Story Archives

by tiny gray-garcia & tony robles

A Beautiful Friend, organizer, artist and uncle to all- this is a poem in his honor...

"Aqui estamos ..y no nos vamos"...BOOM-BOp- a BOOM, step-ball-change...

"I bet some more white folks just moved in here... " … BOOM -Bop- A-BOOM- step ball change…

His eyes, pools of spirit and truth.. dancing with irony… through marchas, protests, evictions, and community resistance, spoke to me, danced through me.. – with words so clear they jumped on and through t

he chants around us… as they gazed at another gentrification palace on calle de 24 y Florida y Cesar Chavez y Mission

Chants of resistance, moving to drum beats, of culture and color who would not be moved by colonizers dressed like machines- with names filled with Dots, and so much Come-on

"The mission will not be colonized, but the resistance will be televised, if I can help it" ....

step two – ball change – boom – bop a boom…

He shook his head and smiled back at me – the eyes – like clear round lakes from other lands- filled with so much love- danced back, "you go tiny!"

Elder, Manong, father, abuelo, leader, resistor , dancer, artist,

Bill is still alive...through us all... dancing through
us...the seeds. of Manilatown and the seeds of The Mission and Fillmore.

Boom-bop-a-boom.. step- ball -change…

by Peter Kenichi Yamamoto

What would Bill want us to say of his life? That he wasn’t larger than life but that he WAS life itself. As a devoted father and husband, a comrade and friend, a Brother, Bill was of and for “everyday people”. Bill was ALIVE and he provoked you to take part in being human. Bill cared genuinely about people. He laughed easily WITH people and not AT them. He questioned how people were doing and pointed out WHY things were the way they were.

Bill was always teaching about life in a simple and direct way. He was understandable yet he was deep. He saw things exactly as they were with an added dimension of humanness. Bill saw the warmth and the frailty of our individual lives but he wasn’t weak. He was strong and he fought like a tiger for the people he knew and loved. And who did he love? Not only his own Filipino community but also all Asians of the greater community and the African American and the Latino community. Bill was “just folks” and was OF and BY working people. When you thought of neighborhoods and communities you thought of Bill. Not stuck up or a snob, he was approachable. He came forward and MET you. Bill was contact and meeting. He was discussion and collaboration. Bill was THERE.

I remember speaking on a panel with Bill and Al Robles in front of Steve Nakajo’s college social work class about the International Hotel. Bill taught and demonstrated to the young students how the I-Hotel was part of the political movements sweeping the country in the late 1960’s and the 1970’s. He spoke of how the elderly Filipinos, the Manongs, quote “drew a line in the sand and refused to be pushed any further” unquote. They fought for the rights of elderly Filipino working people, housing rights and the very survival of Manilatown on Kearny Street. They were known and supported not only city-wide but nationally and internationally. Bill drew connections between the civil rights movement—the movement for Black Liberation and the I-Hotel. He also drew the connection between the tremendous anti-war in Vietnam movement and the struggle of the I-Hotel. He saw the whole picture.

After an activity in the community Bill and the gang would go out and eat in Chinatown. I remember him sometimes ending up at Woey Loey Goey to chow down. Food was no small thing for him. Bill was a lover of life.

I also remember traveling down to the Manzanar Pilgrimage with Bill, Al Robles, Bob Rosario, Tony Robles and Shirley Anacheta in a rented car. The car CD player was playing Curtis Mayfield, Nobuko Miyamoto and Sarah Vaughan as we drove the miles away.

We traveled along the winding American River and through South Lake Tahoe. We laughed and joked and reminisced about the old days. Bill and I would talk about how we just didn’t like George Bush. It was a personal dislike. Too many people were being hurt by him. And it was the SYSTEM. We talked about how we would be addressing all our problems if we had Socialism instead of the rotten Capitalism we live in.

Then on down Highway 395 to Manzanar. We stayed up late at the motel in Lone Pine laying in the all-night heated whirpool. Then we all did Tai Chi together in the desert before going to the Manzanar ceremony with folks like Sue Embrey and “Mo” Nishida. On the day we left we bathed in the natural hot springs just off the highway near Independence. Then we stopped overnight at South Lake Tahoe, played a little slots and ate at the buffet.

Bill and Al Robles and I also went on the Tule Lake Pilgrimage. The internment of Japanese during World War II was an episode that Bill was very aware of. He was an internationalist. On the bus ride from the Bay Area we rapped, snoozed and watched the videos about the Concentration Camps and the Japanese American experience.

Bill was quick and incisive. He really was a gentle guy. He was relaxed and lay-back but he was also alert and with bright-eyes and light on his feet: both literally and figuratively. He was quick and his comments and his observations were right there.

Bill understood the individual character of all our different racially and nationally oppressed peoples from the belly-up. He understood the music and the rhythms of life and the people. He understood that the fight for internationalism was key to the liberation of the oppressed people. Bill was an activist. He was always active in the community and worked in the ironworkers union and on housing issues. Bill was a Marxist. He was a Socialist. We shouldn’t be afraid to say that.

He was a revolutionary. I say that with the greatest respect and fondness because it is term that I don’t apply to just anyone. If anyone had “vision”, Bill had it.

Losing Bill shouldn’t freeze us into immobility, rather we should see his example as a light to guide us in this beautiful struggle we call life. “Goodbye” dear Brother and comrade!

by Peter Kenichi Yamamoto

Brother Bill,

Your spirit soars onward,

Dancing on strong agile footsteps.

Through the Western Addition, through Kearny St. South of Market

Bernal, the Mission and the Phillippines.

Organizer of the International Hotel,

Protector and guide of the Manongs then.

Now a manong yourself--

Ironworker and housing activist.

Patriarch of the Sorro clan

Loving husband of Huli,

Proud father of Giulio, Joachin, Desu,

Daphne, Django, two stepchildren and ten grandchildren.

A father’s tawny love and mellow wonder

You felt for all living working and everyday people.

Your family extended far beyond the limits of your blood-line.

Bill wasn’t simple, wasn’t complex

But real, solid and RIGHT THERE.

He wasn’t “in your face”—

And yet he WAS “in your face”.

Always expressive and appreciative

Of the life around you.

At the Tule Lake Pilgrimage

I remember Bill and Al Robles sitting side by side

Brown faces bent over piano keys of ivory and ebony

Banging out duets—

Your fingers and voices lost in a maelstrom of fun, smiles and laughter.

Jazz standards, soul hits….and the blues.

Brown, black and yellow sprays of

Erupting radiating patterns of music, art and culture.

A glint in your eye laughing WITH the rest of the world.

All of us grieve for you but

As the songs says of Che Guevara—

“Con plomo lloraran”……

The struggle will continue in your memory,

In truth we will try to “live like Bill”—like you.

Your many small reflex acts of friendship and love were like

Sweet spring water for our collective parched thirsts.

An alcoholic of the peoples love

Your words rise in deep river currents of wise time, teaching and respect.

A golden brown summer of union struggle,

And you better believe it of cold ironworker winters too.

I remember your visits to Japantown,

At the National Japanese American Historical Society where I volunteered---

Your personal touch,

Your brotherly love,

Asking:

“How Yamamoto was.”

Our trips to Manzanar

With Al, Bob, Tony and Shirley.

Listening to CD’s in the rented car during our journey

Along the American River and down highway 395.

Your eye now jaundiced against the idiot George Bush.

You were yet another strong broad-shouldered Phillippine carabao

On whose back the people rode.

Bill had a hot red indignation

Towards U.S. neo-colonialism in the Phillippines.

Your fist shaking at the bi-plane of capitalism

Crop-dusting toxic pesticides on the laboring farmworkers of the world below.

A strong clear consistent voice now stilled in the dry chest cough of death.

You loved chicken adobo, lasagne and companionship

When you met people you connected—immediately

With a Neruda-like genuine feeling.

Bill Sorro.

MAKIBAKA!!!!

by Joseph Bolden

9/11/Revisited Six Years And Counting

There’s nothing to add to this discussion except don’t let this President leave office without bringing all the troops home.

He’s a lame duck prez after all.

The lies,manipulations were set up to get up into this quagmire.

What’s with this administration,ok their international monetary types but Jesus H,Mother of God is this their bottom line,seize oil from an ancient country of wisdom, reducing a modern people’s to stone age because they fear the new paradigm shift of renewable energy, longer,healthier lives.

Prop up a dead,dying technology artificially squeezing as much dough delaying our countries advancement in applied sciences.

These people seem to me vultures living off the vestiges of dead technology.

I’m worried about martial law The Presidents emergency powers so the constitution can actually be suspended and he doesn’t step down to become an ex president!

I’ve haven’t traveled much but I sure want to see more of Europe than America these days,wonder what Japan,China,North and South Korea,and Taiwan are doing with Nano technology and tissue regeneration science, or human cloning?

This born again, cocaine addicted,self titled Decider has got to go.

Let’s not have other close or removed relatives take his place.

Maybe Amerikkka will become America again survive these dark gray times.

Be it Rabid Evangelicals,Religious Right,or Moral Majority we as a country cannot have these so called souls of righteousness dictate, proscribe,what our lives are to be especially in the privacy of the bedroom!

I do love this country but I am human enough to leave if for a while until America returns to its basic fundamental foundations and I don’t mean one nation under God but a nation of laws, checks,and balances.

Right now we are out of balance and I pray this illegal,fraudulent war created with lies doesn’t last a decade.

Bush Jr. should leave office,take "Decider War" with him to ignominious fame.

by MariLuna/PNN East Coast Correspondent

Reprinted by the Washington Area Women's Foundation

"Get out of my room!" he screamed at me. I said nothing, except for knocking down his videotapes. It was at this point he charged me, and knocked me down to the ground. My head was constantly being bashed on his wooden floor. I realized that he was trying to kill me, and used my will and all my strength I used to fight back while at the same time trying to escape his apartment.

I finally escaped his apartment and walked down what felt like the hallway of shame. The walls seemed to be yellow, grimy, and it felt like one of the longest walks I ever took. I ended on the other side of the hallway and landed at my apartment. I closed the dark brown wooden door behind me, and walked towards my mirror. I stared into the mirror but a different image was looking back. It wasn't me. I saw a young woman with hair out of her head, blood on her face, and blue bruises upon her face. When I finally realized that image was me, I started to cry. I cried all the pain that was inside my past, and started to connect what had just happen to me with former abuse that was in my household.

Violence occurs in cycles, especially domestic violence. Domestic violence will continue until we, as a society, stop expecting that the victims should be the only people stopping this violence. Children and youth who grow up in domestic violence households are more likely to emulate this violence. Dating violence is more prevalent in Washington, DC than New York, Los Angeles, Philadelphia and San Diego.

According to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, DC has the highest rate of teen dating violence in the country. Children who grow up in abusive households are more likely to repeat this pattern of abuse in their first dating relationships. The abuses in my household were interconnected to my domestic violence situation.

I cried for what seemed like hours, maybe even days. When I finally I came to, I remembered I had a meeting for work. I was so embarrassed to call my work to tell them what had happened, and was planning on saying that I was sick. I called, my co-worker picked up the phone. Upon her saying hello, an outpour of tears flooded my thoughts, and I couldn't speak. My co-worker kept repeating, "What's wrong?" over and over again. I just cried for several minutes. She listened to me, and I finally stated, "My boyfriend hit me." The next thing I knew, she was knocking on my apartment door to make sure I was fine. When I opened the door, she looked at me, and said, "Ohhhh, Mari."

I cried with her, and told her what I could verbalize. She supported me in doing whatever I needed. In fact, she told me about one of her friends who ran a Protective Restraining Order Clinic. She provided me resources and emotional support. When I was asked to do a spoken word piece based on my experiences with abuse and Intimate partner violence at V-day San Francisco 2002, she was there in the audience supporting me. On that day, I learned that the V stood for Validation.

That validation led me to call the cops and start filing my case. In 2006, the number of domestic-related crime calls in the United States was 29,000. In 2005, the Metropolitan Police Department received over 27,000 domestic-related crime calls - one every 19 minutes; an increase of 22% over the past three years.

Validation is very important to all domestic violence survivors and their experiences. Many times we are told by our police, workplaces, and families that our matters are 'lovers quarrels', and 'that it's our fault'. When we choose to speak out and decide to escape our situations, the most important thing is to be validated by the people and institutions we tell our stories to. That validation is strong enough to lead to a path to an abuse-free world.

Validation first starts with supporting our survivors' ability to take paid time off from work to take care of their security. Often times survivors need to take time off to get a restraining order, go to court, attend counseling, and for their very safety. Many survivors, frequently women, are not validated by their workplaces and have been fired by their jobs. In fact, 98% of employed victims of domestic violence encounter problems at work (including losing their jobs) as a result of the violence.

Most companies have no idea how to validate domestic violence survivors through their human resource polices. Over seventy percent of businesses in the United States have no formal program or policy that addresses workplace violence, even though seventy-eight percent of human resource directors identified domestic violence as a substantial employee problem. It is ironic that as a society we tell our survivors to leave their situations, but we don't provide them with the tools in which to do so, and we condemn them as they take leave to care for their safety.

After experiencing domestic violence I would have flashbacks of the violence, and would many times be scared to leave my apartment. I was not alone in this area: thirty-one to eighty-four percent of domestic violence victims exhibit Post Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms across varied samples of clinical studies, shelter, hospitals, and community agencies. It was important for me to take the time off to mentally and physically recover as well to look for a therapist.

In current proposed legislation, the Paid Sick and Safe Days Act of 2007, any employee in the District of Columbia would be able to take a paid sick and safe day. A 'safe' day would relate to a victim that has experienced stalking, sexual assault, or intimate partner violence. A victim of domestic violence would be able to seek out shelter, file a restraining order, or receive counseling without losing employment.

The U.S. General Accounting Office found that twenty-four percent to fifty-three percent of domestic violence victims lose their jobs due to domestic violence. This bill would enable all survivors to seek services and resources to keep them safe while sustaining their employment. Maintaining steady employment for many survivors is what prevents many from going back to their abusers.

If it was not for the understanding of my two part-time jobs of allowing me to take time off when needed, I might have gone back to my abuser. I might have never fought for my domestic violence case to get picked up by the District Attorney. I might have struggled to find food to eat. Implementing legislation that protects our most vulnerable victims by providing Paid Sick and Safe Days is crucial to not only a victim's health and children's health, but our society's health as a whole.

MariLuna works at the DC Employment Justice Center (www.dcejc.org), and they are currently working on on passing the Sick and Safe Days Act of 2007 in the District of Columbia. To contact her please email at mari@dcejc.org

To sign the Sick and Safe Days petition please go to
http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=JwyIwRGYV28rZayAkNn3ow_3d_3d

by Brother Y - Poverty and Race Scholar & PNN staff writer

I have been

I have been where coyotes walk dare you walk the walk?

I have been where coyotes talk dare you talk the talk?

I have been where coyotes die

I have been where women die

Dare you shed a tear?

I have been where it never snows but it snowed when I was there!

I have been from north to south from east to west

I have been.

Dare you dare?

Part I: Quality of Life, Recyclers, Needles and Golden Gate

It has been estimated that 30% or more of homeless people not only in the Bay area, but throughout the entire nation are disabled American veterans. Regardless of whether the disability is a physical impairment, mental impairment or substance abuse issue, this fact is an indication of America’s many double standards.

One such journalist who’s recent writings exemplify these double standards and uses severe hate speech against poor people is San Francisco Chronicle reporter, C.W. Nevius. In support of “cleaning up” Golden Gate Park, Nevius has written outright false statements about recyclers and needles

In several of his articles, C.W. Nevius mentions “ the march of the junkies,” when referring to those headed into Golden Gate park each night. But what about the driving of yuppie winos? What I mean by this is the many yuppies who after having wine with their dinner get behind the wheel of a car. Or how about prescription junkies who get behind the wheel of a car after ingesting their mood and mind altering prescription drugs? Or even worse those who ingest prescription drugs and alcohol and then get behind the wheel of a car?

Also completely false and unfounded is Nevius’ strike against needle exchange programs around Golden Gate Park.

It is quite obvious to me that if someone is discarding needles on the street they are not interested in exchanging them, and it is quite possible that they did not receive them from the needle exchange program to begin with. The whole point of a needle exchange is to exchange used needle for new ones. All who use the services of the needle exchange are not illicit drug users, some actually have a legitimate medical need for their use.

Closing the needle exchange program would cut off many from this vital and needed service. There are many other possibilities as to how so many discarded needles wind up in the park. A few other possibilities are as follow.

1. Housed junkies who shoot up in the park and discard them there so their roommates and loved ones don’t know.

2. Housed junkies who shoot up at home and then dump their used needles in the park out of fear of someone digging through their trash and finding them.

3. People who have a legitimate medical reason for their use but are otherwise slobs.

4. A stingy doctor or dentist in private practice could discard them in a dumpster only to be pulled out by one of the local gentries all to spoiled dogs. Trust me this is not that remote a possibility, I have practically wrestle meat out of the mouths of dogs who’s owners did not appear to be homeless.

5. An ambitious reporter who is determined to “Do something about the homeless.”
It wouldn’t be the first time someone in mass media has tried to tweak a media event.

Remember the video footage of Palestinians joyously dancing and waving flags sometime after September 11th? We found out a short while later that this was old footage shot years before the events of September 11th even occurred. Or how about the young reporter in New York who fabricated 90% of what he wrote? Quite frankly the possibilities are endless.

“Quality of Life”

The so called “quality of life” violations that Mayor Newsom uses as an excuse to conduct raids at night on the homeless are nothing new. Often when governments want or need more money they create an internal enemy. A good example of this is the government of Nazi Germany taking away the property rights of Jews and then conducting house raids to support their actions. Of course most folks don’t realize that the Nazi’s got their blue prints for apartheid from none other than the U.S.'s treatment of the “savage Indians” and “subhuman.” African slaves.

Quality of life laws were made popular by Rudy Giuliani former mayor of New York, passed long to Shirley Franklin the mayor of Atlanta, Ga., and are now being passed along to Newsom here in San Francisco.

The truth is these so called quality of life laws are simply a revised version of the fugitive slave act of 1854. In an attempt to be appear to be a champion of the homeless Newsom created the care not cash program. Every slave master through out history has known that he must feed and house his slaves if he expects to get any work out of them. Good massa’ Newsom works his slaves by indentured servitude in the courts and through workfare.

As you may recall workfare was created by former president Bill Clinton another, so-called “champion of the under dog.” But workfare is set-up from the get-up. The small amount of cash that workfare recipients receive after paying rent in their run down roach and bed bug infested slave quarters is not enough to prevent them from committing a crime but rather it is just about enough to inspire them to commit a crime.

During the original American Slavery the only thing it was illegal for a slave master to do was teach his slave how to read and write. The ability to read and write empowers people and takes them one step closer to independence.

Recyclers as micro-business people rather than criminals of poverty

Recyclers are independent business people and C.W. Nevius’ attack on them is unforgivable. To suggest that the recycling supports illegal activity is ridiculous. At worst it may or may not support low-level drug usage.

Should large corporations that employ drug users be shut down? If the answer is yes please begin with the Chronicle.

Recyclers provide the city with an invaluable service, without which our city’s landfills would be more than overflowing. Not only should recyclers be thanked, they should be subsidized with everything they need to make the job cleaner and safer for them. In addition they should receive a stipend for providing the city with such an invaluable service. They should not be scoffed at and scorned.

In point of fact all recyclers are not homeless many of them are immigrants, disabled folks or ordinary people trying to make ends meet. Some of the most compassionate people I have met in my life have been homeless.

Part II: The Summer of Love

Something that I feel is important for me to mention at this time is my experience during and after The 40Th anniversary celebration of the summer of love. I have no idea how many people Speedway Meadows holds but if it’s 100,000 then 150,000 were there!

Believe it or not the majority of the crowd were not just longhaired hippy types. Not that this contingency was not properly represented but there seemed to be far more clean cut middle aged white people than any other group. There did not seem to be an overwhelming amount of alcohol or other drugs there, but there were definitely plenty present. Also present were blankets, picnic baskets as well many other items that would get the owners of such items arrested if they were homeless and the mayor gets his way.

I personally had a wonderful time sitting and enjoying the music and occasionally walking around looking for exotic food, catching snippets of others conversations and simply reveling in how great a multitude was present. As far as I could tell there was not a single violent episode that took place, nor did I hear a single disagreement take place.

After the event was over the crowd slowly dispersed again without any arguments or physical altercations taking place. This is a perfect example of how much good can happen when people are willing to police themselves, and how little we really need the police in our lives.

It was getting close to dawn when I left but it wasn’t quite there yet. My ride met me at the corner of Fulton and 24th avenue. There was a substantial crowd there but again it still seemed more like a bunch of people leaving a Sunday picnic, rather than what one might stereotype as a great big free outdoor hippy concert.

While riding down Fulton chatting with the driver I couldn’t help but notice a huge dome of monolithic proportions. The dome was none other than city hall itself. At first I did not realize this until I noticed the gun metal gray coloring with gold gilding down the sides, making city hall appear to be in conflict with itself. After all, the city’s motto written in Spanish is “Gold in peace Iron in War.” These facts not with standing, at first glance the dome appeared to be the tip of a giant fountain pen ready to lay ink to the sky.

After riding down the road a bit the dome appeared to disappear behind one of the many hills that make up Fulton again metaphorically reshaping itself this time taking on the appearance of a giant hypodermic needle. When I noticed this the first thing that came to mind was not a homeless junky, But rather the apostle Paul’s first and only encounter with Jesus. I suppose some of us are better at keeping the focus on ourselves rather than on others.

Insofar as so called “quality of life” violations go it has never been a question of quality so much as it has been an issue of equality of life or equal right to live ones life as that individual sees fit to live it.

Upon finally descending the hill completely the shape shifted back to city hall, the center piece of the crookedest street in San Francisco in spite of Lombard being the crookedest street in America. [actually the crookedest street in America is Pennsylvania
Avenue in Washington D.C. but that’s a different story altogether.]

Despite the fact that the majority of the board of supervisors is supposedly progressive, they are after all the ones who penned the so-called quality of life laws. The laws that the mayor uses to give marching orders to the police to swarm on the homeless in Golden Gate Park like so many storm troopers in the same indecent hours that real storm troopers would. This is the 40th anniversary of the summer of love, but apparently no one has told this to the mayor or the board of supervisor. Apparently no one has told them that 40 upside down is oh but I guess it all is in how you choose to look at things.

I thought it would be cool to end this aspect of the story with an interview of the most famous homeless person in the history of the world that would be none other than Jesus of Nazareth.

Brother y: So Jesus it has been quite a while since we have spoken how about telling us about your present housing condition?

Jesus Christ: The birds of the air have nests and the foxes have holes but the son of man has no place to call his home.
Brother y: Boy you said a mouthful there! Tell me Jesus has anyone ever accused you of being a drug addict?

J.C: They call me gluttonous wine bibber.

B.Y: I suppose that’s bad enough! Have people mistreated you or persecuted you because of their own misunderstanding of you?

J.C: Well there was a gentleman by the name of Saul who I encountered while he was en route to Damascus, Syria. As you may or may not know Saul was a high ranking Roman official and a Jew who some how believed that myself and my followers were somehow committing blasphemy by speaking the gospel in Palestine and the surrounding territories in the way in which we did. I felt the best way to encounter him would be in the form of a vision; boy did I scare the bejesus out of him! Anyway he changed his name to Paul, became a follower himself and wrote a bunch of letters known as the epistles.

B.Y: So Jesus can you give us your thoughts on homelessness or poverty in general?

J.C: Blessed are the poor for they shall be with us forever!

B.Y: So what about your personal thoughts and hopes for the future?

J.C: One day you will see me on the right hand of power on the throne next to my father who is in heaven.

B.Y: Thank you Jesus!

Ironically just as I finished my “interview” with Jesus and stepped out of the office to get a bite to eat I ran into my friend Riot, who was arrested last year in Golden Gate Park roughly around the same time that I was, his true crime on the day he was arrested apparently was the same as mine: being a compassionate human being.

Apparently a narc asked him to sell him some weed, Riot told him that he did not have any weed for sale but did offer to smoke a bowl with him after this good Samaritan did his good deed of offering free herbal relief to someone who appeared to be in need the cops were alerted and as far as I’m concerned planted several bags of heroin on him. He was charged accordingly and spent three days in jail.

I on the other hand after attempting to provide herbal relief to someone who I believed at the time was experiencing a mild seizure. I was arrested and held for 6 weeks without the benefit of proper medical treatment the only major differences between myself and Riot as far as I can see is that he is white and I am black .

At the time I was told that it was easier for a housed person as opposed to a homeless person to get out of jail on his own recognaces, yet I was housed and sat in jail for 6 weeks while Riot was homeless and was out within three days. By no means is this to suggest that either one of us deserved to be there but rather it is an observation of just how abusive and corrupt the judicial system is and how much skin color matters even here in the so called liberal west.

Rest assured as long as there are Uncle Toms and Aunt Janes like Kamala Harris willing and ready to assist the white power structure in denying people of color their rights the onslaught will continue.

“War, huuh, what is it good for? absolutely nothin’!”

-War

by Joseph Bolden/PNN

It has been years since delving into recent past. Like an archeologist’s utmost care, they lightly dust off bones, metal, scrapings off objects most of us would toss as nothing. Here are my scraps from years past.

Covert Racism

In 1994 after moving out of a shelter on Geary and Polk Streets in San Francisco, I worked for Goodwill Industries. I learned computer operations and Goodwill’s system of processing donated items. I don’t remember my exact job title. Before leaving Goodwill to work at Poor Magazine, someone assigned to me, who probably had university and graduate training, assessed my skills. We talked about what I wanted most at the time. I said, “To be a columnist writing for a magazine or newspaper”. “Well Joseph” they responded, “You must deal in reality. It takes 4 years of journalism school for most people to achieve that. You need a job now”. “Ok” I said, not wanting to dispute or argue with her. What she didn’t know about me was my back story. I was a natural storyteller. As a child, I told stories and wrote them. I was beginning to write poetry and short stories. I turned down a job where I’d be doing photography—filming weddings—while being paid a janitor’s wage. Working at Poor Magazine in 1998 gave me the opportunity to write columns. Although my first efforts were marked with errors, I was finally able to hone my work down (although I still make errors from time to time). Moral of tale told: Don’t assume anyone cannot do what they desire because of circumstances they are in at the moment. I know the woman was trying to help. If I had been younger I may have given up. Being older, however, I didn’t listen and did what I had to do. I followed what was in my heart. This is an example of class racism on a micro level. It didn’t kill my spirit because I was old enough to know better. But for younger folk it could deter a dream and its possibilities. Sad thing is they don’t know the psychological harm this does. This class/racism is so covert that it’s hidden, even from the person doing the deed.

Overt Racism

The second is when I’m walking anywhere. I notice my hands out of my pocket swinging as to assure society that I have no weapons. As an observer I’ve seen people move faster in a hurried fashion when crossing streets or turn corners, especially when groups of rainbow folk are behind them or facing them when walking in their direction. I have purposely made noise so as not to frighten or scare white women; or I look past them, not into their eyes.

So as you can see, I’ve seen overt racism as a black male American citizen. This is all I can think of on the subject

by Tony Robles/Special to PNN

CW...i'm wondering what this stands for? Perhaps, "Can't Write?" At any rate, your article is filled with reactionary rhetoric and loads of manipulation. A homeless man who sees security guards as his family? Who are you kidding? Where are the homeless supposed to go? Are they at fault for the ills plaguing society--the wide gaps between rich and poor and the lack of accountability of big corporations? I guess it's the homeless that have gentrified San Francisco to the extent that they cannot afford to live here anymore.

Ironically, many of the homeless folks i know are native San Franciscans. One friend is a 6th generation San Franciscan who was sent to Vietnam and kicked around from job to job after bombing villages. He couldn't live with what he had seen and done and became homeless. I guess this was his fault as well.

The problem with you guys who write for the papers (and I’ve seen you on TV as well) is that you don't look as though you've missed many meals. You look exactly like the guys who got their asses kicked in high school. And now you run around with your positions and smug air of superiority while the real San Franciscans, the one's who've actually done something in this city, are having a very hard time or can't afford to live in this City at all. The folks in government and the press who represent us do not represent us at all. That's the problem.

So next time, point your righteous finger at the people who are really at fault--the politicians and developers and judges. If you call yourself a responsible journalist, then this should go without saying.

by Lola Bean/PNN

The day was shady, but not as shady as the San Francisco Chronicle.

It was noon and I was standing with my folks from POOR Magazine outside the Chronicle Building on Fifth and Mission. We were there with a crowd of allies and fellow community members that were disgusted by the way CW Nevius was talking about folks that fall on hard times in one of the most expensive cities in the world to live in.

I happen to be one of those people. I am facing homelessness at the end of September of this year. It’s not the first time. I was brought up in a struggling and abusive working class family. My mother kicked out of my home as a teenager, and years of struggling and often failing to keep a roof over my head soon followed.

This time, though, I have a BA and the student loan payments to prove it. I’ve learned to cope well with my migraines and PTSD. I have years of job experience the countless number of resumes I’ve distributed, and I’ve even owned my own business. Still, I have found myself without money, without a job, and soon without a roof.

It’s no secret that thinly veiled behind the “progressive” image that city media producers like the Chronicle have created, San Francisco remains to be divided by class in a very real way. In San Francisco, if you don’t have a roof you are considered a drug addict and a criminal at worse and a dirty neighborhood nuisance at best. Just ask the Chronicle. Better yet, ask self-appointed expert on homelessness, CW Nevius.

In recent articles CW Nevius has thrown away any remaining thread of journalistic integrity and embarked on a slam campaign against poor folks and folks struggling to make ends meet in one of the most expensive cities in the world. The hate speech he uses is backed by his own personal opinion and marketed to the public through the Chronicle as some sort of newsworthy truth.

Take for example, Nevius’s account of the reason’s one finds “homeless encampments” in Golden Gate Park. In the Aug. 26, 2007 article “Recycling center near Golden Gate Park may add to illegal activity” Nevius writes:

The obvious reasons are that the park is large and hard to patrol, it is adjacent to panhandler- and needle exchange-friendly Haight Street, and San Francisco's temperate climate keeps camping out from becoming too uncomfortable.

Wow.

So if you missed that, let me re-cap.

The question is: Why are there homeless encampments in San Francisco?

Nevius’s answer: People camp in Golden Gate Park because of 1) a lack of police, 2) it’s close to Haight Street, and 3) nice weather.

I wonder what research Nevius did to make these claims. How did this make it past the fact-checkers? I guess when it comes to poor folks, the Chronicle can say whatever they want. It’s not like we have the money to sue them, right?

Outside the Chronicle building, a large crowd has formed. There are signs reading “Would you call Jesus a homeless junkie?” and “Stop the Hate Speech about Poor People” and “Where’s the Love?”

Tiny, co founder of POOR Magazine, takes the mic and clearly states why we are all together standing in the shadows of the Chronicle building. “What we are talking about today is responsible journalism.” Gloves off and camouflage, Tiny called out the Chronicle for their blatant use of hate speech against poor people and demanded that they retract their statements.

The Chronicle and CW Nevius has compared poor folks to wild animals, made us out to be criminals and dangerous drug addicts, and even thrown verbal arrows at us for really “cleaning up the city” by recycling to try to feed ourselves and our families.

For example, in his article “Recycling center near Golden Gate Park may add to illegal activity,” Nevius describes recyclers like keeping the landfills clean is some kind of devious thing that only lowlifes and opportunistic people do.

Many of us have had to struggle to find whatever activities we can do in order to secure the most basic things, like food and clothing. Many have had to do this work to provide not only for themselves, but for their children. This is how Nevius describes the recycling center by Golden Gate Park:

"It's a cash register for them," says a nearby neighbor, who asked not to be identified. "It is accommodating their lifestyle."

by Leroy Moore/PNN

On Thursday August 23rd 2007 over forty people, advocates and a few media correspondents were in front of San Francisco City Hall demanding that the Hospital Council open their meeting to the public regarding recent cases of homeless patients being dumped on the streets.

According to Planning for Elders, the Hospital Council and Department of Health held a recent meeting on discharging homeless patients from hospitals but did not invite key stakeholders, as required by state law. Advocates and people who were dumped by hospitals took the mic outside this day to tell their stories and to remind us that the Hospital Council is breaking state law.

During these powerful speeches, the Mayor got out of his limo and walked up the stairs. We invited him to speak on this manner but he just darted into City Hall.

While I was standing there listening to these stories, my mind wandered back to POOR’s community newsroom that had happened just a few weeks before at the US Social Forum in Atlanta.

Many people shared stories of community hospitals in their hometowns being shut down by the state government. These stories came from people who lived in New York, New Orleans, Puerto Rico, Detroit, LA and even from right in Atlanta, where just a few blocks away, the Grady Memorial Hospital was slated to be closed.

Atlanta resident, Rev. Calvin E. Peterson, who was born at Grady Hospital in 1948 and also worked with the hospital on their accessibility plan, wrote in his book, Nothing Is Impossible: Spiritual & Social Activist for Disability Rights & The Independent Living Movement, that Grady Hospital is the only county hospital that accepts poor people. He also told me in a recent interview that the Black poor community would be in an uproar if the state closed down Grady Hospital.

With hospitals on the edge of closing from Georgia to California, it makes no sense why here in San Francisco the Hospital Council is breaking the federal law of 1986 Emergency Medical Treatment and Act of Labor Act ("EMTALA) and state law AB 2745.

In addition, I learned that some years ago California Hospitals Association produced a manual entitled, A Guide to Patient Anti-Dumping Laws. So why can’t they fellow what they preach? Why are they holding closed meetings that break state and federal laws?

Many at the rally said that because they, the hospital council members, are represented by multi million dollar healthcare industry companies, they try at all costs to keep them out of trouble. The legislation was designed to get community stakeholders to work together to solve the problem; however this will be impossible until the Council opens its meetings to the public who are directly affected by this legislation.

For more information contact James Chionsini at Planning for Elders (415) 871-8783 or email james@planningforeleders.org or www.planningforelders.org