PNN Revolutionary Blog Series / Serie de Blogs Revolutionarios

People's School Summer 2010/ Escuela de la Gente Verano 2010

por/ by Azucena X


scroll down for english

A Dead Child's Cry

One poor mamaz' journey through poverty and C.P.S.

Silenced Mamas II

Silenced mamas II

The Un-just actions of Commissioner Marjorie Slabach continues -unchecked

Marlon Crump/PNN
Saturday, September 5, 2009

Back to My Soil: The last Filipino Farm community in Orosi, California

Tony Robles/PNN
Tuesday, May 27, 2008;

"I had come back to myself and my roots, here in this narrow strip of land. Back to my soil and to my father's faith"

--Carlos Bulosan from "America is in the Heart"

A Parent Scholar: the murder of Luis Solari, a father of three.

Tony Robles/PNN
Monday, April 21, 2008

I woke up and turned on an early morning news program. The announcers were clean and pressed and looked more like mannequins than humans. I listened as they reported on Obama/Clinton, budget deficits, and the upcoming Olympic games in China. I was also informed that my TV would be obsolete if I didn't purchase some kind of electric box by early 2009.

Two-Spirits: a movie about Fred Martinez Jr

Mari V. Tuesday, April 13, 2010;

When I was little, I always knew my biological father was different than other dads. I used to tell my childhood friends, "My Dad acts like your Mom." I remember the times when he would realize he would seem more feminine and then try to 'buck up' and act more masculine. I thought it was always funny, and didn't really understand it when I was little. I remember telling him, "Dad, I like it more when your like a girl instead of you trying to be a boy."


Tony Robles/PNN
Tuesday, April 27, 2010

This poem is in honor of mothers...


Homeless mothers
and poor mothers
Low-wage mothers
and no-wage mothers
Welfare mothers
And three job working mothers
Immigrant mothers
And incarcerated mothers

In other words
This poem is honor of
INS-ed with,
CPS-ed with, and
Most of all
System-messed with

This poem is honor
of all those poor
women and men
And yes
I said men
Cause don’t sing
me that old song
About gender again

Who fight and struggle
And steal and beg
In every crevasse
And corner
to keep their kids in a bed
Who dress and feed
with tired hands

Poor, homeless...and a mother

Wednesday, November 2, 2005

‘Maaaaaaaaaaa Maaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!" my stroller-bound 12 month old baby and I were walking up the sheer cliff of the Hyde Street hill. As I strained my almost-broken thumbs caused by too much diaper-changing struggles to hold on to the last appendages of my hell-ghetto, broke-down stroller, my son began wailing and flailing his arms and legs for no apparent reason.


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