Story Archives 2009

From Leroy Moore

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

by Staff Writer

Paying Respect

(For Al Robles)


Shhhhhh listen with your heart

Brown Yellow, Red

voices of color

Rising us up from boxes

people put us in

Yes, I'm Black

feeling activist elders from all ethnic cultures


Combining communities

Through the arts

Black, Chicano, Asian, Native, Women Gay Arts Movements

From Manilatown to Motown

Homo-Hop to Krip-Hop


Koreatown, Chinatown to Chocolate City

Walking Down These Mean Streets

With Piri Tomas, Gil Scott Heron & Al Robles

Spoke political poetry

Real artists\activists


California Hotel residents learning from I Hotel legacy

Black elders strateg izing with Asian elders

Robles left a foundation

Of self-reliance

planting seeds that left POOR with homefullness

collective ownership

_______________________________


Peoples culture versus American medical system

Breaking up families

Kids in foster care

elders in nursing homes

Lost of kinship no wonder we die early

...........................................................

Folk lyrics of justice by Chris Lijima

Mixing with 2009 Hip-Hop by Blue Scholars

A Song For Ourselves

Burn Hollywood burn


As we write and film our stories


In post production for more than thirty years

No more ties to foundations that had ties to the economy of plantations

Untie the knots that keep our art and stories like

Manilatown Is In The Heart..

In endless production


Passing It On wrote Yuri Kochiyama

"Gave up dancing to become a revolutionary" said Bill Sorro

When Will The Time Come? Sang Bambu

Rapping with Ten Thousand Carabaos in the Dark with Uncle Al Robles


Ted Nakamura, Trinh Minh-ha, Raeshem Nijhon

Pointing their lenses on his/herstories for the big screen

Noemi Sohn, Mia Mingus mixing identity & politics of race, sex & disability

on paper in lecture halls and on protest lines

Grace Padaca serving her people and country in the Governor's Mansion


Aiming to be the first disabled woman president of the Philippines


The smells of San Francisco

Black-eye Peas, Burritos, Lumpia MMMMMMMM

Forms a cloud of aroma around the Bay

Dissolving boundaries following your nose

Into different neighborhoods


Meeting the real policy makers cultural workers

Uncle AL's' spirit will always be around Maniltown

Like the sounds of great jazz musicians

Echoing through the Fillmore at 2am

With Sakeone on the cheek cheek- turntables


Remember Richard Aoki, A field marshal for The Black Panther Party

Not your average Asian, donated first defend weapons for police patrols to the BPP

Afro-Asian, Latino-Cuban, Puerto-Rican Tribes, Afro-Haitians

Jessie Jackson didn't create the concept of the Rainbow coalition more like Fred Hampton


So I stand here in the oral tradition


Continue to learn from my elders

Beyond institutional walls

Paying respect to Al, Bill, Chris, Yuri ...

A rainbow of Revolutionary spirits in the sky going back home

By Leroy F. Moore Jr.

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The Journey through illness

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

by Staff Writer

The eyes are the window. The light talks first in little beams that grow into constellations. So much beauty in the gleam.

Last Wednesday Alfred opened his right eye. That evening Russell asked, "Do you want to go to Chinatown to get some tomato beef chow mein? No words, just one eye, reaching for the sound of his younger brother. Al closed his eyes. Russell asked, Do you want to leave the hospital and go home? He opened his one eye again. Clarity in the look.

The next day two eyes open.

says, Russell. What can I say?

Utopia, Alfred's loving niece says, Al is moving more muscles in his face, including his mouth. Words are never far away with Al. Never have been. Thoughts have already been spoken for, before the tongue becomes familiar.

Muscles move the body and draw the bone. A tingle becomes a twitch, becomes and little motion from here to there in centimeters. The fight against atrophy calls those who know the way. Cliff Young shows how to properly massage Al's hands and arms to increase blood flow to the limbs. Phyllis Wong is doing Reiki, bringing energy to Alfred's body. Atrophy does not stand a chance!

Family and friends stand firm.

The hospital staff say, He is improving... which is very encouraging, but the sweetness of the words comes with an after taste. The elephant is in the room with Al. The cost of healthcare is beginning to communicate, the way it does when it is hungry.

Al's sister, Theresa, has begun talks with the social worker and those in charge of patient care for the hospital. The question is when to move Alfred out of ICU? Already the money! Already the costs, but we all know this is the price of living in the world the way it is. The other side of recovery comes with accountants, as blood pressure becomes a line item and the journey back sees the landscape of our common dilemma: how much does it cost to heal?

Al will be moved from ICU in a couple of weeks. That is the plan and the tubes will not follow.

These are the days of recovery now, the days we have been waiting for.

People, community, friends, have been the strength for Al and family: help when needed, responding to the call, giving room, and sending love with words and prayers. Amazing. It is all so amazing.

Nancy Hom says, Al brings out the best in all of us, even when he sleeps.

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From Ellen Rae

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

by Staff Writer


Dear Uncle Al

I remember when

you was telling me stories

about the many manongs

and the carabaos

and fish soups

and singing

and the blondies

all traveling in the mish mash

memories

somewhere

like radio waves

invisible

at manilatown

and beyond.

they carry traces

of their history

and the tears

were the burden

of the futures

they were building

like the many seeds across

the American west

and floating across the

Pacific ocean.


Dear Uncle Al

thanks for the stories

you tell

to make sense of

the criss cross

mish mash lives of

young pinay plant

growing from roots

tangled

across different land masses

in the Pacific.

Ellen-Rae

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Waking Up in Hopi..From Pinay Kay

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

by Staff Writer


Waking Up in Hopi


In the physical world, we saw each other only twice.

Once when I was not awake.

Once when I woke up.

Now I never see you in the physical world.

But you are always there.

Do you remember when I woke up, there on the Mesa at Hopi?

How funny that I was to find the fish and the rice right there, on that Mesa in
Arizona

But why not,

You were by my side, you and Jayo, Lou and Eddie.

All of you Manongs were right there by me.

It was no wonder I woke up.


Now you are asleep, resting, taking a break,

But, you are awake even when you are asleep.


You are still laughing, I hear you laughing and being so funny


I hear you asking me if I am writing.

I tell you I am, but I don’t have a lot of time.

You ask me, “You go to the bathroom, don’t you? Just write on the toilet paper.”

You laugh.

I write.


It scares me Al, where you might go.

Then I remember, you are no going anywhere.

The fish and the rice are inside me,

The mandolin is inside me

My father is inside me

You are inside me.

That’s just how it is


I love you Manong, I love you.

Pinay Kay

Tags

From Lisa Gray-Garcia aka Tiny

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

by Staff Writer

SuperUncleAL - Super Tio Al-

By tiny aka Lisa gray-garcia

" we told them whatever they wanted to hear, Yknow right," his hands are branches - branches of bark and sand, and poder, his arms reach into skies and pull down moons and clouds from manilatown, frisco, to cebu...

"and then the suits from HUD came in, they wanted numbers and real estate and more numbers, yknow right?"


his mouth weaves stories of love and music and ritmo and indigenismo,

waves of blue

and clouds of light,

through his mind, his eyes, his sight,

silenced elders are heard when he speaks,

heard, loved and seen,

dreams are dreamed


drips of sweat from brows of workers become oceans of resistance

when he writes.

The People get might!

"manilatown had to happen, the ihotel had to be rebuilt , by any means necessary, yknow right?" uncle al's soft voice trailed off in the back of my hooptie landing next to the broke down toys, papers and tools forever stuck between the seats...


I never had an uncle - my African-irish-boriken-colonized unwanted mama dee
and me always wanted a family -

This just a dream til I was blessed to meet nephew tony -

And through him SuperAl-

superuncle - tio Super !

A revolutionary - a fighter - an elder to save all elders, - a poet to all Poets -

An organic intellectual

A branch of a tree -

Rooted - saving- holding -

embodies all that people just say

but never know

embodies all that is...

Community


Now temporary felled by corporate medical industrial complex - a flu shot perhaps -

A corporate fix that has harmed so many elders in our

Community


But he is supertio-Superuncle

for me and mi hijo tiburcio

family, poetry, strength ,

everything possible,


So waiting for him to heal

everything is slightly less important

everyones voice is slightly quieted

every fight is humming -

every lover is waiting-

every voice is whispering -

cuz frico's fight is on the 3rd floor of Kaiser hooked up to a ventilator

and so we wait

we dream of when we will hear your words of change - of love -

feel your hands holding up the skies

the moon beams from your eyes-


we all wait -

for Kaiser

to open the metaphorical gate -

release the backbone of maniltown -

superuncle al the Great!

Tags

Esas Personas!/Those People!

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

El Condado de West Contra Costa niega cuidado de salud a 5000 migrantes
West Contra Costa County denies health care to 5000 migrants

El Condado de West Contra Costa niega cuidado de salud a 5000 migrantes
West Contra Costa County denies health care to 5000 migrants

 
 

by Gloria Esteva/PNN Voces de Inmigrantes en resistencia

Scroll down for English

Otro golpe en contra de nuestra comunidad immigrante donde la gente fueron negados servicios de salud en el condado de Contra Costa. Es vergonzoso que en un pais con tanta riqueza, el derecho de recuperar nuestra salud es robada. A los politicos se les olvida que nosotros tambien pagamos impuestos, y nuestra precencia en este pais contribuye a la economia. Toda migracion es forsada por la pobresa, dado a las intervenciones y robo en nuestros paises.

La mayoria the los immigrantes usan clinicas medicas para lidiar con problemas muy serios. Es inhumano que personas no puedan obtener ayuda medica porque esto implicara que muchos de los trabajadores no podrian terminar su trabajo. Sin attencion, unos de estos problemas medicos podrian provocar una muerte. La falta de cuidado medico impacta a los adultos que tratan de sostener sus familias aqui, y en sus paises natal. Los efectos de una accíon tan cruel, siempre cae mas fuerte sobre los niños. Cuando se dejan sin el cuidado de los parientes o familia, son victimas de abuso, y muchos terminan en pandillas.

Ni siquiera en paises pobres es tan evidente tanta falta de respeto a contra de la vida de los pobres, por lo menos hay clinicas que son gratis. Es triste observar que en este pais, los perros tienen mejores vidas, tienen hospitales, hoteles, restaurantes y comen mejores que los hijos de los immigrantes.

Yo quisiera que por lo menos nos consideren como seres, con el derecho a la salud, y por este punto tomar una decision humanitaria. Por qué no, si nosotros generamos tanta producción y riqueza! Nosotros somos la base de la mercaderia encontrada en este pais. Por qué nos niegan la oportunidad de permanecer saludables y sobrevivir a lado de nuestras familias? Somos la clase mas exploitados y menos pagados por nuestro labor. La mayoria de nosotros tiene el salario minimo que nos impede tener suficiente para obtener cuidado medico privado.

“Es mejor prevenir que lamentar.” Es menos caro prevenir una enfermedad al principio, de un punto de vista economico; se necesita mas dinero en emergencias. Hace unos meses, yo tuve una experiencia donde tuve una complicacion de salud y por razones de trabajo y para no abandonar mi familia, pare de ir a los servicios medicos.

Como resultado, un dia me encontre en la sala de emergencia, con mucho dolor y una fibre muy alta. Por no tener aseguransa medica, me sacaron del hospital en la misma forma que entre, con fiebre alta y pastillas para el dolor. Me dijieron que porque mi vida no estaba a riesgo, no era necesario que me quedara en el hospital. La fiebre y una fatiga inmensa se quedo en mi cuerpo por un mes entero. En ese tiempo, yo recibi una cuenta de $17, 000.00, que yo no puedo pagar desde que yo no gano tanto, ni por todo el año.

Ojalá la comunidad de Contra Costa, no dara otro golpe en contra de los trabajadores mas pobres y exploitados del pais. Ojalá la comunidad propulsa la riqueza del tratamiento justo hacia los seres humanos.

Recuerdensé que 5,500 adultos son responsables en sostener sus familias y es cruel que no puedan recibir cuidado prevenido medico.

Termino este articulo haciendo una llamada a todas las personas que todavia mantienen sensitividad hacia las personas, sobre todo, quienes creen y defienden la justicia. AYUDANOS para seguir sobreviviendo! Si 5,500 personas se enferman, quien hará sus trabajos?

Ingles sigue

 

Another blow against our immigrant community as people are denied health care in Contra Costa County. It’s shameful that in a country so wealthy, the right to recover our health is taken away. Those people, (Politicians), forget that we also pay taxes and our presence, (cheap labor) in this country contributes to the economy. All migration is forced by poverty, due to interventions and theft in our countries.

The majority of immigrants use medical clinics to deal with very serious problems. It’s inhumane that people cannot obtain medical help because this would imply that many workers wouldn’t be able to complete a job. If not attended, some of these medical problems could provoke one’s death. The lack of medical care impacts adults that are trying to sustain families here, and in their home country. The effects of an act so cruel will always fall hardest on the children. When they are left without the care of their parents or families, they are victims of abuse, and many end up joining gangs.

Not even in poor countries is it so evident such lack of respect against people’s lives, at the very least there are free medical clinics. It’s sad to observe that in this country dogs have better lives, they have hospitals, hotels, restaurants and they eat better than the children of immigrants.

I want that we are at least considered beings with the right to health and from this point take a humanitarian decision. Why not, since we generate so much production and wealth! We are the basis of the commodity found in this country. Why do they deny us that opportunity to remain healthy and survive with our families? We are the most exploited class and least paid for our labor. The majority of us have the most minimum salary which impedes us from having a sufficient economy, (enough), to obtain private health care.

“It’s better to prevent than to lament”. It is less expensive to prevent illnesses at their worst stage, from an economic point of view; you need more money in emergencies. A few months ago, I had the experience of having a health complication and for reasons of work and to not neglect mi family, I stopped going to services that provided preventive help.

As a result, one day I found myself in an emergency waiting room, with a lot of pain and very high fever. For not having medical, they removed me from the hospital just the same as I had entered, with a very high fever and pills for the pain. I was told that since my life was not at risk, it was not necessary that I stay in the hospital. The fever and an absolute fatigue remained with me for an entire month. In that interval of time I received a bill for $17,000.00, which I cannot pay since I do not have I do not earn that much, not even in a whole year.

Hopefully the community, (in Contra Costa?), does not put up with another blow against the most poorest and exploited of workers of this country. Hopefully the community propels the richness of fair treatment towards human beings.

Remember that 5,500 adults are responsible for sustaining their families and it is cruel that they cannot receive preventative health care.

I end this article by making a call out to all people who still maintain sensibility towards people, above all, who believe in and defend justice. HELP US to continue surviving! If 5,500 become ill, who will do their work?

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Mujer, estas invadiendo mi propiedad/Woman, you are invading my property

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

Savia de Trabajo y Migracion sobre Que es Trabajo en Amerikkka
Worker and Migrant Scholar on What is Work in Amerikkka

Savia de Trabajo y Migracion sobre Que es Trabajo en Amerikkka
Worker and Migrant Scholar on What is Work in Amerikkka

 
 

by Teresa Molina/PNN Voces de Inmigrantes en resistencia

Scroll down for English

Yo soy Teresa, mujer trabajadora y mama de 5 hijos. Reportera de la Prensa Pobre.

Yo pienso que reciclar es un trabajo desente. Y no se tiene que abergonsarse en hacerlo. Yo se que es un trabajo sucio porque uno tiene que separar la basura y el recicle. Pero despues de terminar, uno toma un bano y vuelbe a estar limpio y presentable. Porque la gente piensa de esa manera. Si solo estamos buscando la manera de sobrevivir.

Llege a un callejon, las casas eran muy bonitas, casas muy limpias. Sus colores eran unos colores rosadas, otros verdes. Se podia reconoser que aqui vivian gente rica. El olor de sus casas era un olor agradable como las rosas de sus jardines, olor a jasmin. Mire al rededor, buscando un letrero de propiedad privada, por que yo nunca entro a propiedad privada, y no mire el letrero de propiedad privada. Empese a reciclar sacando la basura del bote negro. Separando aluminio, plastico, y vidrio, es un trabajo muy pesado. Pero yo se que reciclar de los botes azules es penado porque es como que estoy robando a la ciudad. Yo respeto eso, nunca reciclo de los botes azules y tampoco entro a propiedad privada.

De repente que me grita un hombre, “Mujer estas inbadiendo mi propiedad!” Desde su ventana gritaba como loco. Yo estaba como a 10 metros de distancia de su casa y tres pisos abajo, pero el seguia gritando.Yo no le hacia caso porque yo no estaba haciendo nada malo, nada de que avergonsarme.

Me grito, “Llame a la policia para que te arresten!” En ese momento yo senti mucho miedo. Empeze a temblar, mi corazon latia aseleradamente como si se quisiera salir de mi cuerpo.

El hombre bajo las gradas, se acerco a mi cara y me dijo furiosamente, “Largate de aqui!” Saco su telefone y me tomo fotos con su celular como que si yo fuera un animal. Me senti amenasada, acosada , y descriminada sin razon.

No estaba haciendo nada ilegal. Yo reciclo por que es un trabajo para mi, es una de las maneras como yo pongo comida en la mesa para mi familia, es parte de mi strategia economica como una madre inmigrante de cinco ninos.

El jueves 5 de marzo yo, Tiny, gloria, y otros amigos de POOR Magazine nos acompanaron para ver una pelicula en la ciudad de Oakland. Pensabamos que ibamos a ver una pelicula que se trataba de como la gente se mata reciclando para sacar unos cuantos pesos para sobrevivir, de cualquiera manera posible, separando basura y resiclaje selecinando, de como plastico, vidrio, y aluminio todos se tiene que separar cargar en bolsas hasta el centro de reciclage. Pero, la pelicula solo se trataba de un hombre y una mujer.

La pelicula los sigio toda la noche caminando y tratando de trabajar en el recicle, pero, yo no escuche nada de lo que yo queria escuchar. Le pregunte a Tiny Lisa Gray-Garcia, que era el punto de la pelicula, y ella me dijo, “Esta pelicula no fue hecha por uno de nosotros. Solamente una vez oyi la voz de la senora reconociendo que recyclando es trabajo.” Eso es lo que yo queria oir, eso es de lo que la pelicula se deberia enfocar.

Lo que nosotros hacemos es trabajo, y debe ser conciderado trabajo por toda la socied. Otra cosa que me entere sobre la pelicula que no me gusto, que el director agarro todo el dinero que fue donado para la produccion de la pelicula, los participantes no recibieron nada. La pelicula no tenia nada de beneficio para nosotros.

No tenia un mensaje que nos reconoce a los recycladores como trabajadores y la riqueza que se va ganar con esta pelicula no va ayudar economicamente a esos que lo necesitan.

Aqui en la Prensa Pobre todos creemos que el resiclar es untrabajo desente y digno, por lo tanto demandamos respeto porque solo nosotros, los pobres, hacemos esa clase de trabajo. Nosotros solo buscamos maneras de sobrevivir humildemente por causa de la pobresa que causa este paiz de algunos demaziados ricos, y la mayoria de nosotros muriendo del hambre.

De la manera en que nos sierran todas las puertas y oportunidades de trabajo, es ridiculo pensar que tambien nos quieren quitar la unica fuente de trabajo que nos queda. Yo pienso que eso es un abuso a los derechos humanos y es importante que nosotros nos unamos y luchemos contra estas injusticias.

Ingles sigue

 

I am Teresa, working-class woman, and mother of 5 children. Reporter for POOR Magazine.

I believe that recycling is a descent job and there is no reason to be ashamed in doing so. I know that it is a dirty job, because you have to separate recycable products from the trash. However, after that one just takes a shower and is once again presentable. Why do people think otherwise, if we are just trying to make a living.

I arrived to an alley, the houses were very beautiful and clean. Some of them were pink and others were green. It was obvious that rich people lived in these houses. The smell of their home was a pleasant fragrance, like the roses in their gardens, the fragrance of jasmine flowers. I looked around for a “private property” sign, because I never trespass private property, and I did not see any sign. I began to recycle, taking out the trash from the black bin. Seperating aluminum, plastic, and glass is a tough job. Yet, I know that recycling from the blue bins is prohibited because it is like stealing from the city. I respect that, and I never recycle from the blue bins or enter into private property.

All of a sudden a man screams at me, “Woman, your invading my property!”, yelling from his window like crazy. I was about 10 meters from his home, and three floors down, but he kept on screaming. I did not pay attention to him because I was not doing anything wrong and nothing to be ashamed.

He yelled, “I called the police, so that they can arrest you!” At that moment I felt a lot of fear. I began to tremble, and my heart began to beat faster, as if it was going to come out of my body.

The man began to come down his stairs, he came up to my face, and furiously said, “Get out of here!” He took out his phone and began to take pictures of me, as if I were an animal. I felt threatened, assaulted, and discriminated for no reason.

I was not doing anything illegal. I recycle because it is a job for me, it is one of the ways I get food on the table for my family; it is part of my economic strategy as an immigrant mother of five children.

On Thursday, March 5, Tiny, Gloria, other friends of POOR Magazine, and I gathered in Oakland to watch a film. We thought that we were going to watch a film about how some people struggle to recycle to get a couple of scents in order to survive. At all costs, these people separate the trash, recycling plastics, glass, and aluminum, which all need to be seperated, then carried in bags to the recycling center. However, the film was just about a man and a woman; it followed them throughout the night as they walked and tried to work doing recycling.

I did not hear anything I was expecting to hear. I asked Tiny aka Lisa Gray-Garcia, what was the point of the film, and she told me, “This film was not made by one of us. I only heard once the voice of the woman recognizing recycling as work.” This is what I wanted to hear, that is what the film needed to have focused on. What we do is work, and it should be recognized as such by all of society. Another thing that I found out that I did not like, was that the director received all the money that was donated for the production of the film, the participants received nothing.

The film had no benefit to us; it had no message about recognizing people who recycle as workers, and the money this film will get will not help economically to those who need it.

Here at POOR Magazine we all believe that recycling is a descent and dignified job, and for this reason we demand respect because only we, the poor, do this kind of job. We are only looking for a way to survive with humility do to the poverty this country causes. A country where there are some who are too rich, and the rest of us are dying of hunger. The way in which they shut all the doors and opportunities for a job. It is ridiculous to think that they also want to take our only source of work that we have left. I believe that this is a violation of our human rights and it is important that we unite and fight against these injustices.

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Uncle Al's Biography - By Tony Robles

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

by Tony Robles

Manong Al

Born in Fillmore Street dreams

Born in a pot of a adobo

Born in a bowl of fish and rice

Born in a river of patis

Born in tomatoes and chili

Born in a plateful of jazz

Born in sweet potato pie

Born with getas on his carabao feet

Born with ghettos in his black/brown

Brown/black mind

Born sucking fingers stained

With bagoong

Born in Sorsogon dreams in

His mother’s mud fish eyes

Born in his father’s

Fighting fists

Born in mud-caked

Bulosan Shoes

Born in Santos’ broken

Exile heart

Born in Miyasawa’s sad snow

Born in Ryokan’s broken tea pot

Born with black and brown

Soy sauce rivers on his tongue

Born with carabao mud

On his skin

Born in the alley with

Sorro

Campos

Ricaw

Punzal

Delfino

Villa

Rendon

Palapas

Born in the orchards

And in the campo

And in the rivers

And in the mud

And in fish tales

Swirling around

His Pilipino mind

Born sucking

Tomato beef chow

Mein at Soo Chows

On Post Street

Born in the rain

Of 10 thousand

Rice cakes inside the

Window at Benkyodo

In J-Town

Born on Trains carrying

Issei and Nisei to

Manzanar

Poston

Heart Mountain

Tule Lake

Amache

Jerome

Topaz

Minidoka

Rohwer

Gila River

Born on Pine

Ridge with

A red Lakota

Face

Born on Tatami

Mats riddled with

Cat dung and in

Sakurai’s mind

Crawling with roaches

Born in vacant

Fillmore lots

On door steps with

Musicians, pimps,

Artists, poets and

Prostitutes who’d

Ask: How’s your mama?

Born in Fillmore

Pressing poems between

White langendorf bread

Squeezing it into a

Ball, throwing it at

Nob Hill windows

Born holding a brown

Paper bag with a tape

Recorder collecting

Manong tears and manong

Rivers and manong eyes

And manong tongues

And manong hearts and

A thousand bursting manong

Suns

Born in the hollow

Of Mary Tall Mountain’s

Whale bone poems

Sharing bowls

Of good grease

(good good grease)

Born in Waipahu lava faces

Born in banana leaf dreams

Born in the strumming ukelele heart

Born in a humming banyan tree embrace

Born in the sakada’s bolo

Born in the Kali dance

Born in the Kris knife sky

Born with hands

That cry

Pilipino Ako!

Pilipino Ako!

Pilipino Ako!

Born on

Fillmore Street

Ifugao Mountain

J-Town

Nihomachi

Mission Street
South of Market

The I-Hotel

Manong Al,

Born in the

Faces of 10 thousand

Children

Born in a pot

Of adobo

Child of

10 thousand

Manongs!

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Transforming Philanthropy into Revolutionary Giving

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

..and Dismantle the Non-Profit Industrial Complex..!

by Lisa Gray-Garcia aka Tiny

I just wonder what part of Re-thinking he didnt understand.. . I began reading an op-ed entitled Re-Thinking philanthropy by William F. Shultz published recently in the American Forum. From a quick e-glance at the subject line I was filled with excitement, imagining a critique of the rooted in slave/master hierarchy-becoming-seeds-of the non-profit-industrial complex- crabs in a barrel -system that-non-profit organizations barely survive on and compete with each other over crumbs for. But alas, no, I would be sadly disappointed as I read on.. seeing only a vague questioning of non-profit organizations who receive public money but don't provide health care to their workers.

The lofty title and the barely challenging thoughts left me wondering what part of re-thinking didn't Schultz understand. Isnt the notion of "re" anything imply that you will be asking the hard questions like, who gets access to wealth, how wealth and the earths' resources were stolen from the original stewards of the earth only to be controlled and disseminated by folks who have nothing to do with its labor force, its gardens, its oceans, its resources. How development is never led by countries and peoples called developing . How planning, dreaming, conceptualizing and strategic planning of money is done by poor folks throughout the centuries but that knowledge, those dreams, that scholarship is never valued for the complicated work that it is but rather is seen as unimportant only because the folks doing the strategic plans, the schedules, the budgets, the work-plans are working poor mamaz and daddyz, abuelitas and aunties and uncles.

During the first 200 years of the theft of indigenous peoples land, destruction of resources, and death of peoples and communities known as European colonization in the US the missionary ideals and practices of Christian Charity were replaced by the capitalist and patriarchal pattern of philanthropy. One of the earliest examples of philanthropists were benevolent slave-owners who took care of their slaves. From that frightening template of patriarchal domination, philanthropy was implemented by corporate moguls like John D. Rockefeller, Leland Stanford and Andrew Carnegie who used the process of giving away their money to appear as though they were caring about people, rather than just making profit while they sponsored, launched well-funded studies, endowments and created fellowships, grants and entire institutions around Eugenics, a terrifying fascist and racist pseudoscience created on so-called racial purity, eventually adopted by Hitler to rationalize the Nazi beliefs and practices of murdering Jewish peoples and disabled folks.

Philanthropy is only a tool,

But of course you cant blame philanthropy, after all its rooted in Euro-centric, Western values of capitalism which promote, demand and rely on separation, ageism, individualism, and self-determination to produce an ongoing supply of consumers, isolated, separated from their families consuming new couches, new cars, a separate set of silverware and dishes, not to mention apartments and houses. These values directly impact the programming decisions and priorities of an organizations development, transforming the agendas of well-meaning and sometimes even revolutionary organizations rooted in poor communities of color into programs that perpetuate rigidity and harm on indigenous, multi-generational, care-giving communities.

The results of these values impact on organizations include the creation of youth only programming for indigenous youth whose cultures value eldership and family, even to the harming of a communities cultural deep structure or the complete separation and de-linking of naturally linked cross-movements such as an organization working for tenants rights and organizations working to advocate for homeless families and children. These values also lay the groundwork for the punitive systems of harm perpetrated by the non-profit industrial complex.

In another emulation of capitalist values driving non-profit funding the same way as market shares determine the for-profit market-driven world; non-profit organizations are forced to pursue funding led by that years sexy initiatives. On more than one occasion at what I call a step and fetch it grant interview where the grantor decides whether you, the grantee's issue or project, is important enough to fund, I have heard the word sexy actually used to describe, poverty, disability, domestic violence, homelessness and global development. This process has only worsened due to the economic downturn. Large foundations are using the excuse of the downturn to fund even less, demand even more and widen the gap between communities in poverty leadership and who drives development decision-making.

So what would it look like to re-define development and fundraising? To practice what we at POOR Magazine call Revolutionary Giving. It would begin with the recognition that just because people have money, have inherited money, or have access to money and connections that they inherently have knowledge to distribute that money. Further, to understand that people who have struggled to raise children in poverty, take care of elders, keep multiple low-wage jobs or navigate multiple systems like welfare, education, social security and/or project housing, in fact hold a deep scholarship about the use and distribution of resources. Similarly, that values of caring, interdependence and eldership as defined by indigenous folks and folk of color arent just nice ideas but actually need to drive the core values of organizational development and funding initiatives for poor communities of color. Finally, to even consider a new form of philanthropy and giving, it must be cleansed of its eugenicist, racist past and redefined as a form of reparations that centers giving within the concept of reparations and the redistribution of the wealth, resources and land that was stolen from indigenous communities and poor communities of color locally and globally. The people who in the beginning of time were the stewards of the now very sick earth, who remain invested in its thrival and growth and who survive directly on its gifts and harvests.

Lisa Gray-Garcia aka tiny is a poverty scholar, welfareQUEEN, revolutionary journalist and the author of Criminal of Poverty Growing Up Homeless in America. She co-founded POOR Magazine/PoorNewsNetwork with her mama dee. For more information about the upcoming Revolutionary Change Session: Crumbling the Myth of the Gift, Deconstructing Donor Denial and Dismantling the Non-Profit Industrial Complex .. One Outcome at a Time go on-line to RPMJ Program Seminar

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Nuclear Waste on Ancestral Lands

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

Indigenous Holy Lands Nuked by the US Government

by Bruce Allison and Thorton Kimes

I arrived at the Mexican Consulate in San Francisco on Folsom and 1st Streets, at 3p.m. College students, Mexican citizens, folks from Green Action, United Native Americans, and this poverty scholar were there to focus attention on a problem (which is putting it politely) that has generated plenty of heat in this country and is now making more south of the Arizona border nuclear waste and where to put it.

Yucca Mountain nuclear waste facility is full, and long story short the U.S. government made an agreement with the Mexican government to have American nuclear waste stored under Mexican soil. Shipped through Arizona to the northern Mexican state of Sonora, the waste is sent 100 miles south of Arizona (200 miles from Yuma) to the ancestral lands of the Tohono O'odham People, which were turned into a reservation split between the U.S. and Mexico.

The Tohono O'odham voted against accepting the nuclear waste twice, but the Mexican government liked the money it was going to get for saying Yes a bit too much, so the No votes were ignored. The waste is being stored near a spring, the source of a lake, according to a member of Green Action, the people don't bathe with or drink the water�-not because of the nuclear waste but because they�ve always regarded it as holy. Very holy.

The Director of Green Action said, "The protest was in several cities, including Phoenix, AZ, where the Mexican Consulate was locked because so many people were outside because of this issue."

This poverty scholar was at the front of the march, holding a banner for United Native Americans with my friend Juana. It felt strange for me, a man so white I make a snowman look black, but I also felt honored. We marched down Folsom Street, colonizing one lane of traffic. It was a bit nerve-wracking to be holding the banner with cars approaching.

We turned down one of SOMA's (South of Market Street neighborhood) many alleys, called Hawthorne Street, in front of the EPA, Homeland Security guarding the place, and had a rally there too. A woman from PODER spoke, saying that the Tohono O'odham have lived on their lands since before Europeans arrived on the continent.

This poverty scholar spoke when the mic was passed around. I apologized for my people�-as one who does not believe in the carpenter from Nazareth, saying that the dumping of nuclear waste near the holy waters is like peeing on the pews in a church.

We promised to return to pester the Mexican consulate and the EPA if this matter is not resolved and the desires of the Tohono O'odham are not respected.

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