Story Archives 2000

Tow Away

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

by Husayn Sayfuddiyn


To the poor - a

mobile home

has new meaning


Life’s Blood on Wheels

Fancier than the

shopping carts

of the ne’er do wells

until SFPD stopped me

as unlicensed to live

illegal necessities

unwanted baggage

to Tow Away

and I saw in his steel eyes

that I was next

on the Tow Away list.

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A Mama's Love..

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

Lula Bell Seymour aka Mama, an African-American houseless elder passes away in the Tenderloin - loved by all who she touched

by Valerie Schwartz/PoorNewsNetwork Community Journalist and Poverty Scholar

I Remember my Mama

In the Bean field, The Potato field

Sending us to school to learn our A B C’s

Keeping the Camp Fire’s Burning

We did not know Much about city livin’

In fact I didn’t know much ;of anythin’

Except a Mother’s Love

If we did without

It was with Style and Grace

No Complaints

Doing without was no disgrace

As I sit here reminissin'- Life goin on by

I have Strength and Courage

Instilled in me!

For times of sorrow

And times of joy

Although I shed tears, I Radiate Joy

When I am Low I remember my Mama....

excerpt from the poem My Mama My Ancestor by A. Faye Hicks/Po' Poets Project

About two-years ago on a somewhat hazy morning in the Tenderloin, the sun was ambivalent about trying to make an appearance on the 200 block of Hyde Street. I was reclining against the fence. I was sick and could barely move and the light that shone on me was from Lula B. Seymore, better known as Mama. "What's wrong, Sugar?" she asked me with that sweet voice that was always maternal and then added, "It's not like you to be laying down out here." I had a staff infection that was attempting a coup d' etat on my right leg, which I have ongoing vascular trouble/ulcers with. Mama went to her van and got out some aspirin, peroxide, ointment, and some clean socks and jeans for me. I managed to get up and go to the store to buy some Band-Aids with money she had given me. We talked for a while and when I felt strong enough, she then sent me packing down the street, care-package in hand, with instructions to, "Go get cleaned up and come back up here." Although I barely had the energy, I followed the instructions given and back to the corner I went. This is only one of many times that Mama helped me.

I can't remember exactly when it was that I met Mama, an African-American elder, who had resided in the Bayview-Hunters Point district of San Francisco for several years working as a housekeeper for Children's Hospital, among other labor intensive jobs, before she became houseless or what we at POOR call, "Vehicularily Housed." It seems as though I had seen her around the Tenderloin and adjoining Market St. area for awhile. I would give a "guesstimate" it was the spring of 1998 when we first actually talked. It was on the corner of Hyde and Turk. This corner was a veritable sidewalk-mall whose proprietors were primarily homeless people. I have lived in the Tenderloin neighborhood for twenty-two years and therefore I know it very well. It has a high rate of crime, addiction, and despair as most areas of poverty do.

On that fateful day, my co-worker was inside the copy shop next to the Midori Hotel at Turk and Hyde streets getting copies made for my boss at the time; we did all the maintenance, painting, and whatever else was needed to be done in a nearby apartment building. As I waited, I sat on a milk crate playing some blues tunes on my guitar when Mama stepped out of the front door of her home, a dark green van. She made eye contact with me and gave a short but hearty little laugh while straightening her wig and said, " Hello, I'm Mama...That's what we need around here... a little music to soothe ourselves, praise the Lord." Mama then started, while humming, to set up her little sidewalk re-creation of a Goodwill store. She set down some blankets and then set the clothes and miscellaneous items she had to sell on top of them. We talked for a few minutes as she swept the sidewalk around her "store" and then it was time for me to get back to work.

After our first discussion, most every time I was on the corner, Mama and I would talk or exchange our "hellos" in passing. We forged a friendship on that corner. I started taking all the things that the former tenants had left behind or threw out and gave them to her so she could sell them, rather than take it to the dump. Eventually my boss became ill, was hospitalized, and I was back on the street again. Mama helped me through those times when I needed it and when I didn't.

Mama dealt with being poor everyday. When you are poor there are no days off. She fed and gave clothing to many of us who were, and still, are out there living on the streets. I remember how she used to pull out her little barbecue grill and make everything she could with what she had: soups, a pot of beans, sometimes chicken. She always shared with someone. Mama would not allow people to get high or sell dope next to her van. I remember her frustration with people sometimes; she also would never curse, but prayed instead. Mama always prayed, she prayed for everyone, myself included, and pray she did. Her faith was unyielding. There were days when she was hurt and angered with me for I was such a slave to my addiction. She wouldn't speak to me, or would tell me to come back later, and that was enough to shame me in ways that many could not. I'd walk away and she would tell me, "You got to fight those demons girl...now go." And as I walked I could hear her praying...

Rarely would anyone talk crazy to Mama, for most of us out there respected her and helped her in return. We wasn't havin' no-one "dis" Mama! I had seen the police give her tickets for selling her wares on the sidewalk without a permit. Some of them left her alone but when she would see them coming she got busy and put everything away quickly, and then they might still give her a parking ticket. I also know that some of the police used to "hassle" her for living in her van. Mama did not want to live in a "care-facility" and unfortunately I am afraid that she, as many elders do, felt it was not a choice.

As a person who is disabled, has been homeless, and is poor I have to stop and think about choices. Choices for elders, for the poor, and disabled are not always what I would consider to be choices. They mean having to choose between two-or-more evils. These "choices" are offered by systems that perpetuate poverty. Is it a choice for a person to live in a care facility where they are subject to many different kinds of neglect or suffer a houseless poverty? Is there a choice for elders who are forced into conservatorship by the county, such as Beatrice Sloan of Oakland (another African-American elder confined to a care facility and robbed of her assets by Government programs set up to "care for" elders which POOR Magazine has been advocating for)? Writes my colleague Ashley of POOR, " The nursing home industry is another form of big business disguised as hellthcare." Thus our elders are losing what they have worked earnestly and hard to keep and maintain: A family, a good home and integrity.

When I had the pleasure of attending Mama's memorial service last week, presented by the Faithful Fools Street Ministry where several family and friends spoke and presented words of grace in Mama's memory, more questions arose: Why did Mama have to leave after residing in her Bayview-Hunter's Point home for so long and what made her "choose" to live in her van? Some reports say that she was evicted due to an Owner-Move-In- Eviction. Some say it was her choice because she didn't want to live in a care facility. Was Mama facing a possible case management or conservatorship issue? Being told that she was a "very independent person", for me, does not answer the question, because of course, for poor folks, there is always the issue of shame. This society tells us it is bad to be poor - that something is wrong with you - not the people evicting you - not the system taking your assets - redlining your districts, employing you at nothing wages, and then criminalizing your poverty.

Being that I was in the dregs of my addiction I used to find myself in awe of Mama sometimes, that she had good boundaries and kept her faith intact. It just blew my mind that a homeless senior woman, alone, could deal with life out there knowing how harsh and just plain miserable it can often be and maintain a sort of grace, you might say. Yet, she never gave up. And on many days she inspired me to make it through another day in hell with just one of her beautiful grins, her intense, smiling brown eyes, and herself saying, "You stay outta trouble." There have been times since I have been in treatment that I wanted to go talk to Mama and let her know that I was okay. Today I want her to know that some of her prayers most assuredly have been answered, that I have been clean and drug-free for a year, and how very grateful I am for her friendship, love, and boundaries that I now understand. Mama's presence and spirit was always a beacon of light in the tempest of the Tenderloin and she will be missed and remembered by many.

PNN editors note; Mama was a contributor to POOR Magazine vol#4 MOTHERS, and will be included in the Poverty Heroes Anthology which will be released by POOR Press in December -as well, she was a powerful inspiration and friend to POOR mother and daughter editors, Dee and Tiny. If you would like to submit any words or art to POOR about Mama - please call us at (415) 863-6306 - if you would like to visit the Memorial Green Van - you can reach the Faithful Fools at (415) 474-0508 or go to the corner of Hyde and Turk street

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Yea its me, the little Black Girl!

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

By A, Glover, 17/San Leandro Youth Skolah!

POOR Magazine's Race, Poverty and Media Justice Institute did one of our Hip Hop Youth workshops with the Sophomores of Erica Viray's Social Justice Academy at San Leandro High School- see the Beautiful Art - read the Revolutionary WordZ from the Youth Skolaz!

 

 
 

by Staff Writer

Yeah it's me Anjia the little black girl

that gets judged by my peers

Yeah I was born in the bay

but that doesn't mean dat everyday

I should pay

Being misunderstood just because

they feel that I 'm hood


by: Anjia Glover Age: 17

 

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Its KripMas- Karols Re-Mixed!

09/24/2021 - 11:45 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

Its KRipMas - by Leroy Moore

by Leroy Moore, Darla Lennox, Maria Palacios, Zilwood, Tiny

It’s Kripmas

(My Krip-Hop Kripmas Karol)

It’s that time of season

Where we give for no reason

Liberal hearts are bleeding

It happens once a year

Strangers in shelters

Cooking our last super

Share in the Kripmas Guilt

A toast with eggnog & milk

Make it last cause its cold outside

Where many live throughout the year

Kids can’t hide from Jake Frost

And folks walk by holding their nose

Pretending not see or hear

Santa Claus dress up in a three piece suit

Making deals with the Grinch

Who stole the real spirit of Christmas?

Was it Alan Greenspan?

Kripmas guilt is not enough

For landlord’s hands

It’s Kripmas

Nursing homes, physic wards & prisons

Holiday bonuses to CEOs

States issuing out IOUs

Layoffs at NPICs

My nephews know their ABCs

Spelling out NO JUSTICE

Tears frozen like ice

Have to grow up fast

No talking reindeers

No fat man coming down the chimney

Standing in line for charity

Wearing the mask for media

So thankful this season

It’s Kripmas

Smile for the camera

Now give to the needy

Pulling on the heartstrings

It’s a tactic use by Jerry Lewis

It just went corporate & sang by musicians

Band Aid spreading throughout the world

Singing “Do They Know Its Christmas Time?”

Feed the world…” but only for one day

It’s Kripmas

So share the guilt this season

Like every year at this time

Roll out the red carpet

Pull out the cameras

And fill your heart with pity

It’s Kripmas time

It’s Kripmas time

Thank God its once a year

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Tugboats Anchor And Bathroom Politics.

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

Bathroom, employee's only
customer's restroom search are...


S.H.O.L.

If you eat,pay money in a place there it
should have a usable public restroom.

by Staff Writer

Everyone survived or recovered from Labor Day?
I had my rest, helping people, visiting friends, lover's and
family out of the City.

I had a good time not thinking of work, assignments, or late night, last minute to-do things.

Then I've recieved a troubling email from a quiet, green, place called Fairfield California. Below is the whole email I
recieved.

FLASH ! FLASH! Tugboat Fish & Chips #13 - 1350 Travis Blvd. Suite 1360-B, Fairfield, CA j94533
(Westfield Shopping Town Solano) Serves excellent meals but have no in-house bathroom available to their customers who wait 10 to 15 minutes for their orders. Feel free to call - (707) 421-9228  to find out if they have corrected the problem.  Jameelya.

That's it,call is all I can say. My feeling is have a restroom so customers can clean up before, during, or after
meals. If I spend my money in an eatery I'd want to be able
to use the restroom or it will not be a place for me to frequent ever again plus word of mouth and soon it ends up on an internet site.

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I'm Staying

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

Karen Mimms resists predatory lenders and corporate lawyers to demand her right to live and thrive in East Oakland

by tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, poverty scholar, daughter of Dee

“ We want Oakland our way – we demand a right to stay,” community voices in resistance to the predatory lending, eviction and foreclosure of poor folks of color rolled down the 94th street block of East Oakland this week past boarded up houses-remnants of lost families, lost communities and lost cultures.

“Thanks to all of your support, my family, my friends and neighbors, I have been able to remain in my home,” Karen Mims, resident of 9401 cherry street in East Oakland spoke through tears to a crowd of over 50 people gathered on her lawn in protest to a year long battle Mrs Mimms has been having with Aurora Loan Services to stay in her home of 12 years.

“My personal story is that I was with another lender – Homecoming (another lender), who never took responsibility for my loan and lost my payment and then sold my loan to Aurora loan services.” Mrs Mimms went on to explain that after that bankers bait and switch game Aurora Loan had agreed to place her in a repayment plan, but instead sent a speculator out to her home last year to inspect her home for foreclosure.

“We have been besieged by lenders who write loans that people can’t afford and then lay in wait for them to default, foreclose on the loans and leave our families on the streets which tears apart the neighborhoods of East and West Oakland,” said Ray Leon with councilmember Larry Reid’s office in district 7 where Mrs Mimms resides. Leon concluded, “It appears that most of these predatory lenders are waiting for these foreclosures to happen.”

As I stood on the corner of 94th street, a street littered with for sale and foreclosed signs, I was taken back to the not to distant past of me and my poor mama being evicted and landless in both East and West Oakland for years throughout my childhood. How no matter how hard me and my mama fought the evictions which in our case were from rental properties, if corporate interests, rich lawyers and unjust systems were stacked up against us as they are against Mrs. Mimms, we never had a chance. For us eviction meant homelessness. Thankfully, there are powerful resistance groups like Just Cause Oakland, who have been working in solidarity with Mrs..Mimms to fight this unjust land take-over by any means necessary.

“Our fight today and this complete fight is to defend our right to stay zone,” Robbie Clark, Organizer with Just Cause placed Mrs Mimms situation in the larger context of Right to a City and Take Back the Land resistance efforts happening across the nation, which questions who should be in control of neighborhoods and land and how corporations, governments and agents of the state are empowered with the ability to cause whole communities to become landless and without a roof.

The days rally of neighbors and advocates, re-ported and sup-ported on by POOR Magazine/PNN and many more allies ended with triumph. Because of the community pressure put on Aurora and the support of conscious legislators like Ray Leon and Larry Reid, the eviction was postponed. Now the pressure must continue.

Mrs. Mimms, a soft-spoken revolutionary closed with, “We are asking for the support of all the people involved in this battle – we can fight these battles, we cant just keep moving on and leave people in the streets.”

Postscript: WE must keep on the pressure. Mrs. Mimms needs our support. Please call Aurora Loan Services, please call their legal representative: Nicole Kim at 720-945-3217 and the loan officer in charge of Karen’s loan: Carrie Black at (720)945-4566, We are demanding they rescind the eviction for Karen Mims, loan number: 0021802152

Just Cause is also asking for people to make donations to Karen so that she can stay in her home, the rent that Aurora is asking her to pay is $50/day, if you can donate a day, or part of a day, that would be greatly appreciated, to make a donation contact Just Cause Oakland at (510) 763-5877

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Options...?

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

A Photo Essay for Those Who May Not Know Where They Will Sleep Tonight...

by Juan Antonio Pacheco

How can I start this? From the now I guess.

Well, here I am starting my fifty-fifth year, doing close to what I damn well please, and, oh yeah, spending most nights in my van. Yes, I can say I paid my dues. Work, kids, and a failed marriage are all part of my past and present. I can also say I attend Cal State Long Beach, where I am preparing myself to teach and develop a career as a documentary photographer. This all sounds great right, well, some problems have arisen!

"You need roots," my daughter, and others have told me. Roots, I thought I had roots. My children and grandchildren are my roots.

You need, "to get on your feet," someone just remarked. Hell, I have been saying this to others, and myself, all of my life. Planning ahead is one of the major factors in a successful life. I say this all the time. Do I really know what I am talking about? How many of us actually live just for today? Very few, and not without good reason . See, there I go again!. Therefore, I have embarked upon this path. I would like to share some photos with you, and hopefully gain some wisdom along the way.

I would like to call my present lifestyle choice, for the lack of a better term, "a study" in simplification. The anti establishment, anti materialistic, and anti-authority mentality is often expressed by a choice to live within the “creases” of society. Being homeless is one of those creases. Homelessness, from my conversations with some who are, has three root causes. One is economic, the other mental health, and for some, an expression of a “freedom of choice”. A freedom from the constraints of “establishment” dictates and mores. These circumstances, as in many circumstances we may find ourselves in, has its roots and consequences. I would like to experience, address, and report on those consequences through my images and text.

I am not attempting to produce neither "works of art" within the guidelines of postmodern aesthetics, nor art criticism. My main interest is dealing with the importance of one's most basic daily needs—food, shelter from the elements, security, and surprisingly, basic human contact, or a sharing of communal space with others whom we feel care about us. These needs are often denied the truly homeless. I feel I must be particularly sensitive to the issues discussed and the images produced, hence: a self-analysis was the best solution. Empathy through self-immersion is the best way I can describe the approach to my subject matter. I am not in any way trying to pass myself off as an “expert”. Thanks for the opportunity to serve, and for providing an audience for my work.

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June Jordan's Legacy Lives. Being Black, American and male still a 90/10 Death Sentence.

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

All I want is to outlive
america's deadly bullshit.

Black Males and Females still
walk tight ropes way of life...

We've survived, thrived ameri's
worst of Mr. and Ms.Ameri's tricks.

Too many know her smiling
skulls darkside.

by Joe B.

June Jordan’s Legacies Live.

Wednesday, April 30, 2003 in U.C. Berkeley’s Barrow’s Hall people gather for a special night of celebration as youthful wordsmiths gather in strength and force guided by June Jordan.

June Jordan.

She was a Professor of African American Studies at the University of California at Berkeley where she directed the enormously popular Poetry For the People program. Poetry For the Peoplereceived a Chancellor's Recognition for Community Partnership on September 19, 2000.

Jordan, an award-winning poet, professor and activist, are mourning her loss.

After battling cancer since the 1970s, Jordan died Friday at age 65.

She is an award-winning poet, professor and activist, novelist, essayist.

It'll take more pages to list all that she is an has done and lives change both personally and through her powerful, lyrical works. Italics mine.

As a professor of African American studies at UC Berkeley, Jordan founded and directed "Poetry For The People," a course in which 150 undergraduates participate in marathon poetry readings
before large audiences.

They also study the poetry of African Americans, Arabs and Arab Americans and many other groups Jordan considered generally overlooked in the classroom.

Jordan is survived by her son, Christopher Meyer.

"Though the master has moved on," said Reed, "the Jordan school of poetry, I suspect, will be with us for a long time. This is her legacy,"

Thanks to: Ms. Kathleen Maclay, Media Relations.
(Taken from the June 17, 2002.
www.berkeley.edu/news/media/releases)

Jordan’s Legacy Continues.
From 1973 to 2003 30 years of evolving spoken word power.

As usual I here bits of news about it but its peripherally a micro dot way in the real of this near empty brain pan.

It’s on a Wednesday.

(wouldn’t you know it my day off after doing yoga practice in S.F.’s City College and getting a healthy African descended woman using a hacksaw to break my own lock, seems I locked the key in locker.

After that bit dodo brain wit I race home to shower and wear clean clothes, no lunch.

I’m looking forward to one on one with someone in Berkeley after the KPFA radio program.

Called and called no answer only to find out later that she and her sister were going to a baby shower later that day.

After the show wrapped close to 5 pm. called again mostly forgot that a Poor M’s intern is one of the poet’s speaking in Barrow’s Hall in U.C. Berkeley.

I decide to stay until 6 pm. Lost of youth helped setting up sound systems, food, and chairs some by the poets themselves.

I wait, get a seat and save a few for guests who said they were coming.

So many heart searing emotional/physical pain of women from family, culture, men, women, plus rumor and speculation of strangers.

One guy did a sensuous, deliriously, delicious tome on eating fruit that made the young and older women swoon and I never looking or eating fruit as just an ordinary undertaking ever again.

(I should’ve learned that from tongue lashing strawberry ice cream cones on Market and Polk Streets).

The event is worth missing some delayed physical pleasure in the night.

Only one guest shows the other is sick waiting in the car.

I wanted to stay but before leaving kissed her hand, hugged, praising Christina for her work using action instead of words conveying how her words said to me.

A place I always passe as a kid but never went in was open where people danced slow, steady, and close won’t try to pronounce the name buts in Berkeley far from my friends home as I find out by walking.

After three dances and being whipped about by a young, strong, pregnant woman (I swear she has the strength of Hera, an angry, jealous Greek Goddess, wife of Zeus who couldn't keep his godhead under his robes).

Called a last time then left Super Mother to be walking into the night toward a good time and maybe afterwards sleep.

Christina’s words came to me as I near Berkeley High School.

As shadowy figures appear I keep my hands swinging empty knowing that sudden movements, jerks, can mean bullets or a blade in my gut.

Wary, I walk slow smiling to young and old men walking or standing on the street, near bars, and bus stops.

I cannot forget for a second I’m a black man, male in America and can be killed either by accident of identity, by police or rival gang’s even a group of women can take unfocused rage out on me if I give the wrong signal while on their path.

Finally after reading R. I. P.’s on a stop sign at one the safety zones to slow down traffic I go up the door aware of two police officers male and female both white as I pass them my hands out slowly swinging.

The car is there after three knocks I leave then turn to knock one a last time. (why am I out here in the pitch black of 10:07 pm because of a chance of flesh on flesh, head knocking bed-board, high energy dehydrating rock solid body rocking soul meshing, brain numbing pleasure.)

You know the answer people.

I pass the cops seeing them, hands in pockets not looking at them as if there invisible.

‘Damn, its still a dangerous for black men in America and I’m a timid guy not basher of women or anyone else just a regular mortal man ‘walkin with blood veined swelling refusing to ease up.

Walked to bart and down on bench a small white woman.

("Don’t go sit near her, it’s late at night, she’s alone, don’t know what’s she thinking how she’ll react just stand and wait for the Colma/Daily City train).

Another white woman sits by the first and I wasn’t going to sit by them no matter how tired my feet are and besides my helmet head is still vibrating
up/down, back and forward twitching, pressing urgently this wasn’t a before bed, bathroom urge, or morning urination urge but the primal only a woman’s primal secreted flesh and juicy slick wet can help calm down but not tonight just full arousal frustration.

I’m gonna let it deflate on its own and let it/me suffer as a lesson to not do stupid things that can get me killed.

Still some things are worth missing besides it would take me and hour or so to release and sleep was beating us both.

Helmet lost the fight and the bigger brain learns to control its smaller reptile one.
Ladies, Women, Youthful Adults.

I’ve been accused of writing porn.

Please tell me if that is true and how can I avoid it if I do. Bye.

Please send donations to

Poor Magazine or in C/0

Ask Joe at 1448 Pine Street,

San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail:

1230 Market St.

PO Box #645

San Francisco, CA 94102


Email: askjoe@poormagazine.org

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WHO GETS SUPPORT?

09/24/2021 - 11:44 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

by Leroy Moore

Leroy discusses the lack of financial
support and recogniton for small
grassroots non-profit organization.

Warning! Warning! To My Black disabled brothers
and sisters: Black traditional organizations from the
NAACP to the Urban League are trying to fix our
problems, empower us and protest in our name without learning
from us!

Only a Couple of years ago, Black traditional
organizations such as the NAACP, the Urban League,
ASPIRA and more made a commitment to work with
the President’s Committee on Employment of People
with Disabilities on the status of African Americans
with disabilities, and especially the issue of the high
unemployment rate. On April 6th the NAACP and the
President Committee hosted a conference titled "Employment
of Persons with Disabilities" in Milwaukee.

What is shocking about the new attention from Black
traditional organizations on African Americans with
disabilities is that it took a federal agency to get traditional
Black organizations on board when it comes to African
Americans with disabilities. For years many people,
parents, advocates and grassroots organizations
(including my parents and myself) have approached these
organizations, but received nothing. For example, in 1998 I
was working at the Youth Department of the Center
for Independent Living, and I and my supervisor, a
Black disabled lawyer, talked to the NAACP Oakland
Chapter about Black youth with disabilities, and how we
could work together. We never received a response.

ain the same year the Co-founder of DAMO, Gary
Gray, wrote to the NAACP National office about his work
and the lack of organizations run by and for disabled
people of color and their parents. This is why today you
have grassroots multi-cultural and Black disabled organizations

like Disability Advocates of Minorities Organizations,
Harambee Education Council and African Americans with
Disabilities Advocacy/Support Organization, to name a
few.

These organizations are grassroots, but are consistently
looked over when it comes to support, funding and
providing input.

I challenge the President’s Committee, a federal agency that has
little connection and knowledge what goes on every day
in the communit,. to contract out to
grassroots organizations that are for and by disabled
African Americans and their parents to conduct technical
education and disability awareness training to Black
traditional organizations.

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The swine! The flu!

09/24/2021 - 11:45 by Anonymous (not verified)
Original Author
root
Original Body

by Thorton Kimes

Part One

Conspiracy theories and Swine Flu were on our minds at POOR Magazine when the S.F. first popped up on the radar. Still are. The state of hellthcare in Amerikka, folks buying cheaper medicine from Canada (the Pharmaceutical Industrial Complex ranting and raving about not being able to afford to do research and development to save us from doom and gloom if that was allowed), and a whole host of other problems that hurt poor people the most—the truth is that Capitalism is the only conspiracy theory you need.

The word “conspiracy” or “conspire” comes from Latin, a phrase meaning “to breathe together”. Whether or not we are on the same page about Swine Flu or anything else, we’re breathing together all the time, like it or not.

Swine Flu and other nasty surprises we’ve had over the past few decades can be explained only a few ways and all of them mean we’re in trouble. Disease is one of Nature’s best population control weapons, the Black Death did a very good job of that in Europe and the Spanish Flu killed millions in North America and lives in the institutional memory and nightmares of the medical world.

The biggest thing that freaks out the medical folks is diseases lurking in rain forests being destroyed to create more farms, diseases hitchhiking on container ships or sent ‘round the world by the underground trade in exotic animals—even stuff long dormant in the snow and ice of the fast-melting poles, stuff we have no natural defenses against or drugs to use to combat them.

Those are reasonable fears. Other people have fears that are either “conspiracy theories” or reality, and there are historical precedents backing them as real. The U.S. government experiment on Black Americans from 1932 to 1972, the Tuskegee Experiment in Macon, GA, involved 400 men infected with syphilis who were never told they had it. Even after Penicillin was invented the researchers wanted to keep studying those men.

Old-school (and supposedly outlawed) chemical warfare agents like Mustard Gas, used in the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980’s, killed thousands of fighters and left more crippled for whatever remained of their lives. Agent Orange worked better than the post-9/11 Anthrax attacks, destroying plant life, hurting and killing many Vietnamese and doing the same to many American soldiers on the ground.

Israel used White Phosphorus bombs in the late 2008 invasion of Gaza. White Phosphorus burns flesh, to the bone if you can’t remove it, and it burns under water too—which means you can’t wash it off the usual way. My own mother, normally a skeptical person, freaked out about the Anthrax attacks. Three hundred million people in this country and she feared a bio-weapon that ultimately was more pain in the posterior than true lethal threat.

Native Americans suffered forced sterilizations, and they weren’t the only ones. U.S. soldiers were exposed to radiation from nuclear bomb tests, and “Downwinders”, families living near the desert south-west test facilities have been suffering radiation damage and cancers, including Breast Cancer, ever since. Terry Tempest Williams, a Utah-based Mormon naturalist-writer, wrote REFUGE: AN UNNATURAL HISTORY OF FAMILY AND PLACE after watching some of her beloved local natural terrain (the Great Salt Lake) go through some devastating fluctuations—and losing her mother to Downwinder Breast Cancer.

If you haven’t read her book, please do. Gay America may have very good reason to hate the Mormon Church, but Williams is an amazing writer who brings her Mormon upbringing and family, and the tragedy they suffered from a government conspiracy, into very clear focus.

Part 2

Countries like Egypt destroyed pigs, but Mexico, Swine Flu Ground Zero, fell on its sword and cancelled all public activities in the midst of the Cinco de Mayo celebrations, hurting countless small businesspeople and the folks who worked for them. Poor Mexicans heard the same message all Mexicans got about proper use of water and washing hands—and had little or no access to water but plenty of access to Fear.

China quarantined Mexicans traveling there, which gave Mexico’s president, Felipe Calderone, a great excuse to complain about “discrimination” against Mexicans when he was the Discriminator In Chief. Live by the sword, hey—look both ways before falling on it, someone will be all too willing to “help”.

In Amerikkka we either don’t freak out enough or do it too much. Who benefits from the FEAR propaganda? The PhIC at least. A new way for an old disease to mess with you? New profits to be made from drugs already developed for something else? Yum. Yum!

The truth is that Swine Flu hasn’t yet become the deadly killer we’ve been told it is. Regular flu kills 30,000+ Amerikkkans a year and we don’t freak out about that! We barely even know it, the news media whispered about it a little bit and then shut up about it. I’ve noticed the whispers in this second round of FEARmongering, but the whispered truth just gets lost in the hard sell of we-must-all-be-vaccinated-or-we’re-all-gonna-die stuff going around.

At least one spokesperson I heard during Round One said something about not knowing “everything” about Swine Flu. You get caught with your pants down, fact-finding is job one, but what exactly do we need to know?

The October 23rd, 2009 ABC national news’ medical expert indirectly concluded that Swine Flu may have made Flu season a 24/7 365 days-a-year thing in Amerikkka and possibly elsewhere. Until the behavior of the Medical Industrial Complex, and/or the virus, changes again, we probably must adjust to this new reality.

Acting rationally about it is tough when the Fearmongers are out for blood. Your blood. Your heart and mind. I agree with the coughing/sneezing into an arm instead of cupped hand concept, but now the Etiquette Monger/Fear Monger Complex wants to encourage folks to change fundamentals of behavior like shaking hands!

Shaking hands is a very primal thing, like up-close-and-personal unarmed or close quarters combat with knives and swords; shaking hands is a greeting that proves both hand shakers are unarmed and trustworthy. Wasting a lot of time surfing the net (I’m good at that…) has done a fair amount of damage to face-to-face interpersonal connections people need to forge and reforge often for basic emotional mental health.

The Reagan “Just Say No To Drugs” campgain led some children to turn their parents in to the Police, I wonder what will come of a campaign to kill hand shaking if we truly are entering the era of 24/7 365 days a year Flu, etc.

Part 3

Simon Sez: kids get sick, keep ‘em at home, but keep the schools open. School districts acted and looked like fools during Round One, and high school students in Mill Valley (Marin County), CA, made them look dumberer by publically stating and acting on their intent to hang out together during their unexpected school break. Nothing bad happened.

Schools are being closed again, mostly because 20-25% of students got sick. One student in Northern CA said half her 15-student math class was sick at home. Math has always been my Kryptonite at Algebra and above, but if I had a 1 teacher-to-7-students ratio I’d be dancing the Macarena. If I was a parent I’d be marveling that any school could have a math class with only 15 students in it to start with!

If lack of students equals lack of money from the state or federal government, I’d like to see a special Swine Flu bonus paid to schools that stay open even if many students and some of their teachers are at home. Close the school? Are ya’ll nuts?

Prisons in CA and other places went on lock-down, and still are, the Swine Flu the perfect rationalization for being mean to prisoners. The PIC doesn’t need a new reason for that, AIDS hasn’t locked-down prisons, the PIC doesn’t mind making life and death very frustrating and painful for HIV-positive/AIDS-suffering prisoners. (Poor) Families of prisoners, already burdened by separation and the extreme difficulty of often long distances they must travel for any visits they can manage, are hurt the most.

More isolation. The news media matter-of-factly reports prison overcrowding in CA and the CA governor’s antics over it, and the the Swine Flu decisions, but doesn’t lift a finger to act like that means more than another reason to spread fear or read more words off a teleprompter.

Part 4

There is one valuable thing I’ve learned in the past 20 years: the first 24 hours of a block-buster “breaking news” story is when the confusion and outright lies come fast and thick, hit hard and take hold of our minds like those songs we sometimes can’t get out of our heads for a whole day. Waiting a few days usually leads to greater clarity about what actually happened or is happening.

I’ve mentioned real conspiracies. Many people fear mercury and other additives put into drugs and other necessities of our lives over the past century, substances that the chemical industry, the agricultural industry, and the PhIC suspected or knew could and did contribute to major health problems if they didn’t directly cause them. We need to pay more attention to that, and, supposedly, the government is watching to ensure that the Swine Flu vaccine is safe.

We all know numbers can be made to dance on the head of a pin with the angels. Can we play the music they dance to?

One very interesting thing about recent corporate news media coverage of Swine Flu and the you-may-bave-won-a-flu-shot sweepstakes: one or two skeptical doctors who told their clientele they didn’t need shots got tv face time. Then they vanished. Nothing to see here folks, just go home.

Remember the Peanuts comic strip? Charlie Brown didn’t often get good advice when The Doctor Was In, and he never got to kick the football.

The PhIC has its fingers in many medical pies, including the creation of vaccines for Flu Flu, Swine Flu, et al. The government uses an old, slow method to create vaccine doses, when there is a newer, faster way to do it. The PhIC seems happy to move almost as slowly, allowing the government to promise there will be enough to go around and then –whoops! There isn’t enough. The Fear Mongers strike again.

There is reason for fear. I’m not a parent with a child in the crosshairs. There is reason for pissed-offness too. Who wins when we allow fear to rule us? Haven’t we been through this with 9/11, color coded alerts, fear of a Muslim planet? Red Alert! Red Alert! Klingons!

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