to rebrand April from Autism Awareness Month to Autism Acceptance Month. ASAN is also sponsoring the Loud Hands Project (spearheaded by Julia Bascom), which is a transmedia celebration and collection of Autistic culture and community that released its first product, the Loud Hands: Autistic People, Speaking anthology, this past fall. ASAN is also a partner for the new National Center on Leadership for the Employment and Economic Advancement of People with Disabilities (LEAD Center), and will be collaborating with a number of key disability rights and employment organizations to develop resources and provide technical assistance on fully integrating disabled people into the workplace. More recently, ASAN released a policy brief on organ transplant discrimination against disabled people that can be found on the website at www.autisticadvocacy.org. Further information about ASAN’s projects is also posted to the website.

Leroy Moore: Do you think that disability studies do a good job in teaching about people with autism and what they have provided in our communities?

Lydia Brown: When done right. Disability studies courses that actually emphasize and center the perspectives, theories, literature, and histories of disabled people—in this case, autistics—do well in countering ableist structures in academia that typically marginalize those perspectives while privileging able-bodied neurotypicals. Unfortunately, not all disabilities studies courses remember to do this, particularly in regard to autism, and frequently fail to acknowledge the agency, competence, contributions, and relevance of autistic authors, scholars, and theorists.

Leroy Moore: Have you been following police brutality/killings of people with autism?

Lydia Brown: Unfortunately. The area where disability policy intersects with criminal justice policy has long been an interest of mine, and is actually where my own advocacy began. Motivated by a concern for the potential and actual violations of the rights of autistics (and other developmentally disabled people) like me, I wrote legislation in Massachusetts that would mandate training about autism for all law enforcement and corrections officers in the state in 2009 that was filed for the third time this January. As part of my research prior to writing and filing the legislation initially, and as part of my advocacy now, I have been monitoring cases of wrongful confessions, wrongful arrests, police brutality, and police shootings and killings of autistics across the United States. I have a pretty thick binder sitting on my desk where I’ve printed about one-third of the news articles, police reports, and other materials pertaining to these cases. It’s a pretty depressing binder.

Leroy Moore: How can people support your work?

Lydia Brown: - Read writings by autistic people. Loud Hands: Autistic People, Speaking has an excellent collection of the foundational documents of our community as well as some of the best contemporary essays and blog posts as well.
- Take ASAN’s Autism Acceptance Month pledge not to participate in panels, conferences, or other events about autism that exclude autistic people.
- Donate money to organizations that actually represent and support autistic people. (Other than ASAN, the Autism Network International, the Autism Women’s Network, and the Autism National Committee all do good work; the cross-disability organizations TASH, Not Dead Yet, and the National Council for Independent Living are also good places to send money.)
- Find out what the laws are where you live about restraint, seclusion, and aversive. If the laws aren’t strong enough to protect disabled people from these abuses, contact your lawmakers and ask them to propose new laws that will.
- Find your local chapters of disability rights organizations or the nearest ASAN chapter, and ask what you can do to support their projects and campaigns in your own community.

Leroy Moore: What websites and other social networks that have strong politics and culture of people with autism?

Lydia Brown: The Autism Network International has a wonderful website at www.autreat.org, which is also the website for their annual retreat-style conference for the Autistic community. ANI also hosts a list-serv that’s been around since the 1990’s. The archives at http://archives.autistics.org provide an insight into the history and continual development of Autistic culture. ASAN’s website, at www.autisticadvocacy.org, tends to be more politically focused, though Julia Bascom’s Loud Hands Project (an initiative of ASAN) will become an ever-expanding transmedia celebration of Autistic culture.

LM Any last words?

Lydia Brown: Earlier today, medical staff at a hospital attempted to dissuade a prominent disability rights activist who is also Autistic from receiving a routine but life-saving treatment on the basis of disability status. Within the last week, a young man who murdered an autistic, gay acquaintance by dousing him in oil and setting him on fire received an appallingly lenient sentence of three and a half years in prison for the crime. These are both examples of the deadly consequences of ableist attitudes that devalue disabled lives and dehumanize disabled people. The struggle for Autistic rights is part of the struggle for disabled rights, which in turn, is part of the struggle for universal human rights and transformative social justice. For as long as teachers can restrain and seclude, clinicians can shock and traumatize, and family members and caregivers can abuse and murder with impunity, our struggle will not be over.

lydia@autistichoya.com.
Photo from the vigil was taken by Kory Otto-Jacob.

“They closed 56 schools in our neighborhoods, which is a serious situation- but it is also a challenge, which community leaders and families should seize to teach our children,” said Minister Abel Muhammad  from Chicago. My heart was already lifted by the spirits present at the 2^nd annual townhall,  Say It Loud, I’m Black and Proud and When I Say Black I mean Red and Brown sponsored by the Oscar Grant Foundation and Merrit College, but once the voices of so many deep and conscious voices like Abel Muhammad, Jasiri X and Cephus Johnson, aka Uncle Bobby began to speak it deepened the medicine for all of us present.

“We have all of this in us- all the strength our ancestors gave us,” We just need to recognize it,” said Lakota Harden, Native poet, orator and media producer (Minnecoujou/Yankton Lakota and HoChunk). After a beautiful offering of Afrikan libations and ritmo by Sidney Coulten Lakota continued to launch this beautiful day by making space for an inter-tribal prayer both from her Native Turtle Island tradition and from the Azteca Mexihca Danza group Calpulli Coatlicue (of which my son and I are part of) all of which brought our multi-cultures, spirits and ancestors into the room respectfully and in a good way to make this day a spiritual circle of change.

As the melanin challenged daughter of a Afrikan-Taino mama who struggled with so much racism and poverty on her life journey, I was blessed to bring her and other ancestors into the room with prayer with my Danza group, but I stayed the rest of the day because knew I had brought my 9 year olf son to the right circle of young peoples and elders where factory schools were questioned, where dominant, colonizers practices were resisted and where voices of our mamaz and daddys and communities were respected for the knowledge they hold from our many Red, Black and Brown communities.

“I am reminded of Elijah Muhammad who said we grow to accept our own’ most of the time we are divided from one another,” said Minister Keith Muhammad who launched a multi-generational, power-packed panel that lived and breathed real change, facilitated by hip hop activist Jasiri X and included Castlemont High School counselor Abbas, Palestinian Merritt College Student Lubna Morrar, community activist Tim Killings and acrobat/community skolar Jesus El to name a few. Each one bringing hard lessons on how to connect us all as youth and adults, elders and ancestors, Black, Red and Brown.

“BDS- Boycott, Divest and Sanction, the problem is we are so under the capitalist rule that we have lost our own community,” Lubna Morrar, bringing us to the roots of our separate-ness, “we have to Boycott, Divest and Sanction to break free from all this domination.

“I won’t stop until there is justice for my son,,” Jerralyn Blueford, mama of Alan Blueford Jr, murdered by Oakland Police in addition to Wanda Johnson, mother of BART police murder victim Oscar Grant and Cyndi Mitchell, sister of Mario Romero, murdered by Vallejo Police department , all brought their warrior mamas spirits into the room as one of many voices questioning police violence, community violence and the violence of capitalism destroying our Black and Brown young peoples.

“We are not that different, colonialism has separated us,” said Jose Rivera Xicano community historian and Richmond organizer  as part of the Q&A section.

“We need practical steps  for us to become as one, we need to start loving each other,” concluded Abel Muhammad All of the words spoken this day were deep, bringing consciousness, knowledge and healing for our collective, decolonizing souls bringing us to the understanding beyond what we are taught in corporate wite-supermacist media and institutions, that we are all one, and as one we must heal our Red, Black and Brown bodies and souls so we can raise our Red, Black and Brown children in a good way.

CLick here to connect with the Oscar Grant Foundation 

#2-

#3

A lot of people are confused when it comes to important facts about the murder of Mario Romero by officers of the Vallejo Police Department. Those who are unfamiliar with proper protocol and are comfortable with hearing the stories of people being shot and killed by police for allegedly possessing a firearm.

It is important to understand that in the case of Mario Romero he did not have a gun before one was planted on him by a corporal with the Vallejo Police department after he was murdered.

Mario Romero was sitting in front of his home when he was preyed upon by officers practicing their normal daily routine of harassing people because of the color of their skin. A lot of people do not understand that it is not against the law to sit in your car in front of your house at any time of the day or night because this is America and we have civil and constitutional rights.

Those rights of Mario Romero were violated to a horrible extent on September 2, 2012 when he was murdered by officers of the Vallejo Police.

Vallejo Police have counted on intimidation, stalking and harassment to silence witnesses and family of those who have been killed at their hands.

Vallejo police were counting on such intimidation to silence everyone who witnessed these crimes of Vallejo police.

Vallejo Police want you believe that a sane man would pull out a fake gun on two officers with real guns and unlimited bullets. A sane man who had just got a new promising job and was preparing to celebrate his 24th birthday.

A sane man who had a family who loved him as much as he loved them. This same sane man who was a hero to his 3 year old daughter.

The Vallejo Police have admitted to not identifying themselves. Before attacking Mario Romero’s car with bullets but have attempted to justify their actions through planting evidence to support their lies and slandering Mario’s name.

The Vallejo Police have not given an explanation for shooting at Mario so many times without any return fire. Shooting at an unarmed man was not enough for these blood thirsty animals. They had to reload and hop onto the hood of Mario’s car and continue to unload while the officer turned his head to have a conversation with a loved one of the victim while continuing to shoot her baby brother to death.

To violate a person’s rights is not enough, to kill an unarmed man unjustly and in front of his home, neighbors and family members is not enough. The Vallejo Police immediately made lies in an attempt to justify their criminal activity.

They changed their stories three different times, none making sense to a family who were so close to the victim as well as friends and neighbors who knew what had occurred on that horrifying night.

The Vallejo police lied saying that Mario got out of his car and pointed a fake gun at two real guns but they did not know that Mario’s car door was broken, his window had to be rolled down and his door had to be opened from the outside for him to exit his car.

They did not know that Mario’s seatbelt was broken and was tied into a knot, which he faithfully tied to prevent himself from getting a seatbelt ticket preventing him from leaving the car in an abrupt manner.

They did not know that their corrupt activities were being recorded. They were unaware that anyone saw the police issued training weapon being planted into Mario’s car. Nor did they know that they were observed stealing the seatbelt that Mario was cut from.

Vallejo Police Chief Slandered Mario’s name, falsely stating Mario as a parolee who was afraid of going back to prison, using this as a reason to say that Mario pulled out a fake gun on two officer’s with two real guns and unlimited bullets. This false statement was relayed to the media by the Vallejo Police Chief who was aware that it was a lie but has refused to publically admit his faults, further proving the agencies lack of accountability practices.

The assassination of a person’s character is the second death that Vallejo Police Department sentences their victims to after they have murdered them in the manner that they murdered Mario Romero.

This assassination is carried out with the hopes of making the lives of the people who have been killed seem insignificant as well as limiting public outcry over police misconduct.

Vallejo Police do not want you to know that Mario Romero was shot in his face and mouth and shot in the palms of his hands and wrists as well as his chest and underarms as he pleaded for his life, Nor do they want you to know that after unloading 30 + bullets into his car his body was stolen from the scene of the crime and hidden for a month as insensitive officers of the Vallejo police harassed and intimidated Mario’s family.

The person that the Vallejo Police have painted Mario Romero to be is far from the person he was. Mario was a very loving person and very easy to love. He met no strangers and was willing to help people that he did not know. Whether it be helping an elderly woman cross the street or giving a man that he did not know a ride. Mario was very close to his family and open about his activity. He was creative and loved making music as well has taking care of his 3 year old daughter who was his world. Mario was a kid at heart who wouldn’t hesitate to sit on the floor and play video games with his nieces and nephews. Or ask his older siblings if his clothes matched. Mario was one person who made sure that you knew that he loved you , never leaving out the door without saying “I Love you”, giving you a hug and a kiss. He was never shy with his affection, never too proud to express his love. He was very respectful always saying Yes ma’am or nor sir to his elders. All he ever wanted was to be was famous and make his family proud. Mario’s life being taken so brutally and unjustly has exposed and evil within the city of Vallejo that has been able to be hidden for so long. Mario’s family has always been proud to call him theirs and will continue to fight for justice for his murder as well as the murder, police brutality and discrimination that has been experienced by others.

We are all Mario Romero!

April 3, 2013

“These are our young people, our future African-American leaders, trying to fight to get an education, and this is who they are cutting services to,” said City College of San Francisco Student Body President Shanell Williams about the recent cutting of the GED van service that provided transportation from “The Point” (Hunters Point) to CCSF GED prep classes. “This was a tiny program with a minimal budget that meant so much to the community and is typical of the moves being made by the corporate-funded forces attacking our communities’ schools locally and nationally,” Shanell explained.

As a formerly houseless, very poor single mama whose life was truly saved by the affordable education, support services, free child care and so much more I received at CCSF, I have been terrified to watch the orchestrated and systematic attack on CCSF, one of the largest community colleges in the country with a student body of over 90,000 people, unfold. Like the sudden closure of 52 public schools in Chicago and more across the country, it is an act of violence against our poor and working class communities of color. To me its insidiousness and covert under-handedness feels like 21st century corporate COINTELPRO.

“This is their fault; they over-budgeted.” “They were sloppy with their accounting.” “They need to clean house.” One after the other, editors of small, wannabe corporate news agencies spoke a strangely similar party line in a press briefing I was invited to a couple of months back in the early stages of this corporate coup of City College, when weekly hit pieces would appear in the SF Chronicle. As these corporate media editors, albeit smaller and less influential than the Chronicle, were all saying the same thing I wondered how they were all so bought in. And then I did a little WeSearch (poor people-led, not philanthro-pimp led, research).

Like the Monsanto Protection Act, the support for all of this corporate destruction of our communities’ schools can be traced to as high up as the federal government and multi-million dollar mandates to privatize most of public education. President Obama’s 2009 American Graduation Initiative for community colleges is directly from the corporate playbook. The plan includes such privatizing measures as partnering with industries and for-profit schools, transferring loans to private lenders, and funding based on student progress.

One of the main players in the corporate coup is the Accrediting Commission for Community and Junior Colleges (ACCJC) who out of the blue gave City College an “F” and a deadline of March 15 to correct supposed defects or face closure. With Board of Trustees’ approval, a very corporate interim chancellor, being paid $1,000 a day, took a wrecking ball to CCSF – in the name of “austerity.”

Behind this huge corporate coup is the Illumina Foundation. It was funded by Sally Mae, the student loan and high stakes testing corporation, which, along with 21st century parachute liberal philanthro-pimps, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, “donated” $1.5 million to the WASC (Western Association of Schools and Colleges) or accreditation board so a comprehensive Karl Rove-style campaign of disinformation could be launched against the otherwise stellar and problem-free City College of San Francisco.

Why? Perhaps those 90,000 warm bodies would be generating a lot more profits in tuition and whole more student loan debt if they were enrolled in a private college like Heald, University of Phoenix, DeVry and Pepperdine and/or through the multitude of on-line universities being pushed heavily by the digital sweatshop perpetrators, the Gates Foundation.

And of course these kinds of campaigns work. Or do they? Yes, it’s true that since the disinformation campaign was launched, enrollment in CCSF has dropped from 90,000 to 85,000. People are understandably confused and scared. But the people are also mad and the people can only be lied to so much with a lie so blatantly obvious as this one against a college so large and deeply rooted in our community.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” roared the beautiful, multi-colored crowd of thousands of people who gathered on March 14 at City Hall in San Francisco.

“My ethnic studies teacher, my counselor and my women’s studies teacher all received pink slips. They are all about to lose their jobs if this push goes through,” Terrilyn Woodfin, my sister-mama, PNN poverty skolar, reporter and City College student told me. As I did more Wesearch I discovered that not only were massive layoffs being threatened, but administration staff and teachers are being told not to say anything and just go along with the flow to keep their jobs.

“What makes it so crazy-making is the people are being lied to in so many ways,” Shanell declared, proceeding to describe how Propositions A and 30, giving $14 million and $376 million to save City College, were passed resoundingly by San Francisco and California voters to protect City College. Yet no matter what, the corporate forces say, “It’s not enough,” and proceed with their deadly corporate wrecking ball trying to make sure that our people’s college no longer belongs to the people.

“Whose college? Our College!” The wave of thousands of people’s voices at City Hall rang in our collective ears. If we ever needed to put our bodies in the forefront of this fight, it is now.

Please show up with your bodies and souls to the Southeast Campus of City College, 1800 Oakdale at Phelps, in Bayview Hunters Point, San Francisco, on Wednesday, April 3, 6 p.m., to get involved and/or go on-line to saveccsf.org.
 

Krip-Hop Nation (KHN):  I’ve been dying to get this interview!  We met on MySpace and I heard your music and read your story about your radio career and your disability.  Give us the full picture.

Shana Williams: Let me try and make this short. Lol.. I’ve been acting, singing and rapping since the 5^th grade, and I was tired of knocking at record labels doors so I decided to become a radio personality and I did, then after 2 years I had a spinal cord injury and spent 3 months in hospitals & nursing homes. After about a year and a half to 2 years of feeling sorry for myself I decided to try and go after my passion then I discovered that its hard if you’re disabled to get into radio. In California all of the radio stations are downtown and in buildings that are 20 plus stories high-they say that they are equal opportunity jobs but in the descriptions they say u must be able to walk up a flight of stairs and be able to hold 30 plus pounds so that exempts anyone who is physically disabled which is sad and that’s what I'm trying to currently change.

KHN:  You use to live in LA now you are in ATL.  What attracted you to ATL?

 Shana Williams:  Ever since the 6^th grade I've wanted to move to ATL , I just looked at a map & said I'm moving there and when I got my money up I did just that. It’s funny because I've never visited Atlanta before I moved here, and everyone said I was crazy to just up and leave to a place I’ve never visited.. also they have a wonder hospital called the Sheppard Center, they do a lot for those with spinal cord injuries, MS among others and the doctors are great..

KHN:  You have been in broadcasting for some time now.  What is the difference when you started out and now?

 Shana Williams: Technology has really taken over the radio industry since I first started. Now in the radio industry many of the on air personalities are celebrities and that increases the competition between those like myself who are earning or have a degree in communications. The internet helps radio personalities like myself to expand my brand between Facebook, YouTube, twitter, and myself.  Now I can control my image and do my own networking.

 KHN:  In the days of internet where do you think traditional radio is going or needs to go?

Shana Williams:  This is a great question because I was just talking to my father about this the other day. I listen to XM radio and Am/FM radio and the only difference is internet radio doesn’t have a censor, you can do or say whatever you want, traditional radio has regulations you have to abide by.  In order for traditional radio to expand it needs to expand its playlist and stop playing the same 5 songs every hour and become less about advertising and more about the music, but advertisements are what keep traditional radio alive so it’s a blessing and a curse.

KHN:  Would you ever go back to singing/raping and if not/or yes why or why not?

Shana Williams: I have been getting asked this question a lot lately and I have a different answer each time I’m asked this.. lol…  my love for music will always flow throw my veins. I do continue to write music but my focus is radio, writing and producing at this time, but I may spit a rap verse here and there just to let u know that I still got it.. 

KHN:  What do you think about Krip-Hop Nation and do you think the Hip-Hop industry is ready for a mainstream physically disabled Hip-Hop artist/s?

Shana Williams:   love krip-hip hop… I think-no in fact I know that it’s the next big thing.. I believe the doors are opening up for those disabled to expose their talent. On TV rapper Drake’s character was a wheelchair user, on the biggest show on TV glee someone is using a wheelchair and on 106 & park a young man named blind fury won the rap battle… the only issue I have with TV is they hire actors to play someone who uses a wheelchair instead of actually hiring someone who is disabled. Really all we need is one rapper who a wheelchair user to make it big then it will open the doors for others… all we need is that 1 big break and I believe that it will happen within the next 5 years.

KHN:  Whom have you interviewed in the past?

Shana Williams: Wow that’s a long list but the artist vary from independent to artist who are known overseas, I have had the pleasure to interview a Jamaican artist Jerri ghetto,  big speech, syrenz, mila j, nina shaw, swanni swisha, tripz, young tage, dolla, and many others..

KHN:  What do you think about Hip-Hop today?

Shana Williams:  I love hip hop, I love all music, but hip hop has evoloved into a business where you don’t have to release an album, to can release one hit record have it sell 1 million ringtones, and have 1 million downloads on iTunes and u could retire. No we don’t have artist  that could spit like 2pac or flow like biggie, but we have artist like jayz & nelly who have ownership in nba teams or Nicki minaj & cee-lo  who has a multi-million dollar soda deals. These days we have country, pop, and rock artist who ask hip hop artist to flow on their tracks. Yes hip-hop does have some songs that some may consider lame, but if you're making music that u love, and that’s one more person who’s off the streets I’m happy with that.

KHN:  We have found it hard to find disabled women in Hip-Hop who are willing to be open or just support what we do.  What do you think about that?

Shana Williams: it’s too bad that in 2013 women are still afraid to speak out and project there experiences,. as woman we are supposed to be strong and stand by our men, or be the rock to our households.  Some women don’t want to be the face of reppin being a woman with disabilities. I was in radio before I became injured and all those other djs I thought were friends were nowhere to be found, and it forced me to reexamine my purpose in life. Some woman are afraid of being judged, and have a fear of telling their story because they’re still trying to comprehend it themselves. Ladies speak up! Our voice must be heard!!!

KHN:  What are you working on now and how can people hear you?

Shana Williams:  Well I just lost over 140 pounds so I’m currently revamping my website to upload new mp3s and photos so u all can see the new me & hear the new me.  Just follow @djshazz & ill be posting the link to myn new website very soon!!!

KHN:  You have a song called Shazz Da World that I love.  Please explain that song for us.

Shana Williams: thanks.. in my song da world I wanted to make a song that will grab your attention once u heard it, and made u think. This song talks about everything from us being at war, sex and drugs.. what’s crazy is I wrote this

Song in 2001 after the terrorists attacks in the United States and its still relevant now, which shows that I was before my time. I just wanted to be the voice for woman who actually had something positive to say, who didn’t have to open their legs to get your attention.

KHN:  What is your advice for Black disabled/non-disabled women who want to get into radio?

Shana Williams: I’m going to tell u what I was told- if u want to be a singer u must sing everyday, and radio is no different.. if u want to be in radio study your craft,  listen to the radio, practice reading out loud so when you're on air u don’t flutter your words. The radio industry is a business so learn the ins & outs of how radio works.. also networking . the more people to know in this industry the better…there are books in any library or online so study, study, study… & good luck!!

KHN:  If you had control of the Hip-Hop industry what would you do  different?

Shana Williams: I would change the image of the women in the industry. In this industry woman have to sell sex before they can sell there music, the men can wear jeans and a t-shirt and jump on stage but us women need 3 hours of hair & makeup & a flat stomach.

KHN:  How can people contact you?

Shana Williams:  Follow me on @djshazz on twitter, MySpace djshazz and my email is shazz4life@aol.com and I’m also starting my own website called

http://www.da-realist.com/  that’s going to spread positivity in music, health, relationships and lifestyle.

KHN:  Any last words?

Shana Williams:  Just continue to follow your dreams, what some may consider your weakness, make it become your strength. Keep your head up and stay ready so you don’t have to get ready!! Remember that I love u but most important god loves u!!!

Wesearch:

Poor people led research and pro-active media deconstructing the lies told about criminalized and mythologized communities.

Ingrid De Leon

I am a migrant woman, mother that day by day I look at the sun

to guide me through this World. I have lived in San Francisco

for nine years. I see how things here are changing in the Misión

district. Before, there were a lot of stores and Latin restaurants.

But everything is changing. Everyday, they build new buildings

for businesses and other races that we cannot afford to buy.

When I walk through 24th street, I see new houses, businesses and

cafes with people who have money, everyone has their coffee cup

and everyone with their own laptops. They all appear quiet,

each in their own world. Us, Raza and those that don’t have a lot of

money cannot go in there. We have no money or computer. Little

by little our spaces are shrinking. And when we are surrounded

by rich houses and rich people, we feel like fish out of water

and we want to move out of here. Our space is already full of

things that us, the poor, cannot have. I am in horror, because I

feel that at any moment I will no longer have a home, because my

current home is very old.  These are the houses that are being

destroyed for new condominiums. I get chills every time I see a new

construction site. I feel as if I’m drowning, since I cannot swim.

Usuario for change (Enrique)- Gentrification

When I arrived in this country, into the city of San Francisco, a

decade ago, I saw how the renters and people that lived in shelters

were being forced into eviction from where we lived by the owners

of the buildings. Forced into eviction by the creation of “CHANGES” by the city of

San Francisco.

During a mass protest, I announced that the ones that should be

criminalized are the originators of Gentrification.  In other

words- the owners of the units and the legislators that approved the

ELLIS ACT.  Just like those who approved the program

“CHANGES,” because those are the originators of this problem.

Me, in my part, I was going to fight for a system of subsidized

housing by the city. Fight for the particular persons that have low income or

temporarily no income who could have good worthy housing according to

their earnings.

Today I live at Casa Quezada where I pay 25 dollars a month for

rent and when I do not have money, I do not pay. This program

was developed with the participation of many non-profit

organizations and other neighborhood centers in the Misión.

Gentrification- Julio Chaves

Gentrification of a neighborhood affects my economy because the

rent of apartments and rooms increase in price.  The owners of the

houses or apartments take advantage of the situation, feeling like mini kings in

their kingdom where they live and pressure the people who live in

their units.  The rent every day is more expensive.  It pushes us to live in places

far from our work centers, making life more difficult. Like

my grandmother says “what doesn’t leave with tears, leaves

with a sigh.”  This is due to the fact that is you have cheap housing,

you have to deal with many stupid discomforts from the mini King

and Esther with how you spend more money on gasoline or on the bus transportation. Gentrification is a silent Invasion, but without bullets-where the one with the most money takes possession of the best commercial places with the great ability to do

business.

Gentrification increases the rent and also the food.  It is a race where

he takes himself out of the race when he has little money or low

paying jobs. It’s a race where the poor get poorer and the rich get

richer.

This economic war grows bigger and bigger each moment like

Monsanto (Monster.) Where the one with money can live where he

wants and the poor where ever we can, or survive if we can.

I like the apartment where I live because it’s cheap, but it is located

on the first floor and I can hear the drainage system from the

neighbors upstairs.  And I can hear them making love with a

rik rik of their mattress. But all these noises and discomforts are

part of my environment.

Gentri- Lex Horan

I'm a young white person who's living in Oakland on a short-term basis. I am passing through, essentially, for four months of my life. Most of the time I live in Minneapolis, MN. Here in this city I am mostly a learner--I came here for training to bring home with me. It feels like a very strange way to be in a place.

Moving here was very easy for me. I am living in an apartment near Lake Merritt with my best friend and another person I hadn't met before moving here. The building I'm staying in was recently renovated and many other people in my building are Black and Latino. (Two of us in my household are white, and one of my housemates is Black. We all went to college; none of us are from the Bay Area.) Gentrification has made it very easy for me to move to Oakland. I know a lot of other people who live here--almost none of them are from here--who have helped me by giving me rides, showing me around, lending me a bike, letting me live with them for low rent. It's like the rails were greased to help me land here easily. I'm also impacted by gentrification in a different way, but how it feels to live here. I'm not used to it yet, if that's ever possible. I think a lot of people like me get used to the way displacement feels in the air, on BART, walking past the people who've been stolen from. I'm afraid that I might too, if I stayed here. But for now it rubs me, feels exhausting and heartbreaking and makes me feel nauseous and uneasy. I am impacted because I watch the way people like me are cogs in the machine of displacement and I feel angry, hopeless, judgmental, confused. It's important for me to grapple with all these feelings and also--at the end of the day, I'm housed, period.

Noa Grayevsky- Gentrification

I am a rich, white queer person living in San Francisco. I'm not from here. My parents immigrated to the United States from Israel where my Palestinian- Jewish ancestors colluded with the British colonizers and became white and rich off of land theft, displacement of their neighbors, and "real estate development." I am a graduate student with owning class parents. I graduated from Harvard and have a lot of educational privilege. I am a housemate to four young, white, queer people, an older sister to my very tall younger brother Eyal, a child of my parents Eli and Tami, a lover of my partner, Ro. My father and brother are business owners, and my mother, like her grandfather, is a real estate agent. This means the money in my family comes from other peoples' labor, from stealing land, from maintaining kkkapitalism and from gentrification and colonization. I moved to San Francisco five years ago to be closer to dear friends of mine, and I am embarrassed to share, to find other young, queer people like myself.

I am impacted by gentrification in San Francisco mostly in that money and access have been funneling to me without almost any effort on my part as a result of it. My parents bought me a house on Bernal Hill this year without me knowing about it, and gave it to me as a surprise, while my friends who are queer, poor folks of color were displaced from Bernal Hill to Oakland. Gentrification and displacement of poor folks downtown was a result of the building of the luxury condo my dad just bought. As the businesses change, I see more people who look like me all around. The police smile at me, It's all set up so that they'll be here to protect me from noticing or feeling the harm I am doing to others by being here in this way. I am a commercial for gentrification, as a young, white, class privileged, queer artist. I walk around and then rich, white, older men want to move here, like my dad, to be hip. My parents, between the two of them, own 6 condos and houses now in this country none of us are from, and each time my mom closes a deal on a "luxury" house or condo she gets paid lots of money, which she then uses to fund my brother's tech start up, my fancy grad school tuition, and my living here and gentrifying this place. I feel like the expectations, access, and inertia in place in my owning class family and culture set me up to displace others and benefit from their harm, and pushing against this feels both necessary to my humanity, like my duty to the earth and to those living around me, and also incredibly confusing- like doing a task that almost all my socialization worked hard to prevent me from doing. Here I am, humbled and hurting, confused and loving inside of it.

The Existentiality of Gentrification

by: Asik the Pirate

I think I might just have hustled rent for this month.

(Perpetual Refrain) I get three extra days next time!

I don’t come from here…it’s obvious.  My hat belongs sixty years in the past, my kicks have had intimate relations with several (I imagine bruised) feet, my shirt has a collar, and my gait betrays an admittedly desperate confidence.

Plus the folks that are left have seen it all after generally 40+ years on the plantation.  They know the new horse on the track.

“How you like the neighborhood?”

“Love it.”

“That’s good.  I’m Andre.  Been here my whole life.  I’ll see you.”

They see that I’m not a gentri-fuckerbut I know that I am sometimes reckless-eyeballed.  I am grateful for the cautious welcome.  I can locate and appreciate the fear.  Yet I wonder about my wife and roommate.  They don’t address them, they just let them pass by.  They might hopethey pass by.

You see I took no home from any man or woman.  I moved in from being briefly homeless to a place where my wife had moved to avoid a bad roommate situation, into an apartment rented by a young lesbian of Chinese descent, who happened to live in one of the last remaining Black sides of town.

Our rent is significantlybelow market rate, which amounts to just a little more than I can pay, and we have not and will not help to raise it!

But did my roommate know she was moving into a neighborhoodor did she just like the flat and the fish-shop on the corner?  Did she want to know and contribute to a community, or build an isolated fort on the Bay for sex and other thought experiments?  How was this space opened for me?

You see I knew this hood before I landed here, have friends, a few enemies perhaps, and have celebrated, cried, and struggled here. My entry was a strange homecoming, and I mean every syllable when I say I love it.  I don’t live in a hip spot, get no cool points for my domicile, yet I am surrounded by one of the most creative, resilient, strong communities that I’ve ever encountered.  But is it visible?  To Who?

And my roommate (my sweet, generous roommate)…Does she know that she is invisible not by race but by perceived class, translucent and gentile, not only able to dodge bullets but able to dodge us all?  Who is more afraid, my roommate, or the people who see a foreclosure sign hanging off of her “general good intentions”, and the bulldozer of green-washed upwardmobility as homespirals further and further from the atmosphere into the deepest recesses of space?

Jenny - Gentrification

Who am I in this City?

I am a class and education privileged (I have a master’s degree) 27-year old queer, White/Puerto Rican/Filipina mixed race woman, not from California.  I am trying to substitute teach in the city to create a more-flexible schedule compared to having more traditional jobs. I live with my Filipina-immigrant, college-educated partner in Berkeley/Oakland border.  I moved to California around 1 and a half years from Chicago with my sister who moved to San Francisco for her residency program as a gynecologist.  Before Chicago, I had lived in Michigan for 13 years.  Before Michigan, I lived in Japan, where I was born.

How am I impacted by gentrification?

 I am impacted by gentrification.  I must be profiting from it.  It allows me to live in a place with affordable rent for me and where a lot of young, like-minded queer people live around me.  I was not raised in California and it was my privilege that gave me a choice to move here.  It was my privilege that helped me find a place to live.  Because I have lighter skin, a masters degree, was a public school teacher, can speak English fluently without an accent, etc…landlords favor people like me and make it easier for me to move in compared to someone else who may not have those privileges.  My P.O.C. family (chosen and nuclear) without class/education privilege would have had a lot harder time renting the place.   They probably would have been denied. You have to show pay check stubs and bank account statements to prove you can pay the rent.  As a result, for the landlords, the more people like me they rent to, the more white people with more money will feel comfortable moving in and the more the rent will rise and the more poor people and people of color are pushed out of the area.  With this said, I am profiting from gentrification and I am being used by the landlords/developers to raise the property value for their profit.

HOW GENTRIFICATION AFFECTS ME

                                                 Ethan Davidson

    I have lived in a section 8 studio apartment since 1988.  It has a nice place with good security.

    Although the Tenderloin is relatively resistant to gentrification, there are definitely people who want it gentrified. 

     It is no longer possible to get section 8 units in San Francisco.  If I lost my unit, I would have to move north to either Marin or Sonoma County.

      I have serious health problems, but I have found good health care providers that accept medical.  In Marin and Sonoma County, it is much harder.  Things are also very dispersed, and the public transportation system is not very good.  It would be hard to get to whatever health care providers I had without a car, especially when I am sick.

HERBERT HOTEL

by

Dennis Gary

I am a resident of the Herbert Hotel on Powell Street.  It is being transformed from a residential hotel (SRO) to a tourist and student hotel.

As my fellow residents die off, their rooms are upgraded to tourist rooms, complete with hardwood floors and built-in televisions.  My room has an aging rug and no TV.

But I can get the Internet after a fight with management, which stated that the free wi-fi was not meant for residents – just tourists and students.

For a month, I could not get on the hotel’s wi-fi because they would not give me a password.  Then Sari of Central City SRO Collaborative appeared on the scene and suddenly I was given the password.

When the light fixture above my mirror burned out, my chest of drawers started falling apart, and paint started peeling from the ceiling, maintenance was suddenly too busy working on tourist and student rooms.

Then Jeannie of  the “In Home Support Services Collaborative” called the general manager and two hours later I had a new light fixture, a new chest of drawers, and a fresh coat of paint on my ceiling.

Zoe Bender

                                                                                                            Gentrification Blog                                       

I am 26 year old white girl with an asymmetrical hair cut who gets in free to most clubs because I dance so good. I am an unemployed college graduate. I have 84 cents in my bank account and I just applied to graduate school that will cost tens of thousands of dollars. I am a radical queer hipster who uses my foodstamps at health food stores. I am an artist and an aspiring revolutionary. I don’t own a car or bike, so I walk most places, at all hours of the day and night, and never feel unsafe.

Two years ago, my parents decided to move out of their rural beach-town house and back to San Francisco. My Dad is a painter who makes his money doing tech support for small businesses and my Mom is a writer who makes money as a development director for a non-profit arts organization. They found a place on 7^th and Market that was not zoned for residential, but convinced the property manager to let them move into what used to be a garment factory. Over the course of a few months, they worked with the property manager to design a community of live-work spaces for artists. Most of the people that moved in are art students in their 20s, about two-thirds of whom are white. In exchange for her work in designing and managing the project, my Mom got a small additional studio rent-free for a year.  When I lost my job and house in October, my mom offered to let me move into her office space.

Gentrification is the reason I live where I do. Rent is very affordable, which is why my parents can live there, and why they have an extra room that I can live in. Part of the reason my parents were able to convince the property manager to let them move in was that the presence of artists in the neighborhood will eventually increase the property value. This neighborhood is a burgeoning hub of gentrification. Some of my wealthy, white friends don’t want to come visit me in this ‘scary’ part of town. Over the last two years I’ve seen bicycle shops, coffee shops and art galleries open up all over the neighborhood. About a year ago, a new nightclub opened up on 6^th and Market. The club is called Monarch, and was recently voted one of the best sound systems in America. Every Tuesday I walk down 6^th Street from Mission to Market to go dance to trap and dubstep at Monarch. I avoid making eye contact with the people I pass who are hanging outside the SROs and liquor stores. When they talk to me, I mostly ignore them. When I get to monarch, it’s like walking into a different universe, with chic Victorian era design and a mostly white crowd. Inside Monarch, I relax, surrounded by my fellow perpetrators of gentrification.  

Theresa Hays -Who am I in this City?

How am I impacted by gentrification?

I am Theresa Hays, an African American woman who about 12 years ago was living with my husband in a 1BR apartment in the Hunter’s Point section of the city…right near the Navy Shipyard.  I had become very ill due to a condition I suffered with which left me so weak from anemia that I wasn’t able to hold down a job.  My husband’s job laid him off so often and so sporadically until our bills and our rent began to get behind and then unpaid.

I feel that there was a blessing in our storm.  The white man assigned to us from the Property Management Company harassed us so much until we felt uneasy whenever we would leave the apartment to go somewhere wondering if we’d be able to get back in when we came home.  I wrote a letter to the apartment owner, (an African American man), which I pointed out some unhealthy conditions that we had been suffering with in the apartment. We had never talked to them about it because we were behind in our rent.  It was put on that owner’s heart to let us sign a “consensual agreement”, that he wouldn’t report us as an Eviction, and he would forgive the now $11,000 in back rents if we just left.  We looked at it to be a blessing in the storm, and we left.

During the time all this was going on, the Navy Shipyard and Lennar Properties were slowly moving in the area, “cleaning up” things.  I attended meetings where Lannar representatives were trying to “push” their cause on the community and San Francisco and the Mayor’s Office.

My husband and I put everything in Storage other than ample clothes that we stacked up and camouflaged behind us inside the back of the truck.  This began our first night of being “HOMELESS”, a word I never thought would describe me/us.  We led this life for 3 years sleeping in our little green pick-up truck not letting anyone know that we were “HOMELESS”.  It was important that we keep our lives looking like “business as usual” and most importantly consistently continuing to give praises to God through it all.

We read articles and heard stories about some shady things happening with Lennar Properties and began to again see that what seemed to be so bad and uncertain, was actually a blessing in the storm.  We were able to escape the experience of being caught up in the clutches of Lennar Properties which we now know is a HUGE EXAMPLE OF GENTRIFICATION in the San Francisco Hunter’s Point section of the city.

Marinette

I am Marinette Tovar Sanchez, Mexican immigrant, living in the Fruitvale area, in the city of Oakland. I am a worker and an artist, an activist, a woman of color. I am, in few or many words, a professional everything-ologist. I am in the constant move to earn the daily bread, in the constant struggle to keep a roof over my head. I rent a room in a warehouse, which I share with 4 other people, also artists, activists and educators who share a space to afford rent.

I have seen gentrification from a couple of different perspectives. The first one is that of an artist who struggles, like many, to make ends meet and pay rent and living expenses. The second perspective is that of a working immigrant woman of color with limited resources and opportunities.

The first perspective helped me understand the impact and effect, negative in many ways, that artists have had in the gentrification of neighborhoods. Women and men who dedicate themselves to creating art often, and in most cases, struggle financially. The money flow of an artist tends to be sporadic, unreliable and unpredictable; this drives artists to look for options that are affordable. Most of the time, the living quarters that artists can afford end up being in low income neighborhoods, considered by many as the ghettos. Little by little, more and more artists move in, following the example and trend of others before them and slowly, the area starts becoming “cool, artsy, hip, quirky, colorful”; as a result, more and more people suddenly want to move in as well, thus driving the demand for housing in those neighborhoods up, along with rent prices and the cost of living in general, making it nearly impossible for the original tenants to afford to stay. Indirectly, especially in places like the Bay Area, artists have been the indirect spear-headers of gentrification; ironically, once other people begin to move in who have the resources that artists don’t have financially, the prices keep escalating and eventually, the artists who moved in to begin with, end up being pushed out of the neighborhood as well.

Iris

Who are you- white, Jewish, owning class, queer, woman, living in Berkeley

How does gentrifukation impact you? I currently live in a mostly gentrified neighborhood in Berkeley, close to 4th street shopping area. This area is less "hip" and close to "cool" places than my old house, near Macarthur bart. At my old place we were the only white people on the block, I felt pretty unsafe and scared, witnessed violence and heard gunshots a couple times, heard a woman moaning outside of my window, and witnessed a sexual assault. It became pretty unbearable to me so I moved out, both because of how scared I felt, and because of how unwanted I knew we all were. Our neighbors were not happy we were there. Part of my decision was also informed by the Rev change session. I know I will be a part of gentrification in my life but I have enough money to avoid being at the forefront of it. I no longer feel at the forefront of gentrification because of where I live, but I do frequently participate in consumerism related to gentrification, such as buying expensive lattes in the Mission or in Oakland, etc. 

“All of the victims (of Po’Lice murder) visited me in my dreams when I was making this movie,” Ansar El Muhammad "Zar The Dip"  spoke humbly to the huge audience of the Black Repertory Theatre after the showing of his first and power-FUL documentary film Crimes of Police at the Oakland Film Festival on Saturday, April 6th.

“Between 2010 and 2012, four unarmed black males were killed by police in San Joaquin County in Northern California. Additionally, within this same time period several unarmed black males were also killed by police in the Northern California cities of Oakland and San Francisco.” From the Oakland Intl Film Festival Synopsis of Crimes of Police documentary

“I started doing the movie because I knew two of the victims, Luther Brown and James Cook but then when I began creating the movie they all began to visit me in both dreams and nightmares,” Zar the Dip told me after the screening. When I heard Zar speak on this I remembered the teaching of my strong Black-Indian mama Dee who always taught me to listen carefully when our ancestors visited us in our dreams. “They have messages for you, they are showing you the way,” she would say, following her Yoruba/Taino spiritual traditions innately as we struggled together through so much poverty and police harassment throughout my childhood.

Through a series of interviews with family members of victims, excerpts of protests and press conferences and then conversations with John Burris’ Diante Pointer and Black Panther Elaine Brown, a story of an occupying army who call themselves the police, killing our fathers, our sons, our brothers and our neighbors, is told in this hard documentary.

 “I’m crying so much, my eyes feel tired, Dione Smith, mother of James Rivera, one of several men of color murdered by police in Stockton, California spoke haltingly in one of many clips that featured the families left to tell the tragic stories of so many young Black and Brown men including Oscar Grant, Alan Blueford Jr.,  James Rivera, Kenneth Harding Jr, Ernesto Duenez Jr., James Cook, and Amadou Diallo to name a few.

This first movie by Ansar El Muhammad "Zar The Dip" rolled through stories of broken lives, broken families and eternally broken In-Justice system, which poor peoples and peoples of color must survive under whether we like it or not. While I watched the stories of so many survivors, I was catapulted back in time to when me and my mama were endlessly Po’Lice harassed by Oakland and Berkeley PD for he crime of living in our car, for driving while poor and for being poor and homeless in Amerikkka. But most of all this movie brought me back to the resistance of us families of color to fight the racist, classist occupations of our communities

I spoke up at the Q&A at the end of the movie on the ways that POOR Magazine as a poor peoples-led, indigenous-peoples-led movement has adopted a No Police Calls rule, how this is very hard rule to keep when so many of us poverty skolaz are also in struggle with the poisons so easily accessible in our communities, and our own deep pain and trauma which we sadly and often perpetrate on each other, but that we do through following the ways of our ancestors- through a process we call Family council, which holds each of us accountable and works out consequences through healing practices and personal accountability. Most of all we do it because no matter what we know as poor peoples of color we can’t invite the police into our lives to perpetrate more harm in the name of “security”.

“We have to be strong, as a family, to fight, to keep the community remembering my son, (Ernesto Duenez Jr.), Rosemary Duenez spoke while sitting in unity with her power-FUL family in resistance to the lies, smear tactics and harassment employed against Ernesto Duenez which now extend to Ernesto’s brother who received a restraining order for peacefully protesting the racist police in Manteca, where Ernesto was murdered.

This power-FUL movie’s dedication to the truths of Black and Brown young men and their families, who this amerikkkan system would rather vilify, criminalize and silence reminded me of the many teachings of Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe, who stressed the importance of writing our own stories, to control our own histories. So the colonizer could not keep telling their lies, un-disputed.

Crimes Of Police does just that, allows us to tell our own stories, in our own voices, to resist the ongoing lies that corporate media and corporate police always disseminates about our fallen sons, which the solemn narration by Zar the Dip reminded us is the standard procedure followed by police departments to discredit the humans they murder, beautiful, peaceful fathers like Mario Romero of Vallejo, community leaders like James Cook and youth skolaz like Alan Blueford Jr..

Crimes of Police serves as a filmic tribute to the truth-telling and fierce activating of so many of our family members like Cyndi Mitchell, (sister of Mario Romero,  Mesha Irizarry, mama of Idriss Stelley, and founder of the Idriss Stelly Foundation, Denika Chatman, mama of Kenneth Harding Jr., Lori Davis, mama of Rahiem Brown Jr, Uncle Bobby, uncle of Oscar Grant,  and so many more mamaz, brothers, fathers, uncles, aunties, sisters, sons and daughters who can’t stop, wont stop until there is some real justice and no more just-US.

Follow the Film on Facebook at Crimes Of Police

Did a company called DMG Asset Management buy your foreclosed home?  It bought Larry Faulks’ Diamond Heights home from Wells Fargo bank after the bank put it up for foreclosure auction via a practice called dual tracking, whereby a bank forecloses and auctions off a home whose loan it is supposedly in the process of modifying.  Larry Faulks is a disabled elder whose heart lives in his home of more than 40 years in Diamond Heights.  He became disabled after a failed surgery and attempted to negotiate a loan modification of his loan, a sky high 8.2%.  After months of faxing mountains of documents, endless phone communication and counseling sessions with a HUD (Housing and Urban Development) certified service, his home was put up for auction and was purchased by DMG investor Gilbert Chung for the bargain price of $705,000.  Gilbert Chung has been charged by the US Department of Justice for conspiracy to rig bids and commit mail fraud at public real estate foreclosure auctions in San Francisco and San Mateo counties beginning January 2010.  Gilbert Chung—a faceless face whose name is a portrait of moral blight that is the shame of our city.

Larry Faulks matters.  African-descended San Franciscan, foreclosure fighter, son and elder—he now lives in his van after a lifetime in the same house in Diamond Heights, a house that he and his father watched being built at a time when developers wouldn’t sell homes to black families.  And that house still whispers Larry’s name, and the names of his siblings and his parents.  The whispers turn to cries in the evening and rage with the rising sun.  But it all comes down to numbers in this society and numbers have a way of forgetting, and its forgetfulness accrues with obliviousness, especially when it comes to San Francisco’s black community.  How does one quantify the struggle to obtain that home? How does one put a value on the days that Larry sat in the car with his father watching their house rise from the ground? The words that were said in that car, the dreams that were said and unsaid in the wind, unfolding like a series of acts before their eyes in a play that was real like the dirt that provided the fertile landscape for the foundation that was laid in those moments.  Those moments matter, those moments still live. 

Larry’s parents made the move from the south and Midwest—his mother from St. Louis, his father from Hot Springs, Arkansas. His mother worked as an account clerk for Muni and the Water Department. After acquiring technical skills in the military, his father worked for KQED and later for KRON. When his father began his career, he was one of the few black television engineers in the entire United States. He spoke of his father who built the family television set from scratch in the late 50’s when the family lived in San Mateo. Maybe that was where Larry gleaned his computer and technical writing skills. “You had to be able to explain things clearly, without jargon,” says Larry when speaking of the work he immersed himself in before his disability. His failed surgery left him with bouts of serious pain—pain so bad that it still requires frequent trips to the Emergency Room. He could no longer do the job he loved and had become so adept at. Most importantly, he feels that both he and his father owe their technical careers to the Tuskegee Airmen, who proved that black people could master technology.

When his father turned on the set what did Larry see?  Could he have foreseen what would happen to his house 40 years later, the house built by Joe Eichler, the only builder at the time that would sell to black families  Would he have seen the banks, our good friends, like Wells Fargo, lose his paperwork repeatedly in his attempt to secure a loan modification?  Or would the face on the screen have belonged to DMG investor Gilbert Chung, slowly fading into the TV snow of the American dream melting into nothing—equity stolen, justice gone.

Larry Faulks wants his house back and for others who have been hurt by DMG Asset Management to be aware of the charges handed down by the Department of Justice.  Gilbert Chung’s guilty plea to the charges of auction rigging and mail fraud are serious charges that could lead to prison and of a million dollars.  If you home was purchased at auction by DMG, please come forward.  Your voices need to be heard. 

Link to the Department of Justice press release: 

Wesearch:

Poor people led research and pro-active media deconstructing the lies told about criminalized and mythologized communities.

Click here for Spanish Translation:   http://poormagazine.org/node/4714

Ingrid De Leon

I am a migrant woman, mother that day by day I look at the sun

to guide me through this World. I have lived in San Francisco

for nine years. I see how things here are changing in the Misión

district. Before, there were a lot of stores and Latin restaurants.

But everything is changing. Everyday, they build new buildings

for businesses and other races that we cannot afford to buy.

When I walk through 24th street, I see new houses, businesses and

cafes with people who have money, everyone has their coffee cup

and everyone with their own laptops. They all appear quiet,

each in their own world. Us, Raza and those that don’t have a lot of

money cannot go in there. We have no money or computer. Little

by little our spaces are shrinking. And when we are surrounded

by rich houses and rich people, we feel like fish out of water

and we want to move out of here. Our space is already full of

things that us, the poor, cannot have. I am in horror, because I

feel that at any moment I will no longer have a home, because my

current home is very old.  These are the houses that are being

destroyed for new condominiums. I get chills every time I see a new

construction site. I feel as if I’m drowning, since I cannot swim.

Usuario for change (Enrique)- Gentrification

When I arrived in this country, into the city of San Francisco, a

decade ago, I saw how the renters and people that lived in shelters

were being forced into eviction from where we lived by the owners

of the buildings. Forced into eviction by the creation of “CHANGES” by the city of

San Francisco.

During a mass protest, I announced that the ones that should be

criminalized are the originators of Gentrification.  In other

words- the owners of the units and the legislators that approved the

ELLIS ACT.  Just like those who approved the program

“CHANGES,” because those are the originators of this problem.

Me, in my part, I was going to fight for a system of subsidized

housing by the city. Fight for the particular persons that have low income or

temporarily no income who could have good worthy housing according to

their earnings.

Today I live at Casa Quezada where I pay 25 dollars a month for

rent and when I do not have money, I do not pay. This program

was developed with the participation of many non-profit

organizations and other neighborhood centers in the Misión.

Gentrification- Julio Chaves

Gentrification of a neighborhood affects my economy because the

rent of apartments and rooms increase in price.  The owners of the

houses or apartments take advantage of the situation, feeling like mini kings in

their kingdom where they live and pressure the people who live in

their units.  The rent every day is more expensive.  It pushes us to live in places

far from our work centers, making life more difficult. Like

my grandmother says “what doesn’t leave with tears, leaves

with a sigh.”  This is due to the fact that is you have cheap housing,

you have to deal with many stupid discomforts from the mini King

and Esther with how you spend more money on gasoline or on the bus transportation. Gentrification is a silent Invasion, but without bullets-where the one with the most money takes possession of the best commercial places with the great ability to do

business.

Gentrification increases the rent and also the food.  It is a race where

he takes himself out of the race when he has little money or low

paying jobs. It’s a race where the poor get poorer and the rich get

richer.

This economic war grows bigger and bigger each moment like

Monsanto (Monster.) Where the one with money can live where he

wants and the poor where ever we can, or survive if we can.

I like the apartment where I live because it’s cheap, but it is located

on the first floor and I can hear the drainage system from the

neighbors upstairs.  And I can hear them making love with a

rik rik of their mattress. But all these noises and discomforts are

part of my environment.

Gentri- Lex Horan

I'm a young white person who's living in Oakland on a short-term basis. I am passing through, essentially, for four months of my life. Most of the time I live in Minneapolis, MN. Here in this city I am mostly a learner--I came here for training to bring home with me. It feels like a very strange way to be in a place.

Moving here was very easy for me. I am living in an apartment near Lake Merritt with my best friend and another person I hadn't met before moving here. The building I'm staying in was recently renovated and many other people in my building are Black and Latino. (Two of us in my household are white, and one of my housemates is Black. We all went to college; none of us are from the Bay Area.) Gentrification has made it very easy for me to move to Oakland. I know a lot of other people who live here--almost none of them are from here--who have helped me by giving me rides, showing me around, lending me a bike, letting me live with them for low rent. It's like the rails were greased to help me land here easily. I'm also impacted by gentrification in a different way, but how it feels to live here. I'm not used to it yet, if that's ever possible. I think a lot of people like me get used to the way displacement feels in the air, on BART, walking past the people who've been stolen from. I'm afraid that I might too, if I stayed here. But for now it rubs me, feels exhausting and heartbreaking and makes me feel nauseous and uneasy. I am impacted because I watch the way people like me are cogs in the machine of displacement and I feel angry, hopeless, judgmental, confused. It's important for me to grapple with all these feelings and also--at the end of the day, I'm housed, period.

Noa Grayevsky- Gentrification

I am a rich, white queer person living in San Francisco. I'm not from here. My parents immigrated to the United States from Israel where my Palestinian- Jewish ancestors colluded with the British colonizers and became white and rich off of land theft, displacement of their neighbors, and "real estate development." I am a graduate student with owning class parents. I graduated from Harvard and have a lot of educational privilege. I am a housemate to four young, white, queer people, an older sister to my very tall younger brother Eyal, a child of my parents Eli and Tami, a lover of my partner, Ro. My father and brother are business owners, and my mother, like her grandfather, is a real estate agent. This means the money in my family comes from other peoples' labor, from stealing land, from maintaining kkkapitalism and from gentrification and colonization. I moved to San Francisco five years ago to be closer to dear friends of mine, and I am embarrassed to share, to find other young, queer people like myself.

I am impacted by gentrification in San Francisco mostly in that money and access have been funneling to me without almost any effort on my part as a result of it. My parents bought me a house on Bernal Hill this year without me knowing about it, and gave it to me as a surprise, while my friends who are queer, poor folks of color were displaced from Bernal Hill to Oakland. Gentrification and displacement of poor folks downtown was a result of the building of the luxury condo my dad just bought. As the businesses change, I see more people who look like me all around. The police smile at me, It's all set up so that they'll be here to protect me from noticing or feeling the harm I am doing to others by being here in this way. I am a commercial for gentrification, as a young, white, class privileged, queer artist. I walk around and then rich, white, older men want to move here, like my dad, to be hip. My parents, between the two of them, own 6 condos and houses now in this country none of us are from, and each time my mom closes a deal on a "luxury" house or condo she gets paid lots of money, which she then uses to fund my brother's tech start up, my fancy grad school tuition, and my living here and gentrifying this place. I feel like the expectations, access, and inertia in place in my owning class family and culture set me up to displace others and benefit from their harm, and pushing against this feels both necessary to my humanity, like my duty to the earth and to those living around me, and also incredibly confusing- like doing a task that almost all my socialization worked hard to prevent me from doing. Here I am, humbled and hurting, confused and loving inside of it.

The Existentiality of Gentrification

by: Asik the Pirate

I think I might just have hustled rent for this month.

(Perpetual Refrain) I get three extra days next time!

I don’t come from here…it’s obvious.  My hat belongs sixty years in the past, my kicks have had intimate relations with several (I imagine bruised) feet, my shirt has a collar, and my gait betrays an admittedly desperate confidence.

Plus the folks that are left have seen it all after generally 40+ years on the plantation.  They know the new horse on the track.

“How you like the neighborhood?”

“Love it.”

“That’s good.  I’m Andre.  Been here my whole life.  I’ll see you.”

They see that I’m not a gentri-fuckerbut I know that I am sometimes reckless-eyeballed.  I am grateful for the cautious welcome.  I can locate and appreciate the fear.  Yet I wonder about my wife and roommate.  They don’t address them, they just let them pass by.  They might hopethey pass by.

You see I took no home from any man or woman.  I moved in from being briefly homeless to a place where my wife had moved to avoid a bad roommate situation, into an apartment rented by a young lesbian of Chinese descent, who happened to live in one of the last remaining Black sides of town.

Our rent is significantlybelow market rate, which amounts to just a little more than I can pay, and we have not and will not help to raise it!

But did my roommate know she was moving into a neighborhoodor did she just like the flat and the fish-shop on the corner?  Did she want to know and contribute to a community, or build an isolated fort on the Bay for sex and other thought experiments?  How was this space opened for me?

You see I knew this hood before I landed here, have friends, a few enemies perhaps, and have celebrated, cried, and struggled here. My entry was a strange homecoming, and I mean every syllable when I say I love it.  I don’t live in a hip spot, get no cool points for my domicile, yet I am surrounded by one of the most creative, resilient, strong communities that I’ve ever encountered.  But is it visible?  To Who?

And my roommate (my sweet, generous roommate)…Does she know that she is invisible not by race but by perceived class, translucent and gentile, not only able to dodge bullets but able to dodge us all?  Who is more afraid, my roommate, or the people who see a foreclosure sign hanging off of her “general good intentions”, and the bulldozer of green-washed upwardmobility as homespirals further and further from the atmosphere into the deepest recesses of space?

Jenny - Gentrification

Who am I in this City?

I am a class and education privileged (I have a master’s degree) 27-year old queer, White/Puerto Rican/Filipina mixed race woman, not from California.  I am trying to substitute teach in the city to create a more-flexible schedule compared to having more traditional jobs. I live with my Filipina-immigrant, college-educated partner in Berkeley/Oakland border.  I moved to California around 1 and a half years from Chicago with my sister who moved to San Francisco for her residency program as a gynecologist.  Before Chicago, I had lived in Michigan for 13 years.  Before Michigan, I lived in Japan, where I was born.

How am I impacted by gentrification?

 I am impacted by gentrification.  I must be profiting from it.  It allows me to live in a place with affordable rent for me and where a lot of young, like-minded queer people live around me.  I was not raised in California and it was my privilege that gave me a choice to move here.  It was my privilege that helped me find a place to live.  Because I have lighter skin, a masters degree, was a public school teacher, can speak English fluently without an accent, etc…landlords favor people like me and make it easier for me to move in compared to someone else who may not have those privileges.  My P.O.C. family (chosen and nuclear) without class/education privilege would have had a lot harder time renting the place.   They probably would have been denied. You have to show pay check stubs and bank account statements to prove you can pay the rent.  As a result, for the landlords, the more people like me they rent to, the more white people with more money will feel comfortable moving in and the more the rent will rise and the more poor people and people of color are pushed out of the area.  With this said, I am profiting from gentrification and I am being used by the landlords/developers to raise the property value for their profit.

HOW GENTRIFICATION AFFECTS ME

                                                 Ethan Davidson

    I have lived in a section 8 studio apartment since 1988.  It has a nice place with good security.

    Although the Tenderloin is relatively resistant to gentrification, there are definitely people who want it gentrified. 

     It is no longer possible to get section 8 units in San Francisco.  If I lost my unit, I would have to move north to either Marin or Sonoma County.

      I have serious health problems, but I have found good health care providers that accept medical.  In Marin and Sonoma County, it is much harder.  Things are also very dispersed, and the public transportation system is not very good.  It would be hard to get to whatever health care providers I had without a car, especially when I am sick.

HERBERT HOTEL

by

Dennis Gary

I am a resident of the Herbert Hotel on Powell Street.  It is being transformed from a residential hotel (SRO) to a tourist and student hotel.

As my fellow residents die off, their rooms are upgraded to tourist rooms, complete with hardwood floors and built-in televisions.  My room has an aging rug and no TV.

But I can get the Internet after a fight with management, which stated that the free wi-fi was not meant for residents – just tourists and students.

For a month, I could not get on the hotel’s wi-fi because they would not give me a password.  Then Sari of Central City SRO Collaborative appeared on the scene and suddenly I was given the password.

When the light fixture above my mirror burned out, my chest of drawers started falling apart, and paint started peeling from the ceiling, maintenance was suddenly too busy working on tourist and student rooms.

Then Jeannie of  the “In Home Support Services Collaborative” called the general manager and two hours later I had a new light fixture, a new chest of drawers, and a fresh coat of paint on my ceiling.

Zoe Bender

Gentrification Blog                                       

I am 26 year old white girl with an asymmetrical hair cut who gets in free to most clubs because I dance so good. I am an unemployed college graduate. I have 84 cents in my bank account and I just applied to graduate school that will cost tens of thousands of dollars. I am a radical queer hipster who uses my foodstamps at health food stores. I am an artist and an aspiring revolutionary. I don’t own a car or bike, so I walk most places, at all hours of the day and night, and never feel unsafe.

Two years ago, my parents decided to move out of their rural beach-town house and back to San Francisco. My Dad is a painter who makes his money doing tech support for small businesses and my Mom is a writer who makes money as a development director for a non-profit arts organization. They found a place on 7^th and Market that was not zoned for residential, but convinced the property manager to let them move into what used to be a garment factory. Over the course of a few months, they worked with the property manager to design a community of live-work spaces for artists. Most of the people that moved in are art students in their 20s, about two-thirds of whom are white. In exchange for her work in designing and managing the project, my Mom got a small additional studio rent-free for a year.  When I lost my job and house in October, my mom offered to let me move into her office space.

Gentrification is the reason I live where I do. Rent is very affordable, which is why my parents can live there, and why they have an extra room that I can live in. Part of the reason my parents were able to convince the property manager to let them move in was that the presence of artists in the neighborhood will eventually increase the property value. This neighborhood is a burgeoning hub of gentrification. Some of my wealthy, white friends don’t want to come visit me in this ‘scary’ part of town. Over the last two years I’ve seen bicycle shops, coffee shops and art galleries open up all over the neighborhood. About a year ago, a new nightclub opened up on 6^th and Market. The club is called Monarch, and was recently voted one of the best sound systems in America. Every Tuesday I walk down 6^th Street from Mission to Market to go dance to trap and dubstep at Monarch. I avoid making eye contact with the people I pass who are hanging outside the SROs and liquor stores. When they talk to me, I mostly ignore them. When I get to monarch, it’s like walking into a different universe, with chic Victorian era design and a mostly white crowd. Inside Monarch, I relax, surrounded by my fellow perpetrators of gentrification.  

Theresa Hays -Who am I in this City?

How am I impacted by gentrification?

I am Theresa Hays, an African American woman who about 12 years ago was living with my husband in a 1BR apartment in the Hunter’s Point section of the city…right near the Navy Shipyard.  I had become very ill due to a condition I suffered with which left me so weak from anemia that I wasn’t able to hold down a job.  My husband’s job laid him off so often and so sporadically until our bills and our rent began to get behind and then unpaid.

I feel that there was a blessing in our storm.  The white man assigned to us from the Property Management Company harassed us so much until we felt uneasy whenever we would leave the apartment to go somewhere wondering if we’d be able to get back in when we came home.  I wrote a letter to the apartment owner, (an African American man), which I pointed out some unhealthy conditions that we had been suffering with in the apartment. We had never talked to them about it because we were behind in our rent.  It was put on that owner’s heart to let us sign a “consensual agreement”, that he wouldn’t report us as an Eviction, and he would forgive the now $11,000 in back rents if we just left.  We looked at it to be a blessing in the storm, and we left.

During the time all this was going on, the Navy Shipyard and Lennar Properties were slowly moving in the area, “cleaning up” things.  I attended meetings where Lannar representatives were trying to “push” their cause on the community and San Francisco and the Mayor’s Office.

My husband and I put everything in Storage other than ample clothes that we stacked up and camouflaged behind us inside the back of the truck.  This began our first night of being “HOMELESS”, a word I never thought would describe me/us.  We led this life for 3 years sleeping in our little green pick-up truck not letting anyone know that we were “HOMELESS”.  It was important that we keep our lives looking like “business as usual” and most importantly consistently continuing to give praises to God through it all.

We read articles and heard stories about some shady things happening with Lennar Properties and began to again see that what seemed to be so bad and uncertain, was actually a blessing in the storm.  We were able to escape the experience of being caught up in the clutches of Lennar Properties which we now know is a HUGE EXAMPLE OF GENTRIFICATION in the San Francisco Hunter’s Point section of the city.

Marinette

I am Marinette Tovar Sanchez, Mexican immigrant, living in the Fruitvale area, in the city of Oakland. I am a worker and an artist, an activist, a woman of color. I am, in few or many words, a professional everything-ologist. I am in the constant move to earn the daily bread, in the constant struggle to keep a roof over my head. I rent a room in a warehouse, which I share with 4 other people, also artists, activists and educators who share a space to afford rent.

I have seen gentrification from a couple of different perspectives. The first one is that of an artist who struggles, like many, to make ends meet and pay rent and living expenses. The second perspective is that of a working immigrant woman of color with limited resources and opportunities.

The first perspective helped me understand the impact and effect, negative in many ways, that artists have had in the gentrification of neighborhoods. Women and men who dedicate themselves to creating art often, and in most cases, struggle financially. The money flow of an artist tends to be sporadic, unreliable and unpredictable; this drives artists to look for options that are affordable. Most of the time, the living quarters that artists can afford end up being in low income neighborhoods, considered by many as the ghettos. Little by little, more and more artists move in, following the example and trend of others before them and slowly, the area starts becoming “cool, artsy, hip, quirky, colorful”; as a result, more and more people suddenly want to move in as well, thus driving the demand for housing in those neighborhoods up, along with rent prices and the cost of living in general, making it nearly impossible for the original tenants to afford to stay. Indirectly, especially in places like the Bay Area, artists have been the indirect spear-headers of gentrification; ironically, once other people begin to move in who have the resources that artists don’t have financially, the prices keep escalating and eventually, the artists who moved in to begin with, end up being pushed out of the neighborhood as well.

Iris

Who are you- white, Jewish, owning class, queer, woman, living in Berkeley

How does gentrifukation impact you? I currently live in a mostly gentrified neighborhood in Berkeley, close to 4th street shopping area. This area is less "hip" and close to "cool" places than my old house, near Macarthur bart. At my old place we were the only white people on the block, I felt pretty unsafe and scared, witnessed violence and heard gunshots a couple times, heard a woman moaning outside of my window, and witnessed a sexual assault. It became pretty unbearable to me so I moved out, both because of how scared I felt, and because of how unwanted I knew we all were. Our neighbors were not happy we were there. Part of my decision was also informed by the Rev change session. I know I will be a part of gentrification in my life but I have enough money to avoid being at the forefront of it. I no longer feel at the forefront of gentrification because of where I live, but I do frequently participate in consumerism related to gentrification, such as buying expensive lattes in the Mission or in Oakland, etc. 

To be a black poet with a severe disability is to speak from the margins of the dominant culture. You have the responsibility to be your own griot and sing your history and life experiences because no one else are going to do it for you. No one else will have your perspective of how to see the world and will have the words to make people see what you see. With out your poetic art people will be led by their own assumptions and will try to define your blackness and disability in ways that you will not want them to.

You are often a stalwart against the mainstream media who tries to ignore you or represent you as a helpless invalid who may or may not deserve government benefits or as a heroic figure who overcame your disability against tremendous odds to accomplish phenomenal feats. You give the more realistic model of a person who is vulnerable enough to share his flaws, but is strong enough to have many triumphs. This makes you an artist that adds vital information to the culture tapestry that surrounds you. You then can call yourself a poet who represent the best of all your identities and the communities that you belong to.

By Lateef McLeod

I was in line at the Civic Center post office in downtown San Francisco when the far off smell of salty air hit me.  I looked around for something that resembled the ocean and saw a passel of light blue shirt clad postal clerks weighing and affixing postage to letters and parcels, each doing the job with a personalized diligence gleaned from years of repetition.  How can one inhale the vast blueness of oceans and seas in a post office?  I was in line, in whose juxtaposition I occupied a place behind 15 others whose postures ranged from assertive, hurried, bored, fatigued, ambivalent or misguided aplomb—each holding sway to the pendulum of impatience moving within.  The post office is always crowded but I don’t mind standing in line.  Standing in line at the post office to send a handwritten letter is a resistance to our techwashed reality where everything is done via a click or press of a button.  As the second hand on the clock ticks its tiny steps of supplication towards eternity, the salty air smell becomes stronger and soon my face is awash in a breeze coming from somewhere. 

“Excuse me” a voice cut though from behind.  I turned and saw him—an African-American man who I’d seen around the city since I was a kid.  The man was about 5 foot 5 or 6.  He was dressed the way I remembered from back then—rugged pants, boots, denim jacket, turtleneck sweater—topped with a wide-brim leather hat.  “Do you know how much it costs to send a certified letter” he asked.  I’d sent only 2 certified letters in my life and didn’t remember what I’d paid.  “No, I sure don’t” I replied.  His thick fingers held a fanned out set of certified mail forms as if they were US currency.  He looked about for a list of postal rates.  If they are posted they are well hidden, along with the machine for those whose only wish is to purchase a single stamp.

On the man’s jacket was a patch that read: Karate.  I tried to imagine what he’d look like in a Karate gi.  He is short but solid.   I remember driving somewhere with my uncle years ago when he spotted the man walking down the street carrying a shoulder bag.  “That guy is a karate man” my uncle said.  My uncle practiced Okinawan Karate and came across the man in that world.  I looked at the man was we passed him.  He looked as if he’d just returned from a long journey by ship.  A merchant seaman, maybe?  I’d see him from time to time, always with that shoulder bag and sometimes a guitar case.  He’d pop up in different places in the city, always unexpectedly.  Somehow I felt I knew him.  Hey there’s that guy…I’d think upon seeing him.  I was just a little kid living in the Projects of North Beach, running in every direction except the right one.  Once while running, I came upon the man again.  This time he was among a crowd of tourists.  “Do you speak German?” he asked someone in the crowd.  “I do too”.  He smiled and strummed his guitar and said something that sounded like:

                                    Spreck-a-dee doych

                                    Spreck-a-dee doych

                                    Stop ‘n drop…thank you!

And the tourists showed teeth that spread as far and wide as the bridges that connect one place or person to another, smiling and dropping coins and dollars in that guitar case.  I was just a kid watching.  Hey, it’s that guy…I thought again, offering only a smile exposing the bashfulness of a boy in the presence of a guitar case that was a wide mouth that knew about laughter and hunger in any language. 

The man stood jotting information on the certified mail receipts.  I’d never spoken to him yet I felt I knew him.  He was someone from the landscape of my childhood, the feel of which is on the bottoms of my feet--in the sand and pebbles and shards of glass that have collected in my shoes.  I looked at the man’s face.  It seemed he hadn’t aged at all.  He didn’t have his shoulder bag or guitar case.  He glanced at his cell phone that was tucked into his denim jacket pocket.  Standing in that line, I wanted to ask him his name, where he was from, what he did for a living.  The only thing I could say was, “I remember you when I was a kid”. 

Displayed on the circumference of his leather hat rests a multinational array of pins proudly bearing the flags of many nations as well as the emblem of the state of California.  Had he been to all those places?  I remembered him talking to those German tourists long ago.  I mentioned this to him.  He explained that he spoke 15 different languages, including Asian, African and Polynesian tongues.  I wanted to know more.  Where did he live?  Was he married?  Where was his guitar?  The line was moving and now I was at the head.  The postal worker at the counter called out, “Next in line!”  I turned to the man and said, “It was really nice seeing you again, sir.  By the way, my name is Tony”.  The man just smiled and nodded.  I went to the counter to take care of my transaction.

I wanted to hug the man.  I was so glad to see him.  The feeling I had was ineffable.  Seeing him gave me the feeling that the city was still mine, still strumming with memories which move slowly though the crowds, the traffic—memories still alive, memories that still breathe.  I wanted to thank him for still being here.

I walked out of the post office and the smell of salty air hit me again, reminding me of where I was and of that brother who didn’t—who won’t—go away.  Neither will I. 

Nuestra Investigación:

Gente de el pueblo conduce medios de communicacion y investogacion sobre aburguesamiento

For English, click here:

http://www.poormagazine.org/node/4713

Ingrid De Leon

Yo soy una mujer migrante, madre que día a día miro el sol para guiarme en el mundo. Vivo desde hace nueve años en San Francisco. Veo como todo está cambiando en el barrio de la Misión. Antes, habían muchas tiendas y restaurantes latinas. Pero todo está cambiando. Cada día construyen edificios para negocios de otras razas, donde nosotros no podemos comprar. Cuando paso por la calle 24, veo casas nuevas, negocios, y café con gente con dinero, con una taza de café y todos con sus propias computadoras. Se ven todos callados, pues todos están en su propio mundo. Los latinos y los que no tenemos tanto dinero no podemos entrar allí, pues no tenemos computadoras ni dinero. Y poco a poco el espacio se va reduciendo. Y cuando nos sentimos rodeados de tantas casas y gente rica con mucho dinero, nos sentimos como peces sin agua y queremos movernos de allí. Pues nuestro espacio ya está invahido por las cosas que nosotros, los pobres, no podemos tener. Yo me siento temerosa, pues pienso que en cualquier momento no voy a tener ni donde vivir, porque donde vivo son casas viejas y estas son las que están tirando por los nuevos edificios. Me de escalofrío ver mas construcciones. Me empiezo ahogar, pues no se nadar.

Usuario del Cambio- Aburguesamiento

Cuando lluegé a este país, a este ciudad de san Francisco, hace una decada ví como los inquilinos y los que vivíamos en refugios estabamos siendo obligados a DESALOJARNOS de allí donde vivíamos por los dueños de las viviendas y por la creación de CHANGES por la ciudad de San Francisco.

En una manifestación popular dije que a los que deberian criminalizar es a los que estan originando el aburgesamiento, es decir, a los dueños de las viviendas y a los legisladores que aprobaron la ELLIS ACT. Así como, a los que aprobaron el programa de CHANGES, porque ellos son los que han originado esta problema.

Yo, por mi parte, iba a luchar por una sistema de vivienda subsidiado por la ciudad o personas particulares para que los que tengan bajos ingresos o temporalmente, ningunos, pudieran tener vivienda decorosa, y digna de acuerdo a sus ingresos.

Hoy, vivo en Casa Quezada donde pago 25 dolares mensuales por renta y cuando no tengo ingresos, no pago. Esté programa se desarrollo con la participación de varios organizaciones sin fines de lucro y otras centros de vecindarios de la Misión.

Julio Chaves

El aburguesamieto

Aburguresamiento del vecindario afecta mi economia pues la renta de los apartamentos y cuartos, aumentan de precio, los dueños de casa o apartmentos agravan la situación sintiendose como pequeños reyes y su reino es el lugar en que viven y presionan a las personas que viven con ellos.

La renta cada ves es más cara empuja a vivir en lugares alejados de los centros de trabajo, esto hace la vida más difícil y como dice mi abuela lo que no se va en lágrimas se va en suspiros, esto es debido que en un lugar barato se debe soportar muchas incomodidades y estupideces del pequeño rey y además se gasta más en gasolina o en gastos de trasporte por bús.

Aburguesamiento es una invasión silenciosa y sín valores en donde el que tiene dinero toma poseción de mejores lugares comerciales con vocación de negocios.

Aburguesamiento incrementa la renta y también la comida en una carrera donde el se saca del camino a la gene con poco dinero y bajos ingresos econonomicos. Es una carrera donde al pobres se le hace más pobre y al rico más rico

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

El apartamento donde vivo me gusta porque es barato pero esta ubicado en primer nivel y escucho el drenaje de los vecinos de arriva, el suitch del baño, 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 amviente.

Gentri- Lex Horan

Soy una persona jóven y blanca que vive en Oakland ahora a corto plazo. Estoy pasando por aquí, en esencia, por cuatro mesas de my vida. Por lo general vivo en Minneapolis, Minnesota. Estoy aquí en está ciudad para aprender--vine aquí por entrenamiento para llevar conmigo cuando regreso a Minneapolis. Es una manera muy extraña de estar en un lugar.

Mudarme aquí fue muy facil para mí. Vivo en un apartimiento cerca de Lake Merritt con mi mejor amigo y una persona más que no conocía antes de mudarme aquí. El edificio donde vivo fue recién renovado, y la mayoría de la gente en este edificio es Afro-Americano y Latino. (Dos de nosotros en mi apartimiento somos blancos, y uno de mis compañeros de hogar as Afro-Americano. Todos asistimos a la universidad; ninguno de nosotros somos de la Bahía originalmente.) El aburguesamiento lo ha hecho muy facil mudarme a Oakland. Conozco a mucha gente que vive aquí--casi ningunos de ellos son de aquí--que me han ayudado por conducirme, mostrarme la ciudad, prestarme una bicicleta, dejarme vivir con ellos por renta barata. Es como las vías fueron engrasadas para ayudarma a llegar aquí facilmente.

El aburguesamiento también me afecta de una manera diferente, por como se siente vivir aquí. Ya no estoy acostumbrado al aburguesamiento, si aun es posible. Pienso que mucha gente como yo se acostumbran a la manera en que el desplazamiento siente en el aire, en BART, caminando por delante de las personas que han sido robadas de su tierra. Temo que yo me acostumbraría tambien, si me quedaría aquí. Pero ahora me fronta, siente agotador, desgarrador, me siento con nauseas e intranquilo. Mi impacta porque miro la manera de que la gente como yo somos un eslabón más de la cadena de aburguesamiento y me siento enfadado, inútil, critic, confuso. Pienso que es importante que lidíe con estos sentimientos y también—en fin, tengo vivienda, y punto.

Noa Grayevsky

Soy una lesbiana, rica y blanca viviendo en San Francisco. No soy de aquí. Mis padres imigráron a los Estados Unidos desde Israel, donde mis ancestros Palestinos- Judeos se confabularon con los colonizadores Englateros y se convitaron a estar blancos y ricos en el proseso de robar tierra, desplacar sus vecinos, y desarollo immobilario. Estoy una estudiante universitaria con padres de la clase proprietaria. He graduado de Harvard y tengo mucha privilegia de educacion. Soy una compañera de pisa a cuatro personas homosexuales y blancas de casi mi edad, una hermana mayor a mi hermano pequeño, Eyal, que es mucho más alto que yo, una hija de mis padres Eli y Tami, y una amante a mi pareja, Ro. Mi padre y hermano son dueños de negocios, y my madre, como su abuelo, se trabaja en immobilaria. Este quiere decir que el dinero de mi familia viene del trabajo de otras personas, del robo de tierra, de mantener la sistema capitalista, y de aburguesamiento y colonizacion. He movido a San Francisco hace cinco anos para vivir mas cerca a unas amigas muy amigas, y tambien me da verguenza contar, a encontrar mas jovenes lesbianas y maricones como yo.

Estoy impactada del aburguesimiento principalmente en que dinero y accesso vienen a mi sin casi ningun esfuerzo de mi parte. Mis padres me han comprado una casa en Bernal Hill sin mi conocimiento, y me lo ha regalaron como una sorpresa mientras que mis amigos que son afro y latino americanos y pobres habian dezplacado de Bernal Hill y han tenido mover a Oakland. Aburgezimiento y desplazamiento de gente pobres en el centro resulto de la construccion del condominio de lujo que mi padre recien acaba de comprar. Mientras los negocios cambian, veo mas personas que aparecen como yo en el alrededor. La policia me miran con sonrisas, ellos estan aqui para ayudar a la aburgesimiento y para proteger me de ver o sentir el dueno que estoy haciendo a otras personas en viviendo aqui. Soy un commercial para aburgesamiento, como una joven, lesbiana, blanca artista con privilegia economica. Cuando camino aqui, promoto a gente mas poderoso y rico que yo, como mi papa, que se pueden mover aqui para estar mas modernos. Mis padres, entre las dos, son duenos de seis condominios y casas aqui en este pais que no es nuestra patria, y cada ves que mi mama vende la casa luja de alguien se gana mucho dinero que se usa a invertir en la compania technologica de mi hermano, en mi educacion universitaria lujosa, y en mi abilidad a vivir aqui y contribuyendo al aburgesimiento de este lugar. Siento que las esperanzas de heredar, accesso, y inercia en mi familia de la clase proprietaria y cultura me propelan a desplazar otras personas y aprovechar de su dano. Resistir este siente al mismo tiempo como algo necessario para mi humanidad y mi deber a otras seres humanos y a la tierra y tambien muy confuso- como hacer una tarea que casi todo mi socializacion trabaja fuerte para prevenir. Aqui estoy, humilde y en dano, confundida y amorosa entre todo este.

El aburguesamiento

Pirata Asik

Pienso que acabo de completar la renta para este mes.

(Perpetro Rifran) Pa la otra me dan tres extra dias!

Yo no soy de aqui … es obvio. Mi sombrero pertenece en los anos 60 anos de tras, mis zapatos han tenido carias relaciones intimas con otros pies (me imagino con moretones), mi camisa tiene collar y mi paso traiciona una confianza ciertamente desesperada.

Ademas, la gente que se queda se han visto todo despues de mas de cuarenta anos en la plantacion. Ellos conocen el caballo nuevo en la pista.

“Que te parece el vecindario?”

“Me encanta.”

“Muy bien. Soy Andre. Habia vivido aqui todo mi vida. Nos vemos.”

Ven que no estoy un gentriFUKator (contribuyendo al aburguesamiento) pero yo se que a veces tengo ojos temerarios. Me siento agradecido por la beinvenida cautelosa. Puedo localizer y apreciar el miedo. Aun, me pregunta acerca de mi esposa y companera de habitacion. Ellos no los abordan,  simplemente los dejan pasar. Es possible que ellos esperan que los pasarian de largo.

Ves, no robe ningun casa de ningun hombre ni mujer. Me mude desde estar brevemente sin hogar a un lugar donde mi esposa se ha mudado para evitar una mala situacion con una companera de cuarto, a un lugar alquilado por una lesbiana joven de origen chino, que paso a vivir en uno de los ultimos barrios afro-americanos en la ciudad.

Nuestra renta es significamente menos del precio de Mercado, que equivale a un poco mas de lo que puedo pagar, y nosotros no hemos y no vamos a ayudar a aumentarlo!

Pero, habia sabido mi companera de piso que habia mudido a un barrio, o solo le gustaba el piso y la tienda de pescado en la esquina? Habia querido contribuir a un barrio o queria construir una fortaleza aislada en la bahia para sexo y otros experimentos mentales? Como este espacio habia abierto para mi?

Ves, yo habia conocido este barrio antes del momento que aterrice aqui, tengo amigos, y tal vez algunos enemigos, celebraba, lloraba, y luchaba aqui. Mi entrada habia un regreso a casa, y intento cada silaba cuando digo que me lo encanta. No vivo en un lugar moderno, ni obteno puntos modernos para mi domicilio, pero estoy rodeado por una de las communidades mas creativas, resistentes, y Fuertes que habia encontado. Pero es visible? Y a quien?

Y mi companera de piso (mi companera de piso tan generosa y amable)… Sabe ella que es invisible no por raza pero por clase percibido, translucida y gentil, no soloen capaz de esquivar las balas, pero tambien de esquivar todo nosotros? Quien tiene mas miedo, mi companera de piso, o la gente que veen un un signo de la ejecución hipotecaria que cuelga de sus buenas intenciones, y la excavadora de movilidad ascendente que esta verde lavado mientras hogar se calla mas y mas lejos de la atmosfera al huecos mas profundos del espacio exterior.

Jenny - Gentrification

¿Quien soy en esta ciudad? 

Soy una persona con privilegio de clase y educación (tengo una maestría) 27-años de edad, queer, blanco / Puertoriqueno / Filipina mujer mestiza, y no soy de California. Estoy tratando de sustituir enseñar en la ciudad para tener un horario más flexible en comparación con tener empleos más tradicionales. Vivo con mi pareja quien es filipina-inmigrante con educacion de la Universidad.  Vivimos en la frontera de Berkeley / Oakland. Me mudé a California hace 1 año y medio de Chicago con mi hermana que se mudó a San Francisco para su programa de residencia para la ginecóloga. Antes de Chicago, viví en Michigan por 13 años, antes de Michigan, viví en Japón, donde yo nací. 

 ¿Cómo estoy impactado por aburguesamiento?

Estoy impactado por aburguesamiento. Estoy aprovechando de aburguesamiento.  Lo  me permite vivir en un lugar con la renta barata, donde muchas personas queer que comparten mis mismas ideas viven alrededor de mí. Yo no crecí en California y fue mi privilegio que me dio la oportunidad de mudarse aquí.   Fue mi privilegio que me ayudó a encontrar un lugar para vivir- porque tengo piel clara, tengo una maestría (master's degree), fue una maestra de la escuela pública, puedo hablar en Inglés con fluidez sin acento, etc ... los propietarios a favor las personas como yo y es más fácil para mí para mudarse a mi apartemento en comparación con alguien que no tenga esos privilegios . Mi personas de color familiar  (escogida y nuclear) sin privilegios de clase / educación habría tenido un tiempo mucho más difícil alquilar el apartemento. Probablemente habría sido denegada. Tienes que mostrar los pagos de tu trabajo y los papeles de tu cuenta bancarios para demostrar que puedas pagar la renta.  Más gente como yo, los propietarios pueden alquilar a más personas blancas con más dinero porque ellos se sentirán cómodos vivir allá y la renta aumentará y las personas más pobres y las personas de color son expulsados de la área.  Estoy beneficiando de aburguesamiento y me siento utilizado por los propietarios / desarrolladores para aumentar el valor de la propiedad para su beneficio.

COMO EL ABURGUESAMIENTO ME AFFECTA

Ethan Davidson

Yo he vivido en un apartamento estudio sección 8 desde 1988. Es un bonito lugar con buena seguridad.

     Aunque el Tenderloin es relativamente resistente a la aburguesamiento, hay gente que definitivamente quiere que sea aburguesado.

      Ya no es posible obtener la sección 8 unidades en San Francisco. Si pudiera mi cuarto, yo tendría que mudarse al norte - a Marin o el Condado de Sonoma.

       Tengo serias problemas de salud, pero no he encontrado buenos profesionales de la salud que aceptan médica. En el Condado de Marin y Sonoma, es más difícil. Lugares están lejos, y el sistema de transporte público no es muy buena. Sería difícil llegar a los proveedores de la salud sin coche, especialmente cuando estoy enferma. 

HOTEL HERBERT

Dennis Gary

Soy residente del Hotel Herbert Powell Street. Está transformando de un hotel residencial (SRO) a un hotel de turismo y estudiantes. Mientras mis compañeros residentes mueren, sus habitaciones cambian a las habitaciones turísticas, con suelos de madera y televisiones construidas . Mi habitación tiene una alfombra vieja y no hay televisión.

Pero puedo conseguir a Internet después de un argumento con la la administración que me dijo que el wi-fi no era para residentes - sólo para turistas y estudiantes.

Durante el primer mes, no pude conseguir en el wi-fi del hotel porque no me dieron el código del internet.

ya que me daría una contraseña. Entonces Sari Billinck de Central City SRO Collaborative apareció  y de repente me dieron el código.

Cuando la luz de la lámpara en la encima de mi espejo, se acabó, calzoncillos empezaron a romper, y la pintura empezó a caer del techo, los trabajadores fueron de repente muy ocupados de trabajando en las habitaciones turísticas y estudiantes.

Entonces Jeannie Mon de "En-la-casa de Servicios de Apoyo de Colaboración" llamó el director y dos horas más tarde tuve una lámpara nueva,  calzoncillos nuevos, y una nueva capa de pintura en mi techo.

Zoe Bender- Gentrification Blog

      Soy una güera de 26 años con un peinado asimétrico. Entro gratis en
los clubs por bailar tan bien. Soy una graduada de la univdersidad que
no tiene empleo. Tengo 84 centavos en mi cuenta de banco y acabo de
solicitar mi entrada a la escuela de posgrado que costará miles de
dólares. Soy una hipster queer que usa vales de comida en tiendas de
comida saludable. Soy una artista y una revolucionaria esperanzada. No
tengo ni coche ni bicicleta, pues camino generalmente, a todas horas,
de día y de noche, y nunca me siento insegura.

        Hace dos años, mis padres decidieron mudarse de su casa en un pueblo
rural y playero y regresar a San Francisco. My papá es un pintor que
gana la vida ofreciendo el servicio técnico para negocios pequeños, y
my mamá es una escritora  que gana la vida recaudando fondos para una
organización sin lucro de arte. Encontraron un lugar en la 7 y Market
que no era clasificada para viviendas, pero convencieron al jefe de la
propiedad a dejarles mudarse en lo que había sido una fábrica de ropa.
Dentro de unas meses, trabajaron con el jefe de la propiedad a diseñar
una comunidad de espacios de vivir-trabajar para artistas. La mayoría
de la gente que se mudaron allí son artistas en sus años 20. Dos
tercios de ellos son blancos. A cambio por su trabajo de diseñar y
mantener el proyecto, mi mamá recibió un otro estudio pequeño en que
no tendrá que pagar la renta durante un año. Cuando perdí mi trabajo y
my casa en octubre, my mamá ofreció que vivera en su oficina.
Es por el aburguesamiento que vivo dondo vivo. La renta es muy
razonable: es por eso que mis padres pueden vivir allá, y que tienen
un cuarto extra en el cual puedo vivir. Un parte de la razón que
pudieron convencer al jefe de la propiedad de dejarles mudarse allí
fue que la presencia de artistas en el vedendario va a aumentar el
valor de la propiedad. Este vecendario es un centro creciente del
aburguesamiento. Algunos de mis ricos amigos blancos no me quieren
visitar en este parte “temeroso” de la ciudad. Dentro de los dos años
pasados he visto tiendas de bicicleta, cafés, y galerías de arte que
han abierto por todo el vecendario. Hace un año, un club nuevo abrió
en las 6 y Market. El club se llama Monarch, y fue recién votado uno
de los mejores equipos de sonido en los EEUU. Cada martes caminio por
la calle 6 de Mission a Market para bailar a trance y dubstep en
Monarch. Evito miraro a los ojos con la gente que paso que pasan el
rato afuera de los SROs y las licorerías. Cuando me hablan,
generalment les ignoro. Cuando llego a Monarch, es como entrar en un
universo diferente, con diseño de la época Victoriana y un público en
su mayoría blanco. Dentro de Monarch, me relajo, rodeada por los otros
perpetradores de aburguesamiento.

Theresa Hays –

¿Quién soy en esta ciudad?
¿Cómo me impacta el aburguesamiento?

Me llamo Theresa Hays, una mujer Afro-Americana que, hace doce años,
vivía con mi esposo en una vivienda con un cuarto en Hunter’s Point,
cerca de la astillera del Navy. Me había enfermada debido a una
condición que me dejó tan debil de anemia que no pude durar un
trabajo. El trabajo de mi esposo le despedió frecuentamente: tan
frecuentamente y tan esporádicamente que nuestras cuentas y nuestra
renta pagamos tarde, y pues no las pagamos para nada.

Siento que había una bendición en la tormenta. El güero que la
dirección de la propiedad nos asignó nos atormentó tanto que nos
sintimos intranquilos cuando salíamos del apartimiento, preguntándonos
si podríamos reingresar a nuestra vivienda. Escribí una carta al
dueño, un hombre Afro-Americano, en que indicó unas condiciones
insaludables en que sufríamos en la vivienda, de que nunca le habíamos
avisado porque estábamos tarde con la renta. Fue puesto en la corazón
de este dueño de dejarnos firmar un “acuerdo consentido” que no nos
reportara como un desalojo, y nos perdonaría la $11,000 en renta, si
nos fuéramos de la vivienda. Lo miramos como una bendición en la
tormenta, y nos fuimos.

Mientras todo esto, la Astillera de Navy y Lennar lentamente entraban
en la area, “limpiándola.” Asistí a sus reuniones cuando las
representativas de Lennar trataban de empujar su causa en la
comunidad, en San Francisco, y en la oficina del alcalde.

Mi esposo y yo pusimos todo en un depósito, aparte de ropa abundante
que apilamos y camuflamos detrás de nosotros en la camión. Así empezó
nuestra primera noche de estar “sin hogar:” una palabra que pensaba
que nunca describiría a mí ni a nosotros.  Vivimos así durante tres
años, viviendo en nuestra pequeña camión verde, sin dejar que nadie
sepa que estábamos “sin hogar.”Fue importante que nuestras vidas
aparezcan “normal.” Lo más importante fue continuar a dar alabanzas a
Diós mientras todo.

Leímos artículos y oímos historias de cosas sospechosas ocurriendo con
Lennar Properties, y empezamos a ver otra que lo que parecía tan mal e
incierto fue, de hecho, una bendición en la tormenta. Logramos escapar
la experiencia de atrapados en los agarrados de Lennar Properties—que
sabemos ahora son un GRAN EJEMPLO DEL ABURGUESAMIENTO en la área de
Hunter’s Point en San Francisco.

Marinette

Soy Marinette Tovar Sanchez, inmigrante Mexicana, viviendo en el area de Fruitvale, en la ciudad de Oakland. Soy una trabajadora y artista, una activista, mujer de color. Soy en muchas o pocas palabras, una todologa profesional. Me muevo constantemente en busqueda del pan de todos los dias, en la lucha para mantener un techo sobre mi cabeza. Rento un cuarto en una bodega, la cual comparto con otras 4 personas, tambien artistas, activistas y educadores.

He visto el aburguesamiento de un par de puntos de vista diferentes. La primera es la de una artista que lucha, como muchos, a fin de mes a pagar la renta y los gastos de subsistencia. La segunda perspectiva es la de una mujer trabajadora inmigrante de color con escasos recursos y oportunidades.

La primera perspectiva me ayudó a comprender el impacto y el efecto negativo de muchas maneras, que los artistas han tenido en el aburguesamiento de los barrios. Mujeres y hombres que se dedican a la creación de arte a menudo, y en la mayoría de los casos, tienen dificultades financieras. El flujo de dinero de un artista tiende a ser esporádico, poco fiable e impredecible, lo que impulsa a los artistas a buscar opciones que sean asequibles. La mayoría de las veces, las viviendas que los artistas pueden permitirse pagar están en los barrios de bajos ingresos, considerados por muchos como los guetos. Poco a poco, cada vez más artistas se mueven a estos barrios, siguiendo el ejemplo y la tendencia de otros antes que ellos y poco a poco, la zona comienza a ser "cool, artsy, moderno, peculiar y colorido", y como resultado, más y más gente de repente quiere moverse alli también, por lo que se hace la demanda de vivienda en los barrios mas, junto con arribar los precios de alquiler y el costo de la vida en general, por lo que es casi imposible para los inquilinos originales permitirse el lujo de quedarse. Indirectamente, especialmente en lugares como el Área de la Bahía, los artistas han sido los indirectos iniciadores del aburguesamiento, irónicamente, una vez que la gente comienza a moverse allí que tienen los recursos que los artistas no tienen, los precios siguen aumentando y, finalmente, la artistas que se mudaron allí antes, al fin estan expulsados ​​del barrio.

La segunda perspectiva, o más aún el efecto directo que el aburguesamiento ha tenido en mí, es la que he experimentado como una mujer recien inmigrante de bajos o ningúno ingreso. Después de haber estado sin hogar durante un par de meses, he arreglado de ahorrar un poco de dinero. Cuando busce un lugar para vivir, mis opciones eran increíblemente estrecho y casi específico. Yo, básicamente, tenía que elegir entre las áreas dentro de Oakland, donde la mayoría de las personas han sido desplazadas, gracias al aburguesamiento. Estas áreas eran más o menos del Este de Oakland y el area de West Oakland que todavía no había aburguesada; barrios de bajos ingresos de las personas de color con altos índices de violencia y poco o ningún acceso a alimentos saludables, aunque el acceso fácil a las tiendas de licores. Yo acabé eligiendo este de Oakland, porque por suerte, pasa a estar donde mi gente, personas, latinas se han concentrado. Es una bendición que de todos los barrios en los que podría haber terminado, me encontré con un con un hermoso grupo de gente fuerte que viven en una lucha constante y que están profundamente comprometidos e involucrados en la construcción de una comunidad resiliente y autentica.

Iris

Quien eres- blanca, Judea, clase proprietaria, queer, mujer, viviendo en Berkeley

Como el aburguesamiento

¿Cómo el aburguesamiento me impacta? Actualmente vivo en un barrio de mayoría aburguesado en Berkeley, cerca de la zona comercial del calle 4. Esta área es menos "moderno" y cerca de "cool" lugares que en mi casa de antes, cerca de Macarthur bart. En mi casa vieja eramos  las únicas personas blancas en el bloque, me sentí muy insegura y con miedo, hemos testigos a la violencia y escuchó disparos un par de veces, escuchó a una mujer gimiendo fuera de mi ventana, fue testigo de un asalto sexual. Llegó a ser bastante insoportable para mí, así que me mudé, tanto por el miedo que sentí, y porque sabia que los vecinos no nos querían alli. Nuestros vecinos no estaban contentos que estábamos allí. Parte de mi decisión fue informado también por la sesión de cambio revolucionario de prensa POBRE. Sé que voy a ser parte del aburguesamiento en mi vida, pero tengo dinero suficiente para evitar estar en la vanguardia de la misma. Ya no me siento a la vanguardia del aburguesamiento donde vivo, pero sí participo con frecuencia en el consumo relacionado con el aburguesamiento, como la compra de cafés con leche caros en la Misión o en Oakland, etc.

As terrifying as being on the outside looking in is, being on the inside wanting out is worse.

Needing to feed my face and pay the rent, I had taken a low paying job at the old Crocker Bank and after five years was making only around four dollars an hour doing office work.  Having come to the point of overdrawing my checking account, I asked a bank officer if she would advance me twenty dollars until pay day.  How many others have asked that question?

“No, because that would lower my savings account to a point where I would not be drawing top interest,” replied the bank officer to my inquiry

“The New York Times reports that the Dow Jones Industrial Average is setting new records, and on the same page notes that the numbers of homeless people and people living in poverty are also setting records.”  – Tim Redmond, San Francisco Bay Guardian blog, February 13, 2013.

The next day the bank officer gave me a canned tamale.

Who corrected the bank officer’s writing for the bank procedures manual as it was put into the computer?  I did.

Echoing through my mind are such remarks as, “How would you know I made a mistake in my statistics?  You’re just a word processor with a Master’s degree in English.  I am a bank vice president with an MBA.”

But did the VIP thank me when she found out I was right?”

No.

Trying to escape the bank, I discovered that it did not give employees seeking outside employment recommendations.  It just verified employment and whether the bank would hire us again.

As Edward R. Murrow reported in his television report “Harvest of Shame, the plight of the migrant farm worker,” one landowner stated, “We used to own our slaves.  Now we just rent them.”

And what in 2013 is the solution?  You tell me.

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.