Showing posts with label east Oakland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label east Oakland. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

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Oakland Without Us, Against Us, For Us?

East Oakland is no paradise. But it is my home, my future, my struggle, my community, my family of families and my poetic. Hope and despair commingle in a single easterly horizon of Oakland,

During the last seven months, more or less, six teenagers have been killed at the hands of other teens and adults not much older than their victims in my neighborhood. Most of them probably thought they were old; felt old maybe even felt time was running out and did. There have been as many -- probably more -- failed attempts at killings.

Although violence among and between Latino youth is not the only thing happening, it is there latent, lingering, a trend, a possibility. Enough to make you think a couple of times if you want to go out, walk around, maybe go jogging, or walk or take the bus home after school, and risk violence. The police are the only ones actively, thankfully too, who are going after the armed troublemakers.

Violence Is Not Random, Not An Equal Opportunity

Violence, however and unfortunately, is not random. Lack of resources, opportunity, cell-phones, tennis shoes, i-pods, and other niceties is not random. And who preys on those who have are those who have not? Who is poor, unemployed, perennially unemployed, profiled, who has police when you need them, who has services, who has cafes, bookstores, botiques, cinemas and restaurants?

Violence is not a drive-by. Violence is unemployment, violence is underfunded schools, violence is the lack of bookstores. Violence is the lack of hope and mentors. Violence means it's easier to get a gun than a book in east Oakland streets. Violence is the lack of cultural centers, art galleries, bowling alleys and other spaces that are user-friendly, relevant and affordable to those who now live in east and other parts of Oakland who share the same fate.

Oakland is a whole, yet only parts of it in the so-called North benefit from the whole. We in east Oakland suffer for it.

Poverty is not random; the economic crisis and who shouldered the brunt of the crash was not random. Neither is the coercion and the threat of jail, the threat of punishment by banishment. So-called gang violence is the segue to either more abandonment, flight of investments out of the barrios, or more push outs, gentrification. It's still a toss up in the short run which option will take the day.

In the long run, neither pushing out the working poor or gentrification are viable, sustainable or desirable.

Strangling California Public Schools
Strangling Poor People's Imagination


How do you do this? The Governor cuts the budget for public services. No, he doesn't cut; he gouges. No he doesn't gouge, he strangles the budget for public services and goes first for the future, our schools.

Our schools are readying for the massive cutbacks on the same horizon. They are already reeling from the cutbacks. In my east Oakland, schools are no longer just centers of education. They offer safer spaces, provide food, stability and a proverbial finger in the dike to ward off the devastating floods the California and federal governments have in store for education. The children of the working poor of all colors, immigrants, women-led families, the homeless, the day laborers depend on at least one meal, sometimes the only meal they'll get, from the school kitchens. The food nutrition is below Mc-Donald's par.

In this mix, the schools are superheroes doing the impossible every day. Principals and teachers, what remains of after-school program teachers, artists and other support systems, are frayed. Their job is to teach and prepare critical minds, to practice creativity and boldness in making and creating choices and taking on obstacles. Yet they battle a over-funded pipeline that goes from the classroom to the jail cell, a pipeline fed and organized by three-strike laws, criminalization, powerful politicians and prison guard unions and others who believe safety and stability requires policing first. Even the best politicians are complicit in this decline and juncture, when they organize investments into our neighborhoods that demand our expulsion.

We need police; yet policing alone is a recipe for gentrification and destabilization of the existing members of my community. Police alone cannot and will not solve the problems facing our communities and their neighborhoods. Policing alone is akin to throwing gasoline on a fire.

The options cannot be endure policing, jails or poverty. The poor are not just poor, we are impoverished. Our poverty is not the same as our culture. Mexicans have a communal soul and ceremony for almost every day, month and season of the year. But the economics of poverty and survival means we are stripped of our souls and our flesh is subjected to the daily grind of those who are profiting from our work. Where community is still and barely alive, there is hope and no one goes hungry or despairs or resorts to desperate measures where you gamble away your freedom.

We are not poor because we do not work enough. Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters work two, three jobs and the family suffers for it. Children are left alone to their own devices, including survival.

We are poor because we are underpaid; our labor and our values are exploited or demeaned. We would pull ourselves up by our bootstraps if the jack-boot of employers, landlords and others who coerce us would be taken off our backs.

Guns, Schools & Street Corners

You have Latino youth taking it out on Latino youth; Blacks on Blacks; and the young men target the young women in their vistas and circuits. This has a domino impact on friendships, brothers and sisters, cousins, mothers and fathers, the grandparents. Even if it is not a direct experience of your family and loved ones, you suffer the consequences. Families are being ruined by the violence of everyday survival. Children left alone end up forming "gangs," that then imagine a turf of their own that requires power. They believe what they see: power is violence or the threat of violence.

Community or Chaos
?

Gangs? Are they all bad? Do they provide a "family," respect, power, safety? Are our or anyone's families created by domination and threat or by love and cooperation?

What happens to our children and families when the core members, the parents or older adults, have to work two, three jobs? Who guides the children, who watches over them, feeds them, comforts them, gets them to read, gets them to dream a different, sustainable, rich life?

Is it domination, control, coercion of a small corner, not of hope, stability, family, relationships, or even of a liberating vision? Or is it just plain meanness, fists, beatings or the threat of beatings, guns flashed for good measure, selling drugs, getting high for the sake of getting high, prostitution and survival?

Every day a child, teenagers on the verge of legal age, goes to jail. Sometimes these jails are better than their neighborhood. I feel crushed by these losses. Would we have a different neighborhood, if instead of the detention center for children that has basketball courts, safety, meals, decent bedding spaces, if instead these resources were invested in my neighborhood -- where we could have a basketball court, a gymnasium, sports, workshops on physical education, art and writing, fully staffed and safe? Where would you want your child to be? At this center or in the jail center? It's not a rhetorical question. Families are losing their sons and daughters to the anguish of prison and prison-like detention. The pipeline is a colorline: female and male Latinas/Latinos, African Americans, Asian Pacific Islanders, Indigenous people and, of course the minority, white working poor.

How will we transfer the resources of the prison-industrial complexion, imprisonment and policing, strangling of public schools and other services, to make our neighborhoods safe again? Safe for culture and her people of all colors?

We have come again to that fork in the road. As our great Martin Luther King, Jr. remarked, we have a choice, everyone does: community or chaos.

Chaos is neoliberalism, the extension of politicis by other means (wars), gentrification, criminalization, the strangling of public services and education, the big government of Reaganomics.

Community or chaos, health or the disease of private property and public bailouts, culture with class, race, color, gender, roots or the prison-industrial complex(ion)? It's not black and white, it's complex, we can have our own community of chaos -- my chaos would be to divest from prison-building and criminalization, divert funding from the military to the multicultural and invest in culture, education, industrial, virtual and actual telecommunications and servcies skills and job creation.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

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The Presence of World Culture, starting in East Oakland

There's a something culturally afoot in Oakland and it promises to shake, rattle and roll you. Let's take a quick tour.

Shake: Corazón del Pueblo, literally "Heart of the People," is a locally owned store whose nondescript status ends at the sidewalk.

Corazón del Pueblo is a sanctuary of art and culture. Corazón offers fine art, handmade jewelry, huipiles (hand-embroidered Mayan blouses) and ceramics and books from Latin America. Corazón also has an incredible gallery space in the rear that has showcased local Chicano, Latino and Indigenous painters and cultural shows and performances.

Corazón del Pueblo is the place to hang out, buy gifts for your loved ones or for yourself and talk with the owner Josefina Lopez about what’s happening in the neighborhood. Afterwards, treat yourself to a delicious meal at any of the local restaurants or taco trucks featuring Mexican cuisine.

Visit Corazón del Pueblo, located at 4814 International Boulevard, in the heart of east Oakland.

Rattle: On any given night, the EastSide Cultural Center, at 2277 International Boulevard, is featuring world class acts of poetry, music and art.

EastSide Cultural Center is the place where you can listen to David Murray blowing wildly on his saxophones or the international tour de force, Amiri Baraka, reading his poems for a different more just, peaceful world living in color.

Every Thursday night, EastSide Cultural Center busts open its doors and turns on its microphones to broadcast the voices and words local and featured writers, slammers performers, musicians and poets sharing their stories and craft.

EastSide features documentaries and films that hold back their political punches on Friday nights. The EastSide Cultural Center also offers on-going workshops on hip-hop, art and writing. There's always great photography and paintings exhibited on their walls, too.

Roll: Let's roll! From east to west, north to south, Oakland’s artists, poets, writers and musicians are changing the colors, imagination and sounds of our communities. Without the work and vision of cultural workers in Oakland, our neighborhoods would be less livable, less vibrant.

Shake, rattle or roll – Oakland is teeming with a dynamic art and cultural movement that is creating the new there here in Oakland!

Thursday, January 08, 2009

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We are all Oscar Grant! ……………&, BTW, can we please not vilify the vandals?

My thoughts on today’s protest, while they are fresh…

11pm, January 7

By Rise Up [continues below]

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:
Here are a couple of posts written on the evening of the January 7 gathering at Oakland's Fruitvale BART Station to protest the BART police shooting and killing of Oscar Grant, which turned into a confrontation with the Oakland police. Oscar Grant was killed on New Year's Day at the Fruitvale station and was videotaped by various passengers who were on the stopped train as the BART police were handcuffing several young men involved in a fracas. Oscar Grant was on the ground face-down with three police officers on top of him, when one of them stood up, unholstered his gun and shot him in the back.

See the video documenting the police shooting Oscar Grant at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAHjhtYZpX0

Read a report by Davey D:
http://www.sfbayview.com/2009/did-bart-cop-who-killed-oscar-grant-mistake-gun-for-taser/

*

We are all Oscar Grant! ……………&, BTW, can we please not vilify the vandals?
My thoughts on today’s protest, while they are fresh…

11pm, January 7

By Rise Up

So, wow. I’m listening to the ghetto birds still outside my Oakland apartment while I listen to them on the live news at the same time. I’m nursing the blister I got marching and running around 5 or so miles. I’m charging my phone ‘cause I over texted with people coming to or worrying about the protest or trying to decide what to do next at the protest.


At 11pm, they started to make mass arrests. Before that, there were 14 adults and 1 juvenile arrested. Supposedly, someone is being charged with “assaulting an officer” tho the news reports no officers were hurt. Half of us stayed at the BART station and half of us marched, putting 500 or so people in each place at some point in the evening by my estimation and the estimations of my friends.

A cop car got jumped on and its windows broke and some folks tried to flip it. Some dumpsters and garbage cans caught on fire. Later, some restaurant windows were broken and a few people’s cars were smashed up and burned. Here’s some video: KTVU Video of cop car getting tore up http://www.ktvu.com/video/18435145/index.html

After the window of the MacDonald’s on 14th & Jackson got broken, Mayor Ron Dellums, Black man and old school activist turned politician, came to that spot to try to talk to the protesters and calm them down. That was actually a pretty smooth move for a mayor I must say. Alas, after a few handfuls of folks listened to him and followed him like the Pied Piper back to City Hall, they decided that his words were not so consoling, booed him, and went on to tear up Oakland some more…

But, back to the beginning……
I loved the people who showed up! We were so diverse and beautiful, and all of us there, UNITED against that police murder, all of us, regardless of background, really angry and fed up with the mistreatment of black (and brown) people by the police from our different perspectives on that.

I loved the connections drawn between Gaza and Oakland. I loved that we were reminded that the Black Panthers started as a self-defense group against the police. I loved the young people and I loved all the heart and heat from the stage. I loved the sign that said “fuck the police, no army in the streets!” I loved the defiance of people lying in the streets on their bellies as if hog tied in front of the cops and telling them to shoot. I loved the fearless emotions cutting loose, and I loved it when we all chanted, “We are all Oscar Grant!” every time the police tried to face us down in the street. “Whose Streets? Our Streets! No Justice, No Peace!”

The news from 9pm or so kept saying that the protest was so dispersed and disorganized that the cops were struggling to contain it. For hours, in fact, the police really could NOT contain it. I have to admit how much I love that. I mean, it’s not really an end point or anything, but it’s so empowering for us to see some of the possibilities! “Ain’t no power like the power of the people and the power of the people don’t stop!” Here’s to a lack of organizing or whatever you call that!

There was a little internal conflict over whether we should have marched. That’s too bad since we really need all kinds of protest. I was personally not sure which group to hang out with. In the end, I marched.

Already on the news they found someone to say that it was “the anarchists” who weren’t part of organizing the protest who were responsible for both the march and for the bulk of the “violence”. But by now we expect this, no? I assure you, both groups were diverse in the end.

So we did this beautiful thing today and the unity was deep and it really had a feeling, like someone said from the stage earlier in the day, that we were at the beginning of something new, or something renewed, like the next round of a serious civil rights movement. And really, to me, this is what will “fix” it more than anything very immediate, like $25mil, or jail time for that cop. Those things should happen too, of course, but we need some very serious and deep ass change and that’s gonna start with movements of people, if you ask me, not with electing Black poster boys for president or putting bandaids on things. I have to say again, tho, how we were really diverse. I think that this will be a marker of the difference between the 60’s & 70’s and “the next movement”, whenever it is we feel able to claim that title.

But I left when folks started messin’ with people’s personal property. Well, actually, my cell battery ran out and I lost my folks so there was no one I knew havin’ my back, plus that blister on my heel was starting to get to me and I was starving and I really had to use the bathroom… but I still, I left because I didn’t really wanna be a part of attacking other peoples personal stuff or even messing with small businesses.

OK. So, someone might assume that I wanna call those people crazy, and certainly the media is going to tear into them a lot; someone will press charges, and someone will discredit the whole action due to the fact that some people expressed their rage more carelessly than others. Even parts of the left are gonna be really mad at those folks, I know.

But does anyone remember Reginald Denny? Wikipedia on Reginald Denny [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reginald_Oliver_Denny ] Well one of the people whose car got burned has already said on the news – an elderly white man – while he is upset about his car, he is really upset about Oscar Grant being murdered and understands.

It’s controversial among the people who were at the march and sparked discussions about what kinds of property destruction is ok and what kinds are not.

I want to call on people to think out this issue of “violence” and keep in mind that this was PROPERTY destruction, and not PEOPLE destruction like shooting Oscar was. And I want to call on people to keep the high spirit of ALL THE FORMS OF PROTEST AND RESISTANCE we were a part of today and tonight, and not to feed those who chose to destroy property of individuals to the wolves. We should seize the opportunity to talk among ourselves about the difference between someone breaking the windows of a City Hall or BART headquarters or a cop car, and someone breaking the windows of small restaurants and stores. We should use this as an opportunity to teach that breaking the windows of the cars of individuals doesn’t really send the message we want to send. But lets not feed those people to the wolves. OK? We have youngsters and noobs in our midst. I don’t wanna treat them like “agent provocateurs” [ http://www.answers.com/topic/agent-provocateur ] unless they actually are and in the meantime, we need to embrace them and teach them.

Yeah, I’m kind of responding there to some specific things I heard out of some particular mouths tonight, but it’s important.

The news was also showing things I saw myself but didn’t have the camera to record – a young black man lifts his shirt to bare his chest to the police and yells to shoot him now. And that young woman who said, “We live our lives in fear and tonight we want them to be afraid!” How many did she speak for?

there will be more.....

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

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Another Offering for a Peaceful East Oakland

I stopped yesterday morning by another street sidewalk altar on East 55th Avenue. A small rememberance for a young life? How did the young man -- I speculate, for all I know the altar honors an church elder -- die? A bullet? Rare , fatal disease? A car accident? How is his/her death affecting his/her siblings, parents, friends, the neighborhood, the community? The altar the death represents hits me; black and brown youth take it out on each other and our present and future diminishes.

The evening before I was driving by and there was a gathering of young people, their backs to street. I knew what was going on. So on my way to work I stopped to see their offerings.

Drive-by shootings and killings are memetic, they infect the survival mode with violent, irrational motives and hunger for revenge.

Power grows out of a barrel of gun, Mao declared. Powerlessness pulls the trigger, powerlessness over one's destiny and the attempt to impose it over others. Losing a loved one to violence is devastating, a black hole that attempts to suck everything of life into it and drown the days, the dreams. Anything having to do with hope, optimism, becomes an ordeal.

Black on black violence, brown on brown violence, the young feeding off the young, the old alone and unheard. Mourning spews out of the barrel of gun.

A bullet hole dominates the horzion.
I have a bullet hole in my heart.
I have bullets for eyes.
I have bullets for words.
I have pulled a net of bullet holes over the sky.

The horizon is reddening with the madness of fast food, drive-in's, drive-by's, prostitutes who are teenagers, drug dealers fresh out of middle school; gangbangers that stick up for each other and threaten anyone who offends their onion paper thick sensitivity. Gangbangers that stick up the local tienditas that sell everything we need at inflated prices.

I have spent shells for music.
Useless conch shells that call out to deaf gods and ancestors
Empty cartridges that have opened bloodied eyes on the bodies of another young man
Spent shells that wll never hang on a gold chain to revere a revolution.

We do not honor the living until they are dead. The youth honors each other on the sidewalks after it's too late. They make pledges out of fear; they are marked.

The odds have always been against us. I never thought I'd live to be this old. Neither do my children and their friends. What is this that U.S. capitalism makes us fulfill it's own branding, its own consumer rush to powerlessness through things?

The gun is the ultimate rush. Those with power and control have guns at their disposal -- either on their side or in their police forces, army and other institutions and agents of coercion.

In parts of Oakland, the police force is replaced by the deadly force of an empty economy, an economy that fuels predators and informal economies of scale: the body of a girl or a young/old woman for sale, the small-time pusher in marijuana and other intoxicants.

Day laborers who are solicited for yard/landscaping work, construction, clean-up, and sex. There are the mini-empresarios, the street vendors who sell snacks, tamales, coffee, pan dulce, grilled maize (corn on the cob), tacos, home-made goat cheese, quilts, clothes, ice cream, sodas, and other utensils.

They/we live and work, they/we smile and grow, side by side with the homeless, the small family-owned stores, gas stations, sidewalk sales. They/we say with their/our bodies, their survival work:

We are here and we matter, we belong here and here we will stay, thrive or struggle withut bitterness or rancors, with our way of happiness.

We all want to push away poverty. Even the poor want to end not just their but everyone's poverty. Being poor is not about money -- although having money to pay bills, buy healthy food, get access to culture doesn't hurt!

Being poor is about not having adequate housing, health and access to relevant and quality health care, education and other social services and support that generates livinghood, hope, a different future. I wouldn't mind continue being a migrant farmworker; farmworkers need health care that is conscious of the precarious conditions udner which we toil (pesticides, the physical bombardment the body receives from just working in the fields -- hunching over, carrying heavy loads of produce, the dust, the long hours and longest hours when harvest seasons come; the need for real vacations, breaks out of the sun my granfather would say. He never understood why anyone would want to go sunbathing. Try working 12, 14, 18 hours in the sun and you'll see what he means.

We survive against all odds, but they are not our odds. Someone is literally making a killing off our impoverishments, off our dead youth, off our incarcerated youth and elders, off our crumbling schools, off the Flatlands.

And we honor ourselves and our friends, our sons, daughters, our students sometimes too late.

Through their altars we remember to live differently, love constantly those around us, love one's self too.

Social class analysis calls these social urban clumps the lower strata of the working class. Urban planning and city hall officials and police would call this those who they believe have no dignity, no vision, no power, no will, no plan and subject to us to their plans, their indignity that comes with their power, vision, power, will and demeanor over us.

They forget that we too are Oakland.

The Hills thrive off the Flatlands; they come down for tasty food, sex workers, drugs and gentrify in the process. We drive to the Hills, yet we get profiled as prowlers.

Hills and Flatlands are inseparable in the natural and social worlds.

We live in and occupy different socio-economic strata and spaces, yet we are the offspring of the same socio-economic and political mother. We are blinded by colors, race, genders, social classes, social stratae.

I call this the inability of capital(ism) to absorb us or crush us. We are inside its process, subject to its depradations, yet stand outside of the economic crises, the dot boom-bust, the recession, the banking collapses, the auto bailout. We are affected and unaffected, we are already poor, lack health care, have access to low expectations and machine-age teachers, day laborers all. We make capitalism possible, have made and are making Oakland possible.

We can get poorer, more impoverished, sicker, meet death in any of foreseen possibilities, work full time and yet be homeless forever.

We are cast as the inhumane face of capitalism. Capitalism calls us names, brands us incorregible, imprisonable, exploitable; we are the ugly. Capitalism has no humane face that anyone could be proud of -- in comparison to us, the lower strata, the unplanned, the unemployed/underemployed, the Flatlanders, the toxic wasted sites, capitalism has a prettier face. The chain stores and cafes can hire young beautiful women to sell their addictions; super and everyday models of consumption.

Yet we are a market, we consume, we shop, we flock to the big box stores, when we can afford them, when we have a car to get us there. Or we walk to the local corner stores, go walk to the Fruitvale. Or the street vendors, the mobile little stores, come to us, pass by our apartments and houses, our homes and beckon with poetic calls, bells and songs.

Stop the Violence, How?

When he was Oakland's Mayor, Jerry Brown proposed 100 new cops for Oakland, but mainly for east and west Oakland. The Oakland electorate voted to get the new cops but did not want to pay for them.

Our new Mayor Ron Dellums tried again to get voter approval for 100 new cops.

In the meantime, from every Thursday evening through Monday early morning, at least 100 cops are brought into east Oakland, they prowl Jack London Square, zoom about certain parts of downtown and west Oakland. They stare at young men of color, they pull them over and ticket them, harass them to leave. But, to where?

Saturation policing, racial, ethnic-nationality and religious profiling, cops pulling over young men of color for any slight offense. Other drivers pulled over for being on the cell phone, or making a rolling stop. Check-points eyeballing drivers for color and class.

How about a 100 new jobs in east Oakland and 100 for west Oakland -- stable, lifelong, living wage jobs that make a difference? How about 100 new teachers, 100 new park-n-rec programs, 100 new affordable housing units, 1oo new small businesses, 100 new cultural centers, 100 new chapbooks, posters and magazines featuring the voices and dreams of east Oakland?

How about a 100 poetry readings and writing workshops -- two a week from January 1 - December 31? One concert a week of live music, blues, hip hop, jazz, corridos, cumbias, punk, rock en español, rock-n-roll, metal?

How about building a skate park on the lot that's at 55th and "International," nee East 14th?

We can stop the violence. We have to change the channel, change the numbers, a change of heart, make poetry, bread, style, laughter, community, health and culture in east Oakland, in west Oakland, in Oakland. We can't make much culture when the solution is policing, state violence and coercion, the pressure and pushing out of gentrification.

I am still shocked and in shock of the youth on youth violence, the young who die so young. I have lost friends to violence since I was young. Now that I am older, I still am losing young friends to violence and despair. I mourn the loss of the youth who perished and was honored on 55th.

But the majority of youth are succumbing to gun and other types of violence. They are succumbing to the violence of social and economic policies that have written them off. The violence and despair of little or any living wage job prospects. The standardized violence and despair students learn at the schools and lack of prospects for higher education.

We cannot just be survivors. We have to be strugglers, organizers against state violence, the daily bread of militarism that's got us in a choke hold. We have to live, work, worship, study and play in peace. For that we need a redirection of existing resources. We need hundreds of new things. Maybe we do need a 100 new cops, 100 that live and hope in east Oakland; it's work, too. But we need hundreds of new jobs, hundreds of investors willing to take a risk with the youth themselves, hundreds of spaces where culture, art, elders and youth can sit side by side and enjoy live's longest cycles so that no one perishes in vain.

We choose to live, even when we suffer losses that cause profound pain, seemingly unending, darkness when anyone we love, however old or young, dies.

After I snapped a few photos, even though it was cold, I bought an ice cream cone from Esteban,a peripatic ice cream vendor. It was a crisp, coldish morning.

I asked him how it was going. He said, I'm just getting started. He took off walking down the neighborhood and I got in my car and drove off -- both to work in Oakland.