It's a hell of a lot of work to arrange stuff like this and There's clusterfest outside There's clusterfuck in here and I can't even tell you what's going on in my brain right now I cannot find the speech I wrote this morning We had trouble we had some tech issues this morning Some of the people are probably not gonna get here in time for the reading order Which they may not have time to check on their emails, so we're gonna just wing it and All I can say is all those people out there paying a hundred and nineteen dollars a day to be entertained and distracted if they only knew what they were missing in here I Started a few years ago with I got a San Francisco Individual Arts Commission grant and I saw the community Component part and dummy. I thought I should put all the energy into the community part So I came out with a book which I do not have in my hand right now called Standing Strong Fillmore in Japan Town and and That was Japanese Americans and African Americans that were facing displacement and gentrification in the Fillmore and Japan Town in the Western Edition and A lot of people in don't this town think the Gary expressway was always there No, and Not only that but redevelopment happened not only in San Francisco. It happened all over the country and Toward the heart out of inner cities all over the country SRO hotels Family-owned businesses all those You know communities of color gone. Anyway, I could go on forever But then we'd run out of time and you wouldn't get a chance to read so I'm gonna shut up now Anyway, I'm going to I'm gonna read the whole Readers list first and then I will stand up every now and then from the corner and announce the next several so you can get In the front row here and be on deck and then you'll come up to read so I'm done blathering now.  So I hope we They get here on time. So next up is Kim Shuck our fabulous poet laureate Hey, y'all a lot of the people I love are in this room Some of them I never get to see except in context like this Some people are coming in late. I'm gonna end up having to leave which I know is totally inexcusable, but there we are Thank you Shizue and everybody applaud for Shizue one more time These books are amazing. You work tirelessly and I'm in a position to know what that looks like Boundaries it's dangerous to be a secret Centuries of practicing translucency can render you fragile and audible Changing political fashion regarding inclusion can trigger chameleon impulses Can redraw ancient boundaries darker than they ever were even create new fences or we can make real choices and Can choose to see one another Skin a treaty stake it out flat for scraping and it will barely cover the distance between Disappointment in a country that made you childish promises and our beloved dead arranged end-to-end from the Mystic River Dashalay As the winter goes by it will go white and stiff an Inconvenient reminder of things not finished but can be softened with random words and languages You don't speak like honor tattoos you can buy from local artists The hive can become a drumhead for bonding with young people in the nearby park or shoe soles for walking a mile Walking a mile a vacation in someone else's reality and you can tell that story for years to come Years that you can keep track of on a string of knots and invented Anthropology while you whisper a word that you think means something about mystery or sacred that really means Keepsake. Thank you Testing oh yeah, so honored to be here with all you beautiful writers and really grateful to be in this book It is really a masterpiece. I mean I've only read the first few poems and I'm in heaven It's such an honor to be here with all of you and in this book So let everybody know they need to have a copy and I apologize because I am known to state the pope from poetry readings from the very beginning to the very last word But I can't because our poetry series La Palada musical the music of the word is happening today So myself and Micho Tony that you're gonna hear in just a second are both at that reading So we're heading out the door, but when I see you again Please sign my book and come and visit us to our poetry series the fourth Saturday every month sets our child's library in Oakland and with that I wrote this poem on That day of morning. I knew that I was a paranoid old lady because That this could never happen and I woke up on November 9th, you know what year and It's my worst nightmare was true. So I wrote this to remind myself. It's called. I know we can We have been here before We sang in the face of the clan and dance with feet all bloody on the decks of slave ships and on the longest walk on Freedom marches and jail cells and concentration camps. Oops ghettos that we're supposed to call our home We know this place The concrete jungles the reservations a curse of and by the uncivilized we have forgotten the healing beauty of grass and trees and The gift of clean water to drink and have lost their ability to love We are familiar with the senseless mayhem of perpetual war the addictive lust power for power The intoxication of blood lust and those who prefer and Those who prefer the inhumane sacrifice of their souls as they tried to steal ours.  We just have to be careful very very very very very careful The madness of this narcotic is contagious We must not get drunk on the stench of this poison We have too much work to do we must turn this suicidal drug into fertilizer and let our tears fall down on deserts Glaciers and jungles and run down the faces of good-hearted people everywhere.  I know we can't see it. I know we can't I can't hear you I know we can say it. I know we can one more time. I know we can Thank you very much for your ears Thank you. It is an honor to be here. Thank you What's titled Latinos? Latino Latinos are the colors of the rainbow. I said the rainbow, yo Latinos a blanket on a grito Triguetito and Afro Afrolystic realistic simplistic always mystic always real really real sometimes too real Always told we love to steal So some Latinos become angered so angry and angered some have become Endangered some Latinos Or in day have become endangered or misinformed uninformed and uniformed into the penitentiary Right into the next century Some misinformed uninformed and uniformed into the war turned into Uncle Sam's whore Latinos I Can't take it no more. I said the U. S. Military well, we're first on the front lines first to die then We have to bury Have you seen how many Latino soldiers are in your national cemetery We are used in the U. S. Abused in the U. S. Confused in the U. S.  And can't come inside Latinos are young men and women who serve this country with pride We're here there and everywhere tar short bald and even india looking with long hair Latinos Latinos can become what we dream Latinos can become what we dream if given a chance Latinos are stars sports stars movie stars and superstars like Celia Cruz Latinos influence people around el mundo Like Olquesta de la luz Latinos are united farm workers teachers preachers activists poets your sisters and brothers from now until infinity We are you and you are we will forever be in this country We're all many branches, but one tree Straight queer and lgbt We spell latinos l o v e Thank you It's an honor to be here. Thanks so much. Jesus. Oh my the work. I know what kind of work this takes and My goodness, so let's get started. It's trying to decide which one And I think I'll do That's We are soldiers on the battlefield with life light in our eyes said sister Sonia 1994 23 years after volunteering at the black panther party free health clinic the tribune calls asking How many guns did you have at the black panther clinic? How many guns? Not how many services were provided Not how many programs were implemented. Not how many doctors or healthcare workers volunteered Not even why'd we care to put into practice such a program with so many hospitals in our community No, didn't ask any of that Wanted to know how many guns we had Not what illnesses or diseases most affected our community or how often we provided diabetes or sickle sickle cell test Or what may have been my program at the time? I would have told her my interest in certain grains to regain genetic memory But she was more interested in How many guns we had Not who ran the clinic or what hours or days of the week we were open or Who was our hero or she wrote to set about such a task That sustains our health needs today. No, the reporter didn't ask any of that She wanted to know how many guns we had Black men women late teens 20-something Volunteered to become doctors nurses pharmacists therapists completed homework between seeing patients Black volunteers staff physicians Talbert Smalls and Eddie Newsom tried to reverse curse of opioid addictions Purposely placed in our neighborhood to weaken black power base Develop methadone programs to destroy heroin dependence. We took vital signs Did sickle cell and diabetes tests provided free natal care kept patient records Organized charts med rooms pharmacies gave better care than kaiser dare dared held lifelike in our eyes Books are bullets educationally armed right to fight through walls that imprisoned us as violent drug-infested gun carrying sex crazed jigger boots Kwame Torrey warned us We must be politically prepared for what is coming We have no choice The revolution is coming whether we want it or not. It is coming whether we want it or not How many guns did we have? We were soldiers on the battlefield with lifelike in our eyes. We are soldiers on the battlefield with lifelike in our eyes A handheld mic to introduce the next Uh poet rafael jesus gonzales and after him james cadney permission Of the aloni people of this land A little sweet smoke in the tradition of the nawa peoples Because speaking in public. It's a sacred act. I was born and raised Right on the u.s. mexican border In the white is the puzzle area So consequently I am heir to two muses To speak in two different tongues So that all my work are discrete pieces into tongues después del discurso una mujer me dijo que no fui cortez con la oposición que fui duro y que no animé discusión tal vez si fuera cristo pudiera decir perdona les que no saben lo que hacen o la reina y disculparme por haber pisarle el pie a mi verdugo Pero solamente si supiera que los verdugos fueran solamente míos que corse que cortesía tengo el derecho a darles a los que quebran los huesos y las almas de mis hermanos mis hermanas les niegan el pan los libros a los hambrientos a los niños la medicina el sanar a los enfermos techos a los desamparados que estropean los mares que destruyen los bosques y los desiertos violan la tierra a fabilidad en los labios de la furia justa es pecado y blasfemia de la cual no seré culpable after the lecture and this is dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. a woman said I was not polite to the opposition that I was harsh and did not encourage discourse perhaps if I were Christ I could say forgive them for they know not what they do or the queen and apologize for stubbing my executioner's toes but only if I knew the executioners were mine only what courtesy have I to give to them who break the bones the souls of my brothers my sisters denibrate books to the hungry the children medicine healing to the sick roofs to the homeless who spoil the oceans they waste the forests and the deserts violate the land affability on the lips of outrage is a sin and blasphemy I'll not be guilty of the queen was pretty amazing there the slides that you see in the back are by Puerto Rican musician singer-songwriter Chris Matos native village at Utuado in Puerto Rico was very hard hit by landslides in Hurricane Maria so I don't have a list of all the the artists in front of me but you'll be seeing some pretty amazing art and I have a lot of people to thank for that I'm blanking out right now so names on screen you'll see their names on screen I'm blanking out right now I can't list them all because I'm having my mind is blanking out but anyway next up is Flo Oriwong James Cagney and then Flo Oriwong and then Anne Muto hey everybody good afternoon thank you for your work blessings to you for this the poem I'm going to do is called between a rock and an immigrant this poem was written and it is dedicated to Jake Lynn Call and it is modeled after a poem by Alan Ginsberg from 1956 America god damn this is what it's like being between Plymouth's rock wall and an immigrant America Liberty and Justice sure do make cute baby goat names America your wig is powdered with coke but the lice don't seem to mind America I'm leaning in I'm waiting for the conversation to turn to genocide so I can say me too America wake up you're missing the point you invented terrorism but only used dark skin models in its ad campaigns you award assassins with black friday arms deals America when I say you I mean we the people I guess I plan to make extra cash make trademarking waterboarding but it's patented already are there tortures you don't profit from which bank do you entrust your thoughts and prayers America can you say her name as in a novena not a marketing slogan America nine people were murdered in a church but the shooter on your flatbed truck is still hungry eleven people were murdered in a synagogue but they brought it on themselves for praying unarmed twenty children were shot at Sandy Hook but your taste is for a loaded gun over a living child if you say you love children Emmett Till has four little girls he'd like to ask you about here I go bringing up old shit again America you pass blood hand to hand generation to generation has it ever occurred that you might be the savage the terrorist the outside threat you're so afraid of ask the Dakota Sue their version of American history ask the buffalo about the endless pains ask the poison dead about the true meaning of Thanksgiving don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about you dropped the compassion units from all your mindfulness classes America what do we tell our children about this home of dead braves what do we tell our children period America you had a great idea once you're a dry drunk you throw a bomb then hide your hand you're the main suspect and loudest victim both stop children what's the sound of a mag light hitting a migrant skull this is not set up for bar joke this is me wondering why people are still crossing deserts to escape slavery and oppression only to meet a walled promised land in 1987 president Ronald Reagan demanded Soviet leader Gorbachev tear down this wall dividing east and west Berlin after all these years it never occurred to me that we kept those bricks in storage America you're a big foster home where the poor comes in for its abuse it's possible that the people who've passed the naturalization test know more of American history than you do and they still want to live here America kneeling was once viewed as a sign of respect or surrender a sign of honor or a pledge when a black man kneels the gesture becomes threatening America there I go there I go there I go America can you just say her name any name insert a name here like voting someone off your island America this year my therapist recommended I get a face lift I misheard her say race lift America every time a siren rings a black man gets his wings and his mother kneels at an open casket to sing the national anthem what would it look like who would we be if we had no one left to hate or ban can you imagine this with your eyes open thank you the poem that I'm about to read to you is in the book that I gave myself as a gift for turning 80 last October read my lips my mother was and the illegal immigrant and my poem is about my imagining what she went through when she was interrogated at the Angel Island immigration station the Chinese that I'm going to use is the Cantonese fourth dialect it's a disappearing dialect so whatever I can muster up is helping to keep it alive Giao Ngoyi call me auntie on Angel Island near the open road a distance from I-Fou San Francisco the ocean bills I think of you as a young husband our daughters and I have traveled a long way to be with you we are latched behind barbed wire soldiers with guns here second daughter shivers she asks what has she done wrong what do I tell her I worry will we answer the questions correctly in Fakigua, America I am your wife I am your sister not your wife I warn our daughters Mo Gong don't tell secret Mo Ham Ngoy Du Mama do not call me mother Giao Ngoyi call me auntie Anne Muto Cupertino and then me I'll be reading two short poems today this first poem helped me to understand why my parents could not talk about their incarceration during World War II and how I was affected by their silence a raw truth would my parents share something flawed something ugly how could they be queep something shameful they closed off parts of themselves to shield me from the ugliness they believed lay inside they held their silence not to hurt nor diminish they could only move forward by shedding out the past I could not know their love lay beneath an avalanche of fear the rubble of self doubt what I heard in their silence I am ugly I am something flawed and in elementary school I dropped the call from my middle name thinking that would make me acceptable this poem is me claiming my birthright and accepting my little girl just as she was it's called Tamiko she is small curly black hair tied with a bow she stands still bluebird skirts and red vests sweep and swirl her she searches for the safety of warm brown eyes honeyed skin of knowing she is one of them she yearns to hear chotto matte gomen kudasai sumimasen arigato gozaimashita she steps away slips into a box which spins into space in her box she wonders maybe the blonde ones knows something she doesn't maybe she is the odd one the out of sorts one maybe she should be more like them thank you so next up after me is Elaine Ellinson and then Lorraine Bonner and then we'll show Celine Wallace's video I'm going to take I'm going to read a bit from a poem about my grandfather as the world exploded into war in 1941 in the war after an enemy sub shelled the central coast the FBI took you my grandfather in dead of night with no time to pack your clothes your crime living while Japanese within five miles of the coast you weren't even head of household just a hired hand but every able-bodied immigrant who did anything whatsoever alien in leadership business language, religion, martial arts had been tracked since 1939 by Navy intelligence and the FBI they combed business directories, church bulletins community newspapers looking for names better to be safe than embarrassed what bureaucrat wants trouble for a clerical slip an 80-year-old vet of the Russo-Japanese war lock him up a four-eyed mouse of a Japanese language teacher lock him up the treasurer of the Buddhist church lock him up lock them all up since lists of potentially dangerous grew 400 men 800 at most the FBI recommended take mostly men leave women and children behind until the president had different ideas other priorities mushrooming 2000 6000 120,000 imprisoned in American concentration camps 129,000 dead in Hiroshima 80,000 more in Nagasaki how much is enough and to all those folks out there there are so many that just keep their heads down okay, we're not the visible targets right now we'll just keep quiet keep our heads down, stay out of trouble I used to work with a lot of them I spent my time in the corporate salt mines in the financial district so this is to the people I used to work with sheer luck swerving swabbly through life gyroscope spinning true inner momentum never disrupted sliding along on greased wheels quarters jingling in your pockets winning every coin toss you can afford to be flipped blank eyes milky innocence a careless toss of smooth flowing hair some people are golden just lucky I guess there was a time when I worried that my young son would end up dead, drunk or in jail he had rocks in his brain broken glass in his heart the alphabet did flips across the page and girls who didn't think Asian Americans date worthy confided in him endlessly about their jut-jodd crushes he gave me permission to read this by the way the day the cops caught my son crouched behind a bush smoking pot with his pudgy white friend pockets loaded with pen knives and a sharpened screwdriver they could have been sent to juvie on a conveyor belt to prison but smoking while Asian and carrying weapons while wussy were not punishable offenses they were the wrong class and wrong color for involuntary servitude the cops just laughed and brought them home to their mamas just lucky I guess like the time the highway patrol smiled when I said I was speeding towards my ex-in-law's latkes because the engine on my new to me Mazda was so quiet I couldn't tell I'd edged over 80 didn't even give me a ticket just lucky I guess not like my black sister friend stopped for a broken taillight in her dream machine on divisidero street a new to her BMW convertible cherry red with a slightly frayed top the cops didn't like her attitude threw her upside the car tossed her in jail impounded her vehicle to ransom it $400 she didn't have she couldn't keep a job for long she asked too many questions her gaze was too direct her body too ripe the last words she heard before she died were a joke about her black butt from a well-meaning white male who called himself a friend he was proud that he got her to laugh and laugh and laugh what else could she do just lucky I guess so next up is Elaine Ellison and Lorraine Bonner thank you so much she's way for including me and for this wonderful anthology it's quite an honor and very humbling to be here among all these wonderful poets it's just amazing this is a little different it's an excerpt from an essay that I wrote and I'm actually very happy today because this is the 100th anniversary of the day that congress passed the 19th amendment I was riveted to the spectacular vision all the democratic women members of congress gathered on the floor of the house dressed in white Deb Haaland and Sharice davids the first Native American congresswomen in the history of the country Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib the first two Muslim women representatives Doris Matsui born behind barbed wire in the post and relocation center during World War II when her parents and 120,000 other Japanese Americans were incarcerated today we stand together wearing white in solidarity with the women of the suffrage movement who refused to take no for an answer the representative Brenda Lawrence of the congressional black caucus we will be seen they brought with them a wealth of experience fighting for reproductive rights voting rights, educational equity and immigrant rights they had battle scars from working against racial profiling by police homophobia sexual harassment and gun violence and we can presume that all of them had challenged sex discrimination many times over as I watched them hugging smiling and taking their seats in the August chamber it was hard to imagine that only a century ago women did not even have the right to vote much less run for office I tried to put myself in the place of those courageous women in California who fought for suffrage their radical imagination and their hutzpah that it must have taken to persuade women's suffrage in the 1911 state ballot but the rich diversity of today's congress women reveals an even more compelling story initially most of the leaders of the California suffrage movement as in the national suffrage campaign were wealthy white women but many working class and women of color played key roles roles that have been marginalized and often ignored in our history Selena Solomon who was an ardent activist from a San Francisco Jewish family that had fallen on hard times bristled at the elitist society women who dominated suffrage organizations here she opened the votes for women club near union square where she cooked and served lunch to shop girls, waitresses and laundry workers and then recruited them to walk precincts for the right to vote Sarah Massey Overton founded the interracial suffrage amendment league in San Jose in 1910 Tiel Yong was the first Chinese American woman to vote in the United States born in San Francisco's Chinatown in 1877 she ran away at the age of 12 to avoid being sent into a forced marriage to a minor in Montana a common practice at the time she joined the Presbyterian mission now Cameron House where she braved vigilantes and trafficking rings to rescue Chinese girls trapped in brothels under the influence of advocates like Solomon's and Overton and Leong the suffrage movement became more welcoming to women of all backgrounds parlor meetings and wealthy private homes gave way to suffrage teas in community halls which the organizers decorated with flowers to mask garbo cigar smoke from the men's political meetings pro suffrage movement pro suffrage messages not only adorned billboards and advertising on the ferries and streetcars but the ingenious women organizers stamped them on paper bags at grocery stores stenciled them on napkins at ice cream parlors and even stuck them in pockets of clothing to be picked up from the tailor the histories of these courageous women have been sidelined by the dominant narrative yet the prescient voices now resonate in the halls of congress thanks to the women who carry on their legacy who to paraphrase representative Lawrence will be seen and will be heard thank you gonna switch videos see if this works just gonna show you how to advance the slides he can show you what's and you can do the mic hold on, yeah, we'll get it can she use that mic? thank you, I'm Lorraine Bonner and I have we're coordinating the slides with my poems so that's what's happening and I want to thank you Shizue for putting this all together this is an amazing I've been just amazed by both the artwork and also the wonderful things that people have been reading can everyone hear me? okay good hearing impairments I'm kind of sensitive to that I have three poems which are basically which are basically about the past, the present, and the future this is the first it's called multi-hued humanity in the beginning was black, silent and infinite light entered the dark and together they created everything in time in time everything created with us a rainbow of browns deep dark umber to pale rosy beige multi-hued humanity, multi-gendered multi-abled, multi-tongued children of balance no one knows why a gang stepped out of the rainbow tagged white all over every home and mine beat down black created earth like dirt we multi-hued struggled to find a name for them the gang claiming white how lonely they must be they burn the ground as they walk away this is the present thank you Steve Jobs the house has no roof mud fills every room the walls stained with strange walks in slowly each mine gripped with some image of the storm the moment of his or her unique and individual breaking far away someone says look at that filthy house what animals they are to live that way far away they know nothing of storms we have cell phone cameras now everyone can see the storm thank you Steve Jobs for making it harder to look away for opening the multi-hued eye bringing the footprint on the face close enough to count the nails we are grateful for this new fine grain resolution far away evidence is irrelevant and this is the future we are more than even we know in the future history teachers will also be grief counselors for children bewildered and sorrowful over us every part of our lives will grieve them gasoline, Coca-Cola body cams only a few will study incarceration and only in small groups with the most compassionate mentors our calendar passes by the holidays they will celebrate days when grace filled our trembling souls and we became their ancestors we don't know yet how it will happen the flowering heart and mind compassion and brilliance courage genius the children beg to hear the thrilling stories again and again Selene Wallace's a clip from Selene Wallace's video Rene Yanyas and then after that a little bit out of sequence because they have to leave early Tony Robles and then Julie Nicholson and then we're going to have a little bit of change in programming Tony Robles is going to be reading next and he'll be reading two pieces before he reads his own piece he's going to be reading a tribute to another lost leader Jeff Adachi so he'll be reading from the baby tribute to him and then after Tony will be Thomas Robert Simpson and then Julie Nicholson what was that you were saying about the technical issues to expect why we love Jeff Adachi this is an excerpt from the Bayview newspaper editorial by Dr. Willy and Mary Radcliffe tears flowed throughout San Francisco on Saturday February 23rd but especially in its darkest and poorest neighborhoods and encampments at the painful news that public defender Jeff Adachi, our champion is gone Jeff was the only official in this city that we could trust to fight for us the black and brown and poor San Franciscans being bulldozed out by a city drunk on its wealth and power Jeff Adachi was so determined to win the best possible outcome for his clients not a one of them able to pay him that he spent countless hours with them respecting their superior knowledge of their case and situation San Francisco's jails are 57% black yet blacks are down to about 3% of the population those were his clients and he visited them in their jail cells and wherever they lived why do we love him primarily because he loved us in a city where blacks were never welcome and always pressured to leave Jeff Adachi knew he respected and fought fiercely for black people he had a sense of kinship rooted in his family tales of the atrocity for two Japanese internment he poured out his love and all the funds he could that he could find for our children held annual backpack giveaways so they'd be eager to start the new school year he held book fairs and science fairs to tempt their curiosity even held proms for youngsters who couldn't afford one at school outfitting them with formal schools for free as the only elected public defender in California and one of the few nationwide Jeff was independent enough to fight for a budget equal to the district attorney's level in order to level the playing field for the poor his staff was 40% people of color 20% LGBTQ and 50% female Jeff believed that when police officers are really guilty especially when they murder poor people the DA should prosecute them in may of 2018 he said a hail of bullets is not appropriate police response to people suffering mental health crises in both the woods and gangura killings officers were not in immediate danger when they fired their weapons the san francisco district attorney's decision not to prosecute any officer on any charge and that's when the crime boggling and fails and fails to hold police to the same laws we as citizens are expected to abide I want to take a moment to recognize two people the late wade woods long time activists of the film war who recently passed away and also the late Philip Chavez member who lived in soma he was born and raised san francisco and I just found out he was a very close friend of us just found that he died two days ago in the Philippines so it's in in their memory that I read this excerpt of a short story from this wonderful book and again Shizwei thank you so much for putting so much love into these books and these projects this is an excerpt from bullhorn I am a human being I am a man yet I feel like a pathogen I walk in the city the city that gave birth to me and my mother and father the city whose shadows cast over me hiding my face attempting to swallow me I have a strange relationship with my city upon whose streets I took my first steps it slowly became disdainful as if the fact that I was born in it were a source of shame something to be extricated it sees me as a pathogen something to be exercised from its streets its public spaces something that should be hosed down and put down the drain but I still walk the streets a 5 foot 9 inch 185 pound why the hell should I leave I'm from here so here I am a full grown pathogen working as a housing rights advocate carrying a bullhorn to the courthouse a friend of mine is being evicted from her home of more than 30 years not quite a pathogen but they are treating her like one a near pathogen who never missed paying rent in 30 years suddenly evicted because the new landlord wants to jack up the rent why am I carrying a bullhorn well we had a rally for my friend the one being evicted and I brought the bullhorn to break through the deafening silence of my town the politicians must have jumbo marshmallow stuffed in their ears the more the people cry out for housing justice the less they are heard it seems that anything that benefits the people is discounted maligned that is plain ignored but back to the bullhorn I carry it like a cop carries a gun for much of my life my voice has been stuck in my throat in a knot trying to articulate thoughts and feelings and fits and starts but with this bullhorn I have found my voice what do we want justice what do we want when do we want it on this day the bullhorn decided to go a wall the thing didn't work I bought new batteries and still the thing refused to work refused to create a bigger voice and ensuing waves of revolution undulating in the way a roll of toilet paper would do in a violent windstorm so I had to speak with my own voice no amplification just solo after stumbling stuttering and lisping my way through the injustice of evictions chanting and more chanting I entered the courthouse so to see the comedy learn about the comedy of errors and everything that happened from that point onward which was a downward spiral you're just going to have to buy this book okay thank you very much Thomas Robert Simpson and then Julie Nicholson thank you very much how to and very grateful to be a part of this auspicious occasion and a part of this book I'm going to put my clock on 3 minutes so I know when my time is up I will be reading from my piece Lou Jimmy my mommy and my daddy going to be moving soon we got to they can fix up our neighborhood my mommy says our plot is going to be the first one Urban DeNuo fixes up they going to sell us a new house real cheap mama say we finally going to get to the promised land the man came by and told me my daddy and my mommy all about what they going to do how they going to tear down Miss Doris house and Miss Franklin's house and Miss Plucie's house the bass house and they going to tear down the house on the corner and they going to tear down the barbershop and they going to tear down the cleaner place and the barbecue joint then they going to put in some new streets and sidewalks you know why they going to put in those new streets and sidewalks so when it rained we ain't got to walk in the mud no mo and mama say when they fix everything up I'm going to get my own room and we going to get a new kitchen and a new bathroom and everything is going to work and then they going to make this brand new school for us to go to school in and we going to have new desks and new chairs and none of the windows going to be broke and they going to make us a brand new playground to play on and then he say they going to make this big street this street going to be so big that tree cars can go this way and tree cars can go that way all at the same time you know why they going to make that big street so everybody's daddy can get home before they suffer gets cold then they going to make this big sidewalk up in the sky this sidewalk going to be so big that you can walk over all of those cars but we got to move out of the neighborhood for a little while then I think they gave my mom and my daddy a whole lot of money for this house then I think we rich my momma say we got to save some of it to buy a new house for when they finish there's a man down the street who don't want to go he say they should give him a whole lot more money for his house everybody say that man's crazy and cause he's crazy nobody listen to him thank you Julie Nicholson and after that Rogi Oyama and then Carol Chin Morales and then LaLuca Iwane hello everyone thank you okay this is called queen bees another neighborhood story I wonder if she remembers me the white girl with dirty blonde hair among the many shades of mocha colored children in our queen's neighborhood our favorite game is queen bee in the three foot gap between the edge of cookie's garage and her neighbor's gray slatted fence hundreds of yellow and black honey bees shimmer through a veil of honeysuckle they stagger around us punch drunk on nectar like cowboys stumbling out of a saloon they buzz cloud our ears wondering about what kind of flowers these girls might be our friends tell us we're crazy you're crazy you're gonna get yourself stung we invite them to play but we get no recruits it's just cookie and me standing amid the honeysuckle like statues one carved from ebony one from marble the sun dappling then burnishing our skins we synchronize our breaths we hold forearms a bridge for the delicate wings and tiny feet to crawl over us tasting skin slick and salty neighbor kids sing song be warned be careful cookie's mother says you girls watch out you're tempting fate but no one stops us and we just keep going we get bold we start catching bees and rinsed out peanut butter jars with holes pricked into the lids the one who catches the largest bee is queen bee for the day we're generous yours is bigger no yours you're the queen we keep the frantic bees in the jars only a minute their tiny yellow and black bodies slam up against the hot glass their smooth buzz now full of ragged rage until we release them back to their hives starting from preschool cookie and I play queen bee every summer and then around my seventh birthday the news comes from my parents we are moving to Manhattan I have a first question can cookie come with and that's all the time I have in the next two minutes we'll be in the book thank you next is Roji Oyama and then Carol Chin Morales and LaLuca Iwani good afternoon fellow writers, esteemed writers what a great lineup very proud to be part of this group and have been since the beginning it takes place in the current time in east Los Angeles which at one time was home to most Japanese Americans in southern California and it has now become more Latinoized it's a story by a young elderly couple who after release from camp they return to their home and thought they would find peace and tranquility in Los Angeles in the current time but on this summer evening after watching the news and having ice in the neighborhood rating businesses rounding people up it gave them memories of what happened to them in 1942 so I'm going to read you a segment a little segment about this the title of the story is called Miguelito after quite hot summer night Aji had dropped his beer and Emigo prodded him time to take out the garbage Aji he's really starting to smell Aji quietly obliged he headed to the back door of the kitchen he paused at the landing he could see the beams of police helicopter searchlights in the distance the muffled engines went silent as they disappeared over the horizon he silently shook his head as he headed down the rickety steps toward the garbage shed as they slid open the door to the shed he saw the garbage can stir for a moment thinking one of the neighborhood cats had made its way inside he slowly lifted off the lid and peered inside he dropped the lid and jumped back in shock his heart racing he approached the can and peered inside a second time a pair of eyes peered back at him por favor señor lo llame la migra please mister do not call ice his hands trembled as he raised his arm above his head in surrender Aji lowered the can slowly to its side a young boy in tattered clothes emerged me llamo Miguel soy Salvadorino tengo siete años my name is Miguel I'm from El Salvador I'm seven years old Aji cautiously looked down the street and looked to the yard to make sure that nobody was around he gestured Miguel to be silent and fall him into the house who on earth were you talking to? Emiko, his wife, asked and she turned around and who on earth is this boy? this is Miguel he came from El Salvador that is all I know he looks hungry and needs a bath Emiko smiled warmly and took to clean him up she peered a plate of food Miguel Aji, I saw lots of cuts and bruises on him she remarked I wonder how they got there I also found this note with a picture in his pocket Aji read it a moth flew right in front of him but he was too dumbfounded to notice it seems he left home with his little brother Carlos the note witches them God's speed for their journey Emiko's eyes bring with tears Miguel beamed as he gestured for more food Emiko obliged and gave him a large second helping his little hands reached over to hold Emiko's in ages Ustedes son tan babbles y génerosos que Dios los bendiga you are both so kind and generous may God bless you as they looked at Miguel they were dumbstruck by the new information about his missing little brother I will go down to Muracami's store tomorrow and ask Senor Gomez about where we can seek the right advice not to get Miguelito arrested there are good people who can help find out what happened to this little brother yes we remember what happened to us and we must do unto others in this grand situation thank you Carlos I am really thrilled to be here and to be inspired by all of your voices both because of your excellent handling of the language and writing craft but maybe even more your commitment to social justice and equality I'm really grateful to be included here also I mentioned that I think all of us know that our president has vowed to round up millions of migrants and ICE has been directed to seek out 2,000 families across our country this week my first poem is called NTA notice to appear a traumatized 3 year old dark-haired boy a toddler torn ruthlessly from his family is asked to appear in a courtroom to testify at his own deportation hearing given a list of attorneys though he cannot read unaware of what a lawyer is or why he should need an advocate not knowing what a legal proceeding is what deportation is not English speaking unable to say in English I need to go to the bathroom enters a dark wood paneled courtroom alone trembling not looking up a room bigger than his whole house in El Salvador filled with strangers he has never seen before directed to sit down by a gruff foreign sounding voice sit down sientate climbs on to a tall wooden chair awkwardly without help his tiny feet dangling looking up at the judge with his wide inquisitive eyes oversized earphones meant for adults are placed gently over his tiny head as if the child will comprehend accurately if he hears the Spanish translation the judge peers down over the side of his desk asking his first question do you have a lawyer puzzled the child moves his head slightly looks around the room eyes widening lips trembling legs continuing swinging only faster then suddenly bursts into tears the judge looking exasperated trying to maintain decorum size adjusts his glasses picks up his pen and wonders justice his third child so far this morning I forgot to tell you that I've been married to my partner was undocumented when we married for 31 years Cameron House was mentioned by another writer today it's a Presbyterian community agency in Chinatown where I grew up where I was born a murder happened there last year on the street a homeless man helpless was murdered next to a historic community serving agency in Chinatown beneath a six foot cross a cruel violent act carried out viciously last Sunday morning Aaron a homeless man our neighbor lay prone on the ground in his spot on Joyce Alley wrapped in his blood soaked sleeping bag while unaware churchgoers drove into the parking lot as usual a few feet away Lenora noticed so disturbing and horrendous the mind reels helplessly rage gone awry uncontrollable hostility revenge brutally exacted hallucinations delusions drugs alcohol all of the above we may never know countless souls like Aaron wander the streets of San Francisco daily hoping for a single restful night without danger in shadowy doorways dimly lit sidewalks under freeway overpasses shivering in the cold all over the city alone Aaron Quang Tran was one of these our eyes have been opened we will never be the same the wound is raw and gaping keep it rolling along so please dispense with preliminary remarks just your name and the title of the piece next up is Raluca Iwani and then Kevin Madrigal and Susanna Pravere Pada Thank you, Shizue As a nurse practitioner a big part of helping people to find health and well-being is to hold space for their stories and the immense journeys that they have traveled as I listen to immigration stories that speak of fleeing peril of dangerous migration paths of family separation and the unspeakable risks that people take to arrive here I am reminded that few immigrants actually want to leave their country their language or their family I know this too firsthand as an immigrant from Romania too often it is the political and economic pressures that make home no longer livable make coming to this unwelcoming country a risk worth taking the power and strength of people who traverse the planet to make their ways to the United States into a life as new immigrants that often demands them to be invisible inspires me I am humbled to bear witness to this power and strength and honored to accompany my patients in whatever ways I can reverence listen well a man feels he is drowning in his own lungs that it's hard to make it up the stairs to his second floor apartment my stethoscope presses against his papery olive skin I listen for the lung inflating feel the press of his rib cage against my hand the thrill and heave of his heart his sounds stir tiny bones inside my ear I wait for the snap of each valve mitral tricuspid pulmonary aortic there listening gives the answer the whoosh of an aortic valve that won't open pay attention bodies won't tell their secrets to just anyone a woman feels something in my head as though spirits are weighing her down slowly slowly her story emerges of carrying five children from a rural conjugal speaking mountain village of Guatemala across the bony spine of America into a life of being feeling imagining herself invisible listening and feeling I find my way to the things that are told and those that don't want to be told I peer with an ophthalmoscope red light illuminating the eye of a young strong man who doesn't believe in the diabetes that is slowly dismantling him ravaging his kidneys taking hold of his retina inside the creamy golden universe of his optic disc I watch the pulsating maze of vessels the vital force of us is strong and wild from the first rush of blood through a baby's hummingbird of heart to the final hiss of breath echoing through the cathedral of the ribs we are both fragile and fierce a miracle of nerves and synapses bone and sinew a universe of universes my name is Kevin Madrigal and this piece is called Today I became Mexican like my father when I was young being Mexican meant accepting hugs and kisses from tios and tias that you never remembered meeting they all remembered you though being Mexican meant unconditional love for anyone you called family but as I got older my idea of being Mexican changed especially growing up in America every time I eat out I'm confronted with my identity it doesn't matter what type of food Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Italian, Danish you name it and at all of these restaurants there are people in the kitchen that look like my tios and tias shouting in espanol listening to mariachi music and cooking these same people who can't pronounce the names of the dishes they create are the ones whose job it is to suspend your disbelief these cooks use the knowledge passed down to them to teleport you to another time and place the wood fire warmed kitchen of an old grandmother living in the countryside and by some amazing feat this time and place is completely foreign to them once upon a time my father was one of those cooks he worked at an American diner making comfort food favorites like cheeseburger, steaks, mashed potatoes he made people believe he was a little old American grandmother named Delilah cooking from her family's handwritten recipes that was the only beautiful part of it though the hours were many and the pay was little but to put it in his words conseguir trabajo en la cocina es buen trabajo cuando no conoces a nadie getting work in the kitchen is good when you don't know anyone hidden behind closed doors he didn't have to know or speak with anyone to cook it was a job appropriate for anyone and no one and so he was rightfully upset when a Mexican like me who grew up all in the same place knew many people and graduated from college chose to follow in his footsteps and cook I tried to justify what I was doing told him that I wasn't only cooking I was building a movement so that people like him wouldn't have to stay and work appropriate for no one for as long as he did so that people like him could use it so that people like him wouldn't be judged unfairly based on their background he never really understood though he cooked to survive but today my father walked through the doors of my Middle Eastern inspired restaurant he remarked at the beautiful space made joyful comments about the pink lit glittery bathrooms he sat down to eat our shakshuka halloumi salad and Greek yogurt with date molasses and turmeric granola and for a moment he believed he had been transported to a continent he had never imagined he could visit there was an old Tunisian grandmother preparing his food only it was people like him in the kitchen people who face insane barriers in life people who are working towards something better he ate my food and for the first time in what felt like forever he began to glow with pride he finally understood and with his affirmation today I became Mexican like my father Susanna Pravere Pettis and then Alan Harris and Charlie Amour and Joanne DeLuna thank you Shiz I'm going to read two short poems from the book amazing book this first one was written on the day of the climate march in San Francisco last year it's called Just Breathe a solo scrub jay perched on a wrinkled orange tree calls out dawn like nails on a chalkboard I can still remember mornings like symphonies and plump oranges and glossy green Oakland wakes to a gray brew of pollution and soot and my sister can't stop coughing a wheeze planted its rusty roots in her once pink lungs pesticides drift a little on a withered hibiscus birds fall bees die Monsanto not my saint Monsanto dances with a devil on a bed of crushed wings dollars jingling in its pockets I recycle, reuse, reduce but what can I do to curb corporate cravings that shoot up towns and rainforests spurting from exit wounds who would imagine we'd take to the streets and march for air to breathe for water to drink thousands strong our chance rising like ravens we march for a future for this sacred earth we march in the too hot sun so sweet grass may always grow we march lest we leave our children a fractured spear and to our grandchildren nothing but prayers thank you and this next very short piece is called no, I'm not the maid and other microaggressions like water off a duck's back they say but it isn't really a seed of contempt is planted as they miss the fingers speak with their backs say Puerto Rican with a curled lip I read between the lines an attitude slides off the page rattles like a tremor shifting landscapes a whirling hiss of disdain rises like a tornado knocks me off my feet before I even realize it's time to run for shelter thank you there are photos in the background in addition to Chris Marcos photos of Puerto Rico there are some photos from Charles Dixon who was in St. Thomas Virgin Islands working for FEMA right after Maria and ironically he was living on a cruise ship because the housing had been destroyed with a whole bunch of professionals making money going around from one crisis international crisis to the other all around the world so but here are some of his photos of some of the destruction in St. Thomas next up is and speaking of recycling if you leave your name tag so I don't have to buy more I have name tags so you guys can hang out at the reception and talk to each other and the audience can talk to you and also please stay because Leon's son the photographer is going to be taking a group photo of all of us on the stairs so that we can impress the funders there is so much of this stuff that I really don't like doing but it has to get done by somebody so if anybody wants to help me I'm taking it is and then Charlie Amour who was on the editorial committee did a fantastic job thank you and also thank you to Andre and Roger who were also on the editorial committee they spent hours reading fantastic I really appreciated their help anyway so Alan Harris is up next and then Charlie Amour and then Joanne DeLuna thank you it's an honor to be included in this in this collection although unlike the rest of you nothing that I write is meant to be taken seriously I got the one fork the one spoon the one bowl, the one dish the one glass, the one mug the one pot, the one pan the one chair, the one table the one sock, the one shoe that's all I need, just one of everything if everyone could be satisfied with just one of everything there wouldn't be the tragically ridiculous imbalance of some people living in mansions with 1500 rooms some of which are never even occupied while other people don't even have one room to live in is that really the way it's supposed to be is that really the way that God planned it, if so terrible plan God just awful world wide minimalism world wide socialism world wide collectivism first gather up all of the material goods in the world and then divide them up evenly among the world's population then give everyone an apartment that will provide them with just enough room to be comfortable so that if for example you're somewhat obese then you would get a bigger place than someone who is thinner and if you lose weight then you would be moved into a smaller place and if your weight fluctuates too much well then that would suggest a bigger problem that you should probably get checked out maybe you have an eating disorder in which case you would probably be sent off to some sort of camp where that problem would be dealt with hmm this is starting to sound a bit fascistic isn't it maybe we should forget about that part and talk instead about how you very very wealthy people probably think that this is going to impact you negatively well you have a right to think that this is going to fuck you up big time you're going to go from living it up in a 1500 room mansion to simply existing in a tiny bachelor apartment in a building that probably won't even have an elevator but don't worry while you'll be having to make do with a lot less compensation will come in the form of the knowledge that there is a little girl somewhere who's going to go from living on the street without enough to eat to having a permanent roof over her head and a refrigerator stocked with healthy food I mean come on how great will that be won't that won't you get an enormous amount of satisfaction out of that don't you think that that will make up for the loss of those 1500 rooms well just give it a try look this is going to happen whether you want it to or not so you might as well make the best of it and don't give us any shit you don't want to end up at one of those camps where they send troublemakers do you oh crap this is starting to sound fascistic again isn't it damn this is hard thank you my piece is pulled rage driving home through sycamore the cyclist yelled nigger through your window at home you trembled in the kitchen minutes before he walked through the door you want to tell him you need to tell him because you've come to understand that his rage is acceptable your rage will not be understood your rage will stay a string of beads from your larynx to your stomach you let the beads show up at the entrance of your mouth feel them poke as you say he called me a nigger his swallow is a door closing a dial tone mid-sentence he rambles words like police reporting face recognition practical words for a practical world you wonder what that world would look like and gag at the absurdity you're nine years old again his words float around your glazed eyes he can't see where you've gone the only thing that travels back with you is his buzzing drone in your ear as you stand at the doorway of your neighbor looking in staying out another neighbor approaches and you move aside like a bystander when he stops the rage in his eyes the rage that will follow you like a bad smell for the rest of your life but you don't know this then instead there's a feeling of ants inside your skin inside your bloodstream in school they called you names like driftwood and half cast in school they asked you to pick sides asked you which side you most identified with asked you to lessen yourself to be part of the divisions but they were your peers your own age could it have been a shade of that rage his gaze triggers the flight in you you monkeys need to go back to where you came from onions sting you burn there's burning inside and your body gives water to soothe the shell but the fire's within before you realize it you're at your own front door yelling into the walls to find a peace of yourself you lost so quickly before later in bed the words dance in the dark and refuse to let you rest the flame flickers and the wicker burns a little more as you stand in the kitchen brought back by his droning it dawns on you that he will never know this burning you turn and walk coolly to your room close the door and quietly purge your rage thank you Joanne DeLuna and then Sri Devi Ramanathan and Andre Lamont Wilson in 2013 Ireland was trying to pass the bill that was nicknamed the suicide clause and that clause would allow women to get an abortion if they were at risk of committing suicide and this poem is a compilation of articles, news articles and of the national rights of individuals which was written by James Wilson in 1790 which is used to support anti-abortion legislation and also surmix a lot baby got back suicide clause back in America the South Dakotans supported by the 8th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld a provision requiring physicians to notify women seeking abortions that abortion increases the risk of suicide but what if you're already contemplating suicide down in Texas the Christian politicians shot the rifles into the air crying victory for safer abortions as the new law passed by Governor Rick Perry unnecessarily required abortion clinics uphold the same standards as hospital surgical centers victory the clinics closed in mass women scurried like roaches down to the Mexican border town of Novo Progreso which ironically translates in English to new progress seeking miscarriage inducing pills $35 for a box of 28 Seidel Tech branded pills some of them said Lucy Felix will wind up in the ER my intent was not to close abortion clinics state center Glenn Hagar said but to increase the quality of care victory the Texans made parents out of women who admitted they weren't emotionally nor financially ready to bring their children into worlds worlds without fathers worlds filled with shame guilt ridicule doubt and embarrassment those pro-lifers sure seem like the kind of folk who get shit done now if we could only rally them to lobby the government to provide free childcare for the unborn children they rallied so hard outside of abortion clinics yeah baby when it comes to females the US Supreme Court ain't got nothing to do with my selection unwanted pregnancies lack of financial stability or rape only of their speedo endangerment back in Ireland Janet and I she'll have on tweets her abortion I cried from relief and sadness that the first time I had been pregnant it wasn't a happy event it was a time of stress and worry hashtag abortion hashtag out hashtag sadness hashtag heartbreaking hashtag WTF hashtag TMI hashtag brave hashtag wow in Spain the women protested by flicking thongs at the pope and registering their bodies as intellectual property thereby retaking the rights of their own bodies an abortion performed without a woman's consent is considered considered feticide but what do you call a birth without the consent of a woman they call that morality a law a right to life but whose life certainly not a woman's human life from the commencement to its clothes is protected by the common law from its commencement to its clothes life begins when the infant is able to stir in the womb life is protected not only from immediate destruction but from every degree of actual violence and from every degree of danger from its commencement to its clothes but who protects the women the women whose lives have yet to close Marie-Devi Ramanathan and then Andre Lamont Wilson and Tommy Avicola Avicoli okay to fit the three minute time limit I am reading the skinniest version of the essay that I am honored to have included in Civil Liberties thanks again Shizui how goddess and activism got together I had never put the two together goddess and activism each resided in a distinct realm one was personal the other public one is intangible and the other is corporeal one is on the celestial plane and the other is on the physical both however deeply touch my spirit goddesses have always been a presence in my life they're normal to me goddesses are a vital and crucial part of Hinduism because they are shakthi the divine feminine principle responsible for all creation women by extension are believed to also possess shakthi creative energy so wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that goddesses and women are esteemed in Hindu societies why then are there more temples devoted to gods than goddesses today why is it that a book on Hindu deities will predictably dedicate a separate chapter to each god but lump all the goddesses into one and usually at the end the goddess doesn't seem to be appreciated as one would expect real life women don't fare too well either not in my experience cultural norms subtly and blatantly preach that males are more valuable than females according to social customs I am expected to constrict myself and privilege males sexism ignited my feminist consciousness sexism motivates my activism my mission in life is unequivocal work to create an equitable equitable society for girls and women myths are synthetic constructions possibly based on truth created to inform and influence society in specific ways in the Hindu world cultural perspectives and ethics have long been taught by the powerful medium of mythology mythology is inescapable as it is at the core of Hindu ritual art dance and arguably life as a women spirituality scholar I hypothesize that the divine feminine in mythology was deliberately switched from goddess almighty to good little wife in order to sway cultural attitudes toward the subjugation of women I aim to empower girls and women by exposing stories and presenting interpretations that demonstrate the goddess asserting authority and self agency in a range of personalities and situations I offer my work as a catalyst for the re-evaluation of modern day values particularly around girls women and the feminine I no longer separate goddess and activism in my mind the two came together through my scholarly research my goddess activism entails revitalizing the goddess where patriarchy has diminished her and in so doing empowering girls and women Jaimah Thank you I'm going to read an excerpt of my essay quarry the word quarry has two meanings the first is an excavation or pit from which stone is obtained this definition applies to several gravel pits that pockmarked my neighborhood of sun valley Los Angeles dumping grounds at least one played out pit partially filled with groundwater formed upon which locals called quarry lake the second is one who is hunted or pursued or any object of search, pursuit or attack this definition applies to me neighborhood rumors that I was gay pursued me for years before I came out some guys whispered I don't want to sit next to him other guys begged can I sleep over please prior by day magnet by night I reflect on an event in May 1984 as a confluence of two definitions of the word quarry ever since then I've dug to unearth what happened when three white teenage boys with the BB gun approached a black gay man the teens for the purpose of this essay I'll use their initials M, A and F were my younger brothers friends they had played hooky from school and come to my bedroom window asking for a drink of water I noted M held his Christmas gift a BB gun and appeared to be the best shot of the three when they target practice on cans placed on a basketball court fence pole I passed some cups of water through the torn screen no longer boys and not yet men the three resembled beautiful monsters I observed the way their faces transmogrified into those of incoate adults and the sneakers stomped the earth as if in a rush to own the world cigarette smoke billowed from there of maws and drifted into my room I turned on the fan to blow smoke back in their faces want to go fishing with us at quarry lake? I am asked bare chested I rolled my tongue around my cheek a necklace of the mask of Benin rested above my nipples the face of queen mother Idia looks serenely at the boys the stone excavation meaning of the word quarry comes from the vulgar Latin word a place where stones are squared while no one else squared stones at our ground pit I tried squaring the stone of M's invitation which didn't add up to six sides the trio hit something for me they always called me fag and gay and I rebuffed the sexual advances of two now they got a gun and invited me fishing with a gun and if you want to hear what else happened next you have to buy and read this book thank you Avi Koli Mecca and then Sandra Wasili, Sandra Bass and Guy Biederman I was approached a while ago by some folks who within the queer community who are organizing to get the police out of pride and I was asked to make a statement of support for that which of course I support and this was my statement to those in blue you think you can walk into our neighborhood set up a little card table hang a banner shine your shoes and buttons press your uniforms paste on a smile and all is forgiven you think we don't remember the decades you smashed windows and heads spilled blood on the sidewalks it's still there the rain the amnesia of a community desperate to be accepted can't wash it away the man one of you murdered still roams the streets death couldn't take him away justice wasn't blind it was strung out on twinkies don't you hear the cries of those entrapped by your vicious vice squads that sought us out in cruising areas rest stops the men carted out in bar raids who lost their jobs families apartments when their names were published in the newspapers because you didn't get your payoffs you feel no shame about the informants you sent into our meetings you spied on us as if we were criminals because we dared to take to the streets now you put up a good front recruiting from the community marching in pride raids you expect me to believe you've changed I don't I've seen the reports especially from queer and trans people of color and what about the murder of black and brown people the abuse of the homeless the poor you want me to welcome you into the community I'd rather welcome the devil himself thank you Sandra Wassily Sandra Bass Guy Biederman Dan Brady The haunting this is dedicated to my Yupik family in western Alaska in memory by marriage who died by violence the haunting the women are leaving the village they are leaving trauma trauma of ruptured tradition the old ways simmer while children attend schools taught by strangers women work the local wage jobs elders lament loss of language the dance the hunt modern demands new ways overcome minimize tradition trauma of economic change gap between TV reality and reality village hunters imprisoned in villages made stationary animals managed for sport for cash diminished food for the village table husbands go away for wage jobs instead of hunting not all go or change trauma of personal despair chaos erupts when the male plane lands heavy with freight the village on fire with alcohol fueled anger something inside people dies elders berate the youth youth strike out at each other or give in give up husbands jealous of wives working wives worried about children losing their way to despair some sometimes hit rape kill sometimes kill themselves so the women are leaving the village the old ways no longer work there the young thirst for new ways I left long ago they are leaving for the city for jobs for safety they are taking the old ways with them they are mixing them with new ways they are mixing their culture their bodies I mixed culture I outsider arrived in the village mixed my body with one born to the village wise women wearing cusbucks spoke to me in dreams warned me to respect the old ways to bring the old ways forward to bring my children mixed children forward into the mixed world the mixed world is finding new ways the voices of the wise wise women echo in the new ways to stay the hand steady the hand study the new ways become remembering the old ways that is my work to help the remembering thank you so my piece is about a road trip that I took last summer through the deep south it was about a thousand miles and I'm just going to read the last few paragraphs of that piece and it's called freedom come to reach the national memorial for peace and justice in Montgomery, Alabama better known as the lynching memorial my mapping system routed me past the first white house of the confederacy secessionist consecrated the house to their unholy cause in 1861 and the city has been known as the cradle of the confederacy ever since when writer James Baldwin visited in 1957 locals shared that people still wandered the halls of that house and wept nearly 100 years after the fall of the confederacy one can only guess what exactly they were mourning lovingly preserved by the state of Alabama and the ladies of the first white house association the birthplace of the confederacy represents the finest and Italianate architecture the white, pristine manicured with brick red chimneys fortifying its frame less than 10 blocks away the lynching memorial sits at the top of a gentle slope it is massive spanning over 6 acres tarnished steel sculptures of black men and women chained, kneeling, screaming pleading rust running down their naked bodies mark the entrance over 800 corroded steel columns representing the counties where lynchings have been documented hang from the structure much like black bodies hung from trees inscribed on each are the names of 4,384 African-Americans known to have been murdered in the period between the end of the civil war and the beginning of the civil rights movement although the full death toll is far greater than that as I walked between the columns looking for the counties where my family had lived at times I would reflexively reach out and touch a name calling them in for just a moment near the end a guide asked me what I thought overwhelmed I answered yeah he said looking off into the depths of the memorial it's a lot to take in following his gaze through the vast field of stolen lives I had no words and so it goes throughout Montgomery in fact throughout the south the Legacy Museum which charts the unbroken history from African-American enslavement to mass incarceration stands within Montgomery's former slave market in Birmingham and Jackson Confederate monuments are minutes away from sites commemorating the civil rights movement in Alabama and Mississippi the legacies of Confederate General Robert E. Lee and Martin Luther King Jr. are celebrated on the same day historian Barbara Fields captures the significance of this perpetual contest over memory and meaning succinctly the civil war is still going on it's still to be fought and regrettably it could still be lost from the south to my hometown of San Jose the 17th century to the 21st the war rages on reporting from the front lines of the 60s James Baldwin feared that all that was left of the great dream that was to have become America was the illusion of greatness a narrow narrative used to justify the wanton exercise of power illusions rarely go down without a fight and this one is particularly tenacious as Trump supporting crowds chanting make America great again a test however liberation begins with truth telling and that truth holds both shadows and light it is a lynching memorial uncovering the brutality at the heart of the well trod narrative of the gallant south it is also the story of ordinary black folks rising up and facing down a centuries old system of oppression wielding unarmed truth a belief in our inescapable connectedness and faith in the inevitable triumph of justice these are the stories of the south these are the stories of the nation and both need to be told that which weaves us together transcends time, histories identities and geographies my travels through the south reveal that this holds true whether we know it honor it, like it or not we can flail a whale in our ignorance and bump up against each other like leaves on the wind as fate allows we can give in to the tyranny of our darkest impulses that flow freely through our social web manifesting as chains bars and walls to justify delusions of superiority and separation or we can embrace the inescapable truth that my liberation is inextricably bound with yours and act with courage and humility to foster a reverence for all life we can choose given the challenges we face as a human community we must choose I beaterman Dan Brady Tiny Gray Garcia Dana Rodd and we'll close with tango icen martin thank you shizui this is an honor and this is what happens when you corner a poet in a 3am alley whoever said you can't draw with a typewriter never learned to write whoever said you can't get news from poetry never went to an open mic a man faced down in the street with bullet holes in his feet is not fit for idle speculation over tea his home is on the front page of our minds in 1000 point font his life screaming in our mouths sinking in our hearts the young woman killed while waiting for a train her skin a target all the dreams she can't have won't be forgotten if we were of a mind if we catch carry listen and hope and act 13,000 children held in cages government issues state sanctioned kidnapping find that key set them free I'm becoming a verb before my own eyes even little actions even drops of water crack open the rock of old belief deaf ears can tune the deeper frequencies the act of expression is both a possibility and a tool call it a weapon if you will this is what happens when you corner a poet in a 3am alley and they pull out their pen imagine poetry as currency imagine swapping a story for a bowl of minestrone a novel for a rack of ribs haiku for a taco a limerick for a ripe yellow peach prose poem for open mind flash fiction for sudden truth words they peel back minds jumpstart hearts create the flow where poets and listeners share in the fluid economy of understanding and dignity and respect free market exchange if you will built on the gold standard of love you may know me as Dan Brady because that's my name I host an open mic at sacred grounds every Wednesday and this handy dandy thing with two sides the open mics that I know of and if something's on there that doesn't happen or something's not on there that should be people let me know glasses I've rehearsed this don't worry so you know the recent news cycle right a while back they had an election you remember this not so long and on election night Elizabeth Warren made a statement and then it was printed out I saw it on the web and I got inspired so this is a mashup between her words and mine as you will soon see election night what Elizabeth Warren could have said I'd like to tell people still standing in line all across the country marking ballots considering their votes or still waiting to have their voices heard no matter what happens I want to thank them for how we work together it's been a hard fight for the house, the senate, state houses and local offices because we're we've been in and are in a fight together for democracy in a future where everyone has healthcare and human rights while wall street and faceless corporations are held to account taken to task and can no longer legally lie, cheat or steal nor bend the justice legislative or regulatory systems to their wills we are in a fight for democracy where people no longer die due to debt designed to disable where children, teens, adults all people are free of fear when walking down streets going to malls to a yoga studio, a church or synagogue because they're not being shot shot at or hearing shots because there are no shootings because we're all pulling together taking care of one another a future inclusive of science with moral obligations to protect both the truth and the earth and a justice system which no longer grinds up the poor needy or people of color those huddled masses yearning and we have a government adhering to the rule of law we are in a fight for our country where seniors live with dignity social security enhanced enlarged expanded women have equal pay for equal right and make decisions about their bodies we are proud of this new American dream proud of being immigrants or descendants of same and no diversity is what has made America great again and again and again tonight we fight for this dream and the dreamers to show ourselves as a nation which keeps mamas and babies together a government that is of by and for the people with the Federal Reserve taken in hand Citizens United dumped and we're bringing home our troops from everywhere to help everyone right here in the homeland this is the fight our fight and we are in it all the way every donation, doorknock or phone call you made mattered every step you took brought us closer to the better future together and that is something to be proud of so no matter what happens I want you to know serving the public is the greatest honor in life having democracies back means that it will have ours election day being over does not mean the struggle ends it was only one day an important day but just another day all the same keep on get up stand up fight for what is right and yes let's truly remake America great thank you tiny gray Garcia and then denna rod and isan martin are you guys here okay great anti-social workers in case manglers call me crazy lazy dumb and a bum because my knowledge don't come from the institution I'm a poverty scholar that house his mama that house his daughter all the people you don't want to see never want to be look away from me what you're going to do arrest me we're in your city so I want to shout out to my fellow poverty scholars in the audience although I feel like there's a lot of them in this beautiful book can I get a witness but Leroy Moore D. Allen Queen non-Dexman many more who have been part of the beautiful work of she was away thank you I'm not getting access to people like me I got a sixth grade public school institution education but I have a PhD in poverty and she's away actually published two of my pieces which is nowhere I have the time to read but I do need to let you guys know first of all what's a poverty scholar the notion of poverty scholarship was born in the the prisons the street corners the community centers welfare offices shelters kitchen tables assembly lines tenements favelas projects and ghettos poverty scholars are everywhere we are your mama your corner store liquor store owner your street corner gardener and your recycler so if you want to read the full definition of what a poverty scholars check it out in this beautiful book I'm gonna I'm gonna close with a little bit a little excerpt of the other piece I did that I like affectionately like to call conservatorship so if people don't know what's happening in this stolen occupied village of Yalamu aka San Francisco gentrification city let me give you a little hint into the world that I live in me and my were houseless for most of my childhood so I don't say these things as an advocate I say them as someone who's lived through this but in this very city when we talk about cages they are incarcerating every poor person they get under a new yet another lie or excuse me law and so this is just a little excerpt conserved you heard that's colonizer code for you lost all your rights as a houseless disabled person on this stolen mama earth conservatorship a con from the get anti-social workers lined up to get paid by that ish yeah I'm mad cause we got lies I mean laws upon laws to incarcerate every poor person they get cause the war on the poor is in full effect from sleeping bands to you don't get to be poor and sit or stand from alameda to ladera heights we have elders and children being evicted overnight please listen in cause this shit ain't right thank you everybody please learn about it and in st. Petersburg, Florida they're building cages for houseless people just like our indigenous brown babies causing these false borders learn about it then a rod and then tango, ice and marten find your bubble as a child taught to fill bubbles when it came to standardized testing one bubble over all others gave me pause my date of birth and name were easy yet when it came to choosing race I froze I was certain that Iranian was something my parents made up after all we had no internet to check facts and since I barely knew anyone at my elementary school who was Iranian I figured my parents were lying to me about where we were really from the world globe in our home exacerbated my suspicion of my parents perpetuating a long con of where we were really from at the time of the globe's manufacturing north and south Rhodesia and the USSR were still nations therefore Iran was labeled as Persia due to my ignorance of this historical context I despaired when I couldn't find the Iran my parents told me existed there was no bubble on my standardized test to fill in encompassing all of these things the nuanced categories of today on the US census weren't available forced to make a decision I marked myself down as Asian based on my very exhaustive research on our home globe Iran was in Asia therefore based on these limited racial categories I was Asian after all I wasn't white yet I wasn't satisfied with marking down Asian and I worried I would get in trouble like 7 year olds do especially since star testing was considered the end all be all of tests they raised my hand they asked my second grade teacher what bubble do I fill her puzzled face gently corrected me and she informed me that Asian meant someone who was Chinese or Japanese she gave me examples using my classmates despite my confusion and her lack of linguistic nuance I erased the bubble marking me as Asian and filled in the one for white filling in that bubble for white is based on the current US census definition for white as a person having origins in any of the original peoples of Europe the Middle East or North Africa we were all effectively counted as white despite the fact that we were brown in any other context the cops pulling my father over with his thick black mustache over his full lips and strong connected eyebrows didn't consider him white when they heard his accent and my mother abbreviating her name to DJ so it would fit on a target name tag wasn't considered white and none of the kids on the playground thought I was white either and this was further complicated as I grew up as the attacks on the Twin Towers occurred I sharply learned that I wasn't white I didn't suffer at the hands of my classmates who tortured those who were visibly Islamic looking who had more foreign sounding names but my generic sounding name meant I have another form of white passing privilege my name isn't clock me as other thank you my name is Enarad my name is Manga if you reverse the car any farther you will run over all the scenes in the back of your mind yeah I never cared for teachers just the patterns of their fainting spells fainting spells induced by a wall art all that to say propaganda is courage the price sticker hides my tattoo I treasure my problem with the world my mother becomes from Brooklyn first thing in the morning that's a proverb around these parts of Brooklyn's password writing short notes to famous Europeans on the back of postcards with ransom requests they reply with the newsreel or cigarette announcement I can't tell the difference noble dollars then you die inside but only inside they call it sleeping deeper than your stalker and stalker is all that badge makes you says a great spirit dressed in the bloody rags tuxedos became meanwhile my punches feared by no one proud of yourself I ask my fret hand porch lights they call our guns I've seen this house in a dream I believe a trumpet was the first possessed object to fly keep going she cheers the draft in the room becomes a toddler toddler obsessed with an altar the altar becomes a runaway train I got a thousand paintings like these cascading down my skinny arms dictionaries piled up to the window bars a reminder to the population that your blanket can work with or against you human reef we will be a big human reef for concepts that finally gain a metaphysical nature and they will swim around our beautiful poses we stop being flashbacks then stop being three different people then I was alone the pistol one city away and one of the drug triangles lines runs through my head I tap the bottle twice and consider the dead refresh they don't you want to rest your bravery don't you want to be a coward for a little bit back and forth to a panic attack with no problems nor fears a man gets a facial expression finally a Friday finally goes his way his life is finally talked about happily in his head hey man I can't possess the body of a hermit I must be the last of his smoke now running the other way with three blocks of alley tucked under my arms you ever see a man get to the bottom of his soul in the car ride down a missing cousin street half step to the right I mean I took the whole car outside of history half step to the right I mean a whole pack of wolves stepped to my left road markers what I call the light bulb we had for a son a whole civilization might slink to the sink or a chain gang shuffling next to a sucker also known as the long look in the mirror stack of money starts talking from four cities away thank you again to the San Francisco public library for hosting us the Zellerbach family foundation and all the donations and the volunteer energy I printed 300 of these books I want to get them in every bookstore and every public school and library in the Bay Area they need to be out there I need your help organizing readings getting getting the books into your local libraries and and schools and I want to thank you all I mean this is only a third of the people in the book and you can see what remarkable people we have in this town it's not just about words it's about deeds and you know I'm sorry people didn't have the time to tell you all the things that they do all the remarkable things like Kevin and Dan and Richard Sanderole who didn't even get a chance to read I mean all I can say is I you know I gave up six months out of my life to pull this off I'm going why am I doing this this is crazy I can't help doing it it's because of you it's because of us it's because of all the apathetic people out there who know that things are wrong they're bored shitless they don't know what to do don't give up on those people let's not just talk to the converted there are people out there that need our hope that need our knowledge that need our savvy so let's get out there and do it and stick around for the reception stick around for the group photo because as I say I'm just learning the ropes on this funding stuff I hate money I was raised not to make money it's like give it away but you know I need money to get these things done to hire help etc etc so stay for the picture so I can impress the funders stay for the food and the Latino room we have lots of food people hauled amaiica on the bar for you guys to enjoy so take care thanks everybody please gather by the stairs out here Leon son is going to take a group portrait even if you didn't read tonight if you're a contributor get your book and hold it in front of you and let's make a really impressive group portrait oh thank you alright was it on yeah fuck