Letter from the editor: Hey y’all, happy you picked up a copy of this edition of the matrix. For this one issue I set a theme of “Memories” and let the people who wanted to submit decide what that theme meant to them. But I still put in submissions that were not related to the theme, such as the prisoner submissions that you see throughout the issue. I felt it is very important to give a space of expression to someone that feels trapped behind thick cement walls. It was fun to set the theme and mix it up with other non-themed entries, hopefully you think so too. Those of us outside of those thick cement walls need to recognize the privilege we have in being able to easily share our voices, minds, hearts, and souls to who ever will listen. Therefore I feel it is our duty as revolutionaries/activists/ anarchists/freedom fighters/allies or any other identity that I did not list, to be the resource for whose inside those thick cement walls, both literally and figuratively. So that they too can have that day where they can share their voices, minds, hearts and souls. With you picking up, reading, and sharing this magazine you are participating in the resistance of the oppression faced by those who are oppressed; Please share this publication with all of your homies and anyone else you feel that can take something away from the submissions and images you find in here. In solidarity, Amanda Saiz special thanks to everyone that made this happen
The Matrix is the official newsletter of the Women”s Resource Center which is funded by the Associated Students of Humboldt State University. The views and content of The Matrix are not censored of reviewed by the Associated Students. All correspondence regarding this publication should be addressed to: The Women’s Resource Center The Matrix Editor Humboldt State University 1 harpst Street, Arcata, CA 95521 All responses or letters to the editor of The Matrix will be published, unedited, if requested. Copies of all correspondence should be sent in writing to: Associated Students, Humboldt State University
Am I? Am i a mirage that perceives itself? Am i vapor and don’t actually exist? If my fundamental sense of what is real -my own existenceis merely a self-reinforcing mirage, Am i merely an aspect of some undiscovered dimension? Is reality itself an abstraction? Does that call into question the reality of The universe itself? My brain floats indiscriminately in spirals, penetrating the imaginary walls i’ve Set Around me Whispering of never and forever i like to imagine the unfathomable Amorphous mystery - that is freedomthat streaks through my imagination, And lurks within the cool of my thought. Perceptions, feelings, emotions, convictions, confidence. It only hints and taunts me with small Expressions of its withheld Alluring mystery -just enough to arouse my excitementAnd keep me wondering, working, waiting, and wanting to be hold it, completely clueless, with no Knowledge of form or matter, knowing nothing..... Let me make this point very clear i didn’t just get this way like, suddenly. being isolated from the flow of humanity is the worst form of torture; Even for the most self-sufficient of men. written by Sangu
painting submitted by Julia Damian
You look at me long and profound. Sharp edges that penetrate fibers of steel over and through the crevices of my flesh, passed each layer of piel through the blanket of my musculos. Your daggers reach my huesos, my bones, and when that happens I am left exposed; A skeleton left hanging on a stand by a cheap ring; A model used as an example to your classroom, all of the things I have ever been and all of what I can become; Of all the ways in which you can contort the idea of my existence into your fantasies, lived and relived through lucid dreams; The realm I am pulled into, unwillingly by the lasso you throw from the catacombs of your vessel You stare with intentionality. Like you need to eat me alive because you cannot tolerate my body’s gravitational pull, or feel the radiation of my heat in the same room, or stand the idea that you and I, two mammals, breathe in the same air. Is it the idea that I, your source of fear, gently kiss your lungs like the trails of tenderness left on and under flesh by the engorged lips of a dedicated lover? Are you afraid of admitting that you need me to believe and hold onto your fantasies, need to illustrate with the movement of your eye balls, that I am everything you are not, in order to prove everything you are? You glance over as if you are ashamed to meet eyes with my own. Perhaps I am a rare gem not found in your mother’s jewelry box, and maybe you want all of me, or some of me, or most of me, to exist modestly, in your captivity, so that when it is time to share the stories about all the places you’ve been to and all the exotic sites you’ve challenged and conquered, and all the people you’ve taught the way to, maybe then my face, or something like it, would appear, like craft work, or the way pocket photo albums are used to put identities to people, in places, for stories, but you bring me no identity that’s identifiable, or at least not original. You are a storyteller, and you LOOK AT ME; And with the traces your pupils create I get the same old narrative that my mother unwillingly memorized the same one her mother challenged and the same one her mother’s mother fought. written by noxiousspear
What do you see? Decaying society torn apart, riddled in bullets, drugs, deaths, self-destruction, broken families (Prisons without walls or/and bars) What do you see? courtrooms full of angry youths , both men and women victims of a decaying society. What do you see? ourselves thrown into California prisons to be warehoused never confronting the real problemhow we allowed oursleves to be exploited, manipulated. Yes: we see what you see- yourself, yes we are from you you, we call upon our communities to take a stand. organize, join forces with outside entities; demand that we as prisoners be provided the proper and correct tools to uplift us culturally, historically, educationally to eradicate this internal illness we have taken on. Do you see what we see? Then let us change it together from within....... Author Paul A. Redd Jr published poetry book title: Roaring free in a world without walls
In our Hands This moment brings sorrow; This moment brings joy; This moment you are with me; This moment will end soon; This moment we are dying, This moment I am alone; This moment leaves us crying; This moment we are laughing; This moment of moments; This joy found in sorrow: This moment is all we have. written by Michael Ray De Los Angeles
Simply [memory] By: Jessica De Shon I can still hear your voice like an old song I can still FEEL your body against mine, through your clothes: your warmth could last forever my hands remember your soft skin, your spine was spiky down your back Chipped [jagged] my heart; numb: bitten: torn Haunted my dreams, words echo you were a true love but not my last.
This photo represents the denial of family visits to political prisoners held here in the United States. These are the hands of Adriana Perez who has been able to see her husband Gerardo Hernandez Nordelo for the last 15 years. He is one of the Cuban 5, they are a group of Cubans held as political prisoners throughout the United States since 1998, their case has been declared illegal by the Human Rights Commission of the United Nations. The photo was sent to the WRC by Gerardo himself after he recieved a “call for entries” flyer for the Matrix
A Paradox of Love The willingness of your mind soul and heart could never understand the convictions that could keep us apart the warmth of my love could burn to a cinder while freezing over without surrender it could bring great big tears of joy and laughter also the sting of agony and heartless here afters the love that I have can be unquestionable in quality but misunderstood my love is lacking in quantity my love isn’t passive nor easily removed my love can be eagerly vehement and disapproved the selfless universal spontaneous overshadowing love that I have is at times overly rated undermined and effectively too brave the point of real concern of this paradox of love is that there is or never will be another such love as my love. Words by: Richard Wembe Johnson
Prison State Prisoners are the people least empowered to advocate for their own safety. Perception being what it is, caring seems to have faded with the events. What is supposed to be corrective and rehabilitative-prison-is in reality far from it. Why call it justice system, there seems little of that? They are more concerned about the perception they conveyed. In the grand scheme of things perception is all that mattered. In California the division of the administration’s apparatuses, as well as other state agencies; office of correctional safety (OCS), Gang Task Force (GTF), and their subagencies: Law Enforcement Investigative Unit (LEIU), Special Services Unit (SSU), Intelligence Gang Investigation (IGI), etc. into separate fields has rendered the Pelican Bay State Prison Security Housing Unit (PBSP-SHU)Institutional Classification Committee (ICC) utterly dysfunctional. Under such circumstances, it is increasingly doubtful that ICC would be able to act as an effective primary responsible committee in any case invovling a prisoner put through the four phase wringer of the Step Down Program. The difficulty for PBSP-SHU short corridor prisoners is not the fact that we find ourselves under pressure still, to debrief and become an informant for the state; it is the fact that none of the options under consideration of the Step Down Program is an easy option that promises to deliver any concrete positive results on the prisoners behalf. It is far too late now to alter the situation radically with this so-call Step Down Program, that is nothing more than a disguise for their “six-year inactive status program”. From the very beginning of the six year inactive program the IGI’s intervention in the ICC, and LEIU decisions, undermined the intent of how the inactive status program was supposed to work. Now that we’ve read the proposal for the SDP it has become increasingly clear to SHU short corridor prisoners that escalating intervention by OCS and its sub-agents, IGI, will render prisoners attempts for release to SP futile. Why should prisoners who have been in SHU for 10, 20, 30, 40 years have to submit to a “four phase” SDP that will take four years to complete? We are in SHU for administrative reasons-not criminal reasons. In a nutshell, all the options available to short corridor prisoners are fraught with unwanted side-effects and uncertainty To many of us, the four phase proposal is a lose-lose situation. written by Sangu 3/17/2013
Drawing submitted by Baridi J. Williamson
LOST Okay I’m through, I I’m done with this shit. Think I’m gunna split. I’ll smother the pain with a hit. Let it consume me into a world of pure bliss. Your Kiss, that I will miss. Turns out that Forever doesn’t Exist. I feel so small, the size of a fist, For you my love, my being I risked, But its time I get out this dark, dark mist. My heart will be left with a huge gap that will never heal. I’m begging for it to be a dream ,for it to not be real. But it is fading. Drawn that love that I once had. Its sad. Used to think that without you I would die. But all you did was lie. Sometimes the pain is so strong that I need to escape by feeling high, my friend Mary Jane Never fails me. Do you see all the pain that You have caused? What you have lost? Drink after drink and I slowly feel my broken heart numbing. Thinking, when it will completely stop Throbbing? My nights are never ending . Can’t get You out of my mind. With you in my life I shined. No longer will I keep your gifts like shrines. Hope this shit rhymes. But remember what goes around comes around. Now Peaceful sound of silence is what I found. Lupita R. G
Untitled To consciously estrange is to create false barriers those barriers that keep monsters away at least for a moment in time, because you’re scared of the bugs that lay in your bed. How long will they exist? You want them to go away, banish them to the dark world some call the trash bin, out of sight, out of mind, but you know about the landfills, right? written by noxiousspear
Renegade Soul Into my renegade soul you came OFF-setting the cohesive balance of my loneliness mildly and gently restoring some complacency bridging the gap between now and future tenderly charming my tortured sanity it is to you I owe a debt of gratitude that one life-time alone could not fulfill Nor attest the thanks sufficiently No longer will I have to settle for wind swept dreams tinkering on the border of imaginative lunacy for you have become my ultimate passion ME! the rebel with a cause, with purpose. by: Richard Wembe Johnson
Sensory Deprivation: An Unnatural Death The following assessment is far from being complete, it is but a brief analysis compelled by a question an activist posed to me: How does sensory deprivation (S.D.) impact the psyche of those prisoners who have been subjected to long term solitary confinement? Actually, this text is but a modified letter I wrote to the above question. Most people in society are unfamiliar with the term Sensory Deprivation (S.D.), it is not a terminology that is regularly used within societal everyday vernacular, and this is why I believe it is imperative for us as prisoners who have endured the blunt forces of this deprivation to articulate its tortuous impositions upon our very humanity with the intent to dull our natural senses to touch, smell, taste, see and hear, while simultaneously attempting to suffocate our human spirit facilitating our unnatural death, with the catacomb of this concrete construct serving as our burial, as they introduce their step down pilot program which is equivalent to scripting the obituary to the demise of our humanity. Admittedly, this task to navigate through the vortex of dementia (i.e. the security housing unit: SHU). With the intent to convey its inherent peculiarities will be a toilsome and laborious assignment, though many may boast of its simplicity, but trust me, for those of us who have been held hostage within the confines of the CDR security housing unit (SHU) between 20 to 40 years, we are still struggling to grasp our conscience around the scope and profundity of the ramifications of S.D., for it is constantly revealing complex variables within its destructive capacity, but in spite of its difficulties, it is an obligatory prerequisite that we forge a comprehensive blue-print designed to assist us in our endeavors to magnify for the outside world the malignity of S.D. So, we have become embedded psychological battered reporters for the people, with the sincere hope of inviting them into our fight for justice and the restoration of humanity. Though this is not a complete assessment, I believe it would provide you with a glimpse into the ills of S.D. (i.e. sensory deprivation) and that this would encourage other SHU survivors to present their assessment. I realized many of you are becoming exacerbated with my self-proclamation of my inability to write and/or express myself, but each time I attempt to put pen to paper it becomes a struggle between my intent and the symptoms of a deprived psyche, I no longer have the capacity to concentrate, I tend to wonder and become distracted by the most abstract and/ or trivial thoughts. So for me, the act of writing in itself becomes a burdensome task, but yet, I love to writes, propagate our revolutionary cultures of resistance. I have disciplined my mind not to be distracted and I have developed a process that allows me to writes in spurts while maintaining my focus on the task at hand. A lack of concentration is no doubt a symptom of a sensory deprived mind, that many of us who have spent decades in SHU (i.e. Security Housing Unit)have in common, a symptom that which permeates all prison systems across the country, qualifying itself as a substantiated symptom. Those with a disciplined mind can resist this symptom, but once you lose that ability and surrender to the symptom of a loss of concentration your mind will begin to wander uncontrollably until it finds comfort in the erratic chaos that lies beneath ones self-awareness, flirting with the seduction of insanity as one probe deeper into its solace, away from the conscious reality while torment fornicate with the senses, challenging the equilibrium between the mind and the spirit. People, escaping the harsh reality of solitary confinement for some may console their mind, a parallel space that take one far away from this man-made hell. Though they are physically confines, their minds are in another space, between the conscious and the subconscious mind, the equidistant where the cognitive dissonance theory defines the moment. We don’t condemn them for succumbing to the temptations of escape, it is not their fault, they are the victims of an evil construct, a reminder for the rest of us the desired goal of sensory deprivation. Some may even wonder why would I initiate this analytical assessment implying that a lack of concentration is a principal symptom in prognosticating the initial effects of S.D., the disciplined mind is our first line of defense and the architects of S.D understood this, in order for S.D. to achieve its desired goal (s) it must penetrate our first line of defense, and once we lose that focus, we become more vulnerable to the seductive trappings of S.D., so the battle of demarcation occurs at the periphery of our conscious discernment of the particular, for it is here where our fate is determined, and the symptoms can rapidly precipitate into a psychosis that has the potential to hold our sanity hostage in perpetuity.
When the sense are so deprived, it petition recompense that embodies a commiserated reciprocity that momentarily encapsulate our attention. There exist numerous examples to illustrate the validity of this observation. Prisoners, political prisoners and POWs who have spent time in isolation/ solitary confinement throughout the world has reported that while in isolation they often sought out inter-action with the rodents and/ or bugs that invades their torturous concrete cubicles instead of being reviled, they would invite the temporary distraction and begin to identify with that rat or bug. This is not a phenomenon that is only associated with prisoners in other countries, it is equally common among prisoners in the U.S. In PeliKKKan Bay State Prison (PBSP) many of us since our arrival has either captured a frog or spider and kept them as pets, something that most of us would have never done prior to our incarceration. A clear illustration to collaborate with our findings that this behavior is a direct result of S.D.
(continued on next page)
For me, it was more like a revelation,I recalled as a man child I use to catch bugs and butterflies and placed them in jars, I would poke holes in the lid, i would also place food in the jar, or what i thought was the food they ate. As a young manchild, i could never comprehend why my insects would try to escape, i had provided them with free room and board, but now, i finally understand, even though i have free room and board, i equally desire to escape my artificial home. Though our senses are deprived we are constantly compensating, and it is in this process that we reaffirm our sanity. Sensory Deprivation (S.D.) make mistakes about it, is a tool of psychological torture, and our survival by no means repudiate its destructive capacity, it is not a tool that leaves obvious physical wounds. This is an art of torture that by design attack the minds and spirits of its intended Targets, attempting to incapacitate our sense of humanity, reducing us into a catatonic stupor or a chronic cycle of recidivism, addicted to the smell and touch of concrete and steel. We have heard the warden, the overseer of this concrete plantation, on a number of occasions attempting to mitigate the severity of the SHU and S.D., he often tells the media how we are allowed to purchase TVs and radios in the SHU, and unfortunately many people in society tend to accept this as a mitigating circumstance that some how conciliate the impact of solitary confinement and S.D., even a Prison Rights Activist asked me about the warden statement. i told her if you were placed in the middle of chernobyl, a nuclear and highly radio active waste land, and provided a 42 inch flat screen TV with all the available channels of the world, and all the free food you can eat, this doesn’t abrogate the fact that you are trapped in the middle of a radio active death trap that is desgned to inflict pain upon your physical being, and the inevitability of an unnatural death. People, the TV is not a privilege afforded by our overseer, to the contrary, it is a calculated injurious contrivance devised to impede our adroitness to develop the necessary defines to empower us with the amplitude to resist the trappings of S.D. It is more of a detriment than an asset, why do you think they have never tried to remove TV from the SHU? This is a confirmation that the TV is in fact a tactical instrument in support of executing the S.D. in its fullest arrangment. So, please understand the facts, having a TV/Radio in solitary confinement does not change the reality of our situation which is: the SHU is equivalent to solitary confinement and that S.D. is a form of psychological torture that can produce physical pain. Though we are SHU survivors, we are not immune from the impact of S.D. Many of us do suffer from some of the symptoms of being exposed to S.D. but it is our disciplined mind that allows us to resist but psychological torture in Amerikkka is real, not an illusion conjured up by disgruntled prisoners. The evidence is overwhelming, I ask you, the next time you hear a politician condemn China, Cuba, Iran, Egypt, Israel and North Korea for torturing their prisoners, ask them: what about Pelikkkan Bay and Corcoran State Prison? There’s torture right here in Amerikkka.You can’t tell me spending 30 years in solitary confinement or being exposed to sensory deprivation for the last 23 years is not torture. People, as you know, the CDCR has introduced a proposed solution, and on paper it looks reasonable but in practice it would not release the vast majority of us being housed in the Short Corridor. People, please don’t allow yourself to be deceived by fork tongues that slithers across months that protrudes from grotesque human-like caricature that disguises themselves as correctional guards. Abdul Olugbala Shakur S/N J. Harvey D.1.119/C-48884 (SHU) P.O. Box 7500 Crescent City, CA 95532 Pelican Bay State Prison
Dispora De l’angélique. We came from Arizona, from Mexico, from Los Angeles…? Our names forgotten, our past rewritten our hearts still beating.
drawing submitted by Hilario Martinez
We moved, then settled, on mediocrity; erasing our warrior ancestry. Spilt bloods, captured in oil, celebrated with hallow planks of redwood desire, Here too are the remnants of genocide; Oh look how they smile. I crossed rivers, bridges and borders from La Mirada to the Avenues; I slept while gunshots wept And helicopters screamed ownership of Father Sky’s Face. Yes, I jumped fences, through barbed wired only to find more metal twisted in my pathway. Now I walk barefoot, I released the shackles of yesterday. Looking back, I see the trail of blood sweat and tears I have left. Looking forwards I see the trail of tears that still flows before me. We came, from Arizona, from Mexico, from Los Angeles our names forgotten our past rewritten our hearts still beating. written by Michael Ray De Los Angeles
Love and Hate Love is but the ultimate extension of complete submission Hate is but the mirrored image of fear Love is but the projection of heart through emotional transfusion Hate is but a tragic waste of love in reverse Love is but the giving of everything a person can give Hate is but a response to the many complexsions of aversions love is but being-seeing-doinggiving-sharing and loving Hate is but death, without dieing Love and Hate are synonymous of each other Hate is to love, what love is to hate by: Richard Wembe Johnson
I Can Understand I can understand that you care I can understand that you need me there I can understand that you need to be loved I can understand that our present is accounted for I can understand when you smile I can understand when you cry I can understand when you’re feeling depressed I can understand your anger at times I can understand your feelings of loneliness I can understand your fears I can understand your views on life I can’t understand you not understanding me. by: Richard Wembe Johnson
Tell me why? I just don’t know why at times I feel the need to wanna cry; sometime at night I wish I’d die, although I know it’s a straight lie. Tell me why? So many long and lonely days, feeling lost in this prison maze. The pain and suffering is there locked up in this prison cell. I try to run I try to hide, but yet I’m still trapped inside for a crime I still deny please tell me why? painting submitted by Julia Damian
Author: Paul A. redd Jr. published poetry book: roaring free in a world without walls
Good Morning Crisp circulation is found outside away from the fort only a couple more hours 3.7 to be precise Hello, custodian. Why don’t I know your name? You wake up every morning you toss on that blue shirt throw out the trash and I sit and wait for some interaction from walking skeletons anxious bodies lost in oblivion I sit. &watch the routine I live. We trickle into the stomping grounds wearing burgundy and blue shirts conceal the dollar signs deeply embedded in our windows We eloquently maneuver the art of phonetics & sometimes enter a taciturn state Our vessels bright like Aurora Borealis travel through dimensions unknown. written by noxiousspear
art by Indigo
I call out to you You’re life in itself, a light of vision reality before us, you’re life strenght courage, youth, love and joy. I call out to you, do you know who you are? You’re the youth of life to serve others who are victims like ourselves from oppression, repression. You’re the voices in our churches, the voices on the campus, the voices in our schools. You have the found your purpose through trial and tribulation. You’re the people that makes a difference that has given me a mission...... author Paul A. Redd Jr published poetry book title: Roaring free in a world without walls
Overwhelmed I am deeply touched by the elegance of your smile I am warmly moved with the flirtatious words of your voice Affluently astound by the beauty of your face Implicitly impressed for the caressing stroke of your feel Soothingly flattered in the freshness you generate Longished to purities of your soft skin This only begins to discribe inadequately the marvels and extraordinary sensations possesed with you! It is only the experience of a life time by: Richard Wembe Johnson
p a i n t i n g b y J u l i a D a m i a n
In search of Uncertain with some doubt, tell me what am I in search of? where should I look? Or hand me the secret map, or show me the guide that knows the way. IĂve searched for years with no end in sight and I know I am close in reaching that mystery. Could this key be the self? Author: Paul A. Redd Jr. Book: Who do you know? Life & death is our reality, poems with faces
Before I Knew Self Make me beautiful. Make me whole. Make Me bold. Make me stand out. Make me, Make me, Make me, Make me someone that Paulo Freire would want to dialoging about. Make me happy, Make Me glad, Make me something better than Brad. Make Me heroic (in that Hercules kind of way). Make me famous Make me the perfect son. Make me an angel out of dust. Make me fearless. Make me thin. Make me strong… And please, Can you make me love myself When I look into the mirror? written by Michael Ray De Los Angeles Illicit Tenderness
painting submitted by Julia Damian
The mighty thunder of his roaring voice Echoed loudly throughout the winds of sound we didn’t hear the pounding of his teardrops as they sifted briskly downward the apparent mask of angry fever we’re to conceal the pains of hurt while fostering a genuine show of manhood Men aren’t supposed to cry The embedded oath of numbness is to protect Gentleness- sensitiveness are supposed to be suppressed A man of good breeding yields not to hearts sympathy Men aren’t supposed to cry The infinitely substance of men doesn’t out-weigh that of woman MEN CAN CRY TOO!! by: Richard Wembe Johnson
I remember when .... you were my best friend. I remember when.... you wanted to hold my hand. I remember when .... I jumped in the bath when you were taking a bath and I had all of my clothes on. I remember when .... we would watch Spongebob sing the words of the song that we put on. I remember when .... you fell off your bike I remember when .... we heard Mom and Dad fight. I remember when .... we played house, and you were the cat, I was the mom. I remember when .... we served each other shots of milk and pretended to get drunk. I remember when .... you helped me to the bus stop because I was too high to walk, and you were 12. I remember when .... we cried together.
I remember when... I cooked you dinner I remember when .... I hit you in the head with a golf club. I remember when.... i broke my wrist and you pretended to break yours, too. I remember when..... I could say hi, and you would say hi back. I remember when.... you were in the hospital, and you couldn’t talk, but you told them to make me leave. I remember when... you were scared to ride the bus alone. I remember when.... I did your hair. I remember when.... you came to me for advice. I remember when..... i didn’t say goodbye. I remember when ..... I miss you and I cry when ..... I remember when...... ....you were my best friend -Anonymous
Prison is Prison is cold. Prison is sterile of any color outside of the depressing. Prison is emotionless. Prison is lonely. Prison is unforgiving. Prison is frightening. Prison is angry. Prison loveless. prison is violent. Prison is strong over weak. Prison is looking over your shoulder. Prison is 221/2 hours a day spent in a cramped cell. Prison is no wall around your toilet. Prison is void of any privacy. Prison is being separated from the love of your family. Prison is expensive collect phone calss that your family pays for. Prison is a visit that only lasts two hours and is behind glass. Prison is leaving your significant other and children behind. Prison is hoping with all your heart that you will receive mail today. Prison is insufficient, tasteless food. Prison is worrying that your significant other may find another while you are incarcerated. Prison is worrying that your children may forget or disown you. Prison is watching relationships that you once had fade. Prison is frustration with no outlet. Prison is crying yourself to sleep without sound so that no one knows you are crying. Pison is beating the system to survive. Prison is becoming the person doing the things that you never thought yourself capable of being or doing. Prison is remorse. Prison is regret. Prison is shutting down your brain to the reality of existence and dreaming of a better place. Prison is seeing things that you never wanted to see. Prison is gang related activity. Prison is emotional breakdown. Prison is stripping the individual of any feeling of worth. Prison is about authority exercised by the system over the prisoner. Prison is about rules and regulations that change daily without warning or expectation or explanation. Prison is about dominating to a point of submission. Prison is a sub-culture and a way of life that is sometimes worse than the original crime. Prison is a world of it’s own with tolerances exercised on both sides of the system-the guard and the prisoner. Prison is about contraband supply and demand, goods and services that are prohibited; drugs, alcohol, cell phones, violence, sex and rape. In a free society such as America’s, their prison industrial complex is an atrocity and insult to anyone with an iota of intelligence, who could possibly think that this system addresses a need, or approaches a solution to reduce recidivism. Prison is what prison is; but we must recognize first and foremost that prisoners are people. They, too, are human beings. Punishment is a necessary part of freedom, government and society, but is punishment best served by the current system? I’m not going to answer that question. I will leave that to you, the reader to decide. It is not until you know and love a prisoner that you will have an appreciation for the life of that person. If they did the crime, then, even I believe that they should do the appropriate time for it. How the time is done and how the system is operated is, however, of fundamental concern. What do they need? I am an advocate of emotional health. Prisoners need to build and maintain emotional health. The state stunts this part of the prisoner when they incarcerate them. Prisoners need to maintain healthy contact with their loved ones. Prisoners need to be able to count on that contact, as it is the only emotional contact they will experience while incarcerated. Remember that one day these prisoners are going to be released, and if you have deprived these individuals of rational and emotional contact, how will they cope when they are set free? What kind of stress will this present to loved ones and to society? Strong emotional health is one of the most fundamental needs of a human being next to food and water. Emotional health keeps us balanced and functioning in a reasonable way. Lock someone up and starve him/ her of a basic instinctual need and what happens? Human beings are social animals and we need contact. We need love. We need emotional ties and feelings.
(continued on next page)
If prisoners need anyone right it is to have greater access to their loved one, whether through letters, phone calls, photos or personal visits. They can record the calls, video tape the visits, even post one guard on every prisoner in the visiting room, just allow greater contact to build and maintain these critical relationships with loved one. We also need programs of education, skills training, and life counseling. Prisoners need to be challenged intellectually and physically while serving time. These challenges will develop skills that, if present in the first place, may have kept them out of prison.............. What I’m trying to demonstrate here is that there are often outside influences in prisoners lives that can have a very positive affect on their behavior. “To suppress expression is to reject the basic human desire for recognition and an affront to individual’s worth and dignity.”-? Written by Paul Sangu Jones
image submitted by Michael Ray De Los Angeles
I remember when........ We fought before school, and got covered in eyeliner. I remember when...... we sat together at lunch. i remember when.... we promised when i turn 18, we would live together. So, can we still do that? I remember when we Played M.a.s.h with lacy i remember all the times you told mer you hate me. i remember when.... you cartwheeled down the sidewalk, for blocks. i remember when... you’d play in the rain and come inside dripping wet, freezing, and smiling. i remember when..... we’d spin in circles and try to make it through a t.v. episode, without falling down. i remember when.... princess was the only fish that lived more than a few weeks.
I remember when..... we called the cops on Cody. I remember when..... We fed the landlord’s horses. I remember when.... i freaked out on your boyfriend. i remember when..... you wouldn’t tell me when you’re mad. i remember when..... you were the only friend i had. I remember when.... mom was mean, and you were there. i remember when you put gum in my teddy bear’s fur, so i put gum in your hair. i remember when..... i wasn’t there. i remember when.... we weren’t so distant. i remember when ..... ....you were my sister. -anonymous
by Melissa Corona
image submitted by Michael Ray De Los Angeles Escapism Pretend to pretend to transcend LIving to live to what end Seeing through blind eyes Hearing through deaf ears Scared but without fears Talking. Walking. Standing still. There and here true and false what a lost by: Richard Wembe Johnson
Gettin’ what I need education I succeed Got to do what I got to do to never need to plead So I go to go to school do my studies and read. even if I wanted to grow a little weed. I got to go to school to know how to plant a seed. Im tired of my old life want to have a future with maybe kids and a wife. Got to start getting what I need in this short four years of life. Got to get my head on straight stop smoking bud, and learn how to skate get ya’ stuff done to make sure you exit through the right gate -Straw
I was I was what i was I live what i lived i done what i done but i changed what i was to who I am author: Paul A. Redd Jr
Solidarity for all peoples I believe that our stories are tools for liberation. And I mean all of our stories—however painful, embarrassing, privileged and seemingly boring they may seem. Learning to understand my experiences, my STORY, as valuable and complex as it is, I have been able to understand and love who I am and where I come from. While attending HSU I often felt like I had to alter ways of myself as to not inadvertently confirm stereotypes of my background or of myself because of what I saw around me. Attending a university, especially one that lacks diversity, has taught me about individuality and the multilayered struggles that come with being different. When I began reading, getting informed and exploring outside of what society labels and calls “normal” I learned about heterosexism, homophobia and transphobia; about class, privilege and oppression, about ableism, indigenous struggles, struggles for decolonization, and the impacts of globalization, food rights, and the prison industrial complex. This allowed me to see other forms of oppression that sometimes we practice, and the kinds of practices that weaken us. Staying open to the endless possibilities and being willing to break all molds, boundaries, cross-boundaries, especially when you find yourself in a situation where you’re stuck, is what has helped me move forward. I believe that we can choose to take our power back; we can choose to wake up to maturity, and start taking the hard road ahead. I come from a place where people’s actions are committed because they gain a reputation, bragging rights, or gain the simple satisfaction of saying I am “the man”. It amuses me and scares me to see people in my community who constantly say things like “I’m brown and proud” or “black is the best” etc. Because in my eyes solidarity between all people, regardless of their background, is the most important and essential factor for our success. It makes me wonder how proud are we if we place so little value on our own people’s lives? How can we say we are proud to be something yet be ignorant of our own heritage and the struggles of our ancestors? How proud are we when we take advantage of our own people, using the threat of violence against them, to rob them of their land or their hard-earned money? Abuse, violence, hate and ignorance in all its forms can destroy our foundation. I say this knowing that all of our voices are important. Because I believe that we leave evidence for the people like me who are searching for reflection and a “yes, we exist” and a “yes, we made a difference”. For those of us who straddle the lines between multiple oppressed communities because unity is not seen as possible, our open thoughts and minds can bring us a little closer. Speaking about this is really important to me because as my journey continues to a different school as a graduate student, I am able to take a minute and reflect on where I come from and what I have achieved through my experiences. I want us to start seeing each other as comrades, as fellow ordinary people who have changed the course of history because they risked working together for a better world. I want us to start thinking about each other as people to be in solidarity with, as people to be radical allies and to be accountable to ourselves and to those around us by bringing unity and compassion. I want us to see each other as fellow movement builders and as a community. I thank the people, situations, places and actions around my life that were not the easiest situations to deal with at times but have shaped me, inspired me and pushed me to be who I am. Each day we are faced with decisions and choices we have to take. Sometimes our blindness to the possible future outside our immediate situation perpetuates our lack of vision to the endless possibilities that await us. But I want you, yes you, the reader of this rant to finish reading this and think: Where do I come from? Have I really grown from my experiences and from the people and places around me? Am I really part of the system and the group of people who don’t take action when injustice is occurring? Am I just a bystandard to this fucked up world? -Ari Well, I guess I can leave you with those thoughts……
Untitled
Colour De Liberté “Me not no Oxford don Me a simple Immigrant” - John AgardDis skin, dis skin, dis skin I am in it bin wit me tru’ tick ‘nd tin— From spit on face To belly on chalk ‘tain’d concrete. Dis skin It no e’ver change colour: It no ‘ever bleach’d Dem say, (yes, dem say) “you too dark. w’o left y’u in oven?” Say I, “528 degrees just right; Skin no ‘cause no problem Skin no ‘cause no strife— ‘cept from ‘ou who say “you too dark, Jah left you in oven.” O but Dis skin, dis skin, dis skin I am in, Is beautiful like C o c o n u t, Like djembe… Like dundun… Dis skin, dis skin I am in. Skin mine no tell nig’gar story, no. Skin mine no wetback story, no; It not story of every “multiethnic ghetto child living C a l I f o r n I a” No. No. No. Skin mine only tell my story What skin yours say? It beautiful like kenkeni? Like Dundunba? Like Cherymoya? How skin yours sing for you?
My words sound the same. Symbols arranged and rearranged, with no creative exchange. How do I explain the pain in my brain The itch that’s more like a scrape or 5 made by nails on a chalkboard Did you feel the cringe? Did it fire up in your spine? Show me with your symbols. How do you arrange them? Do you know? Am I paying attention? Are we running out of time? Do I want to learn your language? Will it even make a difference? Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. &the symbols appear before they’re released. They do their dance I guess it’s like the shuffle I don’t feel hip I’m aging Did you know that we are getting older by the day? Are we out of time? Scrape. Do you you feel the fire? I smell the smoke it’s in the air we breathe I breathe you in. I don’t know your language, you’re arrangements I feel I’m attentive maybe I’m incapable maybe it’s code for, you and my job is to decipher but i’ve only got my symbols, my arrangements my rearrangements I used to be creative. My words painted movies you loved to watch with your eyes shut never blinking Now, I see my words shuffled in a puzzle box. I know what it looks like so I put it on the shelf.
written by noxiousspear
written by Michael Ray De Los Angeles image submitted by Michael Ray De Los Angeles
Ridin’ in my whip never need to flip get my money at the doublenever need to trip. Don’t need patron got my OJ to sip In the future I got a place got to start treatin’ it like a life race. Got to keep up the pace make sure I don’t get mentally blinded by the mace. -Straw
Don’t flake there’s going to be a couple bumps in the road just shake. When I grow up I’m going to effect this town like an earth quake. Life is like a flower. It comes and goes, so next time you look at the clock take pride in your next hour stay strong and you will recognize your power, stay fresh like every time you take a shower. People that put me down are going to stay down and when I come up they going to stay down. When you’re asking me for a job I’m laughing like now whose the clown. I don’t got your time ‘bout to go with the president for a downtown brown that’s going down. -Straw drawing by Straw
Hechicera by Melissa Corona
How Can This Be We took our love vows and placed rings upon each others fingers While saying until death do us part yet I sit day after day in prison without a word not a postcard, letter, or visit to at least acknowledge that you are still alive Could it be that I am considered dead and you are afraid to let it be said Maybe the preacher meant until prison do us part Whatever he said really serves no purpose, cause we’re definitely apart as the days turn into months and months to years hopefully my dear you will lose some of your fears until then I wish you well even though i can no longer hear the bell for now whatever, only time will tell by: Richard Wembe Johnson
The Human Spirit The human spirit is something that demands self-expression. Such expressions is an integral part of the development of ideas and a sense of identity. I would say that you certainly don’t have to go to prison to lose your humanity. I’ve read about many on the outside that don’t have humanity to lose! But, I would also say that going to prison should never be equated with the loss of humanity. Further to that, if it does, then we should all look at how we are allowing prisons to be run by the prisoncrats. Men and Women every where are, and make mistakes. Everyone suffers, to some degree from the power of fear and loneliness. Whether a person has done some wrong that warrant them being placed in prison, or whether it’s a person in the street, shouldn’t we all, as fellow human beings, allow them to keep a decent amount of dignity so their humanity can grow, and not diminish? Prisons are a huge, intimidating and frightening stressor, but the individual prisoner does have the capacity to shy away from activities that might rob or take away from their humanity. But it is certainly not assisted, or encouraged by other prisoners, or even by the guards. Surviving, or, at least, passing through those influences to becoming whole on the other side will be much easier and more likely, if the prisoner has a firm and unshakable support system outside the prison with family, friends, and/or community. A prisoner is first and foremost a human being. All prisoners were born of a mother, that, I am going to blindly say, loved them....We are all from a family of sorts; and prisoner may or may not have people in their family that still love and care for them. You see, if you ask “what is a prisoner?” You must also include in this mix the family and friends of the prisoner. These family and friends essenially become prisoners too. Families spend small fortunes on phone calls from their loved ones in prison, larger fortunes on travel if they can actually afford it, to go see their family member in prison. If they don’t get phone calls, they have to worry that something messed up has happened, if they do get the phone call, they have to worry about the expense. Of course you have to be around to take that phone call, so please don’t think I am exaggerating when I say that families become prisoners too. You lose so called friends; you can even lose some family members. If you all agree that prisoners are in fact human beings, then, you and the prison authorities must regard and respect prisoners as such. It should be understood that prisoners are capable of thought, emotion, pain, suffering, faith, religion or spirituality, remorse and rehabilitation. All prisoners at least deserve the opportunity of becoming better as human beings. Isn’t that what prisons are for, to rehabilitate the guilty so they can rejoin society as a productive member? We must also consider the innocents that are in prison. I truly believe that most people don’t wish to even consider that this is a problem or a reality. It is. Especially with the development of DNA testing, we are seeing more and more innocently convicted criminal’s released from death rows and prisons....Media coverage is somewhat subdued when this is happening. News correspondents are far more interested in the sensationalism of the crime and punishment aspect, not the plight of the one wrongly accused and incarcerated. To many people, a prisoner is a mother, a father, a brother, sister, friend or significant other. It is someone we love, and someone that has been, or is, a substantial part of our lives. To some, all prisoners are the lowest of the low, and are where they should be. For those that are not personally connected to a prisoner, they have no other reference than the fact that this individual wronged society and must pay for their crime. (continued on next page)
These people tend to lump together all prisoners in one category, and do not see the differentiation from the level of prison security to the type of crime. But remember this, prisoners and their reasons for incarceration are as different in each individual case as are the differences that exist between those hundreds of people in any crowd, in any shopping mall in the country, at any given moment. Here’s another provoking thought. Many of you ‘on the outside’ of prison have committed crimes. Many of you have stolen as a child-even as an adult. Many of you have been involved in illicit drug use, and perhaps sales of prescription drugs. Many of you have cheated, or committed fraud against others. many of you have driven a car under the influence. Many of you have done physical harm to another. What is the difference between you and us? The prisoners are behind concrete and steel, bars and fences? You did not get caught....The point that I’m attempting to make here is that prisons are full of people that got caught; but you all may be just as guilty of a crime, but escaped, or hid your involvement well-your crime was not exposed. Before you condemn a prisoner, look into your own past, or look at your neighbor-could you, or could they be the ones that got away with a crime? “behavior is the mirror through which everyone shows their true image.” -? We all know from a management perspective in corporate business that you cannot ‘manage’ effectively every individual in te same way. Each individual is unique and has unique ways of processing information. In corporate business they accept this fact and they design their management, training, and discipline systems to address this fact. Why have prisons and so call correctional institutions not kept pace with their reality? Why do they think that one punishment fit all crimes? Why do they think that all prisoners are of the same motivation and affected by the same stimulus? The prison system of America is archaic and is failing everyone by not being forward thinking and progressive. They, prisoncrats, are reactive rather than proactive. This is wrong. Those of you who have children (especially if you have more than one) know that one strategy of encouragement, reward, and/or discipline, does not work on each child equally. This is the same reasoning adopted by corporate business to recognize differences of individuals in the development of management strategy. Why then would this strategy of different crimes, but only one form of punishment work on prisoners? This one punishment strategy leads us to what prison life is like. Well, truthfully, I have spent over twenty-four years in extreme solitary confinement isolation. I can offer a fairly good perspective. Written By Paul Sangu Jones
Expectations Awaiting but receiving nothing A timely waste of trust who was to know that you weren’t going to show I confided in you now I sit alone maybe its the best this way seeing that our love was made of clay Not the granite rock and steel which let down plainly revealed if anything of value has been learned its got to be that we both expected too much Only to be rewarded with disappointment but life must continue regardless of disappointments and such!!
image submitted by Michael Ray De Los Angeles
by: Richard Wembe Johnson
The following is a partial journal entry written when I was 13 years old. The boy involved is the same age as me. 7-20-04 “Well on the 15th J*** came over for a couple BJs. Well to tell the truth we did more. Let’s just say I’m not a virgin. It was soo great. It didn’t hurt one bit. I didn’t really come, but I was so wet. He came all over my hand and my mom’s bed. Here is the bad part. Ok at first we used a condom, but I was trying to put the dick in without him seeing me down there. Well, the condom got in the way. So, I pulled it off and shoved it in. Well, yeah. I’m scared about what I did, I should have thought it over...It was perfect except the 2 facts: I didn’t use a condom and I didn’t love him. God I feel bad, plz forgive me!!!!” -Anonymous
Paying for college is the toughest problem students face when being at a higher education institution. As students we have to pay for room and board have funds for books, supplies, transportation, tuition and fees, and other personal costs like having money to eat and/or helping our families with expenses. Now imagine having all these expenses and not being able to apply for financial aid, apply for a job or have any local resources that can help financially. This is something AB 540 students face on a daily basis. AB 540 (Assemble Bill 540) is a way that some undocumented students can achieve a college education. Who are undocumented students? Undocumented students include those students born outside of the United States, many of whom have lived in this country for a significant portion of their lives, and who reside here without the legal permission of the federal government. Many undocumented students and their families entered the country legally on tourist or work visas and chose to stay in the US after their visas expired. Others entered without any form of documentation (Olivere, 2005) Assembly Bill 540 - The Law and the Facts AB540, signed into law on October 12, 2001, authorizes undocumented students who meet specific criteria to pay in-state tuition at California’s public colleges and universities (e.g., California Community Colleges, California State University, and University of California). Any student, except a person in nonimmigrant status, who meets the requirements, shall be exempt from paying nonresident tuition at all public colleges and universities in California. Why this is important: Ineligibility for federal and state financial aid programs creates yet another barrier for undocumented students who are pursing higher education. Researchers have found that a lack of access to financial aid severely limits college opportunities for these students (Olivas 2004; Rincon 2008). Although undocumented students in California are eligible to pay resident tuition under AB 540, their families must be able to afford the tuition and other school-related expenses. Although AB 540 creates broader access to higher education by offering in-state tuition to undocumented students, for many low-income undocumented students, even in-state tuition is a financial burden for them and their families. Unfortunately, their struggles go unacknowledged by most researchers, state policy makers, and officials of California’s public colleges and universities. They know very little about the experiences of AB 540 college students and often don’t care to know more. People often forget to speak about the unique forms of subordination within the community based on immigration status, language, phenotype, and ethnicity in classes or in daily conversations. The lack of resources and support for AB 540 students, especially here at HSU and in the Humboldt County community have been obvious to a couple of students and many of them have began to take action. Undocumented students are affected by the racist climate they encounter on campus, a climate that sadly reflects attitudes found within the larger U.S. society. Students at HSU have started a club called Finding Resources and Empowerment through Education (F.R.E.E.) where their mission statement says that they: strive to provide leadership by encouraging advocacy, customs, and values that will lead to the continued recruitment, retention and graduation of low-income marginalized, and underrepresented students, specifically those who consider themselves AB 540 students. F.R.E.E believes and wants colleges and universities to strive to assure a more welcoming and safe environment by improving the campus climate. They should emphasize the importance of a positive climate in their mission statements and in classroom settings-such as their syllabus. Creating opportunities for financial aid and increasing student support will also contribute to an improved campus climate, as the campus as a whole becomes more aware and more responsive to the needs of its undocumented student population. If you would like to know more about the club Finding Resources and Empowerment through Education (F.R.E.E.) please feel free to contact them via e-mail at freehsu@humboldt.edu. Check out their Facebook, HSU clubs page or speak to them on the HSU UC Quad (they table Tues-Fri fundraising for an AB 540 Scholarship). Check out some of the things they have been doing and been a part of: • AB-540 Taskforce •One Justice • ACLU Conference & Lobby Days • Aspire to Arise • DACA training and workshops • Color Line: Drop the “I” word • Undocu-Binder
•Dolores Huerta •Undocu-week of Awareness •BAMA Connection •Latin@Net connection •Social Justice Summit •Institute for Student Success • College Ready Conference •Latino Parent Night •Campus Dialogue on Race •Latin@ Gathering •Latino Health Fair
Special THANKS to the UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center, the CSUF AB 540 Resource Guide and the AB 540/ Undocumented Student Resource Guide (CFC Edition) for the awesome information. And thank you F.R.E.E. members and volunteers for the hard work, time, patience, effort, love and dedication you put into bringing awareness, speaking against injustice, informing others and continuing your amazing work to make HSU an AB 540 friendly campus.
L I F E A T T H E W O M E N ‘ S R E S O U R C E C E N T E R
SPRING 2013 Womyn’s Herstory month inspires the Humboldt community to delve into a series of event revolving around open discussion within topics of gender, place and personal identity. This past March we celebrated with a month long appreciation towards Womyn and the variety of ways we can empower ourselves including DIY workshops, film screenings and moontime mondays. Where we received donations from the Arcata Co-Op and Wildberries. We ended the month with our annual Dia de las Mujeres show which is dedicated to providing spaces that promote empowering representations of womyn within the music scene/mainstream. Our goal is to find music talent and artist who express a resistance against the demands of music based industry that continue to objectify and commodified womyn in music. We want to raise awareness about the realities of mainstream misrepresentation and stereotypes against womyn and people of color. Through El dia de las mujeres we create alternative spaces where students and commuity members can experience music by women outside the realms of mainstream and build empowering reinforcements of womyn in music. This year the Womyn’s Resource Center collaborative with M.e.CH.a and CCAT. We want to thank M.e.CH.a for helping us with our talent search and swapmeet set up. We also want to thank CCAT for providing a space for the show. We want to give a special shout out to all the bands that performed that night! The bands that performed were Gunsafe, Kiki, The Lost Luvs and Cliterate.Thank you for coming out and contributing to our show. Another big part of our semester this year was organizing Take Back The Night. We dedicated a week in April to ending sexualized and intimate/domestic partner violence. The WRC and North Coast Rape Crisis Team came together to create support networks and spaces focused on healing and community building for survivors, their loved ones and anyone affected by sexualized and intimate/domestic partner violence. We had a local activist Joyce Moser as our keynote and encouraged our community to find their inner activist to end sexualized and intimate partner violence.
Members of WRC graduating this semester..........and leaving a legacy
Asad Haider was the 20122013 Anti Racist Coordinator, he organized workshops that discussed race, sexuality, masculinity and feminitity all while being sooooo fabulous. “I keeps it real, honey”
This past year Jocelyn Cansino held the Environmental Justice Coordinator Position. Where she held and participated in workshops that explored the connections between oppressions faced by certain peoples and the way that the environment and nonhuman nature like animal and plant life also get abused and exploited. “Food Inc. will change your motherfucking life”
this year’s Health and Body Politics Coordinator was Sheris Talavera, where she organized and participated in workshops that challenged ableism, dominant ideas around mental health. And also promoting sex and body positivity, and alternative/natural body care, and practices of self care. “I got to fucking paint”
This past year Jessica Barron was the Volunteer and and Outreach Coordinator. She was the person who took point in building coalitions with other groups and organizations on campus and networked within both campus and the larger community. “Por queeeee?!”
Liliana Gandarilla was the Fiscal Coordinator for this past year. The simpliest job description for her is that she kept the WRC up and running, dealt with all the money, and did a great job of keeping all of us on check and made sure we got paid for it. “I can silkscreen that for you” Ariana Gonzalez did not hold an official position this year within the WRC but she was an active honorary member this past year and worked with us for 3 years. where she actively participated in organizing events/workshops and being a part of staff meetings. “Oh hell no.........and what?!”
This is me the editor, Amanda Saiz. This year I was the Matrix Editor and one of the lead organizers for Take Back The Night. I organized and received everything that you see in this magazine. My time at the WRC was one of the best memories of my life, which can go with the “memories” theme and be my own submission. “Bad girls do it well”