Story Archives 2003

by Dee

It is obvious that the bush administration and their posse wants to recall Gov Davis in order to put a Republican (Arnold Schwartzenegger perhaps?) in his place, or worse, a Republicrat. They want California to "vote" for bush in 04,and to stop all those pesky anti-war demonstrations

They think we won’t mind if they put in Republicrat Diane Fienstein.

They use all of the budget cuts Davis has made against him. Never mentioning, of course, that a lot of the budget Cuts are a result of the rip off of California energy by the Bush/Enron crew, and the cash California had to spend just to keep the lights on during those fake blackouts.

I have no particular loyalty to Gray Davis, in fact I am adversely affected by his budget cuts and support of the prison industrial complex, but I do object to the obvious set up by the evil right wing republicans who will lie, cheat, and steal to control California’s voting by their recall as a way to get one of their puppets in office as Govenor of California

So people who see the set up of Davis that has occurred and who don’t want an evil Republican or Republicrat governing California, start circulating petitions to RECALL THE RECALL !!!!!

by Eric Wason/PNN Media Intern

I walked with a shopping cart to the Safeway entrance. There, a young boy was

starting sentences with, "Excuse me...," and "Hello...," but he wasn't given chances to

finish them. From a few feet away, I stopped to witness swarms of people look at the

ground, scan their receipts, or keep tight hold of their chatter as they strolled past the young

boy. Feeling called to stop the aloofness, I beamed an encouraging smile to him and

handed him two dollars.

The candy smelled rich and inviting as I unraveled its wrapper. The crunch of

hazelnuts with the chocolate did not take me away from reflecting on the encounter with

the young salesman and its connection to a mental health forum that I attended earlier that

day.

The open doors of Everett Middle School in the heart of San Francisco welcomed

me to the "Freedom Forum: An Alternative Mental Health Conference". The site was a

joining of Mental Health Activists and the Community for the advocation of dignity in the

Mental Health Field.

Electroshock, one of the many examples of forced medical treatment, is given to an

estimation of 110,000 Americans each year, according to the National Institute of Mental

Health. Jeff Cohon and Norman Solomon of Creators Syndicate report that "some are

pushed through legal loopholes and subjected to electroshock against their expressed will"

or "forced into bogus 'agreement' in the midst of coercion or confusion."

I sat in the school's auditorium to hear the open discussion. Having aided at-risk

youth with emotional issues, I was both alarmed and proud to see dozens of forced shock

treatment survivors raise their hands to identify themselves. I applauded their courage and

strength with the audience. At the same time, my mind imagined their past struggles

against their wills as I looked at their many faces.

The stories of the survivors point to the future challenge of our world to strive for

dignity above all things. Diane Kern, founder of the Insight Center, profoundly alluded to

how major points of world change have taken place throughout history because of

emotions labeled as symptoms for Depression in the Psychological Handbook, DSM. She

went on to say, "Where would we be if the Civil Rights Activists of the 1960's like Martin

Luther King took anti-depressants?" All of the survivors were present to make change and

positivity out of the failure of doctors to be sensitive to their unique life histories and

wishes.

Drug companies are also failing to see the dignity involved in emotions and their

uniqueness in each human. Their plan to globalize drugs is steered by their perspective of

reducing humans down to our chemical make-up for the purpose of higher profits. This

view is being shown in the industry's drug tests, which has been cited by the FDA with the

drug Resperadol, for example. According to Robert Whitaker, author of Mad in America:

Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill, an FDA

test result for the drug Resperadol concluded in multiple deaths to subjects after it was

falsely touted by its drug company as having no side effects. He went on to say that the

praise for the drug was even backed by company-payed doctors whose work was quoted in

leading scientific literature. Besides the health dangers, these false hopes are keeping

people from the value of love, support, friendship, healthy food, proper rest, and human

connections in healing. When I think about the many people on our streets who

are suffering mentally, homeless or not, that are either forced or led to believe that a pill

will answer their hopes, I fight harder to believe in the importance of respect, sensitivity,

and engaging others. The Forum has helped me see that the world is in not only in a

struggle for dignity, but also in a struggle to appropriately honor our emotional gifts. I

wonder how a society targets pills as cures for our emotional pains rather than the authentic

feelings that stand waiting on the other side of ourselves to comfort our uncontrollable

weaknesses.

They say that chocolate is an anti-depressant. From the Safeway check-stands, I look

at the young salesman again and the spools of disengagement that roll past him. I wish that

there is something inside the people that will help them acknowledge him. I hesitate to

manufacture their responses out of decency for their feelings. If I had the resources, I would

hire the young salesman and others to stand in front of drug companies to sell something truly

valuable. This time their boxes would be empty of chocolate, with true engagement serving as

the only product.

by Dee Gray - with editorial assistance by Alex Cuff

Dee: Your platform was “The Federal Government Has Gone Stark, Raving Mad.” Could you talk a little bit about the basis of that?

David: That was just a portion of my platform – And it was more like a slogan, that particular saying and what I said was “the federal government has gone stark, raving mad,” and therefore What that means is that if we’re concerned about sustainability, if we’re concerned about our civil liberties we need to build them locally and that was what I pledged to do as a cabinet for city council.

You know i fully believe that the federal government has gone stark, raving mad. The executive branch is wielding power that the founders of our nation, of the constitution didn’t envision...the system of checks and balances is just not working right.

Dee: Yeah, I thought that too. The interesting thing too is that this ordinance had near unanimous approval for the people of Arcata and what do you think that is, something in the water maybe? Or that the community is all ex-patriates from San Francisco or from some other politically involved place or what?

David: I would say that “near unanimous” might be a slight exaggeration. At the meetings where we discussed it – we had a town hall meeting and we also had 3 council meetings where public comment was invited... And I’d say that 80% of the people who spoke, favored the ordinance and 10% didn’t favor the ordinance but were opposed to the Patriot Act and thought there was a better way to address the Patriot Act and then there was a good solid 10% who thought the Patriot Act was necessary and a good thing. But I think the reason you can get such a large percentage favoring something like an ordinance against a set of federal laws is that this particular issue bridges the spectrum, the political spectrum because you get obviously progressives that are opposed to the act and have been since the beginning and also libertarians and people on the far – there are a lot of people who think our freedom is at fault, one way or another, and who would like to defend the constitution.

Dee: Well you said about 10% thought that we needed the Patriot Act? Did you ever talk to any of them? What, why would they say that? Do you know what their thinking is?

David: Well if we’re to believe the poles, probably 30% or 40% (of people) across the country favor the Patriot Act, nationwide and I think the Patriot Act was passed right after September 11th, it was passed in a moment of incredible fear and to the extent that it promises to make terrorist attacks less likely, certain people will favor it even if they’re losing civil liberties, they’ll say well it’s the bad guys who are losing their rights it doesn’t affect them. I think most people, once they realize it does affect them, and that it does infringe upon our privacy that they will tend to oppose it more but I think that’s a process of education; to let people see what the patriot act really does.

Dee: And your ordinance is...? What specifically?

David: Um, the ordinance...first we passed the resolution back in January where we were the 26 of cities to even do that and then we thought we’d take it a step further and do an actual ordinance which has the power of law. And our ordinance does several things. First of all, it instructs city management employees, the heads of our departments, to not participate in any sort of profiling or arrest procedures that are unconstitutional, targeting certain ethnic groups of any kind. And secondly it instructs management employees to not voluntarily cooperate with federal agents under the Patriot Act or related act like the Homeland Security Act – to not cooperate in any unconstitutional requests like search and seizures or arrests or surveillance and finally it instructs the employees, that if they are approached and asked to do this that first of all they refuse to do it and then they report it to the city manager who reports it to the city council so that the council can review the specific case. Because of course we have no problem with cooperating with federal searches under standard warrants with the standard checks and balances in place.

Dee: Have any city managers or council members had any trouble with the feds since you’ve come up with this ordinance?

David: No, the FBI did drop by to pick up a copy of the ordinance at one point. We don’t really expect to have requests by the federal government – it may not happen at all. What we see this as is a preemptive attack, to protect the constitution, a preemptive attack to kind these kinds of things. But this one is a non-violent preemptive attack in defense of the constitution and of our civil liberties.

Dee: I love your use of the word “preemptive” considering that was used in Iraq, it’s just great, you through it right back at them. I noticed that you had a different chief of police when I was reading the news. Why does he no longer hold that position? Does that have something to do with the Patriot Act?

David: It has nothing to do with the Patriot Act... he was kind of on his way out way quite a while before this whole Patriot Act revolution came up. An interesting fact is that our police chief was in total support of passing this ordinance - he said it just reinforces what he does anyway which is to respect the constitution and after all, all public officials, myself included take an oath of office in which we pledge to uphold the constitution and to protect it from all enemies, domestic and foreign, and right now we feel the constitution is under attack from a domestic enemy ...

Dee: such as?

David:...the executive branch of our government.

Dee: Are you thinking in particular Mr. Ashcroft when you’re talking about that or all of the above?

David: I certainly blame Ashcroft. As far as President Bush goes I tend to think he is really controlled by the same folks who have been after the power for the last 30 years; Cheney and Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Powell, Brajinski, the crew that has been working their way up in structure of our government for the last 30 years and now find themselves on the top and want to stay there and i think that’s the most scary thing really for all of us. There’s been this coup and we are now being controlled by folks who have a world view that includes invading countries out of greed and lust for power.

Dee: Have any other cities attempted to talk to you about incorporating this into their city council and so on since you’ve passed this ordinance?

David: There are now 127 resolutions. To my knowledge there haven’t been any other ordinances, I think several cities are considering it – I think both San Francisco and Berkeley would be prime candidates for that.

Dee: Isn’t that true? I know...and they don’t...they only go just so far with it.

David: The number of cities passing resolution has been exhilarating – it’s quite exciting that Hawaii and Alaska have passed resolutions and I think that once the budget gets dealt with in California we may be working on it in our own state.

Dee: You have a new chief of police. Does he support the Patriot Act or in favor of the ordinance opposing it?

David: I know for a fact that the chief of police (Randy Mendoza) supports our ordinance protecting the people of Arcata from the effects of the Patriot Act.

Dee: So you know his feelings about it?

David: Well he helped write the ordinance...he participated in the process.

Dee: Is there anything you think that i’ve left out, that you want to add? And I want to get your name and that you are from Aracata.

David: The main point I really want to get across is that to fight despite things like the Patriot Act. I believe one of the best ways to do it is through the municipal government – they’re our most accessible, our most local, kind of our friendliest government and they give power to our voices over just writing letters and emails. And so I certainly help that more cities continue to pass resolutions and that those involved think that we should all be working on our representatives across the country to get more state resolutions passed. I think the sort of publicity that is out now abopuit the Patriot Act has already assured us that there will at least be a lot of discussion before they pass Patriot Act 2. We need to make sure that there’s not only discussion but that it gets voted down.

Dee: Have you come up with any ordinances or are there any in the planning stages for the Patriot Act 2?

David: Our ordinance actually includes the Patriot Act, Homeland Security Act, related executive orders and any future similar legislation. So we covered ourselves.

Dee: So the Patriot Act 2 is a done deals, it’s over as far as Aracata goes, it’s not gonna happen there.

David: We will not be a part of the chain of command between the federal government and the people.

Dee: When do you have your council meetings?

David: First and 3rd Wednesday of every month as city hall at 7pm.

David Meserve

City Council Member, City of Arcata (elected in 2002)

Makes a living designing and building houses

greenarcata@hotmail.com

by Jasmine Syedullah/PoorNewsNetwork Poverty Studies Intern

I had first heard about Bayview Hunter’s Point from friends who advised me not to go there. A tremble would come over them as they reported to me that "it’s just too dangerous". Being from the Bronx I was necessarily skeptical of what I perceived as media inspired paranoia. Just because neighborhood’s poor and black doesn’t mean it’s dangerous. So I asked one of the youth I work with in the Tenderloin, "So what’s it like out in BayView?". Vanessa shook her head and said, "it’s crazy out there". She went on to tell me a about a time she had gone there with her cousin for some reason and been aggressively confronted by some girls who, when they realized Vanessa and her cousin were not from BayView were ready to throw down.

"We are not united… What is the saying? Divide and conquer? They have divided us and we are being conquered ", said Cati Hawkins Okorie in a recent conversation I had with her about her experiences living in the BayView area for the last 55 years. "This community was once united and it felt good… and I was very proud whenever I went wherever in this country, I’d always say, ‘I’m from the village of Hunters Point!’ ".

I met Ms. Okorie at a Community Meeting called by Charlie Walker, to give the residents of BayView Hunter’s Point (BVHP) the opportunity to collectively discuss the plans the city had for the "cleaning up" of Hunter’s Point, "We have a serious racial problem in this community… in this country… it’s a national goddamn emergency". I arrived at the SouthEast Community Facility, 1800 Oakdale Avenue, Monday June 16th just after 6pm.to hear Charlie Walker’s voice, filled with the fire and brimstone of a Baptist minister, quaking over the heads of 200 or so black men women and children, and burrowing its way into my "inner conflict". I was certainly not the only one in need of this tough love pep talk. This was the first meeting of the BayView Hunters Point (BVHP) community that had been called in a long time.

Ms. Okorie continued, "They don’t happen very often, they don’t. There used to be established groups that used to meet regularly, and people would come to those meetings and voice their opinions… getting people involved is really hard nowadays, cause now they’re just thinking about surviving and their children surviving. We didn’t have those issues back in the 60s…". Ms. Okorie is the program coordinator for the Critical Incident Response Team (CIRT). CIRT operates out of the Department of Public Health on Evans Street. CIRT provides services to families of homicide victims throughout BVHP and Double Rock. This is only the most resent of Cati’s long line of jobs working for social justice in the area.

I asked Cati what factors most divided the community she’d said used to exist in BayView, "Crack did something to the community that none of the other things that I named, substances, could do. It took away the nurturing that a woman used to give her kids. You could find the drunkest woman but she would take care of her baby. After crack came in that went out the window, no more nurturing. Then there were a lot of children born with this in their system. This was like the early to mid eighties… Everyone was wondering what’s going to happen to these crack babies?… Now we know, these kids are killing each other left and right… They have a feeling of not caring, something that seems to come along with crack.

Crack seems to desensitize you to the situation whatever it is doesn’t matter…. Crack was the ultimate weapon because it really divided the community. Before the drugs came, the black people in San Francisco had their differences as far as communities go… but basically, on the south side of the city, from Potrero Hill to like Sunnydale was considered one community."

She told me later how when her mother moved the family to Navy road in Hunter’s Point in 1954 from Double Rock, hers was the only one of two black families in the building. Walking down 3rd street today you’d be hard pressed to see anyone lighter than a brown paper bag chatting it up in front of the barber shop or waiting for the 44 MUNI bus on the corner. The land on which the housing projects now stand used to be covered with navel housing for families during World War II.

Cati told me that when the war was over, "the government got the housing authority going and the housing authority rented it to black folks who needed places and the more they moved in the more the other races moved out".

After 50 plus years the face of the neighborhood is scheduled to change again. The last major stronghold for African- Americans in San Francisco is headed towards extermination. In order to resist this housing crisis, Charlie Walker called a community meeting so that folks could be informed of the facts and motivated towards resisting the impending changes to the community. Within a matter of moments of listening to the speakers there in the Southeast Community Facility, it was clear to me that there are many more forces threatening the quality of life in BVHP than potential eviction notices. As one woman at the meeting exclaimed, "we needed to have this meeting a long time ago!".

Back in the northeast, my experience as a black woman with uncommon education opportunities isolated me from any community with which I could fully identify. The effect was silencing. I was afraid to claim solidarity with other black folks for fear of alienating myself from the mostly upper class mostly white folks who were my friends. And most black folks I met growing up rejected me because I "talked proper" and couldn’t dance.

This silence filled me like a balloon expanding with time. Last June I was about ready to explode. I could see the same balloon had exploded several times over throughout BayView Hunters Point, manifesting itself in violence, apathy, addiction and ultimately community fragmentation. The internal effects of institutionalized oppression have as great a mal-effect upon the well-being of the individual it effects as the institutions themselves. I would even argue that the effects of internal oppression are even more psychologically devastating, more permanently scaring.

Willie Ratcliff, publisher of the BayView National Black Newspaper, spoke at the community meeting about our need to "take control over our lives". "We have to make a demand!" He focused on the lack of control we have over our housing contracts, the loans we receive and the jobs we don’t have. He said we have to realize first that "we are not at odds with each other".

One of the many women who spoke during the meeting outlined how 17,939 families are on the waiting list for public housing and over 30,000 are waiting for section 8 assistance. Meanwhile a large number of houses along West Point on the hill are being boarded up and left abandoned. The irony of these statistics lies in the high level of toxicity that permeates the ground and pollutes the air all around housing projects in BayView Hunter’s Point and nearby Double Rock. Four out of ten of the children born in this community suffer some kind of birth defect. And it also has the highest number of cervical and breast cancer cases in the Bay Area. Living spaces built on top of landfill, next to the PG & E power plant and isolated by thick metal bars are the much needed housing tens of thousands of poor families are desperate to inhabit. I asked Ms. Okorie what she thought we needed to combat the intervention of these oppressive institutions on our lives.

"We need the power of the creator. We need the power of God… Bible says my people die from a lack of knowledge. They don’t have the knowledge of what is going on and what is happening to them and the what fors. If these kids had the knowledge, they would understand. They wouldn’t do a lot of what they’re doing…"

At the end of the community meeting, just after the closing benediction, a young man from the crowd who I later learned is an up and coming leader among the youth of the community raged against what he felt was the ageism silencing him from speaking in the meeting. His outburst was that balloon stretched to the limit and exploding with emotion. As he stormed out of the room still shouting his opposition the elders shook their heads in disappointment. They claimed the silencing was not intentional but a matter of limited time. However, it has been my experience that this division between the elders and the youth of the community is one of the most urgent least addressed challenges in our coming together. Without the guidance, affirmation and love of the village parents, our "village" of tomorrow will more likely resemble William Goldman’s Lord of the Flies rather than bell hook’s "Beloved Community".

"You cannot give up. That’s what the powers that be want us to do, give up. They want us to dislike these kids with the saggy pants. They want us to hate them. They want us to talk about them… But I refuse to do that. I was young myself… and remember - there are still some older people that we love today, they’ve passed on, but they stuck by us… and did not give up on the young".

I walked away from the community meeting with a feeling of resolve. Though divided, I felt the community is here. Looking for answers and encouraging one another to keep fighting. I had found the community I had come to the bay area to find. But the more I spoke with Ms. Okorie, the more I realized how easily impressed I am by a room full of tough talking black folks, and how far we have yet to go.

by Tiny

Brown paper leaves bounce against an asphalt sky

Send me your love…love..love…love…

I stumbled down my street in the heart of the Tenderloin last night. It was 1:30am and the street was soaked in that odd California-night-quiet. I had been searching for at least 20 minutes for a legal parking space, giving up only when I was too tired to look any longer and almost ran into a police car in the process. In the end, out of pure exhaustion I settled for the least conspicuous illegal space that I could find, silently computing the addition to my long list of community service "time" I already owed for previous tickets.

Send me your love…yeah yeah

As I walked further down the street I heard music…well it wasn’t music exactly – more like derivative electronic drum beat ala 90’s gym music reaching out of a very small radio speaker. At first I just heard it, a small smile creeping into the corners of my mouth, thinking it was really somehow floating through my mind, attached to a passing car or out of someone’s apartment window, and then I saw him

Fingers extend up- pushing wind and sky aside
Back bend…left leg extension…..back and then over…
Arms up up and then again ….fly….

A man moving his limbs through the cold, black night. With each thin strain of rhythm there was a sweep of pink flesh –barely visible- Back bend..right leg extension Up – step ball change…arms uP – up

When you’re walking in the sky heaven’s holding hands with me…..so you better learn to fly - I’m happy just to be…
..

I watched for only a second – my tired eyes feeling his pure unbridled hope if only for a second that everything is fixable if you can move to it… remembering my own ability to dance my way out of anything, eviction, homelessness, a bad day at the low-wage job – remembering that magical power of rythm itself as it rolls through your discouraged body – the rush of endorphins – the thrill of the crowd – tonite would be your night – everyone would be watching you –

…Step ball change Up Fly.

And then I saw them – the Florescent beams cutting through the darkness. The most dangerous kind of stage lights a dancer could feel -

I’m happy just to be……..the music continued to scream

Step ball change..curl…step UP…fly…..

But you know something just wasn’t right

The lights lingered too long – slicing his body in half, "POLICE – YOU NEED TO MOVE NOW , THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY" the machine-like voices boomed out of a black unmarked ford sedan

When you’re walking in the sky heaven’s holding hands with me…..so you better learn to fly - I’m happy just to be…

The lights moved into the small doorway of the abandoned office, encompassing the movement, squashing the hope, breaking the rhythm, covering the light

so you better learn to fly

by Joe B.

Dumb stuff happen sometimes for example making up arbitrary arguments to be hurtful and not knowing why even while your doing it.

Odd, how brains work because this stupid stunt I dreamed of Daniel Boone, Davy Crocket in buck skins and coonskin caps with long rifles in the crook of their arms.

Four children are between them three young boys and a girl.

Crocket say’s to Boone "We don’t time for this lets go."

Boone is talking with two tears in his eyes, his cheek smeared with blood.

I know one or both died defending the Alamo in Texas.

I’m thinking both men are frontier roaming free spirits ranging far from the taming of civilized living.

The children could represent past aspects still holding on as the two warriors safely guide them out of the settlement into the wild areas and I had a feeling that the children will be protected, nurtured, and are extremely safe their capable hands.

For me it means an ending and letting it go naturally not artificially speeding that end.

Today is the day before my birthday I will be 49 maybe its clinical depression, a dip in bio rhythm but whatever happened was uncalled for attack and when I heard a honey-butter sweet voice talking to someone on the phone it’s a signal to leave knowing the fool should leave no dignity at all.

Later the next night called, returned with food that couldn’t eaten and returned home what little repair tried with bad food offering its my inept way of apology.

It all it boils down to temporary insanity, less blood to the brain, or clinical depression.

There are reasons why men compartmentalized and now women now too.

Women’s Pineal Gland are larger than men possibly because of a woman’s more complex 28 day menstrual, pregnancy, and menopause cycles

At this point I believe People-kinds future doesn’t depend on women’s stronger bio/sociological or mentally balanced work in tandem brains or men’s logic, tool making, stronger bodies but a perfect blend both sexes.

Also through all the "S" orientations, you know ‘em all by now all are included isn’t it curious that all the "S-O"s are from only basic male and female.

both same sex males/women need each other’s embedded chromosomes from each female and male.

Unless through a blend of science and technology women and men can change into each others sex .(from an old science fiction book.

Only then will men know the power of a woman’s complexity of emotive landscapes life giving/taking/protecting.

Women can experience complex and simple ways men can just be power automatically a given or men with out power and how they can finally understand the pressures male go through forever losing their surety of false superior species as most men already have.

Oh, and as for the woman or man who so loathes Poor that they must email their bored hate of it there is for him/her–A kind of lonely purgatory half life.

Here is what PM wants for her/him. A long, loving, healthy life of joy. Bye.

by Tricia Ward/POOR Magazine Poverty Studies Intern

Christopher’s laughter and shrill yelps of joy echoed down the long hallway in my mother’s house. As he gleefully ran away from the porcelain confines of the bathtub, leaving wet footprints and a trail of suds on floor behind him, I sighed. What should have been a simple act of giving my 3-year-old nephew a bath had turned into a most complicated project. I picked up the tiny plastic boats and purple submarine that had been launched unceremoniously out of the tub, popped the cap back on the sweet-smelling baby shampoo that promised "no more tears", grabbed a fluffy towel from the towel rack and went to find my young charge.

There are no nautical bath toys or tear-free baby shampoo in the bathrooms at Mission High School where The Shower Project, run by the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), takes place every weekend. Walking down the dim corridor underneath the high school that leads to the gymnasium where the showers are, I’m struck by the realization that a simple concept could have such a huge impact. Some of the clients of the project are homeless, some have jobs, some live in residential hotels, but none of them have ready access to a shower on a regular basis. In the shower room at Mission High School, you won’t find scented bath gels, conditioner that gives fine hair unbelievable volume and control, or stacks of brightly colored, plush bath-sheet sized towels like the kind that fill the linen closet at my mother’s house. What you will find however, a is place where for a few hours each weekend, men and women who don’t have the luxury of being able to take a shower in their own private bathroom can come, and with no questions asked, and get themselves clean.

I don’t use the word ‘luxury’ lightly. Until I visited the Shower Project one Saturday afternoon, I didn’t realize what an extravagance that Christopher’s bath or even my own daily shower is.
The facilities at the school are nothing like the bathroom where my nephew holds court in my mother’s house; the lighting is harsh, the tile is ugly, there is no soft bath rug to step on so your feet don’t get cold after you bathe, but the showers work, they are functional, they allow people to be clean, at least one day a week. I stand in the hallway with the peeling brown and yellow paint waiting to speak to someone about the project. As they wait to shower, clients sit, mainly silent, along a row of fold-up chairs that line the hallway, clutching their borrowed towels and coffee cups. Everyone is patiently waiting their turn. After showering, most don’t hang around. Clothes are hurriedly put on, goodbyes are said to acquaintances, thank you’s are given to the volunteers and the men and women leave.

Most probably don’t feel welcome to linger. The area outside the school is an enclave of yuppie-ness in an otherwise rough Mission neighborhood. It’s bordered by cafes and coffee shops and the picturesque Dolores Park, which on this bright afternoon is filled with children, tennis players and sunbathers. Recently there was opposition from the surrounding community in regards to the shower project. Various neighborhood groups had been working to rid the area of drug dealers that hung around in the park and complained of littering and loitering that the Shower Project supposedly encouraged.

I asked L.S. Wilson of the Coalition on Homelessness why getting a shower is important to houseless folks, "Being clean is an exit to homelessness,"

I think about this statement and the opposition to the project as I speak to a young man named Dave who frequently comes to the shower project. "If I didn’t shower, who would hire me to paint?" Dave posed that question to after he had just freshly showered and with his dark hair combed back slick against his head looked like he should be sitting at a table among the families that were enjoying their weekend brunch at the café across the street. Although Dave has a job as a painter, he can’t afford the high rents in the city and lives out of his work van. He’s understanding of the neighbors’ apprehensiveness in having a group of strangers in their neighborhood, but without this project, he’d never be able to clean himself up and be hired to paint. If he didn’t paint, he wouldn’t be able to afford his van and would be completely on the streets. I wonder if the neighbors who object to the project would like it better if they had to step over him sleeping on their doorstep every morning?

One of the project volunteers, Cassandra, tells me what the MCC did in order to address the community complaints. A private security guard was hired to keep clients from wandering over to the park or lining up outside the school in view of the neighborhood residents while waiting of their turn to shower. A list of strict rules for clients written in both English and Spanish is posted on the double doors that lead to the showers. Clients who break any of the rules such as using profanity or fighting with other clients run the risk of not be able to take part in the program. The Saturday I was there volunteers and clients were patrolling the area outside the school building in search of litter and wayward debris, being careful to keep the place spic and span, probably cleaner than it usually is on an afternoon when school lets out. The volunteers and clients take this very seriously; the project was in danger of being shut down until last Tuesday. Fortunately in a small victory thanks to the lobbying efforts of the MCC, The Coalition On Homelessness and other groups, the project was able to renew its permit for at least one more year. Cassandra summarizes all of this matter-of-factly to me, without a hint of bitterness at the struggle the project has faced. She simply seems relieved that, for now, the project will continue.

Back I at my mother’s house, I was able to score my own victory as I corralled my protesting nephew and plunked him back into the bubble filled tub. As I finished the task of cleaning the indignant, squirming 3-year old, who would much rather remain dirty than waste precious playtime in the bath. I reflected on the fact he’s too young to even have any concept of what a privilege a bath can be.

by Mariluna/PNN Youth in the Media report

My first 72 horas.

Tue, 24 Jun 2003.

Wow!!!! Is the word of the moment…. I am living in Manila City in the district of Makati…. I stay in the Elizabeth home (which happens to be my sister name). This is a home for girls between the ages of 12-22 years old who have a common history of sexual exploitation, drugs, and physical, emotional, and sexual abuse… These girls are so sweet and beautiful and friendly. They are so respectful and all call me Ate Marissa (Ate means older sister) They have truly welcomed me into their family. During the day I work at SIBUHI, which is a rehabilitative arts center. They teach origami, Tae Kwondo, drawing, and other activities. I am going to be starting up the preschool there. I will be working on curriculum, lesson plans, designing the space, and training the other volunteers… It will open in mid july… I have already attended a Filipino University Baseball game. They had music while the whole game was playing, and the announcer was more like a DJ… I have spent much time with the youth and trying to learn more about them. The latest songs over here is called the "Spaghetti Song", which once you hear you will not be able to get out of your head. The radio over here plays Filipino music as well as American artists, and get all the latest songs.
Like Sean Paul, Jennifer Lopez, and other mainstream artists.

Things that are hard is eating. Since I am a vegetarian, I am constantly filling myself up with rice…I don’t know if this is good…. Also I miss you all…. It is very hard not being able to see anyone of you… I hold each of you deep in a special place in my heart, and cannot wait to see you all when I get back…. 55 days to go.

Week #1 in the Philippines

Wow, a week already passed by it feels like two weeks. I have done so much so far| I am getting to know the girls at Elizabeth home more and more| We joke and laugh, and they are constantly amazed that I am not married, engaged, or
basically attached to anyone. I tell them I am not worried about things of that nature, that I have my whole life to be with someone I wanna be with. Actually the majority of people here are surprised when I tell them No, I do not have a
boyfriend._* These girls have truly consumed my heart and soul. It will be so weird to leave when I have too. So, I have been to the shoe capital of the world. I took a picture of the worlds biggest shoe, which looks like a platform boot.

I also have visited Rizal Park. This is home to Jose Rizal’s body, and where he was killed off by the Spanish. (Side Note: Today is Philippine-Spanish Friendship day.) He is the most remembered national hero of the Philippines. I read the letter
he wrote before his death, Mi Ultimo Adios. It is very heart-jerking. I started shedding tears. I stood where he was shot by the Spaniards. I also rode a kalesa, which is a one-horse buggy. I rode this around Rizal park. If anyone one of you come to
the Philippines, you must go to Rizal Park.

I have also seen the Manila Hotel, former president Clinton stay here twice. I have also gone to the biggest mall in Las Filipinas. It is called Mega Mall. This mall closes everyday at Midnight. I have
been to four malls already since last Saturday. The Malls out here are way better than the states. Not only cuz it is usually cheaper, but there is so much to chose from. I have already met two relatives, and thank goodness one of them is a
vegetarian! So I got to eat more than just rice.

I notice that I am barely hungry over here, I am just always thirsty. My favorite thing to eat over here is pancit canton. It is like ramen noodles. I still miss everyone, and cant wait to see, talk, or
just plain email you all when I get back. Please keep sending me emails so what is going on over there, and what is going on with your lives. I love reading each one of them.

Well, I hope you recognize me when I do get back. Just look for the
girl with all the mosquito bites on her legs

Now I must go because I am at the cyber cafe and can spend only so much for internet|.but before this letra ends I will leave you with Jose Rizals last farewell, first the way he wrote it, and the translation in English..
Goodbye..for now!

Rain

Week #2

Wow, so its been two weeks already_|. So that means my vaccine shots are working, no more jet lag, and my body is basically adjusting to the weather. I can even stand the heat sometimes without a fan. Over here, its not summer, its basically
the rainy season_| It rains off and on_|. One thing I notice that is a difference between Filipinos and Americans is that we are scared of rain_|. How many times you see people running in the streets to get away from the rain_| How many times have you ran from the rain? It is not like that here in Manila_| People are playing basketball, taking showers in the rain, playing tag in streets, selling food, riding bikes_|. And also they are wearing sandals_|.

While this was happening I was
trying to get the girls inside the homes, but they were laughing at me because I was scared to get wet_|. In other news, I went to Patayas, which is in Quezon City, which is in Metro Manila_|. Patayas is a landfill dumping ground, basically a
mountain full of trash, and a whole community live on this trash their houses are made of trash and they walk on trash. They get their source of living from the trash. Their clothes, shoes, toys, whatever all comes from the landfill. I have never
seen poverty live this before_| It was crazy_| I feel very blessed for what I have_| The kids I worked with were the sweetest and also hungry. I helped served lunch and I never served like 30 to 40 kids in less than a few minutes_| I had to keep
repeating to the kids â_œla mesa_* (which means the table in Filipino), because they kept on getting up from their seats_|. I must have had said la mesa like fifty times_

|So I just happen to walk into a mall the other day, see I was getting off
the LRT (imagine a subway) and the train stop is at a mall, which is called Metropoint Mall (this is in Pasay City), go figure_|. Also on the LRT, they have a car that is designated only for women. The women can sit in the manas section
but the men cant sit in the womens’ section_|. I also have attended my first despedida party in the Philippines. This party celebrates someone leaving. One of our volunteers is leaving to China, so we had a despedida party in their honor.
It was lots of fun. There was lots of food, Karaoke, and dancing. We danced hip-hop and the cha-cha. The youth and kids all know how to C Walk (a dance in the states), they can actually dance better than most people I see at the clubs in the
States. Right now, the most popular American song is â_œIgnitionâ_* by R. Kelly. I am also getting to know Malate, Manila better;

I am taking more jeepneys (one of the main forms of public transportation here), walking around more, and speaking Filipino moreâ_|. Don’t worry though even though I am getting more comfortable with Manila, I still miss each one of you dearly. Even though it seems I am so far away from everyone, just look up at the sky and think of me,
because I always look up at the sky and think of all of you well until next week_|.

Don t ever give up. Pray. It works_" painted on the side of an overpass in Quezon City, while I was going to Payatas.

by Tiny/PNN

"For generations the owning class has been stealing from poor people, paying us wages that don’t afford rent, food, child care and healthcare…. A cool San Francisco breeze blew words around like leaves. My pen danced frantically on my notepad to capture each one of Steve Williams’ revolutionary utterances to my question on why he, Executive Director of POWER ( People Organized to Win Employment Rights,) a grassroots organization dedicated to getting rights for low and no wage workers was one of the sponsors of an attempt to raise San Francisco’s living wage from $$6.75 to 8.50 per hour

"This is a first step to stop that theft", he continued slower in deference to my snail –like shorthand, "and that theft has been perpetrated by downtown corporate interests whereas this effort was spearheaded by working class people of color in communities such as The Bayview, The Mission and Chinatown." I wondered as he spoke, his eyes igniting unseen sparks on the warm pavement in front of City Hall, if my endless string of low and no-wage jobs would have been affected by this legislation…

"Hey you, yeah you, we’re going to have cut the workforce in half and cause you’re new here, it will most likely be you that receives the ax" I had only been toiling at the bed factory placing the coils inside the second layer of each bed-to-be for two short months, counting up my meager almost salary,(6.00 per hour) when they found a reason to fire me. At first they tried to say I wasn’t productive enough, then they changed that to the old workforce problem, but none of these were really the issue. The only females who got to keep their jobs were the ones who agreed to date the oil-haired boss. I refused – so me and my sad self were out.

I took it all very personally and felt so hopeless, that I could barely drag myself, to the welfare office the next day only to be met with a sixteen page "work assessment test that asked me the same question about my career interests at least 50 times, after barely scanning my test my newly appointed worker gave me my career results, "Ms. Garcia, you need to think about a more serious career than journalism – that’s just not a viable job for someone like you.." I wasn’t sure why she insisted on shouting each time she said the word "job" and "you" but it was probably aimed at making me feel horrible, which I already did, so at least she was successful in her chosen vocation.

"Hey you, yeah you" It was two weeks later and this time I supposed I was hard at work at a more "viable" job for someone like me, collecting trash from the sidewalks of Oakland for my welfare check, "you’re not moving fast enough, we have to get out of here in ten" my workfare site supervisor didn’t like me very much, looking at me with that – "why are you such a bum?" look each time he spoke to me, or rather, at me.

After several more months of humiliation at the hands of welfare bosses and minimum wage jobs – I became a member of POWER which was one of the interventions that changed my life – helping me to understand the disempowerment of the low wage worker by the Capitalist system and the urgent necessity to resist it through organizing and struggle. The education I received at POWER and other grassroots organizations even encouraged my pursuit to do the so-named "unviable" journalism career.

"$6.75 is Not Enough !" The slogan for the minimum wage initiative which has collected over 20,000 signatures since its kickoff campaign two weeks ago is sponsored by a broad worker and community alliance base including such diverse organizations as The Young Workers Project, Mission Agenda, Acorn and Chinese Progressive Association and is part of a national movement for higher wages which has led to the passing of similar legislations in cities from New Mexico to New York and effectively works to send the message to the big bosses and corporations, that if you work you shouldn’t be poor. When employers are allowed to pay their workers less than a living wage, tax payers end up footing the bill, through food stamps, medi-cal and other emergency social services, and on the other hand, higher wages leads to lower absenteeism and higher productivity and when workers make more money they have more to spend on local small businesses.

"I know that 8.75 won’t be enough in San Francisco", James Collins, member of Mission Agenda was explaining his reasons for supporting the legislation in front of city Hall last week at the press conference announcing the submission of the signatures, "but it will help me with basic needs such as affording my rent and still being able to get a fast pass"

As Mr. Collins spoke, I remembered the last words uttered at me by my oily haired mattress boss before I left the building, " You know kid, you were lucky, we paid you ten cents more than most of the workers, and that’s only cause we thought you were cute" I said nothing at the time feeling truly powerless, now, as I left the living wage rally i yelled into the sky at his imaginary form " $6.75 is NOT enough...so there!"

by Mariluna/PNN Youth in the Media report

Por Jose Rizal (1896)

AdiÃ3s, Patria adorada, regiÃ3n del sol querida,

Perla del Mar de oriente, ¡nuestro perdido Edén!

A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,

Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más florida,

También por ti la diera, la diera por tu bien.

En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio

Otros te dan sus vidas sin dudas, sin pesar;

El sitio nada importa, ciprés, laurel o lirio,

Cadalso o campo abierto, combate o cruel martirio,

Lo mismo es si lo piden la Patria y el hogar.

Yo muero cuando veo que el cielo se colora

Y al fin anuncia el dÖa, tras lÃ3brego capuz;

Si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,

Vierte la sangre mÖa, derrámala en buen hora

Y dÃ3rela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,

Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,

Fueron el verte un dÖa, joya del Mar de oriente,

Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,

Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor.

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,

¡Salud! te grita el alma que pronto va a partir;

¡Salud! ah, que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,

Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,

Y en tu encantada tierra la Eternidad dormir.

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar un dÖa

Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,

Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mÖa,

Y sienta yo en mi frente, bajo la tumba frÖa,

De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave,

Deja que el alba envÖe su resplandor fugaz,

Deja gemir al viento con su murmullo grave,

Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave,

Deja que el ave entone su cántico de paz.

Deja que el sol, ardiendo, las lluvias evapore

Y al cielo tomen puras, con mi clamor en pos;

Deja que un ser amigo mi fin temprano llore

Y en las serenas tardes, cuando por mÖ alguien ore

Ora también, ¡oh, Patria, por mi descanso a Dios!

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura,

Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual,

Por nuestras pobres madres, que gimen su amargura;

Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura

Y ora por ti, que veas tu redenciÃ3n final.

Y cuando, en noche oscura, se envuelva el cementerio

Y solos sÃ3lo muertos queden velando allÖ,

No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio,

Tal vez acordes oigas de cÖtara o salterio,

Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos olvidada

No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,

Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,

Y mis cenizas, antes que vuelvan a la nada,

El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan a formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido.

Tu atmÃ3sfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré.

Vibrante y limpia nota sera para tu o–do,

Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido

Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fe.

Mi Patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,

Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adiÃ3s.

AhÖ te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.

Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores;

Donde la fe no mata, donde el que reina es Dios.

AdiÃ3s, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mÖa,

Amigos de la infancia, en el perdido hogar;

Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso dÖa;

AdiÒs, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegrÖa,

AdiÃ’s, queridos seres. Morir es descansar.

MY LAST FAREWELL(in English)


By Jose Rizal

Farewell, dear Motherland, clime of the sun caressed,

Pearl of the Orient seas, our Eden lost!

Gladly now I go to give thee this faded life's best,

And were it brighter, fresher, or more blest,

Still would I give it thee, nor count the cost.

On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of light,

Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed;

The place matters not - cypress or laurel or lily white,

Scaffold or open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight,

'Tis ever the same, to serve our home and country's need.

I die just when I see the dawn break,

Throught the gloom of night, to herald the day;

And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take,

Pour'd out at need for thy dear sake,

To dye with its crimson the waking ray.

My dreams, when life first opened to me,

My dreams, when the hopes of youth beat high,

Were to see thy lov'd face, O gem of the Orient sea.

From gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free;

No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eye.

Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,

All hail! cries the soul that is now to take flight;

All hail! And sweet it is for thee to expire,

To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire,

And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night.

If over my grave some day though seest grow,

In the grassy sod, a humble flower,

Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so,

While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb below

The touch of thy tenderness, thy breath's warm power.

Let the moon beam over me soft and serene,

Let the dawn shed over me its radiant flashes,

Let the wind with the sad lament over me keen;

and if on my cross a bird should be seen,

Let it trill there its hymn of peace to my ashes.

Let the sun draw the vapors up to the sky,

And heavenward in purity bear my tardy protest;

Let some kind soul o'er my untimely fate sigh,

And in the still evening a prayer be lifted on high

From thee, O my country, that in God I may rest.

Pray for all those that hapless have died,


For all who have suffered the unmeasur'd pain;

For our mothers that bitterly their woes have cried,

For widows and orphans, for captives by torture tried;

And then for thyself that redemption thou mayst gain.

And when the dark night wraps the graveyard around,

With only the dead in their vigil to see;

Break not my repose or the mystery profound,

And perchance thou mayst hear a sad hymn resound;

'This I, O my country, raising a song unto thee.

When even my grave is remembered no more,

Unmark'd by never a cross or a stone;

Let the plow sweep through it, the spade turn it o'er

That my ashes may carpet thy earthy floor,

Before into nothingness at last they are blown.

Then will oblivion bring to me no care;

As over thy vales and plains I sweep;

Throbbing and cleansed in thy space and air,

With color and light, with song and lament I fare,

Ever repeating the faith that I keep.

My Fatherland ador'd that sadness to my sorrow lends,

Beloved Filipinas, hear now my last goodbye!

I give thee all; parents and kindred and friends;

For I go where no slave before the oppressor bends,

Where faith can never kill, and God reigns e'er on high!

Farewell to you all, from my soul torn away,

Friends of my childhood in home dispossessed!

Give thanks that I rest from the wearisome day!

Farewell to thee, too, sweet friend that lightened my way;

Beloved creatures all, farewell! In death there is rest!