Story Archives

by Kaponda

The faint sounds, like a wisp of terror, slashed
through the tranquillity of the night. My eyes opened
to the constricted area around my bed as currents of
toxins passed through my throat. The wooden interior
of the walls permitted the reek of death to overwhelm
the entire hotel room.

I was dressed before my feet had touched the floor in
my frantic rush to determine the reason for the
interruption of my sleep. As I reached for the light, I
was turned around by the plume of smoke that had
invaded the fourth floor of the Baldwin Hotel from
the adjoining Sixth Street structure, the Delta Hotel.

It appeared as though I had been the very last person
to escape the flaming disaster on that terrible night in
April of Œ97. The blaze of amber soared high over
the ledge of the Delta Hotel. Its insatiable energy
devoured the entire Delta Hotel and part of the
Baldwin Hotel. The Delta Hotel was destroyed. Its
rooms are among the 600 other rooms in San
Francisco that have been taken off the market in the
last 10 years. Out of the Delta fire was borne the
Mission SRO Collaborative.

On Thursday, March 30, 2000, the Mission SRO
Collaborative held a Fire Prevention Workshop at the
South of Market Recreation Center. The workshop
brought together the fire inspector, Patrick Stranahan,
San Francisco Fire Department, and single room
occupancy tenants (hereinafter, "SRO"), along with
other housing advocates. The spacious meeting hall at
the South of Market Recreation Center was populated
with tenants from hotels of North and South of
Market Street.

Before Inspector Stranahan made his lengthy presentation,
I asked him what is the Fire Department doing to prevent
future disasters to low-income hotels in San Francisco? He
stated that the "San Francisco Fire Department is
aggressively enforcing all codes and also educating
residents on fire prevention." "Furthermore," added
Inspector Stranahan, "the Fire Department has a great
relationship with residents of SRO's."

Emanuel Smith of Mission SRO Collaborative did not
seem that optimistic during our interview, however. Mr.
Smith admitted to me, confidentially, that the City is
"Ill-prepared for SRO fires." When I had heard some of
the questions put to Inspector Stranahan and had listened to
his responses; and after I had determined that this meeting
was convened due to a fire at the Baldwin Hotel only three
weeks ago, I began to understand why Emanuel had
concluded that the San Francisco Fire Department has no
game plan for SRO fires.

As Nick Patel, one of the owners and operators of SRO
hotels in San Francisco, and relatives looked on from the
back of the hall, Inspector Stranahan was responding to a
question concerning construction and combustibles in fire
escape areas. A tenant stated that he had called the fire
department and was told he has to identify himself or no
one will come out to inspect the area. Inspector Stranahan
responded by saying that there are, "Only 30 fire
inspectors covering San Francisco." That is not an
adequate amount, according to him. He noted that Los
Angeles has 300 fire inspectors.

I was further convinced that the City is not prepared to
handle SRO fires when a tenant complained that while he
was at work his room door on the third floor had been
kicked in during a recent fire, yet the fire had occurred on
the second floor. The explanation given by Inspector
Stranahan was reasonable. That is that the San Francisco
Fire Department wanted to make sure that he was not in
there and that the fire did not spread. However, the
tenant's door remained unlocked with all his personal
belongings unattended. Clearly, this constitutes a lack of
communication between members of the fire department
and management.

by KaPonda

The sun was like the glare of a raving pirate, sending
anyone who dared look in its direction in frantic
submissiveness. It lit up the morning skies at 24
Willie Mays Plaza like the winning hit in ninth inning
of the seventh game of the World Series. Willie Mays
appeared undaunted by its intense brilliance as he
displayed the calm persona which propelled him to
the title player extraordinaire.

It was the opening day at Pacific Bell Ball Park. The
Poor News Network staff attended the ceremonies to
inquire of the Mayor concerning his proposed plans
to redesign San Francisco’s shelter system. A press
conference had been scheduled for the morning of
Friday, March 31, 2000, at 10:00 a.m. The week
before, Poor News Network staff attended a canceled
press conference at City Hall. However, there was no
mention of a homeless plan by the Mayor at the
opening day ceremonies.

On March 21, 2000, the Coalition on Homelessness
requested information under the Freedom of
Information Act on plans related to any and all shelter
policies by any agency of City government. The
information was made available shortly thereafter.
The data included the Minutes of a number of
secretive meetings conducted by the Mayor’s Office
on Homelessness, the Department of Human Services
and the Department of Public Health.

These agencies of government made no attempt to
notify the appropriate service providers and/or the
Local Homeless Coordinating Board, the official
governmental body created to "ensure the
accountability and oversight of the proposed system
of programs, policies and services" of local homeless
programs. The Coalition on Homelessness, during its
analysis of the information. discovered some scathing
facts concerning the proposed shelter plan.

The City’s plan (hereinafter, "the plan") mandates that all
people attempting to access the shelter system would
contact an "Access Team" for assessment and intake. They
would be screened for General Assistance, and then
referred to the "Coordinated Care Team" for a shelter bed
which would be paid out of their checks.

The Access Team would become the only intake point. All
initial referrals to shelters would be done by a Mobile
Access Team, which would assess and do an intake on all
homeless people.

After an initial assessment is done, the information would
be passed on to what is termed a Coordinated Care Team.
The Coordinated Care Team coordinates a person’s case
plan by working with case managers at the shelter. This is
probably the component of the plan out of which payment
for shelter vouchers will be tallied.

The next process in this newly proposed plan would see
homeless people sent out of downtown into a 250-300-bed
shelter which would be constructed in the Bayview
District.

The goal of this plan would be, "A system-wide intensive
case management plan." Assessment of anyone being
directed to a shelter (ala Mayor Rudolph Giauliani, New
York City) would be mandatory. This proposed plan
would eliminate the lottery system currently in place in San
Francisco. Shelter residency would no longer be dictated
by fair game but by source and amount of income.

The entire plan is scheduled to come on line in October of
2000. It will disrupt a lot of good policy and create much
more turmoil in the already chaotic homeless and
low-income communities. Homeless, SSI and PAES
graduates will be put into "master-leased SRO" hotels.
These are hotels which currently housed people without
tenants’ rights.

Like the bright sun at Pack Bell Park, the newly proposed
shelter plan is a formidable challenge for anyone. The
proposed shelter in the Bayview District would probably
see many men detoured to its accommodations. However,
can a plan composed without the entire team of San
Francisco really serve the people when the heat is on?

by Ann Anh

It hadn't taken very long, perhaps a moment......I
was standing there with my mother, a Cambodian
refugee, as she lowered her eyes to an unknown place
in the room, and within a second I watched my
mother lose her spirit...forever .

My mother was not lazy and and she never thought
she would need any help, but in fact, she did, due to
serious a illness and no healthcare or benefits she was
on welfare, and without it she and I would starve.

My mother had received welfare until the welfare
reform bill was signed which caused, among other
things, the end of food stamps and disability benefits
for countless legal non-citizens, like my mother.

My mother had worked for years as an attendant to a
disabled woman whose family didn't have the time or
love in their hearts to care for their own mother. My
mother also worked as a babysitter, janitor, cook, and
maid until she was so ill from a serious lung infection
that she could no longer get out of bed. My mother
worked until she could no longer move, but that is
not what broke her spirit. therefrom."

It was a strangely sunny day when we walked into the
food stamps office and the eligibility worker told my
mother and I that we were going to be cut off from
receiving benefits, "and besides, isn't it time you got a job,
Mrs Anh,..."

I was reminded of that hurtful day, four years ago, this
Monday when the Supreme Court refused to review
Congress's 1996 welfare overhaul. One of the famous
quotes from Congress at the time was, " The national
policy with respect to Welfare and immigration is
self-sufficiency, Immigrants who come to live in the
United States should not depend on public resources to
meet their needs"

Since then, Congress has backtracked a bit and restored
benefits for several groups of immigrants. They include
those who are disabled and blind, those over age 65 and
under 18. Lawyers for the cities of Chicago and New York
went to court seeking to have the food stamps and other
benefits restored to all legal noncitizens. They maintained
that the policy amounted to discrimination against lawful
residents in violation of the Constitution's guarantee of
equal protection under the law. The 7th Circuit Court of
Appeals in Chicago disagreed, ruling that Congress has
broad power to set rules for immigrants and non citizens.

My mother died last year, I am not sure what finally killed
her physical body, but I do know what killed her spirit.
And I do know that her need for help had nothing to do
with her lack of "self-sufficiency"

by Jesaka Irwin

I see this battle as only growing in strength, as it
broadens and deepens it1s reach; and as it challenges
Capital1s lust for death; and as it supports the cause
of life, of freedom, and of Justice.I salute You!
-Mumia Abu Jamal-

On Saturday May 13th the world stood together to
fight a racist judicial system....the world stood
together to fight the Death Penalty... the world stood
together to free it1s political prisoners. .....the World
Stood together to Free Mumia Abu Jamal.

I rose early, anticipating the union of events today. 70
countries mobilizing for many reasons in the name Of
Mumia Abu Jamal. The sun had decided to support us
despite a rainy forecast. I met up with my fellow
journalists at PNN and proceeded to the "March for
Mumia" in downtown San Francisco.

As we arrived, there was an overwhelming amount of
information being dispersed from every direction.
The mobile stage projecting words, and sounds of
inspiration before the March down Market Street to
the Civic Center.

Around noon the March began. 9,000 people strong,
not including the lines of policemen who walked
beside us with their helmets in hand, and billy clubs
attached to their sides. The Chants were strong "
FREE MUMIA ABU JAMAL.... AN INJURY TO
ONE IS AN INJURY TO ALL!" and increased in
volume through the one mile march lead by POOR
Magazine's own; Kaponda.

As I marched many thoughts journeyed through my mind.
I tried to imagine what it would be like to be sentenced to
death for a crime I didn't commit. During my own
incarceration in the State of Florida I remember straining
my eyes through the fence covered windows searching for
a piece of sky. I remember the anxiety I felt waiting for the
guard to scream my name and tell me to grab my stuff;
"You're free to go." I didn1t know how long I would be
there, but I prayed everyday for freedom.

Black, political, and a journalist, Mumia was framed for
these reasons along with the fact that he exposed a corrupt
police department in one of Americas most unjust actions,
the bombing of the MOVE house in Philadelphia.

When we arrived at the civic center the many banners that
streamed over head as we marched made a circle in front of
the stage. Over 32 people spoke and 6 bands performed.
Many organizations were represented, one being The
National Federation of Teachers, who are fighting to teach
their children about Mumia and the Death Penalty. Another
being Longshoremen from across America who shut down
many ports on April 24th in the fight to free Mumia. I was
also extremely moved by Michael Franti of Rage Against
the Machine, who1s words and poetry painted a picture
that still lingers in my mind.

I ended the day with my own poetic rant on the stage;

"We need to realize who really has the power, and break
free from the nineteen inch screen torturing our minds with
the mundane so we don1t go insane over things WE
BELIEVE are out of our control. Wake up people! and
smell the democracy distorted and dismissed; Why do you
think it was the FIRST ammendment."

As I wandered down 10th street on my journey home I
was consumed by the reality of how many peoples lives
are resting in our hands. Mumia is just the beginning of a
long fight for Life, Freedom, and Justice.

by Assata Shakur

My name is Assata Shakur, and I am a 20th century
escaped slave. Because of government persecution, I
was left with no other choice than to flee from the
political repression, racism and violence that dominate
the US government's policy towards people of color.
I am an ex-political prisoner, and I have been living in
exile in Cuba since 1984.

I have been a political activist most of my life, and
although the U.S. government has done everything in
its power to criminalize me, I am not a criminal, nor
have I ever been one. In the 1960s, I participated in
various struggles: the black liberation movement, the
student rights movement, and the movement to end
the war in Vietnam. I joined the Black Panther Party.
By 1969 the Black Panther Party had become the
number one organization targeted by the FBI's
COINTELPRO program. Because the Black Panther
Party demanded the total liberation of black people, J.
Edgar Hoover called it "greatest threat to the internal
security of the country" and vowed to destroy it and
its leaders and activists.

In 1978, my case was one of many cases bought
before the United Nations Organization in a petition
filed by the National Conference of Black Lawyers,
the National Alliance Against Racist and Political
Repression, and the United Church of Christ
Commission for Racial Justice, exposing the
existence of political prisoners in the United States,
their political persecution, and the cruel and inhuman
treatment they receive in US prisons.

According to the report: The FBI and the New York
Police Department in particular, charged and accused
Assata Shakur of participating in attacks on law
enforcement personnel and widely circulated such
charges and accusations among police agencies and
units. The FBI and the NYPD further charged her as
being a leader of the Black Liberation Army which the
government and its respective agencies described as
an organization engaged in the shooting of police
officers. This description of the Black Liberation
Army and the accusation of Assata Shakur's
relationship to it was widely circulated by government
agents among police agencies and units. As a result of
these activities by the government, Ms. Shakur
became a hunted person; posters in police precincts
and banks described her as being involved in serious
criminal activities; she was highlighted on the FBI's
most wanted list; and to police at all levels she became
a 'shoot- to-kill' target."

I was falsely accused in six different "criminal cases"
and in all six of these cases I was eventually acquitted
or the charges were dismissed. The fact that I was
acquitted or that the charges were dismissed, did not
mean that I received justice in the courts, that was
certainly not the case. It only meant that the
"evidence" presented against me was so flimsy and
false that my innocence became evident. This political
persecution was part and parcel of the government's
policy of eliminating political opponents by charging
them with crimes and arresting them with no regard to
the factual basis of such charges.

On May 2, 1973 I, along with Zayd Malik Shakur
and Sundiata Acoli were stopped on the New Jersey
Turnpike, supposedly for a "faulty tail light."
Sundiata Acoli got out of the car to determine why we
were stopped. Zayd and I remained in the car. State
trooper Harper then came to the car, opened the door
and began to question us. Because we were black,
and riding in a car with Vermont license plates, he
claimed he became "suspicious." He then drew his
gun, pointed it at us, and told us to put our hands up
in the air, in front of us, where he could see them. I
complied and in a split second, there was a sound that
came from outside the car, there was a sudden
movement, and I was shot once with my arms held
up in the air, and then once again from the back. Zayd
Malik Shakur was later killed, trooper Werner
Foerster was killed, and even though trooper Harper
admitted that he shot and killed Zayd Malik Shakur,
under the New Jersey felony murder law, I was
charged with killing both Zayd Malik Shakur, who
was my closest friend and comrade, and charged in
the death of trooper Forester. Never in my life have I
felt such grief. Zayd had vowed to protect me, and to
help me to get to a safe place, and it was clear that he
had lost his life, trying to protect both me and
Sundiata. Although he was also unarmed, and the
gun that killed trooper Foerster was found under
Zayd's leg, Sundiata Acoli, who was captured later,
was also charged with both deaths. Neither Sundiata
Acoli nor I ever received a fair trial. We were both
convicted in the news media way before our trials.
No news media was ever permitted to interview us,
although the New Jersey police and the FBI fed
stories to the press on a daily basis. In 1977, I was
convicted by an all- white jury and sentenced to life
plus 33 years in prison. In 1979, fearing that I would
be murdered in prison, and knowing that I would
never receive any justice, I was liberated from prison,
aided by committed comrades who understood the
depths of the injustices in my case, and who were
also extremely fearful for my life.

The U.S. Senate's 1976 Church Commission report
on intelligence operations inside the USA, revealed
that "The FBI has attempted covertly to influence the
public's perception of persons and organizations by
disseminating derogatory information to the press,
either anonymously or through "friendly" news
contacts." This same policy is evidently still very
much in effect today.

On December 24, 1997, The New Jersey State called
a press conference to announce that New Jersey State
Police had written a letter to Pope John Paul II asking
him to intervene on their behalf and to aid in having
me extradited back to New Jersey prisons. The New
Jersey State Police refused to make their letter public.
Knowing that they had probably totally distort the
facts, and attempted to get the Pope to do the devils
work in the name of religion, I decided to write the
Pope to inform him about the reality of' "justice" for
black people in the State of New Jersey and in the
United States.

In January of 1998, during the pope's visit to Cuba, I
agreed to do an interview with NBC journalist Ralph
Penza around my letter to the Pope, about my
experiences in New Jersey court system, and about
the changes I saw in the United States and it's
treatment of Black people in the last 25 years. I
agreed to do this interview because I saw this secret
letter to the Pope as a vicious, vulgar, publicity
maneuver on the part of the New Jersey State Police,
and as a cynical attempt to manipulate Pope John Paul
II. I have lived in Cuba for many years, and was
completely out of touch with the sensationalist,
dishonest, nature of the establishment media today. It
is worse today than it was 30 years ago. After years
of being victimized by the "establishment" media it
was naive of me to hope that I might finally get the
opportunity to tell "my side of the story." Instead of
an interview with me, what took place was a "staged
media event" in three parts, full of distortions,
inaccuracies and outright lies. NBC purposely
misrepresented the facts. Not only did NBC spend
thousands of dollars promoting this "exclusive
interview series" on NBC, they also spent a great deal
of money advertising this "exclusive interview" on
black radio stations and also placed notices in local
newspapers.

DISTORTIONS AND LIES IN THE NBC SERIES

In an NBC interview Gov. Whitman was quoted as
saying that "this has nothing to do with race, this had
everything to do with crime." Either Gov. Whitman is
completely unfamiliar with the facts in my case, or
her sensitivity to racism and to the plight of black
people and other people of color in the United States
is at a sub-zero level. In 1973 the trial in Middlesex
County had to be stopped because of the
overwhelming racism expressed in the jury room.
The court was finally forced to rule that the entire jury
panel had been contaminated by racist comments like
"If she's black, she's guilty." In an obvious effort to
prevent us from being tried by "a jury of our peers the
New Jersey courts ordered that a jury be selected
from Morris County, New Jersey where only 2.2
percent of the population was black and 97.5 percent
of potential jurors were white. In a study done in
Morris County, one of the wealthiest counties in the
country, 92 percent of the registered voters said that
they were familiar with the case through the news
media, and 72 percent believed we were guilty based
on pretrial publicity. During the jury selction process
in Morris County, white supremacists from the
National Social White People's Party, wearing
Swastikas, demonstrated carrying signs reading
"SUPPORT WHITE POLICE." The trial was later
moved back to Middlesex County where 70 percent
thought I was guilty based on pretrial publicity I was
tried by an all-white jury, where the presumption of
innocence was not the criteria for jury selection.
Potential jurors were merely asked if they could "put
their prejudices aside, and "render a fair verdict." The
basic reality in the United States is that being black is
a crime and black people are always "suspects" and
an accusation is usually a conviction. Most white
people still think that being a "black militant" or a
"black revolutionary" is tantamount to being guilty of
some kind of crime. The current situation in New
Jersey's prisons, underlines the racism that dominates
the politics of the state of New Jersey, in particular
and in the U.S. as a whole. Although the population
of New Jersey is approximately 78 percent white,
more than 75 percent of New Jersey's prison
population is made up of blacks and Latinos. 80
percent of the women in Jersey prisons are people of
color. That may not seem like racism to Gov.
Whitman, but it reeks of of racism to us.

The NBC story implied that Governor Christie
Whitman raised the reward for my capture based on
my interview with NBC. The fact of the matter is that
she has been campaigning since she was elected into
office to double the reward for my capture. In 1994,
she appointed Col. Carl Williams who immediately
vowed to make my capture a priority. In 1995, Gov.
Whitman sought to "match a $25,000 departmental
appropriation sponsored by an "unidentified
legislator." I watched a tape of Gov. Whitman's
"testimony" in her interview with NBC. She gave a
very dramatic, exaggerated version of what
happened, but there is no evidence whatsoever to
support her claim that Trooper Foerster had "four
bullets in him at least, and then they got up and with
his own gun, fired two bullets into his head." She
claimed that she was writing Janet Reno for federal
assistance in my capture, based on what she saw in
the NBC interview. If this is the kind of
"information" that is being passed on to Janet Reno
and the Pope, it is clear that the facts have been totally
distorted. Whitman also claimed that my return to
prison should be a condition for "normalizing
relations with Cuba". How did I get so important that
my life can determine the foreign relations between
two governments? Anybody who knows anything
about New Jersey politics can be certain that her
motives are purely political. She, like Torrecelli and
several other opportunistic politicians in New Jersey
came to power, as part-time lobbyists for the Batistia
faction - soliciting votes from right wing Cubans.
They want to use my case as a barrier for normalizing
relations with Cuba, and as a pretext for maintaining
the immoral blockade against the Cuban people.

In what can only be called deliberate deception and
slander NBC aired a photograph of a woman with a
gun in her hand implying that the woman in the
photograph was me. I was not, in fact, the woman in
the photograph. The photograph was taken from a
highly publicized case where I was accused of bank
robbery. Not only did I voluntarily insist on
participating in a lineup, during which witnesses
selected another woman, but during the trial, several
witnesses, including the manager of the bank,
testified that the woman in that photograph was not
me. I was acquitted of that bank robbery. NBC aired
that photograph on at least 5 different occasions,
representing the woman in the photograph as me.
How is it possible, that the New Jersey State Police,
who claim to have a detective working full time on
my case, Governor of New Jersey Christine
Whitman, who claimed she reviewed all the
"evidence," or NBC, which has an extensive research
department, did not know that the photograph was
false?

It was a vile, fraudulent attempt to make me look guilty.
NBC deliberately misrepresented the truth. Even after
many people had called in, and there was massive fax, and
e-mail campaign protesting NBC's mutilation of the facts,
Ralph Penza and NBC continued to broadcast that
photograph, representing it as me. Not once have the New
Jersey State Police, Governor Christine Whitman, or NBC
come forth and stated that I was not the woman inthe
photograph, or that I had been acquitted of that charge.

Another major lie and distortion was that we had left
trooper Werner Foerster on the roadside to die. The truth is
that there was a major cover-up as to what happened on
May 2, 1973. Trooper Harper, the same man who shot me
with my arms raised in the air, testified that he returned to
the State Police Headquarters which was less than 200
yards away, "To seek aid." However, tape recordings and
police reports made on May 2, 1973 prove that not only
did Trooper Harper give several conflicting statements
about what happened on the turnpike, but he never once
mentioned the name of Werner Foerster, or the fact that the
incident took place right in front of the Trooper
Headquarters. In an effort to hide his tracks and cover his
guilt he said nothing whatsoever about Foerster to his
superiors or to his fellow officers.

In a clear attempt to discredit me, Col. Carl Williams of the
New Jersey State Police was allowed to give blow by blow
distortions of my interview. In my interview I stated that
on the night of May 2, 1973 I was shot with my arms in
the air, then shot again in the back. Williams stated "that is
absolutely false. Our records show that she reached in her
pocketbook, pulled out a nine millimeter weapon and
started firing." However, the claim that I reached into my
pocketbook and pulled out a gun, while inside the car was
even contested by trooper Harper. Although on three
official reports, and when he testified before the grand jury
he stated that he saw me take a gun out of my pocketbook,
he finally admitted under cross-examination that he never
saw me with my hands in a pocketbook, never saw me
with a weapon inside the car, and that he did not see me
shoot him.

The truth is that I was examined by 3 medical specialists:
(1) A Neurologist who testified that I was immediately
paralyzed immediately after the being shot. (2) A Surgeon
who testified that "It was absolutely anatomically necessary
that both arms be in the air for Mrs. Chesimard to receive
the wounds." The same surgeon also testified that the claim
by Trooper Harper that I had been crouching in a firing
position when I was shot was "totally anatomically
impossible." (3) A Pathologist who testified that "There is
no conceivable way that it [the bullet] could have traveled
over to hit the clavicle if her arm was down." he said "It
was impossible to have that trajectory" The prosecutors
presented no medical testimony whatsoever to refute the
above medical evidence.

No evidence whatsoever was ever presented that I had a
9-millimeter weapon, in fact New Jersey State Police
testified that the 9-millimeter weapon belonged to Zayd
Malik Shakur based on a holster fitting the weapon that
they was recovered from his body.

There were no fingerprints, or any other evidence
whatsoever that linked me to any guns or ammunition.

The results of the Neutron Activation test to determine
whether or not I had fired a weapon were negative.

Although Col. Williams refers to us as the "criminal
element" neither Zayd, or Sundiata Acoli or I were
criminals, we were political activists. I was a college
student until the police kicked down my door in an effort to
force me to "cooperate" with them and Sundiata Acoli was
a computer expert who had worked for NASA, before he
joined the Black Panther Party and was targeted by
COINTELPRO.

In an obvious maneuver to provoke sympathy for the
police, the NBC series juxtaposed my interview with the
weeping widow of Werner Foerster. While I can
sympathize with her grief, I believe that her appearance
was deliberately included to appeal to people's emotions,
to blur the facts, to make me look like a villain, and to
create the kind of lynch mob mentality that has historically
been associated with white women portrayed as victims of
black people. In essence the supposed interview with me
became a forum for the New State Police, Foerster's
widow, and the obviously hostile commentary of Ralph
Penza. The two initial programs together lasted 3.5
minutes - me - 59 seconds, the widow 50 seconds, the
state police 38 seconds, and Penza - 68 seconds. Not once
in the interview was I ever asked about Zayd, Sundiata or
their families. As the interview went on, it was painfully
evident that Ralph Penza would never see me as a human
being. Although I tried to talk about racism and about the
victims of government and police repression, it was clear
that he was totally uninterested.

I have stated publicly on various occasions that I was
ashamed of participating in my trial in New Jersey trial
because it was so racist, but I did testify. Even though I
was extremely limited by the judge, as to what I could
testfy about, I testified as clearly as I could about what
happened that night. After being almost fatally wounded I
managed to climb in the back seat of the car to get away
from the shooting. Sundiata drove the car five miles down
the road carried me into a grassy area because he was
afraid that the police would see the car parked on the side
of the road and just start shooting into it again. Yes, it was
five miles down the highway where I was captured,
dragged out of the car, stomped and then left on the
ground. Although I drifted in and out of consciousness I
remember clearly that both while I was lying on the
ground, and while I was in the ambulance, I kept hearing
the State troopers ask "is she dead yet?" Because of my
condition I have no independent recollection of how long I
was on the ground, or how long it was before the
ambulance was allowed to leave for the hospital, but in the
trial transcript trooper Harper stated that it was while he
was being questioned, some time after 2:00 am that a
detective told him that I had just been brought into the
hospital. I was the only live "suspect" in custody, and
prior to that time Harper, had never told anyone that a
woman had shot him.

As I watched Governor Whitman's interview the one thing
that struck me was her "outrage" at my joy about being a
grandmother, and my "quite nice life" as she put it here in
Cuba. While I love the Cuban people and the solidarity
they have shown me, the pain of being torn away from
everybody I love has been intense. I have never had the
opportunity to see or to hold my grandchild. If Gov.
Whitman thinks that my life has been so nice, that 50 years
of dealing with racism, poverty, persecution, brutality,
prison, underground, exile and blatant lies has been so
nice, then I'd be more than happy to let her walk in my
shoes for a while so she can get a taste of how it feels. I
am a proud black woman, and I'm not about to get on the
television and cry for Ralph Penza or any other Journalist,
but the way I have suffered in my lifetime, and the way my
people have suffered, only god can bear witness to.

Col. Williams of the New Jersey State Police stated "we
would do everything we could go get her off the island of
Cuba and if that includes kidnaping, we would do it." I
guess the theory is that if they could kidnap millions of
Africans from Africa 400 years ago, they should be able to
kidnap one African woman today. It is nothing but an
attempt to bring about the re-incarnation of the Fugitive
Slave Act. All I represent is just another slave that they
want to bring back to the plantation. Well, I might be a
slave, but I will go to my grave a rebellious slave. I am and
I feel like a maroon woman. I will never voluntarily accept
the condition of slavery, whether it's de-facto or ipso-
facto, official, or unofficial. In another recent interview,
Williams talked about asking the federal government to add
to the $50,000 reward for my capture. He also talked about
seeking "outside money, or something like that, a
benefactor, whatever." Now who is he looking to
"contribute" to that "cause"? The Ku Klux Klan, the Neo
Nazi Parties, the white militia organizations? But the plot
gets even thicker. He says that the money might lure
bounty hunters. "There are individuals out there, I guess
they call themselves 'soldiers of fortune' who might be
interested in doing something, in turning her over to us"
Well, in the old days they used to call them slave- catchers,
trackers, or patter-rollers, now they are called mercenaries.
Neither the governor nor the state police say one word
about "justice." They have no moral authority to do so.
The level of their moral and ethical bankruptcy is evident in
their eagerness to not only break the law and hire
hoodlums, all in the name of "law and order." But you
know what gets to me, what makes me truly indignant?
With the schools in Paterson, N.J. falling down, with
areas of Newark looking like a disaster area, with the crack
epidemic, with the wide-spread poverty and unemployment
in New Jersey, these depraved, decadent, would-be
slave-masters want federal funds to help put this "nigger
wench" back in her place. They call me the "most wanted
woman" in Amerika. I find that ironic. I've never felt very
"wanted" before. When it came to jobs, I was never the
"most wanted," when it came to "economic opportunities I
was never the "most wanted, when it came to decent
housing." It seems like the only time Black people are on
the "most wanted" list is when they want to put us in
prison.

But at this moment, I am not so concerned about myself.
Everybody has to die sometime, and all I want is to go
with dignity. I am more concerned about the growing
poverty, the growing despair that is rife in Amerika. I am
more concerned about our younger generations, who
represent our future. I am more concerned that one-third of
young black are either in prison or under the jurisdiction of
the "criminal in-justice system." I am more concerned
about the rise of the prison-industrial complex that is
turning our people into slaves again. I am more concerned
about the repression, the police brutality, violence, the
rising wave of racism that makes up the political landscape
of the U.S. today. Our young people deserve a future, and
I consider it the mandate of my ancestors to be part of the
struggle to insure that they have one. They have the right to
live free from political repression. The U.S. is becoming
more and more of a police state and that fact compels us to
fight against political repression. I urge you all, every
single person who reads this statement, to fight to free all
political prisoners. As the concentration camps in the U.S.
turn into death camps, I urge you to fight to abolish the
death penalty. I make a special, urgent appeal to you to
fight to save the life of Mumia Abu-Jamal, the only
political prisoner who is currently on death row.

It has been a long time since I have lived inside the United
States. But during my lifetime I have seen every prominent
black leader, politician or activist come under attack by the
establishment media. When African -Americans appear on
news programs they are usually talking about sports,
entertainment or they are in handcuffs. When we have a
protest they ridicule it, minimized it, or cut the numbers of
the people who attended in half. The news is big business
and it is owned operated by affluent white men.
Unfortunately, they shape the way that many people see
the world, and even the way people see themselves. Too
often black journalists, and other journalists of color mimic
their white counterparts. They often gear their reports to
reflect the foreign policies and the domestic policies of the
same people who are oppressing their people. In the
establishment media, the bombing and of murder of
thousands of innocent women and children in Libya or Iraq
or Panama is seen as "patriotic," while those who fight for
freedom, no matter where they are, are seen as "radicals,"
"extremists," or "terrorists."

Like most poor and oppressed people in the United States,
I do not have a voice. Black people, poor people in the
U.S. have no real freedom of speech, no real freedom of
expression and very little freedom of the press. The black
press and the progressive media has historically played an
essential role in the struggle for social justice. We need to
continue and to expand that tradition. We need to create
media outlets that help to educate our people and our
children, and not annihilate their minds. I am only one
woman. I own no TV stations, or Radio Stations or
Newspapers. But I feel that people need to be educated as
to what is going on, and to understand the connection
between the news media and the instruments of repression
in Amerika. All I have is my voice, my spirit and the will
to tell the truth. But I sincerely ask, those of you in the
Black media, those of you in the progressive media, those
of you who believe in truth & freedom, To publish this
statement and to let people know what is happening. We
have no voice, so you must be the voice of the voiceless.

Free all Political Prisoners, I send you Love and
Revolutionary Greetings From Cuba, One of the Largest,
Most Resistant and Most Courageous Palenques (Maroon
Camps) That has ever existed on the Face of this Planet.

Assata Shakur
Havana, Cuba

by PNN Staff

The yellow morning-ness flooded the middle of
E.19th street

"My friend and his family were evicted by the owner
of that building......for no reason.......now the
family is split up.......My friend and his family were
good tenants, they paid their rent on time, they didn't
cause any trouble.... "

A breathless silence consumed the air as i followed
the man's gaze to the large brown icon of familial
destruction; The 'Mediterraneun' at 610 east 19th
street - an apartment building owned by Richard
Thomas, one of Oaklands most notorious landlords,
well-known for his tendency to evict any and all
tenants who impede his progress to greater real estate
profit margins. The 19th street resident had
approached me as he watched us unload signs and
other accroutrements in support of The Just Cause
Eviction legislation rally that was about to begin.

"We're here to let folks know about the Just Cause
Initiative and bring attention to the soaring rates of
evictions in Oakland, and its impact on low income
communities throughout Oakland", James Vann,one
of the organizers was speaking to the crowd.

Tenant advocates, evicted residents and artists began
to flood the street. After a few of the tenants finished
speaking , reporters from ABC,NBC, and The
Oakland Tribune, began to drift away from the center
of the press conference towards a suited man with an
odd tilt to his head who was spitting out short
bullet-like sentences

"I'm not sure I believe what they are saying...."

His eyes were compressed into two small dots which were
wedged under his forehead. As he spoke he would swirl
his face and eyes upward. Parts of the sun-soaked sky
reflected off of his hair gel and blinded anyone who
attempted to follow his odd head movements.

" Oh are you a developer? "

" Well..no..", to this the head whipped around, up and
down all at once.

" So what do you believe? "

" Well, I can't say"

"Can I have your card and call you later?

" No well..ok ..no..... well....sure you can have my
card....Why don't you call me later"

"I have lived here at 610 E.19th street for 6 years I have
been. a great tenant , I always paid my rent on time, and I
have AIDS .....I was served with an eviction notice by
Richard Thomas.

As the tenant, Gene Ramos spoke and the almost-
developer shifted nervously between reporters, a terrifying
pit began to form in my intestine at the recollection of my
own eviction from Oakland a mere 8 months ago from a
building, where although riddled with severe inhabitability
violations, was still a home for my mother and I

"After Richard Thomas evicted us our family had to split
apart - my wife is living with her mother and I am living
with my family We were good tenants .now we have no
place to go to be together again. After relating his story,
former tenant, Richard Clemons walked away with his
family never to be housed on East . 19th street again

As the nausea in my stomach intensified and i began to lose
hope that the Just Cause organizers could collect 25,000
signatures for this crucial November ballot iniative..........
I realized.this was a job for El Mosquito, the poly-racial,
multi-lingual superhero, defender of justice, protector of
the oppressed.....

by Kaponda

Images of the past six months rushed through my mind
as the bus hissed by the trees in its' wake. Garbed in
county-issued orange, my eyes penetrated the iron bars
attached to the bus windows which permitted a narrow
view of precious liberty. I gazed at the prospects that my
new environment could offer, while I considered the
resolutions I made during my grueling confinement at
San Bruno County Jail.

My body trembled at the notion of freedom, and its
responsibilities, as the bus barreled down the street
toward the Hall of Justice. Like a rush-hour commuter, I
would have to make a flawless transition to keep pace
with the larger society of which I would soon become a
part. That transition would require the support of
grass-roots organizations, local government agencies
and public shelters, since I had been alone in San
Francisco when I was arrested for attempting to toss
away a rock of crack cocaine in January of 1996.

The six-month old scent from my street clothes breezed
past my nostrils as the titillating Autumn winds gently
caressed every gland of my body. As I walked away
from the Hall of Justice towards my new beginning, I
bought a newspaper to learn the current topics and
nuances being discussed in The City. Welfare Reform
was the predominant topic of public debate during the
latter days of 1996, as it had recently been enacted in
August by the United States Congress.

Trying to understand the Department of Human
Services' General Assistance program was as hard as the
concrete floor on which I walked to get to the intake
window. Having been single and without dependents, I
qualified to receive General Assistance. As the intake
phase of the General Assistance process transpired, I
sensed that I was being drastically underrepresented. I
had neither been asked about my career interests, nor
had I been able to get support to find employment at
anytime during the interview process.

Meanwhile, the 104th Congress was passing legislation
that would address some of the frustrations experienced
by clients of the Department of Human Services. It
involved the devolution of federally administered
entitlement programs such as child care, welfare,
Medicaid and other programs into block grants to the
states, counties and local governments. On August 22,
1996, President Clinton signed into law H.R. 3734,
"The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity
Reconciliation Act of 1996." The legislation provides
tremendous short-term benefits -- from career counseling
to financial support and employment training. There are
risks, however. Some beneficiaries could be forced off
of welfare before being adequately trained, although the
two- to five-year time limit expires.

Born out of the Welfare Reform legislation, the Personal
Assisted Employment Specialist (PAES) program of the
Department of Human Services (DHS) in San Francisco
was specifically designed by career counselors and the
Director of DHS, Will Lightbourne, to plot and develop
an employment plan for its clients. PAES provides its'
participants with job search assistance or anything that
helps get them ready to work, including educational
courses, job training, mental health and substance abuse
services.

Following a brief training program at City College of
San Francisco, which I was referred to by PAES, which
although intensive, left me lacking in the skills I needed
to succeed in todays highly competitive job market and
fell short of what I needed to realize my dreams to be in
the media industry, I was referred to POOR Magazine by
my PAES counselor, Lisa Brown. She explained that the
New Journalism/Media Studies program at POOR
Magazine was comparable to a four-year education in journalism at a prestigious university. In
addition, she reassured me that the Department of Human
Services would supply me with any resources necessary to
ensure that I have every opportunity to succeed as a
journalist.

I began to envision a career as a journalist dedicated to
reporting on the issues which were important to me -- civil
and human rights. POOR Magazine is a grassroots non-profit
organization which provides media access and education to
low and no income communities. POOR's New
Journalism/Media Studies program is designed primarily to
give voice to very low income communities by offering
extensive training in the media and multi-media industries.

In addition to providing journalism and media training,
POOR Magazine also champions the causes of other
organizations and service providers that advocate for
low-income and homeless people. One such cause that has
gotten the support of POOR Magazine is the concept of a fair
and open City budget.

The People's Budget Collaborative is the mechanism to
facilitate a fair and open City budget. Formed in 1998, it
provides a framework for equal access to the many services
provided by The City, including child care, health care and
living wage jobs. The People's Budget seeks to eliminate
traditional pork out of the budget by slashing fiscal spending
by a substantial amount. In December of 1999, City
Controller Ed Harrington announced that, "The entire
People's Budget of '1999 could be funded from an additional
$20 million revenue, alone." As was pointed out in an
editorial in the San Francisco Bayview, The People's Budget
emphasizes prevention programs and other long-term
investments which ultimately result in savings for the City."

A staunch advocate for the People's Budget, Riva Enteen of
The National Lawyer's Guild, was quoted in the San
Francisco Examiner as saying, "A lot of what we're talking
about is prevention....which results in cost savings. In
substance abuse programs, for every $1 we spend, we reap
$7 three years down the road."

I reviewed the proposed Fiscal 2000 People's Budget and
was amazed at how programs involving housing, health care,
mental health, substance abuse, living wage, community
journalism, social services and many, many more would
only require $106,922,900 from the people of San
Francisco, a fraction of traditional fiscal spending.

Community Journalism is one of the components of the
People's Budget Collaborative about which I feel very
strongly. It would immediately create 10 journalists positions
for low-income and homeless welfare recipients . The
training for prospective journalists would include an
extensive program in the media and technology industries.
Furthermore, it would create a "living wage job" with
benefits, for each "Community Journalist." As a journalist,
the participant would conduct extensive research and report
on issues affecting their communities.

I have navigated through the jungle of the Department of
Human Services to attain my current status of journalist. I
believe my voice and the voices of my fellow community
journalists should be authoring the stories that are written
about poor people in San Francisco. I have taken up, for
example, issues involving fires in Single Room Occupancy
hotels, the proposed San Francisco homeless voucher plan,
forced sterilization of Native American communities,
aggressive police conduct toward mentally disabled and
homeless people, "quality of life" violations , The
"C.R.A.C.K". campaign's effect on poor mothers and The
"living wage" coalition .

Its has been a long time since that bus ride from the San
Bruno County Jail. I no longer only peruse the newspaper to
learn about the issues affecting the Bay Area..... I am now
one of those people who make the news.

by T.W.C.

The year I began cleaning Dick Clark's windows and
Mary Crosby's home, I lived alone in a
three-bedroom bungalow on Broad Beach, the nicest
beach in Malibu. I had pocketed a couple of thousand
dollars, and I felt I might be able to make it through
some heavy rains.

When it began to rain, people began cancelling jobs
and talking about waiting till after the rains (3 or 4
months). Then the front end of my '81 Subaru fell
apart, piece by piece. After it had eaten up my entire
savings replacing axles, brakes, calipers, rotors and
things I knew nothing about, my only financial
cushion was gone.

Then my landlord gave me notice, and I had to get
out. Without even the money to pay first month rent
anywhere, I began to live in my car at the
campground at Leo Carillo Beach on the western end
of Malibu. It happened so fast, it took me awhile to
accept the fact that I was homeless. It honestly
doesn't sink in very rapidly. Even when you are
driving around seeking a safe-looking place to park
and lock yourself in for the night, you tell yourself it
is only temporary.

I discovered the trick to the campground after a few
nights. There was an $8 charge normally, but if you
came in after the rangers had gone and left before they
arrived, you didn't have to pay. I still had the Crosby
job, so I was earning enough each week for food and
gas, but nothing more.

I spent about four months living in that car, which
seemed to shrink daily. I can't begin to tell you how
depressing it was. It was raining a lot, and all I could
do was sit or lie in the car, reading when there was
light. I sincerely believed that one could find valuable
understanding in every experience that life throws in
our direction. As time passed, however, my search
for some valuable lesson disintegrated into anger. I
began to drink a lot of beer during that period to ease
the pain. It occurred to me that some homeless people
who become alcoholics don't necessarily follow the
drink into homelessness: it becomes the quickest way
to ignore what has happened, and dull the torturing
thoughts which can make a bad situation one hell of a
lot worse.

At the campground, I realized that a lot of the people
were there for an extended period, even though there
were 14-day limits. Many were families with
children, and one or both parents would go off to
work during the day.

They were making enough to feed themselves, as long as
they didn't have to pay five hundred to a thousand dollars
rent. Many of them paid the daily fee, for which they
received a campground with fireplace and public showers,
and packed up and left for one night every 14, before
coming back for another two weeks.

I had been living in Malibu, California for over three years,
and I had no idea that there was a whole community of
people who lived at the campgrounds.

Unfortunately, my deepest personal journey into the world
of indigence was occurring under the eaves of the homes
of some of Hollywood's wealthiest people. I had no desire
for wealth. But cleaning Dick Clark's windows or Mary
Crosby's home, and then getting in my car to wait for the
sun to go down so I could park it for free and sleep in it,
gave rise to emotions that I neither understood nor could
control.

I thought about how many of the places where I worked
were just weekend homes or one-month-a-year homes.
The rest of the time they stood empty - huge homes with
massive bedrooms, restaurant-style kitchens, cathedral
dining rooms, and totally empty. The owners were in
Europe, or shooting a picture somewhere, or only came for
two months in the summer.

Hundreds upon hundreds of empty palaces, but not one
with a spare bed for the hundreds of homeless people
parked at the beach or squirreled away under the brush in
one of Malibu's many canyons (where homeless people
without cars lived).

The ending of the rains that winter was like waking up
from a nightmare. Jobs began reappearing, and finally I
could afford the 80 dollars a week for which someone had
offered me a room in their home.

My God, what a luxury it felt to sleep in a bed again, and
have a shower and toilet right next to the bedroom, and a
kitchen to make some food in. Who cared if it was shared?
I had my fill of locking myself in bathrooms of restaurants
or office buildings to make a clean, private place to shit and
then brush my teeth, sometimes getting rousted out by an
impatient security guard. I was long ago weary of the loaf
of bread, mayonnaise, mustard and cheese that traveled
with me as lunch and dinner. The number of daily
humiliations that accompany homelessness are
incalculable.

"Poverty Sucks!" was the caption of a poster that hung
framed on the walls of a few homes I worked in. It
showed a man dressed in English riding attire, leaning
against a Rolls Royce with the arrogant sneer of the
priggishly rich on his face. Some people who chuckle over
it have no concept of how deeply poverty sucks to those
who stew in it, and the hatred of the affluent that
impoverishment nourishes.

by Chance Martin

After decades of neglect, our state legislature is being
aggressively lobbied to restore California's mental
health system. All of the treatment enhancements and
services that are being proposed are desperately
needed and would be welcome, with one exception:
an attack on the civil rights of mentally disabled
people called involuntary outpatient commitment.
Involuntary outpatient commitment is the cornerstone
of AB 1800, an assembly bill sponsored by
Assemblymember Helen Thompson.

Involuntary outpatient commitment is court-mandated
medication compliance. In some cases, it can mean a
person is court-ordered to keep regular clinic
appointments to receive long-lasting injections of
powerful psychiatric drugs. The consequences of
non-compliance are hospital commitment and forced
drugging. These proposed legal provisions are termed
"assisted treatment." In practice, its primary victims
are poor and homeless people, particularly
African-American men. In some urban areas,
homelessness itself is interpreted as proof of "grave
disability," creating the justification to drug homeless
people against their will. In states where this policy is
law, forced medication coupled with a lack of medical
supervision has led to deaths due to toxic levels of
psychiatric medication.

At New York's Bellevue hospital, a pilot study
testing the viability of involuntary outpatient
commitment failed to support its advocates' claims. A
three year study of its relative effectiveness found no
statistically significant differences between the
experimental group, a control group, and those who
discontinued treatment in the areas of
re-hospitalization, arrests, violence, symptomatology,
or quality of life. It concluded: "there is no indication
that, overall, the court order for outpatient
commitment produces better outcomes for clients or
the community than enhanced services alone."
Alarmingly, it also noted that the court procedures
themselves became perfunctory, and accountability
was so lacking that renewal orders frequently
occurred without a formal hearing, despite the fact
that "the court order itself had no discernible added
value in producing better outcomes."

The betrayal of the de-institutionalization movement in
California only became apparent when the state-funded
community-based mental health services we were promised
to replace the snake pits were themselves facing extinction.
Now we are faced with a proposal to criminalize an entire
community of people based on disability. Disability isn't a
choice, it's something each of us learns to accommodate as
best we can. We need to ask ourselves: how many violent
acts committed by untreated mentally ill people, however
sensationalized, might have been prevented if a
comprehensive range of voluntary, culturally appropriate
community mental health services were available?

A look at twentieth century history gives the best
illustration of how far stigmatization, scapegoating and
hate can go when misrepresented as scientific authority.

Eugenics originated as a sub-discipline of psychiatry right
here in the United States. The first compulsory sterilization
laws in Germany were modeled on American sterilization
laws enacted a decade before. In the three years from
1941-1943, over 42,000 Americans were sterilized under
the Model Eugenical Sterilization Law. California led the
nation with over 10,000 forced sterilizations (mostly
persons of color). The "mental diseases" targeted by this
law were "insane," "feeble-minded," "epileptics," and
"idiots."

The Holocaust's first victims were "mentally ill" people.
The first extermination facilities were designed and
operated by psychiatrists, who later trained the SS how to
use them. In a culture where ruling authority was
maintained in the name of a higher "biological" principle,
psychiatrists weren't ordered to murder people, they were
simply empowered to do so by their government, and so
they did. In 1941, 90,000 German psychiatric inmates
were murdered, 71,000 in gas chambers at psychiatric
institutions.

If our generation remembers no other lesson, we must
remember that no supposed biological marker - no stigma -
is reason enough to deny anyone's liberty. We must
support fully funded, community-based, VOLUNTARY
mental health treatment before we consider discarding
someone else's self determination.

If it isn't voluntary, it isn't treatment!

by Simon Kasada

The scene out of the smeary windshield as I push my
1989 Toyota Corolla off the freeway is this: cop cars
take up all the available parking in front the San
Francisco County Courthouse. A few are even
double-parked, despite the placard posted on the light
post which threatens that this a $286 fine. Probably not
for them. I swear, my son does a better job with his
Matchbox cars than this.

The alleys off Bryant come up quickly, narrow and
crowded with bail bond offices, but this is where I
maneuver my car, which unfortunately doesn't have
power steering. I bought it brand-new while Christina
was pregnant, my first car right after my 18th birthday.
It, like my son, is now 11 years old. Oh man, I'm so old.
The good thing about it is, it noses easily into a shoe
box sized space by a rumpled-looking man who wants
two dollars for "finding" it for me. Whatever. There's
time to grab something to eat at nearby McDonalds and
run inside.

I'm not good with huge public buildings; the heels of my
cowboy boots make more of a racket than other
people's shoes, I tend to not be able to find the
elevators, and when asking for directions my voice
bellows octaves above the sibilant tone observed in
these sanctums. I thought I'd waltz in and say, "Hey,
Judge, I need a reduction in my child support payments,
so I can take some classes at City College and get a
better job." With a few simple classes I can get an
apprentice mechanic's job with Northwest Airlines at
SFO. Up until now I've had many jobs, most recently
door-to-door watch salesman; and I can usually only
afford my son's birthday, Christmas, and child support
two or three months out of the year.

I, like more than half of all non-paying dads, according
to a University of Wisconsin study, typically earn less
than $6,100 a year. For this, thousands of fathers are
criminalized as "deadbeat" dads, when in reality it
comes down to a question of poverty. Huge sections of
working-age males in the United States are unemployed,
and have exhausted all hopes of finding jobs.

When the mainstream media reports unemployment
figures of 10, 15, 20 percent, whatever they are, this
neat figure masks the truth of hundreds of thousands, if
not millions of people, not percentages, totally
unemployed. The predicament of African-Americans
and other non-whites is even more staggering. On top of
this are those who are underemployed, working
part-time or in the home.

Rich men can throw cash at their "exes" for the upkeep
of their children, and then, no problem. In addition, if
they are well-connected or powerful, then the courts
look the other way. It is on the shoulders of the poor
that the wear and tear in the fabric of society is blamed.
None of this addresses the question of what is needed to
care for and maintain people; children, mothers, and
fathers.

The courtroom is packed with men. They are slumped
in the benches, with resigned looks of boredom and
exhaustion imprinted on their faces. Somehow I've got
to make contact with my court-appointed counselor. I
don't know how I'm going to do this.

When Christina and I broke up, we decided that we
wouldn't go to court over child support; instead, I'd
send what I could, when I could. This has included half
of all the money I've made through writing; some six
thousand dollars. Eventually, Christina went forward
and married someone else, who has a good paying job,
that meets both of their needs better than I can. While
this doesn't excuse me from sending money along, nor
from being whatever kind of parent I can be from two
thousand miles away, I thought "Okay".

In order for my son to be covered by the insurance
through this man's job, we were steered in the direction
of the court system. Which seems to be the overriding
message that comes down to people; that it is good to
have the system in your life, your business, and your
personal affairs.

The court turns fathers into visitors in their own
houses, brief interlopers through the lives of their
children. If you don't have a home, it can be even worse.

If you are homeless in America, and are trying to have a
family, it is like saying to the legal system, to Child
Protective Services (CPS), "Come take my kids away!"
It is increasingly arbitrary, the reasons for taking
children away from their parents. CPS has a checklist
for what constitutes abuse, and they define emotional
abuse as including "constant family conflict".

In families, especially low income ones, where there's
job turmoil, the struggle for shelter, perhaps issues of
substance abuse, where there is often just a single parent
trying to hold everything together; who's ever heard of
conflict?

The focus of the legal system has been child support
enforcement, which does nothing to cure unemployment
or strengthen family traditions. Supposedly the aim of
the courts is to help women, who are more often than
not the custodial parent.

The San Jose Mercury News reported on the case of
Hortense Bishop, a mother in Los Angeles, who went
on welfare when the court didn't pass on to her the
support they had ordered. Then the district attorney
kept all but $50 because he found out that she was
receiving the welfare assistance.

Welfare reforms that have come down in the last few
years have tied the monetary assistance from
government agencies to workfare type programs,
meaning that if you don't work you can't get assistance.
And now if you don't work you can't get shelter. If you
don't have shelter your kids can be taken away (See:
"Little Noah"; story on PNN).

Poverty levels for custodial parents have been estimated
at 49%. Tangentially, mothers who are in jail face
substantial barriers to parenting, and face having their
children placed in foster care. The court system in this
country has never been a friend of poor people, or of
families struggling to keep their heads above water.

My sweaty eyes take in the courtroom. My ears cannot
take the noise, nor my head the confusion. There doesn't
seem to be any organization whatsoever. It's hard to
understand what the process is for finding my
counselor, or for going before the judge.

There are, literally, hundreds of men here; and they are
wearing work shirts, and some have carried with them
the little Igloo coolers that house their lunches. Some of
them have done bad things to their exes. I remember
when I found out Christina was having an affair I
punched a hole in the plaster wall of our apartment and
yanked the phone out of its jack.

The U.S. Congress has been reviewing a sequel to the
1994 Violence Against Women Act, which would offer
social services to women, and requires employers to
make special arrangements for women who claim abuse.
Once again the bill focuses on increased child support
enforcement as being the main solution for crumbling
families and for the autonomy of women.

There is also the Fathers Count Act, which the National
Organization for Women (NOW) opposes, which would
offer the same sort of services, as well as job training for
fathers who would otherwise fall into the dreaded
designation of "deadbeat dad". NOW opposes it because
it would take the focus off of women's issues; for in
their view men are violent and women are victims, and
capitalist justice is appropriate for everybody. An
outlook like this splits men and women, who ultimately
need to work together. Both of these legislative
maneuvers stress legal means within an unfriendly
judicial system, one that criminalizes poverty.

I love my son, and I don't want to end up making his life
harder, which is why I am here. But I understand why
it's difficult to show up in court. Many men come here
already facing previous summons, and fear getting into
bigger trouble. Finally I am able to locate my counselor,
who doesn't seem the least bit interested in me. He asks
me if I've filed the appropriate papers with the court in
order to get a reduction in my child support payments. I
ask him, what papers? Nobody ever told me about
needing to file any papers in advance! The counselor
licks his thin wispy lips and assures me that the judge is
not going to listen to a thing I have to say if I haven't
filed my notice yet. He tells me to look around at the
huge backlog in the courtroom today, and that I might as
well go home. Maybe he doesn't know, but I took the
day off from work so I could come here. He also tells
me that since I haven't been paying child support in a
timely manner, my tax refunds will probably be seized.

All I can look forward to tomorrow is lugging my case
of five dollar watches down Mission Street in Hayward.
"Anybody wanna buy a nice ladies wristwatch?"