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by Simon Kasada
The scene out of the smeary windshield as I push my
1989 Toyota Corolla off the freeway is this: cop cars
take up all the available parking in front the San
Francisco County Courthouse. A few are even
double-parked, despite the placard posted on the light
post which threatens that this a $286 fine. Probably not
for them. I swear, my son does a better job with his
Matchbox cars than this.
The alleys off Bryant come up quickly, narrow and
crowded with bail bond offices, but this is where I
maneuver my car, which unfortunately doesn't have
power steering. I bought it brand-new while Christina
was pregnant, my first car right after my 18th birthday.
It, like my son, is now 11 years old. Oh man, I'm so old.
The good thing about it is, it noses easily into a shoe
box sized space by a rumpled-looking man who wants
two dollars for "finding" it for me. Whatever. There's
time to grab something to eat at nearby McDonalds and
run inside.
I'm not good with huge public buildings; the heels of my
cowboy boots make more of a racket than other
people's shoes, I tend to not be able to find the
elevators, and when asking for directions my voice
bellows octaves above the sibilant tone observed in
these sanctums. I thought I'd waltz in and say, "Hey,
Judge, I need a reduction in my child support payments,
so I can take some classes at City College and get a
better job." With a few simple classes I can get an
apprentice mechanic's job with Northwest Airlines at
SFO. Up until now I've had many jobs, most recently
door-to-door watch salesman; and I can usually only
afford my son's birthday, Christmas, and child support
two or three months out of the year.
I, like more than half of all non-paying dads, according
to a University of Wisconsin study, typically earn less
than $6,100 a year. For this, thousands of fathers are
criminalized as "deadbeat" dads, when in reality it
comes down to a question of poverty. Huge sections of
working-age males in the United States are unemployed,
and have exhausted all hopes of finding jobs.
When the mainstream media reports unemployment
figures of 10, 15, 20 percent, whatever they are, this
neat figure masks the truth of hundreds of thousands, if
not millions of people, not percentages, totally
unemployed. The predicament of African-Americans
and other non-whites is even more staggering. On top of
this are those who are underemployed, working
part-time or in the home.
Rich men can throw cash at their "exes" for the upkeep
of their children, and then, no problem. In addition, if
they are well-connected or powerful, then the courts
look the other way. It is on the shoulders of the poor
that the wear and tear in the fabric of society is blamed.
None of this addresses the question of what is needed to
care for and maintain people; children, mothers, and
fathers.
The courtroom is packed with men. They are slumped
in the benches, with resigned looks of boredom and
exhaustion imprinted on their faces. Somehow I've got
to make contact with my court-appointed counselor. I
don't know how I'm going to do this.
When Christina and I broke up, we decided that we
wouldn't go to court over child support; instead, I'd
send what I could, when I could. This has included half
of all the money I've made through writing; some six
thousand dollars. Eventually, Christina went forward
and married someone else, who has a good paying job,
that meets both of their needs better than I can. While
this doesn't excuse me from sending money along, nor
from being whatever kind of parent I can be from two
thousand miles away, I thought "Okay".
In order for my son to be covered by the insurance
through this man's job, we were steered in the direction
of the court system. Which seems to be the overriding
message that comes down to people; that it is good to
have the system in your life, your business, and your
personal affairs.
The court turns fathers into visitors in their own
houses, brief interlopers through the lives of their
children. If you don't have a home, it can be even worse.
If you are homeless in America, and are trying to have a
family, it is like saying to the legal system, to Child
Protective Services (CPS), "Come take my kids away!"
It is increasingly arbitrary, the reasons for taking
children away from their parents. CPS has a checklist
for what constitutes abuse, and they define emotional
abuse as including "constant family conflict".
In families, especially low income ones, where there's
job turmoil, the struggle for shelter, perhaps issues of
substance abuse, where there is often just a single parent
trying to hold everything together; who's ever heard of
conflict?
The focus of the legal system has been child support
enforcement, which does nothing to cure unemployment
or strengthen family traditions. Supposedly the aim of
the courts is to help women, who are more often than
not the custodial parent.
The San Jose Mercury News reported on the case of
Hortense Bishop, a mother in Los Angeles, who went
on welfare when the court didn't pass on to her the
support they had ordered. Then the district attorney
kept all but $50 because he found out that she was
receiving the welfare assistance.
Welfare reforms that have come down in the last few
years have tied the monetary assistance from
government agencies to workfare type programs,
meaning that if you don't work you can't get assistance.
And now if you don't work you can't get shelter. If you
don't have shelter your kids can be taken away (See:
"Little Noah"; story on PNN).
Poverty levels for custodial parents have been estimated
at 49%. Tangentially, mothers who are in jail face
substantial barriers to parenting, and face having their
children placed in foster care. The court system in this
country has never been a friend of poor people, or of
families struggling to keep their heads above water.
My sweaty eyes take in the courtroom. My ears cannot
take the noise, nor my head the confusion. There doesn't
seem to be any organization whatsoever. It's hard to
understand what the process is for finding my
counselor, or for going before the judge.
There are, literally, hundreds of men here; and they are
wearing work shirts, and some have carried with them
the little Igloo coolers that house their lunches. Some of
them have done bad things to their exes. I remember
when I found out Christina was having an affair I
punched a hole in the plaster wall of our apartment and
yanked the phone out of its jack.
The U.S. Congress has been reviewing a sequel to the
1994 Violence Against Women Act, which would offer
social services to women, and requires employers to
make special arrangements for women who claim abuse.
Once again the bill focuses on increased child support
enforcement as being the main solution for crumbling
families and for the autonomy of women.
There is also the Fathers Count Act, which the National
Organization for Women (NOW) opposes, which would
offer the same sort of services, as well as job training for
fathers who would otherwise fall into the dreaded
designation of "deadbeat dad". NOW opposes it because
it would take the focus off of women's issues; for in
their view men are violent and women are victims, and
capitalist justice is appropriate for everybody. An
outlook like this splits men and women, who ultimately
need to work together. Both of these legislative
maneuvers stress legal means within an unfriendly
judicial system, one that criminalizes poverty.
I love my son, and I don't want to end up making his life
harder, which is why I am here. But I understand why
it's difficult to show up in court. Many men come here
already facing previous summons, and fear getting into
bigger trouble. Finally I am able to locate my counselor,
who doesn't seem the least bit interested in me. He asks
me if I've filed the appropriate papers with the court in
order to get a reduction in my child support payments. I
ask him, what papers? Nobody ever told me about
needing to file any papers in advance! The counselor
licks his thin wispy lips and assures me that the judge is
not going to listen to a thing I have to say if I haven't
filed my notice yet. He tells me to look around at the
huge backlog in the courtroom today, and that I might as
well go home. Maybe he doesn't know, but I took the
day off from work so I could come here. He also tells
me that since I haven't been paying child support in a
timely manner, my tax refunds will probably be seized.
All I can look forward to tomorrow is lugging my case
of five dollar watches down Mission Street in Hayward.
"Anybody wanna buy a nice ladies wristwatch?" | 
