Story Archives 2002

by TJ Johnston

Senator Ernest "Fritz" Hollings, otherwise a courtly Southern gentleman, is mad as hell over the US Government’s handling of the still-unfolding Enron scandal. The South Carolina Democrat wasn’t anywhere near as maniacal as the fictional Beale, but that’s the sentiment behind Hollings’ description of a "cash and carry government."

Hollings, chairman of the Commerce Committee, noted that in the last decade, Enron contributed campaign funds to 186 Representatives and 71 Senators (including himself). In 2000, the now-bankrupt energy giant also filled Republican coffers in the presidential election. Inquiry of how the seventh largest corporation overstated profits, devalued their 401k to the level of Argentine pesos, peddled bipartisan influence and somehow went broke seems to be in order. But having the Department of Justice investigate, according to Hollings, would present its own problems, mostly conflicts of interest.

Attorney General John Ashcroft was an Enron beneficiary in his failed Senate bid, as was his campaign manger-turned-chief of staff. Next in line to sniff out clues would be Ashcroft’s deputy, Larry Thompson. The problem is that Thompson’s old firm represented Enron and their equally scrutinized auditors, Arthur Andersen. Also, Thompson already has his hands full countering terrorism.

Hollings submits it would behoove Thompson to appoint a special counsel. I modestly propose to tap Kenneth Starr for the job.

You would be right to say, "Haven’t we heard enough from Clinton’s persecut—er, prosecutor?" I sure had my fill of Starr and the pother principals in the impeachment trial. That said, his Lewinski-gate probe did provide the best selling soft porn in recent memory.

"Extraordinary circumstances" necessitates the appointment of a special counsel. If oral sex qualifies as such, so would sending for company airplanes to stump for Bush. And wiping out retirement plans. Ditto for the suicide of one of its board members (echoes of Vince Foster, maybe?). In concert with a Senate select committee (proposed by Hollings), Starr would get to the bottom. Such an investigation would reveal activity that transcends corporate chicanery. Starr could subpoena Army Secretary Thomas

White, Energy Regulatory Commissioner Patrick Wood III and trade representative Robert Zoellick. These federal employees were either on Enron’s payroll or otherwise sympathetic to their deregulatory needs.

Starr might need to cut a few deals with the executives who took the Fifth Amendment, but remember that he also granted immunity to Monica. What’s the harm in that? I’m confident that Starr’s skills in transcribing phone sex and girl talk would transfer to decoding book-cooking. By piecing together shreds of evidence, Starr would eventually find the smoking gun or semen-soaked blue dress. I could see CEO Kenneth Lay squirm as Hollings and Starr ask him point-blank, "Did you have political relations with that person?’

Starr couldn’t find a better opportunity to redeem himself. He could transform himself from witch-hunter to muckraker with the same prosecutorial zeal and acumen that made him a household name. May Starr Commission Report II make for equally enticing reading on our country’s nightstands.

by Jeffery Artist

I accept lashes. For out of African eye lashes my forefathers crafted

quilts beneath which I would later escape the weight of their guilt -

shivering helpless and haunted, daunted that"my people"have yet to say,

"WE are sorry."

WE (acronym)

white ethnocentric

wicked egotistic

would eye

sacrifice my sight in the present not to look at the past and

have to grasp the fact that i am the

alien seed

sewing oats of greed grown to feed the proliferation of the most

hideous institutions known to man

standing to this day as the corner stones of

freedom

free dumb

none but unteathered idiots weathered by,

"that all happened in the past, it's no longer significant."

With intuition's transition to denial, denial turns to paralysis.

Word becomes bond like the term "ghetto" as an adjective.

Vernacular is a jail cell in which we, like guilty children, are shackled

complacent pleading ignorance while bleeding from wrists slit reminiscent

of overcast nights that cracked for moonlight enough for the passive to

activate change, re-arrange the robery. All Americans should read

"Going to Meet the Man" before the "Celestine Prophecy."James

Baldwin called it inherent, Well, apparently, I'm a product:

odd duck white boy

decoyed by truth

proof of guilt

milk spilt in

world cup of coffee

awefully aware of how my q-tips were harvested

farthest thing from a martyr

i'm merely an artist but

when i dream it's like

i'm hanging from a tree

looking at myself generations ago asking

how could you not know

you are below human form

comsuming forms of life with no right to breath and

when i awake

it's under a knife

introducing my own life to

death

So maybe I'm not as passive asI thought. With lashes, I am

tought that karma is real. I feel the past like a salty tide

upon open wounds acknowledged in exchange for not hating myself, or

re-directing said hate upon someone else.  If I am dealt

penance, but one simple sentence will exit my lips; "I am sorry."

I am sorry for strange fruit pinyattas.

I am sorry that America may never have a Jomo Kenyatta.

I am sorry for odysseys of pop culture sewn of mockery.

I am sorry for slave master debauchery dispersing blood in forbidden

channels. I am sorry the animals were often the best dressed.

I am sorry that, if by writing this, someone feels as though I

transgress. I am sorry that ethnocentric universities are expected to be

the pedagogy of the oppressed. I am sorry that, for generations, apology

has been unimpressed, repressed and manifested

as night sticks shattering lights illuminating

the proclamation that a word is only as honest

as the man who scripts it.

I am sorry that I was a misfit on Flatbush Avenue where the little

black girls laughed telling me to go back
to the boondox and stop gentrifying cultural meccas where vulchers scoop

up cheap rent like meat stripped from bone. I am sorry

a poem is my only form of activism.

I am sorry for prison system demographics, affirmitive action and

designer brand shackles. I am sorry for laugh-tracks

applicable to black-face buffoonery. I am sorry for soon-to-be

martyrs.

I am sorry X marked the spot of progress stopped with a dissenting shot

because one man got too powerful for either side to trust.

I am sorry a King was thrust forth to bust confederate

whip grips echoing in the midst of air misted by

fire hose spray careening from a resistant pacifist's brow. I am sorry

now is not to different from then and men would rather be not bothered

than bridge ideology gaps bipassed by

their forefathers. I am sorry institutional measures for "equality" are

fodder for finger pointing, annointing one side

lazy and the other not sorry enough. I am sorry the stuff of

Spike Lee films is often taken as fiction. I am sorry that what

we hear is always conditioned by how we listen. I am sorry,

most of all, for black and white vision when neither color exists in a

prizm's definition.

I am sorry.

I am living.

by Joe B.

[To all Editor’s, Publisher’s, Literary Agents, and its hard working industry people.
I, Joseph Bolden in my capacity as POOR Magazine’s OP/ED would appreciate pos or neg on my work seen daily on PM’s-website. If you or others have time to read and want to respond email or snail me.
Please Do At.

askjoe@poormagazine.orgor snail

P.O. Box #645 1230 Market St.

San Francisco, CA. 94102-4801
I’ve no phone but working on it.
Whatever help you can lend to a struggling scribbler is priceless.


Thank You for reading past and present works.

Like a message in a bottle floating on foam ‘n’ surf I hope this bottle doesn’t break up or wash up on an island empty of life, light, and sound.]

In four months another milestone will be celebrated. 33rd. Anniversary of the Moon Landing.

Remember "The Cold War, The Iron Curtain is still up and the Berlin Wall with barbwire, machine guns and soldier’s manning towers, shooting people trying to escape to the West?

A Russian satellite scared leaders of the so-called free world.

It became an international machismo showdown of intelligence and testosterone in a televised battle to see who’s soft and hardware was the best, whose scientists, engineer’s, astronaut’s "Had The Right Stuff, and who’s was the superior nation.

Both American’s and Russian’s had Astronauts died and both nations mourned wondering was it worth it this "Race For Space.

"America made it to the moon before the Russians.

The last men on the moon went in 1972 picking up moon rocks, ride a buggy, and play golf by way of fun, checking the 1-6th G or gravity or a combination of both.

In 1986 an "O" ring engineering problem and pressure not delay another launch cost the lives of 7 more astronauts.

Heady, sad, fascinating, dramatic, fun, transcendent, vitalizing, tiring, exhilarating and lethal in turns are the realms of space flight.

Imagine if on an alternate earth where women in an "All That Glitter’s world rule.

[that old TV show can be revived and won’t seem all that strange now]

Can you hear Russian and their American counterparts in full strength estrogen charged potency going all out to conquer that huge hanging scrote?

R: "Set up oval sphere, get our gals ready, to jump-the old man!"

A: "We’ve got our girls, we’re ready, Let’s stop pussying around with flyby’s and land feet first on the guy's one nut-moon-in space.

R:"Gotta bed my man"

R:"I have a date in Star City with an athletic Moscovite male."

A: "My ‘poundin 'Pud, I need a guy any guy for a night."

A: "I’ma feed my hubby stay hard pills, ware my edible panties and have him lap up honey, and buried cherries under the whip cream, that's my kind of brinkwombship.

The language is raw as it would be in on our own world.

But women in control would have male equivalent’s of warrior males, men’s lib, and A Madam President having oral sex with a not so innocent or hapless male underling.

Kidding aside, if I’ve offended anyone with the above sociological otherworld content – sorry folks blame it on parallel mental leakage to said alt-world's bleeds into me, like one story bleeding on to another pages content.

Between September 11, 2001 and July 20, 2002 these two horrific plus the and joyous celebrations must be joined.

The reason why space is being occupied again is the human will to explore and 9/11/’01 war fever is equally strong though its outcome is deadlier.

Today, the competition is economic but still people are dying.

What better way to improve the human condition than to literally improve our lives in health, intelligence, going outward bound from the moon to mars and beyond.

Why don’t we start to build or carve out asteroids, planetoid’s using their natural resource instead of doing the gravity well dance.

The late, brilliant, and soft spoken Gerard K. O'Neill dream of living in space can be shared by every human on earth, but once in space earth seems less all powerful, its government so far away their rules and regulations won’t apply much.

Is that what nations fear most the lost of control of people’s lives, you can see the example of 9/11’s chilling affect as everyone comes under their nations governments is under suspicion.

Lets link life extension, space exploration, and living in space as our ultimate futures not future but FUTURES.

We could do this now because all private monies aren’t tied up with the war.

I don’t know what we’re waiting for, either get past this
point and improve our lot controlling our own evolution or stop advancing stagnating backwards to staying grounded to earth.

It is up to all the people in every nation to chose not their only their leaders who may want to retard, slow, delay, or stop the steady upward rush to the stars.

Any views pro/con from women or men?

I know sex would last longer and female pregnancy easier and less painful in zero G space or 1 6th than on 1G earth.

I thank the
NASA Apollo Mission Apollo-11 website for the information enclosed.

As for myself I have to get my cryo-coffin ready so at death I’ll be immediately frozen waiting for a better day of revival or rebirth.

Those are my plans unless I step into an artificial space/time warp, get kidnapped by aliens, or do a accidental "Buck Rodgers"/"Bikini Planet" Bye...

by Joe B.

To all Editor’s, Publisher’s, Literary Agents, and its hard working industry people.

I, Joseph Bolden in my capacity as POOR Magazine’s OP/ED would appreciate pos or neg on my work seen daily on PM’s-website.
If you or others have time to read and want to respond email or snail me.
Please Do At.

askjoe@poormagazine.org or snail

P.O. Box #645 1230 Market St.

San Francisco, CA. 94102-4801
I've no phone for now but will soon.

Whatever help you lend to a struggling scribbler is priceless.

Thank You for reading past and present works.

‘D.W.’s “Dreadnought, Berzerker” Bush Corp
is taking America into a deadly standoff it will eventually lose.

This “New Evil” buzz word seems to be a callous, calculated, bogus, to scare more American’s of every national origin, creed, sexual orientation, race, or social economic strata into staying quiet and being that is a most dangerous corner - staying silent as all around them crumbles.

Targeting non nuclear countries that cannot protect themselves from America or their nuclear neighbors sets a precedent where countries to protect themselves will use “any means necessary to protect themselves for a more powerful nation.

If some nations have little or no nuclear capabilities the alternatives are creating Biohazzards chemical, gas, liquid, and airborne toxins making the deadly killer germs of smaller than “suitcase size” weapons.

We don’t have nanotech molecular sized disease seeking microbes that eat poisons and release harmless hydrgen or water in its wake.

We don’t have invisible radiation domes or portable force fields to change deadly radiation into harmless substances and yet this Supreme Court Selected President is willing to risk destabilizing whatever peace this world can achieve for in a show of sheer brutal force.

Anyone remember how ROME fell?

It was not from conquering other lands and taking people’s tributes as payment or mistreatment of slaves, (some were able to free themselves) but it came from corruption, rot, political favors of the inside.

Pax America better watch where its future is headed or like Ancient Powerful, Eternal ROME will be only a memory.

ROME taught us all superpower's eventually fall it takes time but they do.

It seems S-Bush Jr. is bent on speeding America the same perilous course and might not be remembered fondly as a shining city apon a hill. Bye.

by Alicia Leanos/PoorNewsNetwork youth in the media intern

"Clank klingggg tingggg…" The sounds of clanking pots rose above the barren
brick walls and stone walkways of the plaza at the San Francisco Department
of Human Services ( read welfare office) in a chorus of resistance with
women all over the world to celebrate the Global Womens' Strike.

"Please bang pots and pans in solidarity with mujeres de Argentina ( women
in Argentina)" , Rachel from Every Mother is a Working Mother(EMWM) was leading the chants with two steel frying pans."Yes to Welfare no to War... Si' to Welfare... No to Aguirre"

Women marched internationally on Friday, March 8th to demand several basic issues be recognized;1) payment for caring work; 2) pay equity for all paid maternity leave and other benefits;3) don't pay 'Third World debt' we owe Nothing, they owe us; 4)accessible clean water and non-polluting technology' accessible healthcare, housing, transport, literacy and information; protection and 5) asylum from all violence and persecution and freedom of movement.

"We believe Welfare is a right - we don't want to be forced to stop taking
care of our own children and be forced to take a job, any job." Rachel
continued. And we don't want billions of dollars squandered on war.."

As she spoke the crowd grew - this was only the first stop on todays march- The next presenter was Chandra from EMWM, who sang a song to the melody of the Richie Valens song; La Bamba, "Come and strike ..Women strike..sing yes to welfare, no to war.."

The cold brick of the plaza began to gleam with a new power- women's power..
" Say it with me , Women hold up half the sky.." Kiilu Nyasha, the fierce writer, activist and artist, directed the audience to represent, " We do about half of the world's work and make 5% of the world's income.."

"Single mothers have never been supported to raise their children- we have never been encouraged to parent, when I was raising my children - as long as I went to work, and had someone else take care of my children, I was ok- I was a wage earner- the person taking care of children was a wage earner- when I stayed home to raise my children I was lazy, I was a bum" Kiilu spoke the truth that is rarely spoken - the truth that all women - all mothers - are never supported to do just that - mother their children.

After the crowd grew to the hundreds including the striking workers from Taco Bell, the march set out to Bank of America, City Hall and McDonalds . Their goals at all these stops were to expose how these institutions devalue our work and our lives and support militarization and corporate globalization.

The march ended at the Federal Building demanding that all the wealth that
has been drained from women and children to pay for wars that are killing us is redirected from military spending to caring, feeding, healing.

"Si welfare..No Aguirre...Yes to WElfare ..No to War!!!"

by Gay Montgomery/PoorNewsNetwork media intern

How did I get here? When did the journey to nowhere begin? Why was I closing the door for the last time on my apartment of over 30 years in the Bay view district of San Francisco? Was it when I walked out of the Homeless Advocacy Project, and knew that I had to find a place for my 61-year-old father to live by 5:00 pm that same day? I felt as low as the curb.

When I got to my apartment I knew my father was waiting for his dinner. He did not know it was time to move out. My footsteps were beating in my heart like a drum and I moved like a snail as I fixed his dinner as usual. I still could not face the reality of telling him, "Dad, we’ve been evicted." I said nothing.

"Do you have the rent." It was September 25, 2001. The Manager, knocked at the door, a torturing sound if you are behind on your rent, because you had to use money like I did, for liquid Drano on my apartments broken plumbing for months and months.

I was leaving the next day on a trip to Georgia. I said, "My father will have it for you. Did you know our car got towed?...Did you come to see the sink? ...Did you bring the key for the garage?" He just stood there like a bull, staring, hands on his hips, scowl on his face, impatience in his voice, he said in a loud voice, "NO!" Then he turned on his heel and left. I slammed the door so he could hear it. I thought, why did he come here on the 25th asking for rent, he had not done any repairs on the apartment since the owner had acquired the place in 1996. I thought we should be able to live here for free anyway, like the scores of roaches did. The Manager and I never got along; I felt heat and hatred whenever I saw him. After he left I drafted a letter to the owner of the building, asking for the garage to be opened and the sink to be unstopped and left on my trip. Riding a wave of uneasiness, I went to Georgia to help mom with the family business. Little did I know that he was to begin a process of evicting me.

I got back to San Francisco five days before Halloween. I felt no need to worry about rent. All I could think about was that my 13 year old son had gotten too old for a costume. I was worried that I’d have to try and scrape up the money at the last minute. That morning my son’s stepbrother came bouncing in asking for a breakfast of bacon and grits and money so he and my son could go downtown shopping. When my son opened the door his eyes looked real big as he handed me a paper that was taped to the door. He said, "Mom what’s this." Notice to Vacate by October 31, 2001 was at the top of the letter in large type. I said, "It’s nothing" as I handed him money. I sat on my bed and just cried. My heart felt so heavy like an anvil was on it; I could not believe what was happening to me. Time seemed to stop.

Daily, with fear in my heart a pit that made my stomach feel empty. I started making phone calls to stop the eviction, lawyers, POOR Magazine, cousins, friends. Breathless fast paced mountains of hope conversations full of fear and courage. I walked in the rain the next day to the Eviction Defense Collaboration, then I went to the S. F. Tenants Union. They helped me with paperwork to get a stay until November 7th. I felt clouds were lifting, I made appointments with potential lawyers.

I have an aunt and uncle who were Deputy Sheriffs so I contacted Deputy Lewis of the S. F. Sheriff’s Department I asked him to come see my dad. He saw dad was a senior and disabled but he said there was nothing he could do. He could not stop the eviction. I knew that if my Aunt had been alive she would have stopped the eviction.

I spent 2 days with a staff lawyer at the Homeless Advocacy Project. All I wanted was to move back into my place. Then negotiations started with the landlord, he told the building manager to make me a key to the garage and asked me to store my belongings in it. The landlord told me I could move back in when they finished making renovations, but only if I went and talked to his lawyer, Daniel Bornstein about a yet to be negotiated amount of money.

I called Daniel Bornstein, he never called back. The dark clouds formed again. I was beginning to think my landlord enjoyed the treadmill theory. Keeping me on a string of lies and disappointments.

I kept going and going and going, calling agencies and trying to negotiate with the landlord. Time ran out. The eviction still happened.

I felt like I was stuck to the floor. I stared; my eyes glued as if hypnotized to a spot on the wall were my mother had broken a mirror years ago. The walls to me were in a spiral and I was falling down I could not leave there… but I could just see myself cling to a window as the sheriff locked me out I felt like shouting. "Why God, Me!" Stop the wind from blowing me out this door." I love this dwelling it is the place that brought the sunshine and the cookies and these walls they know my voice and I give parties like no other ever will, so say these walls. These walls are standing looking at me, singing to me bout’ the fun we always had; my head is swinging to fro and I am crying and the walls say she is our girl don’t let her go. I grab my head and wipe my tears on the back of my hand and lift my 10-ton head back up. I grab my stuff that feels like it is a worthless bag of rocks. I closed the door, and then I cried like a river was flowing.

I walked out of the apartment I had lived in ever since I was 1 years old. My thoughts were racing like a NASCAR car spun out unto the track and my mind was spinning wildly. How could I have done this to my family? It was my fault for asking for repairs & not paying rent on time. Thinking I was doing right. When the world I knew had gone all wrong. I saw me fall off of a cliff, I saw a train blurring towards me in the distance, and I saw it run into me and take me out. All I saw was darkness.

Postscript;

Gay and her family are currently homeless, wrongfully evicted from their family home of 30 years. Gay is fighting the wrongful eviction through media organizing at POOR Magazine. Meanwhile, they are hoping to get the help of an attorney who would take their case probono. If you have any referrals please contact her through POOR at (415) 863-6306

by Gay Montgomery/PoorNewsNEtwork media intern

The rain and the wind practically pushed me off the street into the Herbst Theater into the vast marbled floors of the lobby. I searched for one of my co-workers from POOR Magazine, only to see grey sculptured ceilings, feeling small and alone in a room full of people.

I found my nametag on a big table. I heard voices murmuring all over the room poised to participate in workshop discussions and meetings for solutions to homelessness at the first annual San Francisco Homeless Summit on March 7, 2002. I ran into Isabel Estrada, youth in the Media writer from POOR Magazine and we found seats together in the theater. We kept turning to each other in wonder as we watched, the Po' Poets reveal some of their life experiences and at the same time rock the house. We cringed together at the comments of Supervisor Tony Hall, who outlined his seven points including throwing homeless people in jail for sleeping on the street.

My story’s assignment began in the Green Room. The room was green from ceiling to floor. Light spilled into the room from tall, arch shaped windows, on this rainy day the brightness was welcoming. Walking in hurried motions I watched attendees excitedly taking steps across the warm, green rug to sit in green cushioned chairs trimmed in gold. I met faces full of wonder, when there was eye contact among us.

The clouds had ceased for now. The room was crowded. This room held memories for me of another time. I had a corporate job. I was here with my daughter, the chairs were spaced out, and the food was catered. We were among fifty students, from low-income or 1 parent families who received $1000 scholarships from the San Francisco Maison Society in June of 2000. On this same balcony I was able to give my daughter, Kelle $500.00 and a pair of new shoes. I was a proud mother, a part of society. A bag lunch was served today

"I thought I was a part of society", says Carolyn Johnson a 64 year old African-American woman who stays in a shelter called Next Door. "Until America get right with America and help us, how can we attack someone else. "I do not deserve to be homeless." We talked about the need for low-income housing. She continued to talk to anyone who would listen.

Advocates from Shelter Outreach Project, Coalition on Homelessness (SHOUT) (COH) started the workshop without microphones and equipment, they were greeted with another shout by Carolyn saying, "Louder we can’t hear you!" There was a bit of a wait but microphones and equipment finally arrived and the workshop about Under-served Communities: Homeless Families, Youth and Seniors began.

"We advocate and educate and still our stories are not included," said Leroy Moore, Executive Director of Disability Advocates Minority Organization (DAMO). "Only in the last couple of years have people of color really been organizing, but we are here!" "We now are embarking on a campaign to get into all communities. This is very, very, new...So far it is working." He invited all participants to a meeting Friday, March 15, 2002 at City Hall about in home support services for Americans with Disabilities.

"There were times when I thought that I would almost die," said Mari Villaluna. A member of S F Youth Comission as well as a staff writer for Poor Magazine, she took us first hand into her life as a homeless youth on the streets of San Francisco. "Why don’t you have a job?" Why aren’t you living with your parents?" There are no shelters for youths 18-25 in San Francisco. "No one asked what my parent’s did to me."

"This is serious when there is only one homeless facility in Bayview Hunters Point. We serve over six thousand meals there per week", said long time advocate Mother Wright.

There are over 130 homeless families with children on the waiting lists in San Francisco for shelters. Figures regarding the decline of spending on funding for homeless programs, public housing development and Hop VI severely distressed in the year 2001 lowest point since 1979 according to figures from calculated from the budget of the United States Government. I saw my family funds reach the lowest point in my life with a budget of $520.00 per month from Cal-Works I understand budget cuts.

We were asked to raise our hands as panelists led a brainstorming session. Around the room underserved homeless people, providers and advocates of all races and genders suggested solutions raising our voices trying to make homelessness go away. Included in the discussions were seniors, trans-gender, immigrants and families with children. Ideas such as more job training, low rent housing for working people and quality childcare are some of the words that I heard around the room. Safe check cashing facilities for senior citizens was also suggested. I thought of my parent’s needs when I raised my hand and shouted "outreach programs for seniors that have been evicted!"

Sally Green of the Senior Housing Action Committee, greeted me warmly. She said "Come to a meeting Wednesday, March 20, from 1:30 to 30 at SAN, it’s at 965 Mission, Room 700." Do you think you can make it." I told her I would be spending time with my mother, who is 68, on Wednesday, but I appreciated the invitation.

I caught up with Chris Daly and asked him what he wanted the readers of POOR Magazine to know. He said, "I thought it was past time for a healthy dialogue amongst the homeless, the providers of services, and the advocates who care about them. The homeless should have a stake in this City."

The workshop ended with panelists asking for volunteers to relay the results of the brainstorms back to the general assembly. I became a participant, I did not feel alone. The rain was gone. Memories of my daughter and I recieving a gift on my last visit to the Herbst Theater filled my mind. Athough I don’t have as much money as I had before, this time when I walked out , I felt better. I was the giver, I was a volunteer, all it took was a little time.

by Carol Harvey

Chants resound over a KPFA reporter's cell phone: "Gavin Newsom's scared of the people!" Screams protest Newsom's press converence, where he proposes useless vouchers and stipend reductions, which would slash General Assistance from $345 to $50 a month.

The chants continue: "People have legitimate uses for the money." "Living wage jobs and housing." "Racist, opportunist attack, criminalizing the poor."

The coalition on Homelessness, POWER, and Picture The Homeless, a New York-based organization, were at San Francisco City Hall in mid-February to protest Supervisor Newsom's proposals to drastically reduce General Assistance, fingerprint homeless welfare recipients, and further criminalize homeless people for panhandling nearly anywhere.

The protesters' voices rang out: "Newsom is hiding.  We are following him into the elevator." Frightened response: "The legislation has just been drafted.  You are criticizing based on emotion."

Reporters seemed stunned as Newsom was spirited away in the grip of five police officers, surrounded by 75 poor people. Viewing TV news, a friend chuckled. "He was so white.  His eyes looked like a doe's caught in the headlights.

Is his political career over?"

What career.? [Newsom's] Poli-sci degree, wineries, restaurants, investments and Gordon Getty gromming don't count for much."

A housed wealthy man writes a condescending proposal omitting homeless people from the plan, prejudging them as mental cases or addicts.  Selling wine, he knows alcohol.  Poor Magazine reported that his OBOAT legislation was about drug treatment in private doctors' offices for "rich junkies" who would be "spared the indignity of the methadone clinic."

POWER's Larry Lattimore said, "We stopped the Monday supervisors' meeting, confronting Gavin playing the cringing victim, an uncomfortable forced smile.  He knows we protested [that] we were not included. The temple may look nice; but, if the cornerstone is flawed, the building will crumble.  Don't say, 'Talk to me,' while applying the finish."

Newsom investigated New York City's shelters and The Doe Fund's "Ready, Wililng, and Able" program.  Did he fly the jet streams of Doe's multinational corporate board, wining and dining in the Big Apple, viewing the tidiest shelters?

Doe's 11-member board connects Rudy Giuliani to chemicals, crude oil, natural gas, AOL-Time-Warner, real estate, construction, banking, pharmaceuticals, health care, a California corporation making electronic image processing devices, miniature cameras, and integrated circuits.  A stable population warehoused in jails or shelters have, in the past, made excellent candidates for "research."

A director for The Doe Fund answered an e-mail.  "We have been contacted by a group...who tour(ed) our facilities twice...interested in incorporating our...procedures into a San Francisco program."

But, in my interview with Anthony Williams, founder and director of Picture the Homeless in New York City, he painted a picture of a system Newsom will never see.  Williams, an innovative former shelter resident, organized street folk in New York to express their voice.  Also present at the interview was Richard Ferry, feature film electrician, unemployed after Giuliani pulled film permits following the 9/11 attack.

Williams explained the origins of Giuliani's repressive treatment of homeless people in New York.  "During the Denkin administration," he explained, "the Manhattan Institute, a right-wing think tank, developed the 'Broken Windows' theory: 'If you clean the dirt, the homeless will be out of sight, out of mind."

Manhattan Institute think-tankers, Williams said, "are friends with Giuliani," and Raymond Kelly, the feared police commissioner.  After a thief, described by the mainstream media in an unthinking rush to judgment as a homeless man, attacked a New York woman named Nicole Barrett, Giuliani decided to "get those crazies off the street." He never called off his attack after it was shown conclusively that the theif was not homeless.

Giuliani started arrests "for sleeping, loitering, urinating, obstructing benches, life-sustaining issues that people don't have money or means to do if they're homeless," Williams said.  The real agenda was for security patrols to remove them from business districts and tourist areas like Disney-owned Times Square.

"Since 1999," said Williams, "hostility was directed at the homeless because of Quality of Life policies."  He described Giuliani's NYPD as, "Terror and fear with the devil in the blue dress."  In 1999, cops were rushing homeless shelters at 3:00 a.m., "arresting friends, throwing them against walls."

"Big as New York is, no one was speaking against Giuliani on Quality of Life issues," Williams said.  Newspapers announced $60 million in funding for homelessness.  Williams read that sheltering an individual cost $2,000 a month, but then he regarded the unclean shelter facility, the bed, locker, and common bathroom, and reflected that "for $2,000, we could have an apartment."

Louis Hagens, a socially savvy sound engineer, told him, "I know people at WBAI.  We can be on the radio tomorrow."  On the day of the interview, from 3:00 to 5:30 a.m., they hiked 60 blocks, 30th street to 120 Wall Street.

On the way, listening to his Walkman, Hagens said, Bernard White mentions he has special guests coming.  They seem like interesting guys."

"It was us," Williams recalls.

On WBAI's "Wake Up Call,"Anthony Wiliams described pre-dawn raids at homeless shelters, brutal security, people warehoused for 5, 10, 20 years.

Bernard White said, "I used to see homeless people in certain areas of the city." Williams replied, "People ask, 'Anthony, where are all the homeless people?'   Walking around right in the freaking midst of you.  Unlike the population on the street with shopping carts, backpacks, dirty --- you have 25,000 people in the system with a change of clothes, a locker, a shower.  Also, we had to find places to go covert.  In certain areas of the city, it wasn't nice, cops kicking your boxes with sticks, and like, 'Get the hell out of here!'"

Homeless people become invisible to the public when they are driven from view by police sweeps.  That repression can make the larger issue disappear from view as well; the public is lulled into believing the problem isn't as bad because fewer people are visible on the streets.  There was a real urgency in Giuliani's New York to make the homeless visible again.

Lou Hagens said, "We need a name." The phrase "Picture the Homeless," popped into William's head.  Giuliani "disppeared" the homeless.  Williams would make them visible again.

What Williams describes is a warning that Newsom appears to be exploring ways to import Giuliani's police crackdowns and centralized shelter intake system to San Francisco.  Newsom seems to want to get elected on saving money, importing Giuliani's plan.  San Francisco's panhandling ban targets the most visible homeless people first in the identical way that Giuliani targeted visible "squeegee guys" cleaning New Yorkers' windshields.  This is to be followed by shelter vouchers, reduced GA benefits, and, as in New York, a central intake center with people herded through one site, data collection, fingerprinting, and removal from the city.

Williams and Ferry warn of the outcome, "Yeah.  They send them to Ward's Island.  A women's prison, the Clark-Thomas Building, was converted into an all-male shelter of about 1,200."  For noncompliance, you're threatened with Camp LaGuardia upstate holding another 1,200."

Williams and Ferry proclaimed New York's system disastrous for San Francisco, citing the following reasons.

1.  IT  IS  COSTLY.

New York City's homeless system needed a $60-million infusion in 1999.

2.  THE  BROKEN  WINDOWS  THEORY  IS  MISGUIDED.  Sweeping people away is a public relations gimmick.

It is a facade concealing an unsolved problem.  Richard said, "Ironically, after the World Trade Center [destruction], Giuliani haired Whistleblower Erin Brockovich and her new reality program for ABC TV, saying she could take a burned-down building and make this park beautiful in eight days."

The irony is that, to make a "miracle" happen at this site, Giuliani knowingly had the Parks Department destroy a homeless encampment where Ferry lived with friends.  Then they showed the event on television, but Ferry couldn't watch it because he has no home and no TV.  Brockovich never knew she was part of Giuliani's sinister hidden agenda to get rid of homeless people behind the facade of a beautification program.

"My friend and me were squatting a bandshell in East River Park," Ferry said.  "Parks Department told police and threw our shit into dumpsters.  To ensure we wouldn't come back, Giuiliani razed the place.  Erin has no idea homeless people lived there.  They cleaned us out two days before.  On commercials, she and Giuliani shake hands with big smiles."

"This was going to be a great project.  Not having a TV, I didn't watch."

3. CONTROL  IS  ENFORCED  WITH  TERROR  TACTICS.

Using over-aggressive anti-homeless ordinances," Giuliani created the sleight-of-hand homeless disappearing act, Williams said. "Who cares if you violate their rights, because then they are in fear?"  Homeless people rolled over from police attacks and fear of Giuliani.  "The homeless are scared of [mayor] Bloomberg," and Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly.  Homeless people are swept wherever they gather.  Monthly police sweeps are conducted for small Quality of Life crimes.

When Richard Ferry left prison, well-paid corrections officers laughed, saying "You'll be back.  With a new mayor in New York City, you're job security."

4. SHELTERS  ARE  FULL.

Supervisor Newsom cites reduced intake time: 21 days for singles, 10 for families.  Williams says flatly, "It's a lie."  He also said that with 30,000 people homeless in New York, shelters are at capacity, and people are turned away.  "If every homeless person requested a bed, there's not enough.  Beds aren't freed up.  People are housed 20 years."

5.HOMELESS  POPULATION  IS  GROWING.

In 2001, rich landlords evicted 25,000.

6.NO  (AFFORDABLE)  HOUSING  IS  AVAILABLE  IN  NEW  YORK  CITY.

Williams said that from "Harlem to Lower Manhattan, it's over."  Ferry said, "You have to make $30,000 to qualify for low-income housing."

7. THEY  CAN'T  FORCE  EVERYONE  OFF  THE  STREET  OR  INTO  SHELTERS.

Thousands run from the cops, and won't enter shelters.  Richard says, "I'd go to jail first," rather than going to a shelter.  The working homeless avoid social workers' pointless evaluations, deciding.  "I'll just stay on the street."  The homeless count is inaccurate.  The Homeless Commissioner's circular argument provides a pretext to keep the count artificially low: "You won the legal 'Right To Shelter.'  If you don't enter, you're not homeless because you are not counted."

8.OUTREACH  IS  DEFICIENT.

"WHAT outreach teams?  There's a guy walking around Washington Square Park for years."  Williams called for assistance and got an answering machine.  Outreach teams sweep for a $2,000 "bounty."  Most people swept up bounce out of the system in 72 hours.  Holding people is illegal, and the shelters are full.

9.MASSES  ARE  MERELY  WAREHOUSED.

Enormous numbers are warehoused for years.  Anthony said, "The system fails.  From management to individual counseling, it is horrible; just cattle."  "Before Clark-Thomas Building on Ward's Island got MICA, Mentally Ill Chemical Abusers, the dangerously mentally ill were together on one floor without services."

10. THE  SYSTEM  CALLS  TEMPORARY  HOUSING  "PERMANENT."

Ready, Willing, and Able calls two years "permanent housing."  This cruel promise of "security" disrupts family bonding and stability for schoolchildren.

11. HOMELESS  LABOR  IS  EXPLOITED.

"Project Breakthrough" paid Anthony $12.50 a week sweeping cigarette butts, cleaning bathrooms, then "promoted" him to 8 hours at $2.00 an hour.  "Climb that ladder to get to $6.00 an hour. Feeling worthless, you do things for nothing; from having nothing to being exploited."

The Ready, Willing, and Able director wrote that the starting salary of $5.50 goes to $6.50 at 6 months, tax-free, with opportunity for overtime.  Everyone saves at least $1,000 through the mandatory savings program, with matching funds.

Williams said the reality is different.  His experience is that two guys share a room and work for the program, sweeping and bagging garbage.  The homeless laborers, though, work alongside regular workers making quadruple for the same work.  People untrained for living-wage employment later recycle back into poverty.

13.THE  INDUCTION  PROCESS  AND  CONDITIONS  ARE  ABUSIVE.

The program targets the visibly homeless, squeegee people (windsheild-washers) and panhandlers.  The city's extended intake results in people forced to sleep in chairs in shelters.  One mother sued when her children slept on the floor for weeks.

People are funneled through centralized intake, and Williams charges that this database is misused for tracking "suspects."  Centralized intake results in farming homeless people out of Manhattan to outer boroughs, and in warehousing enormous numbers in temporary housing.

The mandatory rules of New York's shelters undermine people's sense of worth. Williams and Ferry describe the infantalization of adults.   Remarks Ferry, "It is ridiculous to give 10 p.m. curfews in 'The City That Never Sleeps.'"  "Grown men won't knuckle under," says Williams. "It's humiliating to sign for a shelter bed."

Other humiliating factors include mandatory drug tests, police raids, abusive shelter guards and staff.  Ferry, who completed parole for selling drugs, said, "If you are institutionalized, you can be brainwashed.  Prison or shelter, it's emotional coercion."

14. PROGRAMS  CONTROL  THE  PEOPLE.

Williams doesn't trust Ready, Willing, and Able, calling it a monopoly bent on "controlling" the homeless, adding that it makes big money off homelessness but doesn't give the people themselves any say-so.  He said that Ready, Willing, and Able "uses homeless people, takes their voice away, beats them down, [then] tells Giuliani, 'We get them off the street.'  It's a lie.  They get two years of housing, call it 'permanent,' then get cycled right back into the system again."

15. THE  SYSTEM  IS  CLASSIST  AND RACIST.

"The majority are black and Latino," said Williams.  Ferry added, "How'd they get there?  No jobs, services, or education."

"White or black, you're economically profiled."

16. THE  SYSTEM  IS  CORRUPT.

It's a growth industry.  Intake headhunters make sweeps worth $2,000 each.  With 30,000 homeless, there's no incentive to move people out of beds.  "Money pumps this homeless machine around and around."  Williams charged that conservatorships rob the mentally incompetent.

William called New York's shelter system "corrupt" and denied that Giuliani's approach has been successful in getting people off the street.  Instead, he describes it as a revolving door for the poor with no exit.  "Guys go into one door, treatment through the next door, the next door maybe jail.  Jail, back to the system."

"Will San Francisco create this vicious cycle?" Williams asks.

by Mari/Youth in the Media Intern

I was casually checking my e-mail on a slow workday, and one of the e-mail's subject line said: Digital Storytelling. The subject line seemed interesting so I didn't erase it. The email basically stated that there was a workshop coming up for youth that wanted to do digital stories on domestic violence, and it was going to be free. So I thought why don't I check this out, it sounds like a good experience. So I called the person who was in charge of interviewing people for the workshop, her name is Amy. She de-briefed me on the workshop, and I got even more excited. I was going to basically make a mini film talking about an issue that is relevant to my community, which is domestic violence.

The workshop was separated into five days. The first day I met the other youth and the workshop presenters. Everyone seemed nice and friendly. It definitely was a safe space. Then we thought about ideas for our "script". I wrote about my personal story with domestic violence in a poetry format. The next few days we started to work on our digital stories. We had to get pictures to describe what we were saying in our script. That was really hard for me. To get a picture to help explain what it feels like to be beaten or see your parents fighting was just difficult.

The reason why we were doing this is to get our stories about domestic violence out there. Too many times adults will speak for youth in cases of domestic violence. This time we wanted our voice to be heard! The silent victim now shouting for a survivor's voice to be heard.

In October, we had an event called Break the Silence, Stop the Violence. At this event we had education, music, spoken word, and presented our stories which talked about domestic violence. It went so well. We raised money for the kids of Claire Joyce (a woman who was murdered by her boyfriend in front of her kids), and educated people about domestic violence.

A few months passed by, and then I got a message from Amy. She asked me if I could let her show my video at the V-day (a Vagina Monologues event which raises money to help stop the violence against women) opening celebration, and in the Masonic Auditorium lobby at V-Day. Also if she could put my story on the Silence Speaks CD (which is a compilation of digital stories about domestic violence). Of course, I told her yes. To me this was such a beautiful opportunity to share my story with others, which is one of the reasons why I did the digital story.

A few days passed, and I get a message from Amy again asking me to tell my story written in poetry format on the stage at the Masonic Auditorium. I would be sharing the same stage with Eve Enlser, Gloria Steinem, and many more powerful happy vagina friendly women. I would be sharing my story in front of over 3,000 people. I said yes, but I was so scared. I would be telling a sold out crowd my story about domestic violence. At first I felt why was I the chosen one? Why do I get to say my story? How about all the other people who have stories to tell? At one point, I even thought that I might not even be worthy to tell my story.

Then I made up my mind I would do this piece for myself and all other young silent victims out there. I did it in the hopes that one-day we can grow up in happy, healthy homes.

I called my sister, brother, mother, and stepfather to tell them the news. My sister was happy even though I am not sure she understood the whole thing. I think she took it as my Ate is doing something great and she's happy, so I am happy for her. Then I told my Mom. She went crazy. She knew what the Vagina Monologues were because she loves to watch The View with Barbara Walters and they talk about the Vagina Monologues. So, my mom's reaction summed up was basically "MY BABY IS GOING TO PERFORM WITH THE VAGINA LADY!" Then she told my stepfather I was going to be in Vagina Monologues during our conversation. So in the background while I am talking to my mom. All I hear in the background from my step dad trying to talk to my mom saying "Honey did you just say Vagina?" "Vagina What?" "Excuse Me, did you say Vagina?" "Hello, Vagina?" "Vagina What?" "Why are you saying the word Vagina?" Interestingly enough this was the reaction I got from most men when I told them about me telling my story at V-Day. The only difference is that my step dad was the one of the few who could say vagina.

So the next step was to meet Eve Ensler. I knew of her somewhat before I met her. I knew she had to be a tight woman to write the Vagina Monologues. I found out about her and the Vagina Monologues in an independent bookstore. I saw the word VAGINA on the cover and knew whatever the topic was I just had to buy the book just because the word VAGINA was on the cover. I eventually started reading it and I liked it. I told my self whenever Vagina Monologues comes to San Francisco I must go see it. I never got to see it, which is probably good because I might have been more scared to go on stage.

On Monday, I walk into the Masonic Auditorium lobby, and walk towards the stage. It a very welcoming, inviting stage. There was red, plush, soft carpet on the stage. There were cameras surrounding Eve too. I was just looking around thinking WOW! I can't believe I am going to be a part of the V-day movement. Then Eve comes to me and hugs me. At this point I was like EVE IS HUGGING ME! I was hugging Eve! WOW! I got to meet Abby who was very nice and classy. Then Eve took my hand and held it. We walked backstage so Eve, Abby, and I could talk. We stepped inside the green room, which wasn't green at all. I told Abby and Eve my story. They both were shedding tears. Eve was holding me. She was very supportive, and protective of me. She is like a very healthy mother to me. Eve told me how did we ever find you? I told them the story. Eve told me also if I wanted her by my side while I was telling my story to ask her. Eve gave me some beautiful advice about life. Then we talked about what we were going to wear and about the Vagina Monologues coming on HBO. Abby and Eve made me feel like that I was the diva of the show, which helped me to be less sacred.

Next day is the big day; V-Day. Amy comes back and picks me up to go to the Masonic Auditorium. I get to the Auditorium and do my sound check and rehearsal. In the middle of the rehearsal Eve says, "I love you, Mari." Then I say "I love you, Eve." Then Amy and I rush to my house to pick up my costume for that night. Then I go to work and back to the auditorium to start getting ready for V-Day. I go back in the green room, and there is this lady practicing her monologue. I tell her "I've seen you somewhere before." She looks back to see if she has seen me before. I tell her "You live in San Francisco, right?" Then she says "No." I say "You live somewhere in the Bay Area then, right?" She says "Yes, but I just recently moved. You probably seen some of my work." I still am convinced that I have seen her at an event, protest, or action somewhere. (Later, I find out I saw her in A Thin Line between Love Hate, and her name is Lynn Whitfield.)

I am backstage getting ready with all these other beautiful women. My friend Chyna does my makeup. People keep on asking if we are sisters. (We are not.) I paint my nails. Then I get told to go to the basement of the auditorium to take pictures of the cast. I grab my red boa and head downstairs. The whole cast goes downstairs to take pictures. In the basement, there are all of these paintings of white men all in a row. I told Julia Butterfly-Hill "I hope we don't take pictures in front of these scary paintings." She said, "Oh, I hope we do. Can you just imagine all these beautiful women with red boas taking a picture and all these men rolling over in their graves?"

We started taking pictures. We were singing about happy vaginas. The person leading the singing was Eve. The lights go off. Then Kathy Najimy starts singing "A boy like that." Eve joins in, but Rita Moreno did not join in. We all go back to the green room for a Powwow before the show starts.

Then we all were waiting to go onstage. People are running everywhere. Red boas are grabbed, shoes are taken off, and members of the cast go onstage. Eve starts introducing the Vulva choir (the all-star cast). I am in the green room painting my toenails red. I continue to watch the TV in the green room when one of the crewmembers tells me to get ready to go on stage. I grab my boa, and Eve comes backstage to come and get me. She introduces me. I walk onstage to tell over 3,000 people my story about domestic violence, and child abuse. I start crying in the middle of my story. Tears run down my face. I am healing the pain that I have experienced in my life. I finish by saying "You got to stand up and say the cycle of violence will and has to stop with me!"

I move away from the back and see the Vulva Choir giving me a standing ovation. I walk back to sit on the nice red, fluffy couches that are on stage. I hug others members of the cast. The are so supportive towards. I sit between two strong women Gloria Stienem and Rita Moreno. Rita is about to her monologue "My Angry Vagina" she leans towards me and says "I am gonna make you laugh." Well she did. Rita was onstage and took off her thong. It was so hilarious. I was cracking up laughing.

It was coming to the closing, so Eve Ensler said thank you to the supporters. She also asked people to stand up if they been victimized, then if they knew someone who has been victimized, then if the violence of women is going to stop with the people who have not stood up. Then there was a live band playing music and the Vulva Choir started dancing and singing. Rita started running around with her thong. Eve and I started dancing together. The show was finally over. Everyone in the cast went back stage and was hugging each other. I went outside to the lobby to find my friends. I hugged all of them. Then these people asked me for my autograph. I was like Ok, but I was thinking are they talking to me?

So many people are coming up to me and telling me their stories about violence that has happened to them. The story that affected me the most was from this lady. She told me that she had gone to Vagina Monologues and V-day events ever since they first started. Tonight though was the first night she ever stood up when Eve said "Stand up if you violence has ever happened to you." She said my words made her realized that abuse had happen to her. She never before thought her mother hitting her as abuse. That is why I did V-day.

by Joseph Bolden/PoorNewsNetwork

On a warm Sunday in March I attended "The Housing Winter Summit" taking place outside the Polk Street side of Civic Center.
We are supposed to start at POOR Magazine’s office at ll:00 am. Glad I’ve done my daily Martin De Porres free breakfast and not sleeping in, which is what I would do normally. Usually on Sunday I like to plan my day around doing absolutely nothing. That’s either sleeping, television, listening to radio, or being in Berkeley meeting with my ladyfriend, suffice to say, resting is always a treat.

The Housing Winter action started at 12 noon, with James Tracy and Willie Warren (Po Poet and activist) from the "Right To A Roof Project, talking softly, strongly and passionately about suffering Veteran’s from VietNam, Desert Storm, getting little but lip service from the country they pledged their honor, blood, limbs, mental stability and lives for. After much heartfelt testimony from several speakers we were then blessed with a Capoiera troupe. Midway through the day a Free Tibet march walked on the other side of the street- we paused to wait them out and give them respect for their resistance. Then on to the Poetry…

It began with a piece by Jack Hirschman, poet, actor, activist and author, whose stirring, true depiction of struggling street life mesmerized audiences with its deathless prose. Another poet, Nancy Esteva from The Coalition on Homelessness spoke her poem or, should I say poesa, completely in Spanish, and even though it was in another language her emotional content came through clear.

Then, almost simultaneously, and very quickly, two structures were erected, one was an arch erected from shopping carts, in honor of all the folks who were arrested and had their shopping carts taken away by DPW and the SFPD, and a brightly painted pink house with two sleeping bags inside.

The Pink house stood as a representational, physical backdrop of the need for housing for all.

At first I though I having an adverse bummer trip seeing a carnation pink brightly colored structure in the shape of a small house, behind it metal shopping carts suspended in the air by thick metal normally used for foundations in high rise buildindgs.

I blink at the sight feeling whoosy and and sick again the sun beaming on me - heat hurts.

Next up was poetry and kinetic sculpture by the performance group The ‘Po Poets` Project including .Junebug, A. Fay, Dharma, Tiny, Mari, and me. Each person did a piece to the theme of Equal Equity in housing, holding signs that read; Will Work For Equity, Will Work for Land and Will work For Justice. At the end we all chant a line, Permanent Housing For All and depart the "stage" There were more poets before the day was over – and then finally, the remaining people "occupied" the Pink House, hoping to also seize the unused land of the Civic Center

Still feeling the after effects of getting over the flu I wanted to simply get under covers and sleep in my little SRO in the Tenderloin that I am lucky enough to have.

However, I have one more duty to perform on this Sunday, help someone move out of their long cherished living space in Bay View Hunter’s Point, where they were evicted for no good reason at all and now are homeless.

That Pink House is still standing, I hope.