Do you eat tomatoes? Then listen up———————> Publix , a super market chain across the Southeast, is a place where shopping is oppression.

Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW) are asking Publix to pay just one cent more per pound for the tomatoes they sell in their stores. Uno centavo mas, seriously. I find pennies on the ground all the time and I’m sure Publix management has more than a few lying around. The point is that by paying just one cent more, the tomato farmworkers in Immokalee will recieve better wages and working conditions, plus the victorious example of how collective action can hold corporate profit interests accountable.

On March 5, 2011- 1,500 workers, community members, students, and allies came together to march six miles in protest against Publix. I was alongside these folks and after driving 24 hours straight in the bible belt, it was a caffeine pill that kept me lucid but, the energy of the crowd that kept everyong going. It was encouraging to have Florida drivers honk their support. Also, the faith groups who have taken on the campaign was an good example of solidarity. However it was the finale of the teatro popular that was the best part. Especially seeing all the little kids, children of immigrants and allies, be part of a struggle they have yet to fully understand. Overall, it went very well. The CIW and Student Farmworker Alliance did a great job with organizing the event, so yay for them.

Anyways, if you shop at Publix or know someone who shops at Publix. If you eat tomatoes on your nice low-cal salad. If you have any piece of human dignity in you. Then, I encourage you to stop shopping at Publix. At least until they get their morality in check, which it seems they feel they are too nice to be fair and frankly, just don’t care about the workers. By doing so, you will be supporting the path for fair food! Do the right thing.

Eqyptians are persisting. However, by this third week of massive protest their one very clear demand has yet to be met. Mubarak must go! It is clearly a reasonable request. How many times do they have to say it? and in how many languages? English, Arabic, German, Spanish. I’m sure the president can find a translator.

Maybe he can’t hear them. The tyrant is 83 years old. Hopefully, he can still read. Although since 1981, he has been in absolute power and probably threw away his copy of ‘How To Remain A Dictator For Dummies.’ 30 years as a mindless robot controlled by the U.S. probably doesn’t demand critical thinking skills. It is only the idiots who can survive six assassination attempts. None the less, he remains on his throne.

Meanwhile, millions of people are preparing to protest again tomorrow. I hope they don’t ask for a new president and I hope they can get rid of the old one. I hope they accept they don’t need one. I hope they realize that through all of this chaotic sequence of events, the Egyptian people have been free.

Today in Cairo, Egypt- as many as 2 million protesters gathered in Tahrir Square for the “March of the Millions.” The masses are demanding the removal of President Hosni Mubarak from a 30 year authoritarian regime. The masses are students, mothers, workers, fathers, the unemployed, children, and the woe of the people.

International reporters are saying the demonstrations are peaceful. The mass mobilization of anti-government demonstrators has not resulted in chaos, but rather organization. No army or police needed, no violence. This is not meant to be romanticized, but I do think it’s meant to be noted as exceptional for today, as our political climate tends to provoke immediate repression.

The question for you is– Where is the protests at home? During this time as we wallow in the recession, continue to lose our jobs, feel the attacks on public education, spend substantial debt, militarize communities, spread xenophobia, and see the rise of the homeless middle class- Americans still sit on their ass. Waiting and watching from afar, thinking the problems of the world are fascinating but not real.

Of course, the United States government, besides pissing their pants, is urging President Mubarak to ‘keep the peace.’ A contradiction, knowing that the power of these numbers could demand more than an end to a regime. The power of these numbers could demand a democratic society, something of which is not in U.S. interests.

This situation is very real and happening now, pay attention.

The students at the University of Puerto Rico don’t play. This strike of theirs has been ongoing, the seeds of a sustainable retreat.

Last week, the confrontations of students and state started again when the administration demanded more money from the students. As a consequence of the new $800 fee, It is estimated at least 10,000 students system-wide will drop out, including graduate students whose tuition is more expensive. Those who are paying are writing Pajo Bajo Protesta on their empty checks.

As a student myself, soy en solidaridad con los estudiates en UPR, tambien los estudiates de California, en realidad con todos los estudiantes del mundo.

Budget cuts, student fee hikes, TA layoffs, less access to high education, working students, rich students, ivy leaguers, professors, grant money, neoliberalism, the elimination of ethnic studies, and for-profit research funding. Este es un reflecto del efecto domino.

12/11/08

I’m beginning to hate you. I think that’s good. It can’t go on forever and although it’s been a month, it may have been a month in wasted agony. Nevertheless an experience and process of learning. But I think I’m moving on, as I knew I would. Does it mean that what I felt was wrong or false? No, it doesn’t. In fact it even still remains.

But I can’t.. this back and forth leaves me so unbearably unstable. You’ve given me no hope nor satisfaction. I’ve been running with this ungrounded sense of comfort, and the soft bubble implemented by my thoughts is slowly losing it’s thickness. Does it make you happy to know that? Are you even concerned? Do you debate your mental time on me, as I do you? Pessimistically I’d say no, but with this new sense of optimism I say yes. You better, the quality of my being is nothing to throw away. You know that, as circumstance says otherwise. Fate in other words, has a different direction for you and I. I’m understanding that, and in a sense accept the time I must wait for complete clarity. Know this, you left me a little broken than before. As a child I was left to find my own way and I will. Then one day you’ll come back and look for me. I don’t know if I’ll remember your presence. Whether the force you exert can extract as it did. To what age we will be when this meeting comes again is unknown. I think to you, I’ll always be a child. The little naive rebellious girl. Someone to protect and hold. Someone who gives you the comfort of your power.

I won’t feel stupid for this and in rereading this one day, I’ll know that only because this is genuine is it being expressed so freely. It’s all in relation to what we all seek. This happiness, this love. Love is deceitful though, it promises you the world giving only a taste. In one day when our paths cross again will the truth of this explanation be realized.

the dreadful day

pushed me astray

a call to calm my comfort

a round of how are you? what are you doing?

oh hey, did you vote today?

I could not believe

she questioned my civic participation

unlike los politicos

I didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear

I don’t understand you

silence

even worse

i should have told her i’m reading malatesta instead

silence

oh no, not the claims of an another apathetic youth!

the world will surely end because of people like me

judgment from the sign wavering, name shouting, sticker wearing crowd

i bet my treason was clearly visible

oh but what did I care?

I’m just another apathetic youth

succumbed to being too cool for political games

the lecture was surely coming, i could sense it

like a flock of birds after a gun shot

like the ripples of a wave from a rock

a wave of the masses

for a football game or pop concert

it was like the lines to the polls

first, it was a guilt trip

need i remind her

shame provokes no remorse

you could throw stones at this point

but be careful where you waste your energy

i explained i didnt believe in it anymore

the talking heads

the thrones

the failure of their power

why make myself feel worse?

i seek empowerment not obedience

i said they all look the same anyways

it was like generic vs. major brand

OH NO.

she loves to play devil’s advocate

it continued on both ends

neither one really listening to the arguments of the other

the questioning of faith in democracy

the rants of u.s. imperialism

the reality of the third world we create

but this is serious!

I was starting to be accused of blasphemy

from the confusion of my statements came

you know what maribel?

huh…

i don’t buy it

buy what?

as though i was promoting a new magic weight loss pill

i dont buy all this anarchist social revolution bullshit

I just don’t.

silence

well that was an insult

the shit have hiteth the fan

words of blasphemy i thought

what could i say?

oh but you should buy this

oh but i should try to sell you that

sista, i’m not trying to sell you anything

this isn’t a commodity

it’s an understanding of the world

a beautiful beautiful world

it’s not her world

or the way she’d want to see it

she said she never buy it

to throw gasoline in the fire

i mumbled something about the abolishment of private property

then it was really over

we agreed to disagree, kinda

we agreed our daily dose of politics was over

we agreed we’d rather not fight

we agreed that someday this disagreement

would mean more than the end of a phone conversation.

—In response to the one day every two years citizens are obliged to participate.
Also, for the irony lovers- Did you know there are no black people in America?

moni put it best that way and I find the phrase repeating in my head, again and again. I regurgitate it as an explanation for my detached behavior. I am over it. 22 years in a blood red state, in a city of ‘liberals’, on the east gentrified side, attending an institution reserved for generational horn hookers. It can get overwhelming. It’s interesting how I have experienced this before. Before it was leaving something else, some other area. Now it’s a larger area and it’s for the better. I no longer wish to invest. I have seen it all here, the hypocrisy of the trendy hippie eccentrics. The political atmosphere is a blanket of the right. The left is trying, but with the problem of infiltrators who hinder more than they help. The ‘scene’ of hipstars following the musical fads are just wanna be wash outs, extravagant in their demeanor and asshole attitude. I doubt they ever read a book on the philosophers they try to preach. The frat boys utilize all their closeted homo eroticism energy into football fever. The girls are desperately seeking husbands to be unfaithful but buy them a fat diamond ring. This environment secludes the dissenters of these character types. I find myself fighting constantly. Sure, it may be the same anywhere but I have hope in finding my niche. If the world was a cake, I’d eat it too. Although it may be a couple of more years before the actual departure takes place, the choice has been made. I’m checked out.

my travels have continued this year. it’s been a week since we got back from LA, or how monica so cleverly writes, el ley. I’m still waiting for jetblue to refund my delayed flight, I won’t hold my breath. Anyways, the trip was super fun, adventures always are. We went to the west coast for Flor y canto, a conference for chicano writers of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. The first one was held in 1973, 37 years later they’re still kickin’.

For three nights in a row we put out grown men to recliners, floors, and couches. We walked around Long Beach and rode the mythical public transportation system of the greater LA area. I sat in the sun at USC watching the sparse students. We celebrated El Grito w/ the baby brown students and one-man collectives. Big ups to La Santa Cecilia, they were dope. The reps from Voto Latino swore if we all voted, si se puede! eh.. I just wanted to listen to the music and absorb the moment.

At the conference, I heard tons of chic-ano writers and their flight about going back to Aztlan. I’m not sure where this place is, but I hope they stop looking for it. One woman tried to get the room to pray to her, I walked out. Another cried in screams in Castile’s spanish. Some gave us their whole life’s story starting from birth. Spanglish was well heard throughout the joteria. All of the speakers live in the two world concept. Some of their poems reflected the problems faced by Latin@s today, while others still talked about eating flour tortillas. Asses were kissed for future publications. Someone even asked if i was a ‘poet’, hah. It was interesting observing the brown artists.

The speaker who, in my opinion, did the best job was my rockstar hermanita Monica Teresa Ortiz. If only I would have remembered to push the record button, we all could have seen it. She spoke with clarity and pride, one of her poems was even dedicated to the trabajadores. I’m thankful to have accompained her. We also hung out w/ her friend, Javier Huerta, a fellow writer from the bay who tells great good/bad jokes. I think he’s going to use some of my creative declarations, it’s okay thoughts are not my own. At the end, an older renowned chicano poet, Alurista, told us that Texans have an enchanting stare, also deadly. He emphasized the latter. Short and sweet, we left on Saturday. I’d like to sincerely thank the three J’s for catering to us, they made our trip great.
Yay for Flor y canto 2010.

Today in my Surveillance and Social Control class, CCTV (closed captioning television) came up. Apparently, the UK has the most cameras per person than any other country in the world. Interesting? Kinda, I mean the issue of watchers and watching is a whole other thing. However in 1992, a mall camera caught the shot of two young boys holding the hand of an even younger boy, leaving the shopping centre.This shot was later used as evidence in the murder trial of James Bulger.

On February 14, 1993, a two year old’s body was found ripped apart by train tracks a few miles from the mall. His body had been run over, however he was killed before his body was left there to seem like an accident.
Two ten year old boys, committed this ‘accident’ of James Bulger’s abduction, torture, and murder.
Again, two TEN year old baby boys killed a TWO year old baby boy.

I know I’m all late on this, because obviously I wasn’t paying attention to the news when I myself was a baby. However, how in the fuck did that happen?! How did the world forget about such a fucked up thing?
I always like to advocate the fault of environment, but I can’t explain this one.
They were babies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘Child Monsters’ is what the British media deemed them… the public was outraged. The families had to immediately go into witness protection plans. The kiddos, because they were kiddos, fell under doli incapax, to argue as kiddos they had no idea what the fuck they were doing. Thus, they couldn’t be held accountable. But because justice only works half ass, the kiddos were sentenced to 8 years, then the Brits complained again about the baby monsters and they got 15 years, only to be released as fucked up adults so tormented by their mistake and murder guilt and psychological disorders that killers have, only to be free to to the world to watch child porn. Some pretty heavy shit, right?

I still can’t believe it. Let’s see how you react.

Why the post office was closed, the banks were closed, the schools were closed….
however, your yard was still worked on.

Let’s not forget, the labor movement is still alive.
Not all of us have cushy office jobs.