by JR Valrey

For nearly three decades, Don Lacy has led the LoveLife Foundation following the tragic murder of his daughter LoEshe’ Lacy near McClymonds High School in West Oakland, which she attended. Since that time, Donald Lacy has been able to transform his pain and turn the LoveLife Foundation into one of the most important voices in the Bay Area when it comes to empowering youth.

The LoveLife Foundation’s College Summer Prep class of 2026 has graduated, and the LoveLife Foundation needs our help raising scholarship money for these youth, who have all been accepted into colleges and universities. Check out Donald Lacy as he gives us the details on this very important community program.

JR Valrey: Can you tell us a little bit about the history of your mentorship/scholarship program? What do y’all do and who does it serve?

Donald Lacy: First of all, thanks, JR, for all you do to enlighten and inform our community. Big salute. For 29 years, the LoveLife Foundation has been serving at-risk youth in Oakland and the Bay Area. The foundation was the vision of my 16-year-old daughter LoEshe’ (pronounced LO-E-SHAY, which is Ibo/Nigerian and means “LoveLife” in English). LoEshe’ was a successful conflict resolution mediator at McClymonds, where she was a student. So the history began with her.

In the summer of 1997, a friend of hers, James Valery, who was born on the exact same day as her, was murdered. She came to me and asked me to help her write a play about stopping violence and to start a program to support youth. Tragically, she was killed the same year, on Oct. 20, 1997. We started the LoveLife Foundation on Nov. 1, 1997. Our first after-school program was at LoEshe’s school, McClymonds. Shout out to my brother Will Hammons for helping me start the LoveLife Foundation and run the after-school program.

Originally, we trained youth in radio and television programming. We gave them airtime on KPOO and KPFA, as well as KTOP and KMTP television. We produced public service announcements that have received awards from the Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame, Bay Area Cable Ace, the United States Congress and the Red Cross.

These programs gave young people platforms to present their brilliance through the media. As the years passed, we expanded the curriculum in our after-school program to include financial literacy, career development, connecting youth with vocational training, conflict resolution, mediation, monitoring their mental health, time management and our summer college prep program. When youth successfully complete our College Summer Prep program, we provide them with scholarships to four-year colleges. We are currently raising money for scholarships for the 12 students who successfully completed our summer program. Depending on how much we are able to raise, we give them a minimum $6,000 scholarship. If we are able to raise even more money, we give them a scholarship of $12,500.

JR Valrey: Can you tell the readers about some of this year’s students who have succeeded in the College Summer Prep program?

Donald Lacy: This year, we had one of the greatest classes of students in our 29-year history. Our students continue to inspire us with their dedication and achievements. For example, De’Arra volunteers at the Food Bank and interns at Highland Hospital. Irshad interned in the law office of attorney Adante Pointer. He wants to become a lawyer because his father has been incarcerated for years. Da’Mya, during her high school years, worked three jobs to help take care of her mother, who has been battling cancer for several years.

David has made history as the youngest employee ever hired by NVIDIA. This remarkable young man wakes up at 5 a.m., five days a week, to catch the 6 a.m. BART train from West Oakland and makes his way to his job, where he helps build robots at NVIDIA. His talent and work ethic have been so impressive that NVIDIA’s founder personally took him to Taiwan to meet with the company’s Board of Directors and Executive Leadership. Luan is Oakland’s nominated Poet Laureate and volunteered in Mayor Barbara Lee’s office. The GPAs of our students in 2026 range from 3.2 to 4.3.

JR Valrey: How many of your students got accepted into colleges or universities? Which colleges or universities are they attending?

Donald Lacy: This year, all 12 of the students who participated in this year’s program are going to four-year colleges. They will be attending Stanford, UCLA, Cal Berkeley, UC San Diego, San Jose State, UNLV, Southern University, UC Davis, Sacramento State and Parsons College in Paris. Two students are attending Cal Berkeley, and two students are attending San Jose State. A lot of these outstanding youth have overcome circumstances that make their journey even more remarkable.

JR Valrey: What is the importance of Black youth having the opportunity to attend college or a university? What does it do for the student? What does it do for the community?

Donald Lacy: Great question, JR. For a lot of these youth, like myself, they are the first person in their family to go to college. It means a lot for their self-esteem and for overall family pride. It gives each student an incredible sense of accomplishment and confidence. The challenge is the high cost of a college education in 2026. It also gives them the opportunity to be out on their own for the first time. They have to manage their time, their bills and their social lives with their college schoolwork. The community benefits tremendously from the success of our scholars.

One of our students, Da’Mya, wants to get into the medical field to help people afflicted with cancer, like her mom. Irshad wants to be an attorney to represent people who are dealing with the unjust legal system. David is working at NVIDIA while in college at Stanford and is learning all about AI and robot technology to bring that knowledge back to West Oakland to share it with the community. Our students in 2026 are very community conscious and relish the idea of coming back to Oakland and sharing what they learn for the betterment of their community.

JR Valrey: What do you hope these students learn from the LoveLife Foundation programs in the long term?

Donald Lacy: I can honestly say that I am so proud of the class of 2026. One of the key components of our program is teaching them what I had the great fortune to learn at San Francisco State. I have a degree in Black Studies, and we taught them eye-opening information that they were very grateful to receive. I had them read and write about “The Cress Theory of Color Confrontation,” “The Haitian Revolution,” “Who was John Henrik Clarke and why was he so important?” and “Who was John Lewis and how did he contribute to the human rights struggle?” In addition, we had them research Dr. Angela Davis and her contribution to the Black Liberation Movement.

We also taught them about the Black Panther Party and their enormous contributions to the Black community. I am big on knowledge of our history and how it will help them navigate this white male supremacist system. I also shared with them my journey of going through the restorative justice process. They learned a great lesson from my journey to forgive the one man convicted of murdering my 16-year-old daughter.

JR Valrey: How can the Bay Area community and SF Bay View readers help?

Donald Lacy: Thank you again, JR, for always being a big supporter of mine and the LoveLife Foundation. I encourage all your readers to support these brilliant youth of color. This year, we have nine Black youth, two Asians and one Latina student. Two of the youth are first-generation immigrants. We greatly appreciate any support that your readers can give us. All contributions are tax-deductible. You can send us a check or money order made out to: The LoveLife Foundation, 4200 Park Blvd. #638, Oakland, California 94602. Or you can donate electronically at At Risk Youth | Lovelife or via QR code attached on the flyer.

JR Valrey is editor in chief of the San Francisco Bay View and can be reached at JR@sfbayview.com.

The post Twelve promising students graduate from the Love Life Foundation’s summer college prep class appeared first on San Francisco Bay View.

The July 11 Town Hall exposed a pattern community leaders describe as an “economic holocaust of opportunity” in Bayview Hunters Point, Sunnydale and Potrero Hill.

by Kevin B. Williams, Senior Advisor, Bayview Hunters Point Coordinating Council

On July 11, 2026, residents, young people, civic leaders and candidates for the District 10 seats on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors gathered in the Alex Pitcher Community Meeting Room at 1550 Evans Ave. A representative of the Mayor’s Office also attended. They came to hear the findings of the Wage and Contract Disparity Report prepared by the newly organized Bayview Hunters Point Coordinating Council — an organization once led by great community icon Mother Shirley Jones.

The meeting took nearly a year to secure.

The community had to pay approximately $500 to use a public room in its own neighborhood to explain how public agencies have allegedly denied that neighborhood a fair share of public wages, contracts and economic opportunity. Yet after the evidence was presented, those holding political authority offered no meaningful public response. According to the Council, no representative of the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission — the agency most directly implicated by the findings — appeared to answer the community’s questions.

That silence spoke loudly.

The numbers testified

The presentation did not rely on rumor, emotion or political slogans. It relied on government wages and contracting data. The report was originally created and presented to the Southeast Community Facilities Commission in September 2025.

Workers residing in ZIP code 94124 — Bayview Hunters Point — received only 4.5 cents of every project wage dollar. Workers in 94134 — Sunnydale and Visitacion Valley — received only 3.6 cents. Together, the two southeast communities closest to the environmental burden received merely 8.1 cents of every wage dollar.

Workers living outside San Francisco received approximately $30.3 million, representing 23.1 cents of every project wage dollar.

The contract data presents the same pattern. Average reported Local Business Enterprise (LBE) participation in District 10 was approximately $132,000, while reported awards exceeded $25 million in ZIP code 94110, exceeded $40 million in 94111, and totaled more than $200 million for firms located outside San Francisco.

These figures describe more than inequality. They document economic extraction.

The sewage treatment plant is in Bayview.

The burden is in Bayview.

The history of pollution is in Bayview.

But the wages, contracts and wealth leave Bayview.

Community leaders therefore describe what is occurring as an economic holocaust of opportunity: not a comparison to the singular historical horror of genocide, but an urgent description of the sustained destruction of Black economic life through unemployment, displacement, contracting exclusion and the export of public wealth.

A city that protects property but not Black opportunity

San Francisco has demonstrated how quickly it can act when valuable merchandise is stolen from Union Square.

When groups of young people smashed windows and carried expensive goods from downtown stores, the City increased police presence, devoted additional public resources to security and publicly declared that commercial theft threatened San Francisco’s economic vitality.

But when economically dominant prime contractors receive billions of dollars in construction opportunities from projects located in the heart of a historically Black community, where is the comparable emergency response?

Where are the compliance officers who by law should be policing the contracts that go exclusively to white male contractors?

Where are the investigators?

Where are the audits?

Where are the sanctions?

Where are the public hearings?

Where is the outrage?

A broken window in Union Square produces immediate action. Billions of dollars passing through District 10 while Black workers and contractors receive crumbs produces another report.

That contrast reveals whose property City Hall protects — and whose economic future it is prepared to sacrifice.

The long history of government silence

This is not a new problem, and the City cannot credibly claim ignorance. San Francisco’s earlier disparity studies and The Unfinished Agenda documented discrimination against minority- and women-owned businesses decades ago.

The Human Rights Commission grew from civil-rights organizing in San Francisco’s Black community. It once maintained a substantial contract-compliance operation, including field personnel who visited construction sites, examined certified payroll records, investigated false-front contractors and determined whether minority businesses were performing commercially useful functions.

Community leaders now contend that this enforcement system was systematically dismantled.

The Town Hall speech described a former compliance operation with more than 50 officers and related personnel. It contrasted that historic field capacity with a present system that community advocates say has only a handful of civil-rights workers and little meaningful power to investigate, stop payments, impose penalties or sanction discriminatory prime contractors.

Technical assistance is not enforcement.

Mentoring is not monitoring.

A 12-week class is not an investigation.

A newsletter is not a sanction.

Without independent government oversight, a dominant prime contractor may exercise near-total control over a small Black contractor’s schedule, work assignments, payments, change orders and future capacity. Government cannot place a Black business entirely at the economic mercy of a powerful prime contractor and honestly call that equal opportunity.

A personal history of Jim Crow

For me, this struggle is inseparable from my family’s history.

My late father, George Williams (George Court next to Adam Rogers Park in Hunters Point at Ingalls Avenue is named for him) was a highly decorated wartime veteran who served as a technical sergeant, cannon-gun leader and expert marksman. He left Louisiana with his family as part of the great Black migration westward in search of dignity, work and a better life.

He told me that Black soldiers were not permitted to eat in the same military mess facilities as white soldiers, even while German prisoners of war were allowed to do so. After arriving in Vallejo, he lived in the dilapidated, rat-infested Floyd Terrace Navy barracks housing project and obtained work as a laborer. He was later fired after an employer learned that he had been jailed in the military stockade for a uniform violation involving a missing button during wartime!

His experience teaches us that military service, hard work and personal sacrifice have never guaranteed Black Americans equal treatment.

Jim Crow was not confined to Alabama, Mississippi or Louisiana. Its logic migrated right here to San Francisco where Black people were not allowed to sit at a lunch counter at Woolworth’s Department Store. This appears wherever institutions control access to work, housing, capital and dignity according to race.

In modern San Francisco, Jim Crow may not be written above a drinking fountain. It may be hidden inside a procurement system, a bonding requirement, a slow-payment practice, an un-monitored subcontract or an annual report that combines categories until racial exclusion, particularly of Black people, disappears from plain view.

Freedom among ourselves — or systemic freedom?

Only weeks before the Town Hall, San Francisco celebrated Juneteenth.

There was music, food, fellowship and celebration. But while watching those festivities, I was compelled to ask:

Do these wage and contract numbers demonstrate that we are systemically free — or merely free among ourselves?

We may gather and celebrate together, but who owns the companies receiving the public contracts?

Who receives the change orders?

Who owns the equipment?

Who accumulates the bonding history?

Whose children inherit the business?

Freedom without economic opportunity is a celebration without an inheritance.

Freedom without ownership allows Black people to perform the labor while others continue to own the harvest.

The cost of silence

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. warned that history would remember not only the hostility of those who opposed justice, but the silence of those who knew better and failed to speak.

The political silence at the July 11 Town Hall must therefore concern every San Franciscan.

The Coordinating Council first presented the disparity findings on Sept. 24, 2025. Southeast Community Facilities Commissioners expressed concern and discussed a joint public forum with the Public Utilities Commission. Months passed. Contracts continued. Payrolls continued. The money continued moving. The Council followed up for approximately nine months without interest or a response to its so-called public pronouncement of support and ultimately was forced to pay to hold the meeting itself subject to cancellation of the Town Hall Meeting.

Nearly a year later, a Town Hall after the contracts have been awarded is not accountability.

It represents an economic burning cross of contempt for the entire Black Community. So they seek to hide failure by putting a Black face on it while the evil of segregated servitude lurks within, disclosing nothing more than the illusion of inclusion.

The patience of the Black community, a naturally loving community with a long tradition of racial tolerance and civic participation — has been treated as permission to delay promises of equity repeatedly, without sufficient monitoring, enforcement or measurable results.

I ask, as Dr. King once did: Can a lie last forever?

The wage data is speaking.

The contract data is speaking.

The declining Black population of San Francisco is speaking.

The only remaining question is whether the good people entrusted with public authority and real community advocacy will continue to remain silent.

What San Francisco must answer

District 10 residents deserve public answers to basic questions:

• How many City employees physically inspect construction sites for racial discrimination?

• How many false-front investigations were opened during the last fiscal year?

• How many commercially useful function reviews were conducted?

• How many prime contractors were sanctioned?

• How many payments were withheld?

• How many contractors were suspended or debarred?

• How much money went to Black-owned businesses as prime contractors?

• How much went to Black workers residing in the communities carrying the environmental burden?

If the City is proud of its contracting system, it should publish the racial data.

If the contractors are complying, the City should audit them.

If the law means something, the City should enforce it.

This is not a request for pity. It is a demand for democratic accountability.

The plant is here.

The burden is here.

Our families are here.

Our contractors are here.

The public money belongs to all of us.

And the truth should not require permission.

A localized system of economic apartheid

When I look at these numbers, I am reminded that oppression changes its appearance from one generation to the next.

It no longer needs signs that read “Whites Only.”

It no longer needs separate drinking fountains.

It no longer needs poll taxes or literacy tests.

Modern systems of exclusion often operate through access to capital, access to contracts, access to financing, access to bonding, access to decision-making, and ultimately access to wealth.

Throughout history, colonial powers extracted wealth from nations while leaving the people who lived there with little control over the resources beneath their own feet. Countries across Africa — including Burkina Faso — have experienced long periods in which enormous natural wealth benefited political and economic elites while many local communities remained excluded from proportional participation in the wealth generated from their own land.

President Ibrahim Traoré has repeatedly argued that genuine sovereignty requires economic self-determination and that nations cannot be truly free if others continue to control the benefits of their resources.

The lesson is broader than any one nation.

Wherever wealth is extracted from a community while opportunity bypasses the people living there, the result is economic dependency rather than economic freedom.

That is why the statistics presented to the white power structure of San Francisco concern me so deeply.

Bayview Hunters Point produces no gold mines.

It produces no oil fields.

But it hosts a huge sewage treatment plant, one of the most significant public infrastructure investments in California history.

Billions of public dollars have flowed through this community with billions more to come.

The environmental burden has remained here.

Yet much of the economic benefit has flowed elsewhere.

The community bears the burden.

Others disproportionately receive the benefit.

That is the pattern the numbers compel us to examine.

This is why many residents describe what has occurred as a form of localized economic apartheid — not because San Francisco has replicated apartheid South Africa in every respect, but because a community that bears extraordinary public burdens continues to experience persistent exclusion from the full economic opportunities generated around it.

The Wage and Contract Disparity Report asks us to confront that question directly.

If workers living in the two most impacted southeast neighborhoods together receive only 8.1 cents of every project wage dollar, while workers outside San Francisco receive 23.1 cents, then the question is no longer whether disparities exist.

The question becomes:

Who benefits?

Who decides?

Who accumulates wealth?

And perhaps most importantly—

Who inherits that wealth?

These questions are not about race alone.

They are about power.

They are about whether public investment creates shared prosperity or concentrates opportunity in the hands of those who already possess economic advantage.

History teaches us that systems of exclusion often endure not only because of prejudice, but because they exploit division.

Communities divided against one another are easier to govern than communities united around shared economic interests.

Black against Brown.

Brown against Asian.

Native-born against immigrant.

Resident against resident.

Contractor against contractor.

Neighborhood against neighborhood.

These divisions weaken collective bargaining power and distract from the larger structural question: Who controls the public wealth?

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us that “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”

That principle rejects the politics of division.

Economic justice for Bayview Hunters Point is not only a Black issue.

It is a San Francisco issue.

It is an issue of democracy.

It is an issue of accountability.

It is an issue of whether public money serves the public interest.

Tonight we honor those who came before us not by dividing communities, but by uniting them around a common demand:

Publish the truth.

Monitor the contracts.

Enforce the law.

Protect the public trust.

Because freedom is measured not only by the right to vote or the right to speak.

Freedom is also measured by whether a community has a fair opportunity to build businesses, accumulate wealth, pass opportunity to the next generation, and share proportionately in the prosperity created by the public dollars it helps finance.

Only then can we truly say that the burden — and the opportunity — are shared alikeKevin B. Williams earned his political science degree from San Francisco State University and is best known for his work with the SF Human Rights Commission, where he rose to the position of Acting Executive Director while serving as Chief of Contract Compliance at San Francisco International Airport, managing the largest capital improvement projects in the history of San Francisco. Elder Williams co-founded the Greenlining Institute, was Vice President of the New Bayview Committee and currently serves as Senior Advisor to the Bayview Hunters Point Coordinating Council. He is the eldest son of community matriarch Ruth Williams. He can be reached at williams532001@yahoo.com.

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by Gerald A. Perreira

Oct. 7, 2023

Yahya Sinwar, leader of Hamas in Gaza from 2017 and later chairman of the Hamas Political Bureau following the killing of Ismail Haniyeh. Martyred in Tel al-Sultan, Rafah, on Oct. 16, 2024.

“There are many who talk a great deal about changing the world, but to actually change the world requires sacrifice.” So said Hizbullah Secretary-General Naim Qassem, speaking of the legendary nature of the struggle waged by the Alliance of Palestinian Forces in Gaza.

As I contemplate how the world has changed forever since the launch of the Al Aqsa Flood operation on Oct. 7, 2023, I remember Yahya Sinwar (1962–2024) and Mohammed Deif (1965–2024). I reflect on these two sons of Khan Younis Refugee Camp and their courageous plan to break free of the concentration camp of Gaza, a place they were born to liberate. Their fate was a fate shared by their parents before them. Palestinians have been imprisoned in Gaza since 1948, and as early as 1950, Gaza was already being described by UN officials as a concentration camp. Oct. 7 was not the start of something; it was the culmination of the unbearable oppression and defiance of generations of Palestinians.

Mohammed Deif, commander-in-chief of the Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades, the armed wing of Hamas, from 2002. Martyred in Khan Younis on July 13, 2024.

Of course, the corporate media, their reactionary talking heads and even some progressive analysts who denounce the genocide in Gaza still demand that we condemn this operation. Imagine being imprisoned and living under a criminal blockade that deliberately ensures that people are constantly in a state of undernourishment, allowing them just enough calories to survive, not thrive. Imagine being subjected to violence, sexual assault, imprisonment without trial, torture and the random murder of civilians in your community on a daily basis, for a lifetime. And every few years, your occupier stages a brutal military invasion such as Operation Cast Lead in 2008, Operation Pillar of Defence in 2012 and Operation Protective Edge in 2014, killing thousands of Palestinian civilians. Just as in the current genocide, these operations targeted children in what Efraim Inbar and Eitan Shamir of the Begin-Sadat Centre for Strategic Studies described as “mowing the grass.”

Imagine being encased in a region and world that seemed to have forgotten your plight. Watching as the Gulf states and other surrounding Arab states actively work with your occupier and are on the verge of normalizing your horror story by signing the ironically named ‘Abraham Accords.’ The name of these accords is an affront to the Prophet Ibrahim and his legacy. When you allow yourself to imagine what it is to be born in Gaza, I don’t think that Operation Al Aqsa Flood can be seen as anything other than what it was: courageous resistance.

I am not even going to delve into what the IDF did on that day, how many of their own citizens they killed or how many fabricated accounts of rape, sexual violence and babies in ovens were circulated. This fictitious narrative has been exposed over and over by reputable sources and is publicly available for anyone who needs to review it.

I am constantly confronted with the question: Do I condemn the Oct. 7 attack? I am a descendant of captured and enslaved Africans. In March this year, 123 of the 193 nations that comprise the UN General Assembly declared that the trafficking of captured Africans and racialized chattel enslavement of Africans was the gravest crime against humanity. Fifty-two countries abstained, 15 countries were absent and only three countries voted against the resolution – the U.S., Israel and Argentina. On Oct. 7, 2023, what immediately came to my mind was Nat Turner. Was he a terrorist for leading the 1831 rebellion in Virginia that targeted slave owners and their families, who were committing crimes against his and his people’s humanity?

Of course, no one is willing to call Nat Turner a terrorist, although at the time he was cast as the devil incarnate. History rightfully records him as a courageous freedom fighter. So too will history record Yahya Sinwar and Mohammed Deif, and the Palestinian freedom fighters who dared to break out of their living hell on that fateful day and paraglide into enemy territory.

This is not a war between the Israeli state and Hamas

Let’s dispel this myth once and for all. Six organizations from the heroic ‘Alliance of Palestinian Forces’ participated in the historic Al Aqsa Flood military operation on Oct. 7, 2023. The alliance was formed in Damascus in 1993, originally comprising 10 Palestinian organizations, all of whom rejected the Oslo Accords, viewing them as a betrayal of the Palestinian national cause.

The Al Aqsa Flood operation was conducted by a coalition of six of these 10 organizations:

1) Palestinian Islamic Jihad, a Sunni Muslim organization that split from Ikhwan al-Muslimeen, the Muslim Brotherhood, and is ideologically influenced by the Islamic Revolution in Iran.

2) Abu Ali Mustafa Brigades, affiliated with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, or PFLP, a Marxist-Leninist organization founded by the late Greek Orthodox Christian Dr. George Habash. The famous Palestinian freedom fighter Leila Khaled is a member of the PFLP.

3) Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades, a network of various small Palestinian groups, including the Popular Resistance Committees.

4) Mujahideen Brigades, the armed wing of the Palestinian Mujahideen Movement.

5) Omar Al-Qasim Brigades, also known as the National Resistance Brigades, the military wing of the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a Marxist-Leninist organization founded by Greek Orthodox Christian Nayef Hawatmeh. They adopted the Maoist concept of protracted people’s war.

6) HAMAS, Harakat al-Muqawama al-Islamiya – Islamic Resistance Movement, is the largest group in this alliance and one of the two largest Palestinian political parties. HAMAS emerged out of Ikhwan al-Muslimeen, the Muslim Brotherhood, as a result of disagreements regarding Ikhwan’s approach to the struggle for a free Palestinian homeland. Its leader, Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, a quadriplegic who was almost blind following an accident in his teens, was assassinated in his wheelchair by a missile fired from an Israeli helicopter gunship in 2004.

Sheikh Ahmed Yassin.

In years to come, Gaza’s resistance will be remembered as a decisive force in hastening the decline of the U.S. Empire, its Western European allies and their grotesque creation, the apartheid state of Israel. History will not portray this as a battle between Hamas and Israel, but as an act of resistance that helped ignite a global intifada against the tyranny of the Collective West. Benjamin Netanyahu himself has repeatedly said, “We are not just fighting to defend Israel; we are fighting to defend Western civilization.”

Gaza is strength

It is no surprise that Gaza became a frontline in this struggle. For centuries, the word Gaza has been associated with strength. In Islamic tradition, the similar-sounding word ghazi refers to a Muslim warrior – especially one victorious in battle – and is often used as a title of honor. The strength, honor and dignity of Gaza’s people have helped to galvanize a global movement. Despite three years of relentless killing, entire families wiped out, while the world and the obsolete UN Security Council looked on, Palestinians are refusing to leave their land. This remarkable courage, in the face of devastation, inspires people everywhere to take a stand. The microcosm that is Gaza is highlighting all that is wrong with the world and just how much of a hoax liberal democracy really is.

As the world awakens, we are witnessing extraordinary rebellion and seismic shifts. For example, prior to Oct. 7, 2023, the majority of U.S. citizens supported the state of Israel. Today, if AIPAC is funding your political campaign, you might as well call it quits. Throughout the Global South, resistance to neo-colonialism and fascism is intensifying. As the walls cave in on the Empire, it is forced to further expose its true nature, thereby further accelerating its inevitable collapse.

The magnificent Axis of Resistance

I do not think describing the Axis of Resistance as magnificent is hyperbole. They are well deserving of this accolade. This Axis is made up of the Tahaluf al-Quwa al-Filastiniyah, Alliance of Palestinian Forces; the Islamic Republic of Iran; Ansar’Allah, Houthis; Hizbullah; and the Iraqi Al-Hashd al-Sha’bi, Popular Mobilization Forces, and is currently defeating the enemy on every front. After three years of a brutal genocidal campaign, the ‘mighty’ IDF is still struggling to take Gaza. Only yesterday, Ansar’Allah captured the Saudi-backed president’s house and were seen praying in the courtyard. Iran has got the U.S. over a barrel, and the Iraqis are dancing in the streets as U.S. troops have finally withdrawn. The question is: Can Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states survive this onslaught?

The Collective West continues with its false narrative that members of the Axis of Resistance are mere proxies of Iran. Meanwhile, the Axis of Resistance is showing the world what an authentic partnership, based on shared values and objectives, looks like. Each member’s contribution is valued and their dignity upheld. It is not about who is calling the shots; it is about each part of this Axis firing its shots with a synergy that can only emanate from righteous struggle and a spirit of defiance.

The West cannot comprehend any of this. Their geopolitical outlook is Machiavellian in purpose and design. When self-interest is your only motive, both individually and collectively, then selfishness and arrogance find their way into your DNA. When you only ever relate to others as a hegemon, those others can only be proxies and vassal states. It is therefore no surprise that the West has no understanding of the magnificent Axis of Resistance they are up against.

Remember the PR disaster for the West and Israel when Hamas publicly released the hostages, and a global audience watched as the captives bid a fond farewell to their captors. This spoke volumes. Even now, as I publish this article, we are witnessing the difference between the way Ansar’Allah treats their prisoners of war and Saudi Arabia and ISIS treat theirs. Every bit as morally bankrupt as the hegemon, the Saudis are actually running over their prisoners and shooting unarmed soldiers.

Every Friday, millions of Yemenis take part in a weekly protest in Sanaa in support of Palestine. Here they display flags of the Axis of Resistance.

The real supporters of terrorism

The real supporters of terrorism are the Collective West and its vassal states. You only have to look back over the last few decades to see how the U.S. and Western Europe created, trained, armed and financed terrorist outfits such as ISIS, Al Qaeda and other heretical, pseudo-Islamic groups to destabilize and/or overthrow revolutionary nationalist regimes in the Arab region and throughout Africa. For decades, they have utilized neo-Nazi organizations and other fascist groups to destabilize and overthrow progressive and revolutionary governments in the Americas. They have supported notorious tyrants such as Suharto, Marcos, Pinochet, Mobutu, Batista and Somoza, to name a few. In fact, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt is reputed to have said, “Somoza may be a son of a bitch, but he is our son of a bitch.”

We are the ones we have been waiting for

At both the micro and macro levels, we tend to think that others operate as we do because the way we operate and navigate this world becomes our frame of reference. The West posits Iran as the main instigator and all other members of the Axis of Resistance as vassals and proxies. In other words, as usual, the West universalizes its customs, methodologies and values.

What makes the Axis of Resistance so steadfast is that its members work together in a way that is antithetical to the Western mindset. For all those who have spent a lifetime resisting tyranny and fighting for their God-given right to self-determination, a global resistance movement, connecting and growing on a daily basis, is something we have been waiting for.

More and more revolutionary organizations across every region of the world are rising to the call, realizing the profundity of the Hopi Elders’ prophecy: “We are the ones we have been waiting for.”

Like members of the Axis of Resistance, we are self-determining and autonomous while, at the same time, part of a global intifada. This global movement transcends race, ethnicity, class and religion. What binds us together is the increasing awareness that humanity is facing an existential crisis at the hands of the Collective West.

In his masterpiece, ‘The Wretched of the Earth’ (1961), Frantz Fanon noted: “Two centuries ago, a former European colony decided to catch up with Europe. It succeeded so well that the United States of America became a monster, in which the taints, the sickness and inhumanity of Europe have grown to appalling dimensions … let us waste no time in sterile litanies and nauseating mimicry. Leave this Europe where they are never done talking of Man, yet murder men everywhere they find them, at the corner of every one of their own streets, in all the corners of the globe. For centuries they have stifled almost the whole of humanity in the name of a so-called spiritual experience. Look at them today, swaying between atomic and spiritual disintegration.”

Fanon’s call to action is as relevant today as it was 65 years ago: “Come then Comrades, it would be as well to decide at once to change our ways. We must shake off the heavy darkness in which we were plunged and leave it behind. The new day, which is already at hand must find us firm, prudent and resolute.”

End imperialism and Zionism in Africa

The recent formation of the Coalition to End Imperialism in Africa, or CEIA, is evidence of how this movement is growing. As Africans, we are no strangers to the North Atlantic Tribes and their murderous rampages. Zionism has, since its inception, been a parasite on the body of Africa. We are therefore duty-bound, in the words of revolutionary Pan-Africanist Kwame Ture, “to oppose and smash Zionism.”

Israel is a settler-colonial state, rooted in an ideology, namely Zionism, that is alien to Judaism and was in fact formulated by European atheists. Those who have migrated to the apartheid state of Israel, claiming that they have a legitimate right to this land, in reality trace their ancestry back to the same North Atlantic Tribes.

One long murderous rampage

History will record that the era of global dominance by the North Atlantic Tribes and their combined armies, NATO, the North Atlantic Tribes Organization, was characterized by one long murderous rampage. Even those who maintain a willful blindness, the dysconscious, the ones who still cling to the idea that there is such a thing as Western civilization, are now struggling to come to terms with their own cognitive dissonance. Having been forced to watch what is now a three-year genocide in Gaza in real time, they are realizing the chilling accuracy of Oscar Wilde’s observation that “the U.S. is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.”

It goes without saying that those of us who have been colonized, enslaved and otherwise impacted by this centuries-old murderous rampage are deeply traumatized across generations; however, the masses who reside in the metropole, the colonizing states, are also becoming increasingly traumatized. The bubble they have existed in is starting to burst. Their misleaders are choking on the blood they have spilled, and yet they crave more. The people of the U.S. and Western Europe are feeling uneasy. If the forces that govern them can stand by and allow the brutal massacre of thousands of women, infants and children, it does not bode well for anyone. No one is safe. The sheer horror of the genocide in Gaza has been a tipping point for humanity. There is no turning back.

The Empire is insolvent and taking its last hideous gasp

Kwame Nkrumah said that “neo-colonialism is not a sign of imperialism’s strength but rather of its last hideous gasp.” The Alliance of Sahel States already expelled the imperialists, and more is to come. The U.S. administration is in panic mode and scrambling. Their power and influence is diminishing faster than they ever thought possible. The U.S. debt now exceeds $40 trillion, representing over 100% of its GDP. It increases at a rate of $5-6 billion per day. The federal government spends 40% more than it takes in, running annual deficits approaching $2 trillion.

And of course, being the ignorant and arrogant bumblers that they are, they are making one blunder after another. Empires always collapse from within. The U.S., like all empires in decline, is suffering an internal crisis of leadership. It is a divided country, which often seems on the brink of civil war. In this climate of panic, fear, racial hostility and the chasm between have and have-nots, the U.S. is in a downward spiral. They are scrambling from crisis to crisis, war to war, with no vision for any kind of sustainable future and a sordid past that has caught up with them.

2023 and 2024 will be recorded in history as the years when the extraordinary Axis of Resistance launched an unprecedented assault on the Empire and its surrogates. From the Sahel to Gaza, and everywhere in between, people are fighting back. During the case South Africa took to the ICJ, charging Israel with genocide, a trial which in the not-too-distant future will be spoken of in the same way as we speak today of the Nuremberg Trials, the UN special rapporteur on the occupied Palestinian territories noted that “watching African women and men fighting to save humanity and the international legal system against the ruthless attacks supported/enabled by most of the West will remain one of the defining images of our time. This will make history whatever happens.”

These well-strategized campaigns are exerting tremendous military and moral pressure on the declining Empire. Che Guevara’s proposed scenario, “create two, three, many Vietnams,” has come to pass. If the U.S. makes the fatal mistake of committing ground troops in Iran, they will most certainly have another Vietnam/Afghanistan and certain defeat on their hands once again.

Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, martyred during U.S.-Israeli airstrikes on Feb. 28, 2026, along with his daughter-in-law, wife of Mojtaba Khamenei; daughter-in-law; son-in-law; and grandchild.

The anniversary of Oct. 7 is a day to honor the thousands of martyrs, known and unknown, and make sure their sacrifice is not in vain. Despite the victories, there are also and always will be twists, turns and setbacks. The enemy we are fighting is not an easy one, and struggle against evil is never-ending and permanent. Iran has taught us some important lessons. One of them is patience. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei authored an entire book titled ‘Patience.’ In that book he asks, what does patience mean? His answer is that “Patience means staying in the arena, not getting out of it. Some individuals flee from the arena. Some individuals do not flee from it, but they leave it gradually. This is against patience. Patience means endurance, staying in the arena and resisting. Patience means keeping our eyes on distant goals and distant horizons.”

What is the hegemon’s endgame?

Let them tell us: What is their endgame? Of course, they cannot, because they are bankrupt, not only financially but also intellectually and spiritually. They are pouring billions, untracked and unaccounted for, into an apartheid state and into Ukraine, one of the most corrupt countries on Earth. Trump is unhinged, as are Rubio and Hegseth, and it seems that the Zionists have a lot of leverage on the very compromised U.S. president. Like Netanyahu, Trump can’t afford to take the off-ramp and seems determined to go down with his ship. As with all those who are experiencing their own demise, the U.S. regime’s behavior is becoming increasingly irrational and out of control. Their endgame, hatched by deluded fools in basements, is far removed from reality. They are blinded by their own hype and arrogance. Incredible though it may seem, a large number of the Empire’s elite still believe that they can emerge from this murderous rampage against women and children in Gaza, brush themselves off and carry on as usual. They are wrong. Their long and painful reign of genocide and tyranny is slowly coming to an end.

2023 will be remembered as the year that sealed their demise. Their barbarism is naked and exposed. They are suicidal. This power elite and the real estate mogul at the helm of the U.S. Empire see the planet and humanity as commodities, objects to be abused, exploited and discarded, all in the name of the false god of profit and the very unfree marketplace. They are drowning in the misfortune of their own making, the consequence of their flawed, one-dimensional ideologies and their inability to comprehend the totality of the human person and our existence. Their failure to ever rise above their barbaric propensities has brought about their own destruction. And all those nation-states that hold onto the tail of this drowning cow will surely drown with it.

Gerald A. Perreira is an educator, liberation theologian and political activist. He lived in the Libyan Jamahiriya for many years, where he lectured at the Green World Ideological Institute and was a founding/executive member of the World Mathaba, based in Tripoli. He currently resides in Guyana and is chairperson of the Guyana-based Organization for the Victory of the People (OVP), https://www.ovpguyana.org/, and a member of the Governing Council of the Global Pan African Movement (Harare). He can be reached at mojadi94@gmail.com

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by JR Valrey

The African American Art and Culture Complex in the Fillmore district has been a beacon of Black art and culture in the city of San Francisco for decades. Currently, each floor of the three-floor building is decorated with visual masterpieces created by San Francisco native Emory Douglas, the Minister of Culture and Revolutionary Artist of the Black Panther Party, for his hosted exhibition.

This place is one of the hearts of Black culture in the Bay, and it is set to temporarily close at the beginning of November for a few years for seismic retrofitting.

Following in a line of extremely talented, committed and community-driven executive directors, Dr. Murrel Green is the new executive director of the African American Art and Culture Complex, leading this transitional period. Although the beloved building will not be in service, he is assuring that programming will not cease.

Check out what Dr. Green has to say about what’s happening to our building and the programming that the community has long depended on.

JR Valrey: Can you tell us how it feels to be the new executive director for the African American Art and Culture Complex, which has a prestigious history spanning many decades?

Dr. Green: It feels absolutely phenomenal for so many different reasons. First and foremost, to be back home in the neighborhood and community that raised me is something that not everyone gets the opportunity to experience, and I feel truly blessed to have that opportunity.

There is also a very personal history for me with the African American Art and Culture Complex. I worked here 25 years ago under then-Executive Director London Breed, and the Complex became an extension of my family. To now return as executive director and follow in the footsteps of people like Mohammad Bilal and Co-Executive Directors Melonie and Melorra Green is incredibly meaningful to me. When I think about the staff from those days, people like Errol, Victor, Tonya and so many others who poured themselves into this institution, I understand the legacy that I have been entrusted to help carry forward.

There is something special about being able to walk into this building every day and absorb the culture, the history, the energy and the spirit of the space. This is more than a job for me. It feels like coming home, and I am grateful for the opportunity to serve a place and a community that have meant so much to me for so many years.

JR Valrey: What is going on in the month of October at the AAACC?

Dr. Green: October is going to be an incredibly active month at the African American Art and Culture Complex. I would start with our artist installations. We have the extraordinary work of Emory Douglas displayed throughout the building, from the first through the third floors. If you have not had an opportunity to experience that exhibition, it is beyond amazing.

We are also featuring the work of Gustavo Castillo, who is simply a genius in his craft. What he is able to create through his work is phenomenal. Then we have a young artist, Isaiah “Zay” Williams, whose exhibition, “Zay’s Notebook,” demonstrates a formidable ability to tell the story of his life, experiences and perspective through art. I am particularly excited that we are able to have multiple generations and artistic voices represented throughout the Complex.

Beyond the exhibitions, we have several community events happening throughout the month. Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., Gamma Chi Lambda Chapter will be hosting a voter registration event, and our Community Days will continue to bring people into the building for programming and engagement. One of my favorite people, neighborhood native and boxing champion Karim Mayfield, will also be putting on an event here at the Complex.

And, of course, October means spooky season. Our senior program coordinator, Ashley “Smiley,” is developing what I would describe as a Halloween extravaganza, with programming for young people as well as an adult-centered celebration that is going to be very difficult to miss.

Although you asked specifically about October, I also want people to know that our indoor programming will continue through Nov. 7 as we prepare for the temporary relocation. We plan to go out strong. We will host our Legacy & Vision reception, celebrating the people who helped build the history of the AAACC while also looking toward its future. We are bringing back our “A Different World” activation, using the excitement around the series to engage students around college and career preparation in a way that is both educational and culturally relevant. We will also bring back our one-day robotics camp for young people.

And Nov. 7 does not mean the work stops. We are planning outdoor community activities after we leave the building, including turkey giveaways and other events during November and December.

So this is not a quiet period for the AAACC. We are filling the building with art, culture, community, education, celebration and history, and then carrying that same energy with us as we move into this next chapter.

JR Valrey: Why will the AAACC be closing down? How long will it be closed?*

Dr. Green: I think the first thing that is important to clarify is that the African American Art & Culture Complex is not closing down, and Oct. 31 is not the end of our programming. Our last day of indoor programming at 762 Fulton St. will be Nov. 7. After that, we will temporarily relocate while our historic home undergoes a much-needed seismic retrofit. We anticipate the work taking approximately a year and a half.

That distinction is extremely important because the AAACC is much more than a building. We fully intend to continue our programming, grow our presence and remain actively engaged with the community throughout the retrofit period. Even after our indoor programming concludes, we anticipate outdoor events and community activities during November and December as we transition into our temporary locations.

The need for the seismic work is very real. The 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake demonstrated the vulnerability of buildings throughout San Francisco and the Bay Area, and this retrofit is intended to provide the structural improvements necessary for the long-term safety and future of 762 Fulton St.

I actually think there is a larger metaphor in that. A building needs a strong foundation in order to stand, grow and thrive, and I believe the same thing is true of our AAACC community. This retrofit is about strengthening the foundation of this historic institution so that it can continue serving generations of San Franciscans well into the future.

Most importantly, this work is necessary for the safety and security of our artists, staff, tenants, program participants, visitors and community. So while 762 Fulton will be undergoing an important transformation, the work of the AAACC will continue. We are not going anywhere.

JR Valrey: What will happen to the programs that are currently housed at the AAACC?

Dr. Green: That is an interesting question because, as the new executive director, I think this is also an important time for me to work with our team to assess the programs we currently offer and determine how we can make them even stronger.

One of the responsibilities I was asked to take on when I came into this position was to examine how the AAACC has survived over the years. I have actually begun changing that language. I am less interested in how we survive and much more interested in how we thrive.

That means taking an intentional look at our programming: What is working? What is not working? What can we do better? What should we increase? Are there things we should decrease or rethink?

We have to ask those questions if we want the AAACC to remain a sustainable institution and a strong, reliable resource for our community for generations to come.

I also see our temporary relocation as an opportunity to expand rather than contract. While we are outside of our building, we have an opportunity to cultivate new relationships, take our programming into other spaces and bring our talents and resources directly into communities that can benefit from them.

I believe there is a lot in a name. We are the African American Art & Culture Complex. To me, that carries a responsibility that extends beyond the walls of 762 Fulton St. The Fillmore-Western Addition will always be our home and our base, but there is no reason our impact has to stop there.

I want us to explore opportunities in other parts of San Francisco where there is an interest in African American art and culture, throughout the Bay Area, across California, nationally and eventually through international collaborations.

We are already beginning conversations about potential collaborations in Harlem, New York, and I am also exploring ways that we might build relationships with the National Museum of Liberia. Those kinds of partnerships excite me because culture is not supposed to exist in isolation. If we truly believe in community, then we should be looking for opportunities to support one another, share resources, exchange ideas and build together.

So our core presence will remain rooted in the Fillmore, but my vision is for the AAACC to use this period to strengthen what we already do while expanding our reach. We want to collaborate with people and institutions that share an interest in advancing African American art and culture and make the AAACC’s impact even broader than it is today.

JR Valrey: How can people keep up with the developments at the AAACC?

Dr. Green: Great question. We have several resources that I encourage anyone who is interested in the AAACC to stay connected to.

First, there is our website, which we will continue updating with developments, programs, events, relocation information and ways to find us while we are outside of 762 Fulton St. We also have our newsletter, which gives us another opportunity to communicate directly with our community. And, as you are asking me this question, you are reminding me that I need to update my Executive Director’s message for the next edition!

Social media will also become increasingly important for us. We have Facebook, we are going to become much more active on Instagram, and we have been discussing developing our presence on YouTube as well. I am even willing to venture onto TikTok. It is definitely not my forte, but if doing a TikTok dance or two helps introduce another generation to the AAACC and gets them interested in African American art and culture, I may have to take one for the team.

But communication cannot only happen through technology. We are also committed to maintaining strong relationships with important community media institutions like the SF Bay View newspaper and others that have historically helped tell the stories of our community.

And then there is something that I still believe is incredibly powerful: word of mouth. As we move throughout the city during this seismic retrofit period and partner with other organizations and communities, I believe more people are going to encounter the AAACC in places where they may not have encountered us before.

I was born and raised in San Francisco and in the Fillmore-Western Addition. This is home for me. Organizations that may sometimes have been viewed as competing organizations are, from my perspective, extensions of our family. I intend to work with them, not around them. The same is true of our faith-based organizations, which have historically played such a pivotal role in supporting and sustaining San Francisco’s African American community.

So whether it is through our website, newsletter, social media, community media, churches, partner organizations or simply people telling other people about the work, we are going to make sure the community knows what the AAACC is doing.

You will not have to wonder where we are or whether we are still working. We will be out there, we will be visible, and we will make sure people know that the AAACC is still here.

JR Valrey is a veteran journalist and Editor in Chief at the San Francisco Bay View. He can be reached at JR@sfbayview.com

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Fillmore boxing legend and former Nabo Jr. Welterweight and WBU Welterweight America’s title/belt holder Karim “Hard Hitta” Mayfield and his brother, rapper Ronski, are putting together “Frisco Fight Night” on Saturday, Oct. 17, at the African American Art and Culture Complex in San Francisco.

At all of Karim’s boxing events in the past, his team has featured a wide array of exciting talent from all ethnicities, ages and genders in the boxing ring. His events have the local flavor, ism and sauce, mixed with the professionalism of a national event.

I talked with the champ, Karim “Hard Hitta” Mayfield, about the upcoming “Frisco Fight Night,” his free weekly youth program SoulChamp and his career.

Frisco Fight Night will be one of the last big events held at the African American Art and Culture Complex before it closes on Oct. 31 for a three-year retrofitting project.

JR Valrey: Can you talk about the upcoming Frisco Fight Night? What is it? Where? When?

Hard Hitta: Frisco Fight Night is a community boxing event for weekend warriors and regular people — not professional boxers — to compete in organized matchups. It will take place on Oct. 17 at the African American Art & Culture Complex, located at 762 Fulton St. in San Francisco. It’s about bringing boxing, entertainment and the community together.

JR Valrey: How will this Frisco Fight Night be different from the other two boxing events that you’ve organized?

Hard Hitta: One of the biggest differences is that my brother Ronski and I are coming together to put this event on. It will feature fighters from throughout the Bay Area, instead of being centered mainly on local San Francisco fighters. We’ll have special guests stepping into the ring, and the event will be streamed live, so people can watch from anywhere.

JR Valrey: As a retired professional boxer, what makes a great amateur boxer?

Hard Hitta: A great amateur boxer is disciplined, coachable and consistent. You need solid fundamentals, conditioning, ring intelligence and the ability to remain composed under pressure. Talent matters, but work ethic and the willingness to listen and learn are what separate a good amateur from a great one.

JR Valrey: What was the biggest fight of your career, in your opinion? Why?

Hard Hitta: The biggest fight of my career was the fight in which I won the title. That victory gave me national exposure, raised my profile and opened the door to bigger fights and better paydays. It changed the direction of my career.

JR Valrey: What local boxer are you excited about? Why?

Hard Hitta: I’m excited about Amari Jones out of Oakland. I believe he has what it takes to become a champion. On the amateur side, I’m excited about my boxer, Moises Moraga. Moises is a San Francisco boxer, born and raised, who is preparing to turn professional in 2027. He started with my youth program five years ago and has also worked at my business, Authentic 415, for those same five years. Watching his development inside and outside the ring has been special.

JR Valrey: Can you talk about your youth boxing program? When and where is it? How much does it cost?

Hard Hitta: SoulChamp is my free youth-development program at the African American Art & Culture Complex, located at 762 Fulton St. We combine boxing and fitness with technology, mental wellness, mentorship, live percussion and important life skills. Our sessions are held on Wednesdays from 5:30 to 7 p.m. The goal is to help young people build discipline, confidence, emotional control and skills they can use beyond boxing.

JR Valrey: What was your regimen as a professional boxer to stay in shape?

Hard Hitta: My regimen was built around consistency. It included conditioning and roadwork, bag and mitt work, sparring, strength training, disciplined nutrition and proper recovery. The most important part was mental discipline — continuing to do the work even on the days when I didn’t feel like doing it.

JR Valrey: How can people get more information about Frisco Fight Night?

Hard Hitta: People can follow me on Instagram at @KarimHardhittamayfield or follow my brother Ronski at @Mobetta_Mochedda for updates about the fighters, tickets and livestream. Anyone interested in fighting can also send either of us a direct message with their height and weight.

JR Valrey is a veteran journalist and Editor in Chief at the San Francisco Bay View. He can be reached at JR@sfbayview.com

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by JR Valrey

The only music group that has been able to break the English-only music barrier of street popularity in the Bay has been the Spanish speaking rap group Los Rakas. These Black Panamanian Oaklanders are just as comfortable performing at the Fifth Annual Afro Latinx Concert, which is Oct. 3 at the Ruth Williams Bayview Opera House, as they were performing at the Black Cultural Zone’s summer concert series, held in Arroyo Park in Deep East Oakland a few months ago.

The chemistry that the duo, made up of Raka Dun and Raka Rich, has making music with gives them tunes with thunderous Bay Area rap music beds, that they rap over in Spanish with a Bay Area cadence, which is why it sounds familiar to non-Spanish speaking local rap fans. Los Rakas has a near cult following, where at festivals in Northern Cali it is common to see nearly half a dozen people passing by, sporting their logo of the Raka face on t-shirts and hats. During a trip to Medellin, Colombia, that I took in early 2024, I had some non-Black hip hop heads lose their minds when I told them I was from the Bay Area, and they asked if I knew Los Rakas, and I replied “personally.”

The group is an international phenomenon, and with the rise of international Black musics like Amapiano, Afrobeat and Soca – the Bay needs to give this groundbreaking group its flowers at home, or another hood around the world will recognize their musical genius before we do.

I did this Q&A with Raka Dun, exclusively for the SF Bay View newspaper.

JR Valrey: What does Los Rakas mean?

Raka Dun: The name “Raka” originates from the Panamanian slang term “Rakataka,” which is often used derogatorily to describe someone from the ghetto. We chose this name for our group to assert that being from the hood does not define our character or potential. Our goal was to create a movement that reflects pride in our roots, and thankfully, we’ve succeeded.

JR Valrey: What has your experience been like being a Panamanian rap group from Oakland? What does it mean to embody both cultures?

Raka Dun: It’s an honor to represent both Panama and Oakland. Both places have significantly influenced global culture, and being recognized and embraced by these cities carries immense weight. Our backgrounds contribute to our unique sound and resilience, setting us apart in the music industry.

JR Valrey: I went to Colombia and found out that y’all are huge there. Why is it important for you to cater to an international audience?

Raka Dun: Since our teenage years, we have dreamt big and never wanted our music to be confined to just one city or country. We are grateful for the opportunity to travel and share our Bay Area culture globally, connecting with fans everywhere.

JR Valrey: What two countries, other than the U.S., do you enjoy performing in the most?**

Raka Dun: Mexico and Colombia stand out for us; the fans there are incredibly passionate and express their love openly.

JR Valrey: How would you describe your music?

Raka Dun: Our music is simply different.

JR Valrey: What do you have out now?

Raka Dun: We recently released two music videos filmed in Panama: “En la Esquina” and “Deja la envidia Pelao,” featuring a dope upcoming artist Don Pablo Mures. The message is: Say no to hate, focus on your journey, and never envy others. Make sure to check out both videos on our YouTube channel!

JR Valrey: You have a performance coming up at the Opera House on Oct. 3 for the Afro-Latinx show. What can people expect?

Raka Dun: Expect a lively and fun experience! We love to rock for the people, and it’s always a Raka party when we hit the stage. Pull up on us; it’s gonna be a vibe!

JR Valrey: How can people stay in touch with you?

Raka Dun: Visit our website at SoyRaka.com to stay updated and check out our merchandise. As an independent movement, we appreciate all the support from our fans — shout out to all the Rakas out there!

SF Bay View Editor-in-Chief JR Valrey is a veteran journalist. His work can also be heard on www.blockreportradioworld.com. He can be reached at jr@sfbayview.com.

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A conversation with children’s book author Jahaira Telles

by Leah Harmony

The issue when sending one’s own child out into the big, wide world, whether it’s just to grandma’s house, a summer camp, school or a friend’s house, is that with every step they take away from home, they’re being influenced, formed and molded. Our children are ill-prepared for all they will encounter navigating the layers of the world. They pass through the frequencies of family expectations, social racism, poverty and the mindless noise of the internet, with its tricky web as the top disruptor. I’d even argue that chaos is a feature, not a flaw. One only has to look at how the world deems the term “self-conscious” as a negative.

The last voice children are taught to hear is their own.

That is what author Jahaira Telles aims to change with “Listen to Yourself: Honor Your Inner Voice,” her affirmation book for children. You won’t find sweet little sayings pretending a few positive words can make danger or injustice disappear. It is a toolbox: language children can use to recognize worth, honor instinct and build inner authority the outside world cannot take.

You do not have to be raising a child to understand the need. Us grown folks all carry some memory of the first voice that made us feel seen — or the opinions that taught us to shrink. We know how a sentence spoken at the right moment can provide reassurance of safety and how the wrong words, repeated by people with power, become a piece of a forming person. A children’s book about listening inward is therefore also an invitation to examine what we say around children, what our institutions say about them and whether the world we have built supports or contradicts the truths we encourage them to speak.

Telles is a writer, researcher, educator and self-described world-builder. Her work sits at the intersection of language, psychology, imagination, environment and underserved communities. But the idea at the heart of this book is beautifully simple.

“Before the world tells you who you are,” she says, “you should have already met yourself.”

For Telles, affirmation first gives a child language — words for dignity, possibility, boundaries, identity and hope. Those words do not remove hardship. They can, however, get ahead of the lie that hardship is the whole of who that child is.

That distinction matters, especially for children growing up under pressure no child created and no child should be expected to solve. Telles refuses to sell affirmation as a substitute for food, safety, resources or justice.

“You cannot affirm your way out of systemic neglect,” she says. “You cannot hand a child an ‘I am powerful’ card and then send them back into an environment where every adult and institution repeatedly demonstrates that they are powerless. Affirmation without material support can become almost insulting. The language has to eventually meet the conditions.”

This is what makes “Listen to Yourself” useful beyond the social media fluff that solves every problem with a positivity meme. Telles believes words can help alter material reality, but not because speaking a sentence magically makes struggle vanish. The power is quieter and more practical.

“Language affects attention. Attention affects choices. Choices affect behavior. Repeated behavior becomes pattern, and patterns absolutely alter material reality,” she explains. “What you repeatedly tell yourself influences what you notice, tolerate, pursue, reject and ultimately believe is available to you. The magic, perhaps, is how quietly language becomes reality.”

She learned the staying power of a sentence early. Telles grew up in crack-era Los Angeles in the 1990s, in the projects, with a mother battling addiction and circumstances that made it impossible to pretend the world was always safe or fair. While on the set of Mario Van Peebles’ Panther in 1995, she became upset when they wanted to cut her hair for a scene. One of the actresses told her, “Just tell yourself it all leads to something new.”

Telles carried that sentence through the rest of her childhood, whispering it to herself. Novelty remains a major theme in her life.

“One sentence can change a child’s entire reality,” she says.

But she is not arguing that adults should paint every painful reality in bright colors and call it fixed. “I don’t believe in teaching children that everything is beautiful. I believe in teaching them that they are still capable of creating beauty inside things that aren’t.”

There is a difference, she says, between optimism and delusion. Children can understand that the world is unfair. What they should not inherit is the belief that an unfair world means there is something wrong with them.

For children experiencing racism and erasure, self-esteem alone is not enough. They need what Telles calls historical, cultural and intellectual location: the knowledge that they did not suddenly appear in somebody else’s story.

The affirmations she offers are declarations of presence and belonging: “This world is not whole without my input and without my impact.” “My version of the story belongs in the collective.” “My existence and my history matter.” “I come from people worth knowing.”

These are not empty pats on the head. They tell a child that their people, their memory and their way of seeing are part of the human record. In a society willing to erase whole communities from classrooms and bookshelves, teaching a child to locate themselves in history is its own form of protection.

Protection means adults have to be careful with the words we ask children to repeat. Take the familiar affirmation “I am safe.” What does that sentence do to a child who knows they are not safe?

“I would never ask a child to override their own nervous system with language,” Telles says. “If their body is saying, ‘Something is wrong,’ teaching them to repeat ‘I am safe’ can actually teach them to distrust themselves.”

Honest affirmations make room for a child’s reality: “I deserve to be safe.” “I can tell someone when I don’t feel safe.” “My body is allowed to warn me.”

An affirmation can describe identity — “I am creative” — without denying what is happening. It can establish a right: “I deserve kindness.” It can point toward growth: “I am learning how to trust myself.” As Telles puts it, “Children don’t need language pretending they’ve already arrived. They need language that helps them recognize where they’re going.”

And adults cannot hand children brave words, walk away and expect them to manifest a better world alone. Affirmation must be followed by advocacy.

“Tell the child they matter and then construct a life that demonstrates it,” she says. “Feed them. Protect them. Fund their schools. Defend their curiosity. Give teachers resources. Build safe parks. Keep libraries open. Create beautiful spaces in poor neighborhoods. Listen when children say something hurts. Don’t make children do all the manifesting. Adults have assignments too.”

The same principle applies to technology because though children today were born digital, they have no understanding of who designed it or what it wants from them. Telles does not reject technology, but she insists it remain in its place.

“Technology should be a tool in the room, not the architect of the room,” she says. It should extend human imagination, not replace teachers, physical exploration, conversation, boredom, nature, books or community. “Technology should open a door and then have the good sense to get out of the doorway. If the machine becomes more interesting than the world, we’ve designed the wrong world.”

The children Telles imagines for the future are “curious as hell,” hard to manipulate, emotionally literate, historically aware and comfortable with complexity. They are creative enough to imagine alternatives and educated enough to build them.

That is what makes “Listen to Yourself” a book for adults too — because responsibility and reality go hand in hand. The child learns to ask: What does my body know? What story have I been handed? What do I deserve? What might I create? The grown-up must answer with more than applause.

“I don’t want children trained merely to become excellent employees inside whatever world we leave behind,” Telles says. “I want them asking, ‘Who said the world had to work like this?’ And then having enough imagination, knowledge, community and audacity to redesign it.”

Listening to yourself is more than a slogan. It is a practice. For a child, it teaches boundaries, curiosity and freedom. For us, it is a demand to build a world where a child’s inner voice is as respected, if not more, than what their ears digest.

There’s not a single most important affirmation in the book; the entire work takes us all to task: A child’s voice is not preparation for some future life. It matters now. Our job is more than teaching children to believe that. Our job is to move and build as if we believe it too.

Leah Harmony is Manager of Production at the San Francisco Bay View and can be reached at leah@sfbayview.com.

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by Mary Ratcliff

SF Bay View Publisher Dr. Willie Ratcliff proudly turns 94 this month during the golden anniversary of his beloved newspaper. A legend not only in the Bay Area but in Alaska, where he lived for over 30 years, he is still honored by Alaska’s Black community every year as an Alaska pioneer.

Now, in the runup to the November elections, the question of whether Trump will lose control of the U.S. Senate is a major issue. At the top of the list of candidates to watch, according to Forbes and Newsweek, is Alaska Native and former Congresswoman Mary Peltola of Alaska, who just beat Trump-supported incumbent Dan Sullivan by five points in the Aug. 18 primary. Dr. Ratcliff’s eldest living son, Pastor Glenn Ratcliff and other Black leaders in Alaska have strongly supported Peltola since she began running for statewide office.

Pastor Glenn Ratcliff observes: “As a Black pastor, I see in Mary Peltola a spirit that resonates deeply with our own history of resilience and fighting for justice. Just as our community has long stood for the dignity of the marginalized, Mary, as a Native woman, carries the wisdom of her ancestors and a profound understanding of what it means to protect the land and the people. She doesn’t just talk about representation; she lives it, bringing a perspective to the table that prioritizes the health and future of all our families. I support her because she understands that when we lift up the most vulnerable among us, we all rise together.”

In the 1970s, Willie Ratcliff was known as the second most powerful man in Alaska next to the governor, just as Willie Brown was known as the second most powerful man in California next to the governor. Both came to San Francisco from Texas.

In 1950, Ratcliff, still in his teens, brought his little family – a wife and newborn baby girl – from Houston to San Francisco, the city he’d dreamed of ever since he saw a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge when he was 6. They stayed in the Fillmore, “Harlem of the West.” Singer Etta James lived down the hall.

He shined shoes until he found a job at the Hunters Point Shipyard that paid both Blacks and whites $1 an hour, which seemed pretty good until he heard he could earn $3 an hour in Alaska. Fresh off the plane in Fairbanks, he was greeted by the dispatcher with a snarl: “No Blacks!” “You want me to break your leg?” young Ratcliff shot back, and he went to work the next day.

He settled in Fairbanks, the state’s second largest city, and built by himself a five-bedroom house for his growing family and earned a reputation for solving problems that stumped other builders there near the Arctic Circle, where temperatures drop from the 80s in the summer to 80 below zero in the winter. Soon national construction companies were putting him in charge of their biggest, toughest projects in Alaska. He could have been a rich man but for his motto, “I never let the door close behind me.”

By the early 1970s, the big house Ratcliff built in Fairbanks resounded with the exuberance of children and teens. Located only a few blocks from the high school, the Ratcliffs’ house was where every kid in Fairbanks wanted to be after school. Willie Ratcliff had grown up in a Black school built by his Black community when the county refused. He’d been taught real Black history by a principal and teachers with PhD degrees who’d traveled the world. He demanded no less for his children.

Ratcliff leaped into politics to make his demands, forming the South Side Voters League in his early 20s, persuading community leaders who were unbought and unbossed to run for office and electing them. He would say, looking back, “When I came to Fairbanks, Black teachers were barred from public schools; when I left, we had a Black schools superintendent.”

Until the world’s largest oil companies built the 800-mile Trans-Alaska Pipeline and tried to colonize Alaska as an oil fiefdom, Alaska was one of the most progressive states in the U.S. In 1963, a year before passage of the federal Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Alaska Legislature created the Alaska State Commission for Human Rights. After Gov. Bill Egan appointed Willie Ratcliff to the commission in 1971, the commissioners elected him chair, and by the mid-1970s, Alaska’s HRC was recognized as the most aggressive human rights commission in the country.

Alaska’s Human Rights Commission was a “quasi-judicial” agency, meaning Ratcliff and his fellow commissioners acted literally as judges whose decisions could be appealed to the courts. HRC’s staff of tough attorneys investigated each case so rigorously that the commission’s decisions were rarely reversed. Any Alaskan, especially people of color claiming discrimination that put them in danger, had simply to call the HRC, and an investigator would be dispatched, within 24 hours if possible, by plane if necessary, to open a case if justified and warn the perpetrator to cease and desist.

The cultural genocide of Indigenous people by forcing their children to leave their villages to attend government-funded boarding schools and assimilate into Euro-American society as an underclass undeserving of human rights has come to light in recent years in Canada and northern U.S. states. But few Americans outside Alaska are aware that the genocide was entrenched in Alaska until the 1970s. Complaints brought from villages around the state to the Alaska Commission for Human Rights were consolidated into a major court case settled in 1976. “There is not one Alaskan Native alive today who has not been directly or indirectly affected by this history. It still walks with us,” observes Native researcher Benjamin Jacuk.

Willie Ratcliff was furious when he heard the testimony. Native children beaten for speaking their language, sexually abused, even hired out as slave labor – it sounded like Black history. He pulled a solution out of his own childhood: a high school built and run by local Alaska Natives in every village.

His demand made front page news. Most whites, amazed at his audacity, were adamantly opposed. High schools in white logging or mining camps had long been the standard, but for Natives, NO! Ratcliff’s HRC and the lawsuit brought by Native students won. High schools were built in more than 100 Native villages.

Ratcliff and the Black-Native alliance formed through the boarding school struggle changed the nation when, through construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, Blacks and Natives won over $80 million in construction contracts – nearly $700 million in today’s dollars – the most successful affirmative action project in history.

To force their participation, Ratcliff and Congressman Parren Mitchell of Maryland, who had just founded the Congressional Black Caucus, traveled the country holding hearings to demand that in exchange for crossing federal land, the pipeline would be required to contract 10% of its $8 billion cost to contractors of color. Congress complied.

Next, Ratcliff convinced Alaska’s Black contractors to bid together as prime contractors, not subcontractors, and to partner with Alaska Native corporations formed by the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act of 1971. The workforce that built the pipeline was 19% people of color, nearly all Black and Native.

While these victories created pride and wealth among many Blacks and Natives, the oil companies found ways to lock “trouble-maker” Ratcliff out of the economy. Turning to political organizing, he ran for Alaska Senate in 1982 and 1984, winning large majorities of Blacks and Natives and working class whites but losing to a wealthy career politician. In 1987, he returned to San Francisco and in 1991 became publisher of the SF Bay View National Black Newspaper, now celebrating its 50th anniversary this September, as Dr. Willie Ratcliff turns 94.

The Ratcliff influence still thrives in Alaska through Dr. Ratcliff’s two eldest living sons, Pastor Glenn Ratcliff and Stanley Ratcliff, a teacher, who shepherds his large family with his Alaska Native wife Elsie in Palmer, Alaska. Long live the Black-Native alliance!

Mary Ratcliff and her husband, Dr. Willie Ratcliff, publish the SF Bay View and can be reached at mary@sfbayview.com.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLIE! 
- The SF Bay View

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by JR Valrey, Editor in Chief

The most famous Oakland/Bay Area Hip Hop song ever made is 1995’s “I Got 5 On It” by the Luniz, which used a sample from the Club Nouveau 1986 hit, “Why You Treat Me So Bad?” The Luniz song was recently remixed by the 2017 film, “Us.” which famously turned the weed anthem into the scary movie soundtrack song of the following decade.

The Luniz, consisting of rappers Numskull and Yukmouth, have taken their music from the streets of Oakland to around the nation and around the world.

This article originates from a conversation Num and I had recently about how much he regularly performs in Europe, specifically in Germany, how he is treated overseas, and his new album that is set to drop New Years Eve.

Now I have dozens of friends who are musicians, but very few, if any, who have taken their careers to the heights that the Luniz have, so his insights, history and knowledge of Hip Hop are invaluable. And yes, Num is gearing up to release his first long awaited solo album, which he’s celebrating by having a huge 3 day event in Belize for New Years Eve. So stay tuned, and hear what the laid back half of the Luniz has to say about the world, traveling and his career. Did I mention he produced almost every track on the album?

JR VALREY: Num, you just did a song for a compilation that was honoring two women. One was Assata Shakur; the other was Pauline Lumumba, the wife of Patrice Lumumba, the assassinated leader of the Congo. What made you do that song? What was in you that said, “I’ll participate in this project”?

NUM: Well, first you came to me with what was going on in Cuba, ’cause I didn’t know. And when you told me about it, I’m like, damn, that’s, some fucked up shit, and shit that needs to be spoken on. And then when you came at me with the compilation that your boy (Obi Egbuna) was doing, it just clicked. And Assata Shakur had been exiled. She was in exile in Cuba. So I’m like, that fits in perfectly. Plus, I know who she is, and I know who Lumumba is. I’m like, yeah, this is some history right here that needs to be spoken on, especially now. So I sat down, I figured out what would be good to talk about

But I couldn’t, I didn’t wanna seem like I was teaching people in the song. I just wanted to just put a little bit out there, about the destruction to these women’s lives. And I started writing, and I think it came out very well. I got great feedback. Not a lot of people thought I could even rap on political shit like that. But, you know, when it’s something that you really feel, it’s gonna come out right, with passion.

JR VALREY: That’s what’s up. When did The Luniz start traveling? When was the first time that you can remember, when y’all left the Bay, and what happened?

NUM: OK, you want a story So the first big tour we went on leaving out of California was the Jodeci tour. Jodeci was the headliners, the whole Bad Boy family was there, Naughty by Nature, Adina Howard, this group called The Basement, which Timbaland was in, and then it was us. So the story is, the first day we were in some super fancy hotel or whatever, and me, I’m from the hood, so I’ma throw a party in my hotel room,

So we’re in there cracking after the show, and my girl had bought me a pistol before I got up out of there, right? So I put my pistol up in the skylight. Police come in, and shit’s too loud. Everybody is out back in the pool. So the police come in, and they find the pistol. They’re like, “Whose pistol is this?” I’m like, “That’s mine. That’s mine.”

They take me down to the police car, put me in the back of the car, right? I see my security come up. His name is Anzazi and this dude was a human terminator. I’m talking about how he looked – way super cut, like a human terminator. So I guess somebody told him I was in the police car. I was like, “Hey, they got me.”

And he went to the police officer, bro. I swear to God, he just whispered in this police officer’s ear. That police officer walked straight to me, opened the door, said, “Get out.” I was like, “That’s incredible”. And I wanted to know what he told that officer. He never told me. But now that I’m grown and I know. He’s the man. Straight up. He knew what to say, for reasons that we’re gonna keep on the under.

JR VALREY: Did your music change once you started traveling, and if so, how?

NUM: Yeah. We grew, I would think. I think it did change because of how we saw the rest of the world. We were able to see what this country is like, what that country is like, what this country is like. We were able to see the cultures in those centers, right? And it kind of changed when we were able to hit different states in the United States.

We grew up. I’ll put it like that. You know what I mean? But when we first made the Luniz album, we were just speaking on what we were going through. That was, that’s what it was, you know what I mean? So yeah.

JR VALREY: But your production was from all over the country?

NUM: It was. We got people from New York. We had gotten people from, Houston and N.O. Joe and a lot of cats. So yeah, absolutely. We were always worldwide. That’s one thing about the Luniz. Our music was always worldwide. They thought we were from New York when we first came out. They, they didn’t know we were from the West Coast.

JR VALREY: Why?

NUM: I think ’cause of the flow style. I think how we talk about things, you know what I mean? If I could describe the Luniz right now, I would say the Luniz is comedic. Definitely … street realist. That’s what I would call it.

JR VALREY:And the Cheech and Chong of rap.

NUM: Yep. That’s probably the comedy.

JR VALREY:That’s true. Where is your favorite place to travel inside the country and outside of the country?

NUM: Inside the country, my favorite place to go is home. I love home. I love California. I love Oakland. Yeah. I love my home, you know what I mean? That’s where I’d rather be. But outside of the country, there’s a lot of different places that I love to go to. I love to go to Brazil. I love to go to Canada. I love to go to Alaska. I love to go to Germany and Switzerland. I mean, these places are beautiful places that I would go back to anytime.

JR VALREY:What is the first thing that you do besides check in and handle your music business? What is the first thing you like to do when you hit a new place, especially that’s out of the country?

NUM: I like to go see what the people are about, you know? So I’m going to the biggest city center where everybody “be at,” and then from there I can meet the people, and then we can go to the more hood type of spots, you know what I’m saying, the under spots. So I can see what the people are like.

I don’t like to go and do a show somewhere where I don’t kind of at least know a little bit about the people. ‘Did y’all win the game that day?’ OK. ‘Yeah, we won.’ ‘Congratulations.’

How does that change the show? It makes them feel like at least I put in a little effort to know who they are.And I think all artists should do that.

You’re gonna just go out there and just perform for them, because they like your song? Nah, man, nah. These people came to your show, you know what I mean? And that’s one thing I gotta tell people. I don’t never, ever say fans, because that’s short for fanatic, you know what I mean? And so I say fam, ’cause that’s short for family. They help me feed my family, so that’s what I call them.

JR VALREY:Straight up. Tell us about the new album.

NUM: So think of it like this. For all these years, I’m the type of person that remembers the things that we do when it comes to music. I remember the type of music we made. I remember what was what, at that time. So to me, everything, every album, every song that we’ve done so far, I put it all into all of my music now, when I write, I write. Everything that we’ve done before came into this album. So this album. To me, it’s a classic because I’m writing every song to be a single and something that everybody is gonna love; that’s gonna relate.

Num’s song on the Kotelemela Bolingo compilation honoring freedom fighters Assata Shakur and Pauline Lumumba

That’s what I attempted to do on this album. I think I did it. I think it’s a great album. I think it’s a classic, bro, and I really want people to hear it so they can know where I’m coming from. Talking about the production.

Production is me 80%. I think two or three songs are produced by someone else, but I produce my own music because nobody knows what I like to write to. I can give a producer an idea of something, but they’re not gonna come up with what I see in my head, so I do it myself.

JR VALREY:When, when can they expect it, and how do they get more information?

NUM: It’ll be out December 31st, New Year, new album, all that. I think they’re gonna be very, very happy about what I did with this album. It’s not an Oakland album. It’s not a California album. Yeah, I rep that for sure. You know, I rep home for sure. But, this album is a worldwide album, man, and that’s the only way that I can write.

You will never hear me rap about something I don’t do. You know what I mean? Yeah, I don’t lie in my raps, man. I can’t do that. I mean, we all got songs, where back in the day when we first started, where we’re talking about this and that and this and that, but I grew out of that a long time ago.

This is about what’s going on right now; about me, about family, my whole life, man. It’s not a boring album. It’s not a teaching album at all, but there’s some shit that I don’t like out here, and I speak on it. That’s what it is.

SF Bay View Editor-in-Chief JR Valrey is a veteran journalist His work can also be heard on www.blockreportradioworld.com. He can be reached at jr@sfbayview.com.

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We Are Balogun: A Black Lives Matter Memoir, by Yafeuh Balogun, is an autobiography about coming up in the Oak Cliff neighborhood in Dallas, Texas, and his journey of becoming a freedom fighter. It is a powerful first-person account of a man who really molded a movement out of the mud during one of the most turbulent periods in modern history. Yafeuh tells his story about growing up in a household with a Nation of Islam family structure. He was taught about Black history and developed knowledge of self at an early age at Adelle Turner Elementary School. He highlights the experiences that cultivated his character, from playing sports and running the streets with the Polk Terrace Playas to being mentored by elder Black Panthers and Pan-African pillars of the Dallas community.

Through his own experiences, Yafeuh Balogun shares his story about community organizing in Dallas, including the founding of the Huey P. Newton Gun Club during the national wave of Black Lives Matter protests that followed the police killings of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and many others.

The author describes an upbringing grounded in discipline, self-respect, Black history and the principle of community responsibility. These early influences helped shape his understanding of the world and how it works. They inspired his participation in revolutionary political activism and formed his views on self-determination, economic independence and African communal culture. He tells the story from the perspective of a person who was directly involved in local campaigns against police brutality and racist terrorism.

His memoir argues that the movement was a unified effort from many different organizations, strategies, philosophies and battle fronts. Yafeuh’s portrait of Oak Cliff is hella descriptive. He really paints a picture that gives the reader a visual of what it’s like in the hood where he grew up. He gives you an understanding of a community shaped by resilience, struggle and traditions of resistance. He humanizes himself so you can know the mind of a man behind this militant movement. No matter what your cultural or socioeconomic background is, you can relate to something in this story.

Another strength of this book is its emphasis on putting in work organizing boots on the ground and not “conscious celebrity” clout chasing. Yafeuh describes in detail the coalition building, political education, serving the people and proactive paramilitary patrolling of the streets, instead of only popping up to protest as a reaction to isolated, crisis-oriented outrage. This memoir shows how he learned and studied revolutionary politics, put those teachings into practice and developed his own understanding of what methods move the people forward to freedom. Every encounter he had while engaging with the folks he was surrounded by prepared him for the role he played during this defining period in modern history.

One of the dopest parts of this book is its examination of the Huey P. Newton Gun Club, which Yafeuh Balogun co-founded in 2014. The memoir portrays the organization as the armed self-defense component that emerged alongside mass demonstrations and civil disobedience. According to Yafeuh, the gun club drew inspiration from Huey P. Newton, the co-founder and minister of defense of the Black Panther Party. Hence the name Huey P. Newton Gun Club. Its focus was on practicing the teachings of Huey P. Newton’s example, explained in Huey’s works, “In Defense of Self-Defense” and “The Correct Handling of a Revolution.” The operation of community patrols is linked to a historical tradition of armed Black self-defense found in groups such as the Deacons for Defense and Justice. Yafeuh argues that visible, lawful armed patrols were intended to deter violence against Black communities while asserting constitutional rights.

The book also highlights the historic event when the Huey P. Newton Gun Club did an armed march on the Texas State Capitol in Austin, Texas, during the SXSW Music Festival to advocate armed self-defense against police terrorism. This action took place while Texas state legislators were on the Capitol floor debating open-carry rights. They were discussing a bill called HB 910, which removes the requirement that concealed handgun licensees keep their handguns concealed and gives them the option of openly carrying them. This armed maneuver agitated political officials to pass the bill.

This operation was inspired by the Black Panther Party’s armed march on the California State Capitol in Sacramento in 1967 to deliver the statement of BPP Executive Mandate Number 1, which denounced the Mulford Act on a global platform. This demonstration caused the restriction of openly carrying firearms in the state of California. When the Huey P. Newton Gun Club did an armed march on the Texas State Capitol in Austin in 2015, it created the atmosphere for HB 910 to be passed and made it legal to openly carry pistols in the state of Texas.

Whether readers agree with this philosophy or not, the book puts the people up on game about the approach of armed self-defense to counter police terrorism, which has been overshadowed by the nonviolent, civil-disobedience, direct-action protests of the Black Lives Matter era. Yafeuh describes the Huey P. Newton Gun Club as one strategic element of the Black Liberation Struggle, which also includes mutual aid, legal advocacy, community patrols and survival training.

Yafeuh breaks down the story of his experience becoming involved with People’s Lunch Counter before the national spotlight reached Dallas. He talks about how his organizing was rooted in political education and direct service to the community. Rather than viewing programs that addressed immediate needs as charity, he describes them as opportunities to build relationships, raise political consciousness and demonstrate the principle that the people have the potential to empower themselves and push the line against all forms of oppression.

His organizing efforts eventually contributed to the co-founding of Guerrilla Mainframe, a grassroots organization dedicated to political education, holistic wellness, physical fitness and combat training. He portrays Guerrilla Mainframe as more than just a group of activists; it’s a close-knit, family-oriented communal cadre training for survival in the fight for freedom. The organization emphasized disciplined study. They are also really heavy on promoting healthy lifestyles and martial arts.

The REALationship Yafeuh built with the Pan African Connection Bookstore and Resource Center in Dallas was also a key element in the process of his awakening. He describes this place as an intellectual and cultural atmosphere where activists, scholars, artists and community members gathered to exchange ideas, study African and African American history and build a Black Power base. He describes the environment of the Pan African Connection as similar to a living classroom that preserves our history and creates generations of warriors and teachers.

The author reflects on the relationships he built with elder Black Panther veterans and other seasoned movement activists by learning directly from them. Rather than romanticizing the Black Panther Party, he portrays these elders as mentors who shared hard-earned lessons about organization, political discipline, security and the difficulties of sustaining movements over time. Their guidance encouraged younger organizers to learn from both the achievements and shortcomings of previous generations.

These relationships reinforce one of the memoir’s central themes: Every generation inherits both responsibilities and unfinished work from those who came before. Yafeuh describes mentorship as a solid bridge between historical movements for Black liberation and today’s struggles against police brutality, poverty and Black-on-Black violence. Through these intergenerational exchanges, he shows how political traditions are preserved, adapted and carried on rather than simply remembered.

As the corporate mainstream media put the spotlight on the Black Lives Matter protests after the police killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Yafeuh expresses the fact that he and his comrades did not view themselves as creating something entirely new. They saw it as keeping the legacy of Black resistance alive. They knew it was necessary to build on the foundation that our ancestors established from the way back in the Reconstruction period, through the Civil Rights Movement, the Black Power era and into the current times.

This modern autobiography is unique because the author is not only telling his story; he puts his city on his shoulders and stands on the principles of his elders. He makes the connection between the Black Power wave of the 1960s and the current wave of Black Liberation Struggle. He shows how it’s bigger than the headline-making events. He sheds light on the behind-the-scenes process of teaching people in the streets by setting an example of selfless service. In this book, he reflects on how social movements are sustained not only by protest but by study, mentorship and constantly confronting racism.

In one chapter, Yafeuh gives a brief rundown on the history of armed self-defense in Dallas. He takes it beyond his personal experience and offers the reader a solid lesson on the roots of Dallas’ often-overlooked tradition of Black community organizing and self-defense. He argues that the Huey P. Newton Gun Club emerged from a culture of resistance stretching back decades. According to the book, that lineage includes the Dallas chapter of the Original Black Panther Party, the African American Men Against Narcotics (AMAN) patrols of the late 1980s and later organizations such as Community Movement Builders.

Yafeuh introduces readers to the history of the Dallas chapter of the Original Black Panther Party, paying homage to Fahim J. Minkah and other local organizers who sought to adapt the Panthers’ philosophy to the conditions facing Black communities in Dallas. The author reminds readers that the original Black Panther Party understood armed patrols as one element of a broader political program that also emphasized education, food programs, health care and community empowerment.

This chapter also introduces many readers to the history of African American Men Against Narcotics (AMAN), a Dallas-based community initiative that organized neighborhood patrols during the height of the crack cocaine epidemic. Yafeuh presents AMAN as an example of community members standing up against predatory capitalist gangsterism. He expresses how these patrols are examples of the neighborhood governing itself instead of relying on the police and politicians.

AMAN patrols even shut down Jamaican Shower Posse trap spots. The Shower Posse was backed by the Jamaican Labor Party (JLP), which was aligned with the U.S. government. They were used to undermine the People’s Nationalist Party (PNP) of Jamaica, which was aligned with socialist Cuba. It’s kind of like how the CIA funded the capitalist Contras in Nicaragua to overthrow socialist Sandinistas. It exposes the reality that many of the dope kingpins who are often glorified in urban Black culture are historically capitalist collaborators with the U.S. government.

I found this chapter to be very informative. It covers history that most people haven’t heard about. Much of the national conversation about Black liberation has mostly centered around places like Oakland, LA, Chicago, New York and other Black Power hotspots. Yafeuh reminds us that Dallas also played a key role in the history of the Black Liberation Struggle. By documenting those local experiences, We Are Balogun expands our understanding of how Black political traditions are still carrying on.

The author stresses that each generation of revolutionaries inherited lessons from those who came before them. The political education of the Black Panther era influenced the actions of AMAN. Those experiences, in turn, influenced the development of Guerrilla Mainframe and eventually the Huey P. Newton Gun Club. This chapter encourages readers to view movements not as isolated moments but as evolving traditions shaped by theory and practice.

I rate this book a 4.5/5. I recommend this book as required reading to teach the youth about history that they are closely connected to so they don’t view Black Liberation Struggle as a distant thing of the past that they can’t identify with. In order to make movement relevant for the next generation, they have to see themselves as a part of the history that they must carry on.

With the 60th anniversary of the Black Panther Party on the horizon, it’s important to showcase today’s victories of fighting back against racist terrorism the same way they did in the 1960s. These stories must be told! We need to hear about the events that took place in this book, like what happened when the white supremacist militia known as the Bureau of American Islamic Relations (BAIR) threatened to pull up to the Black community of Dallas and was met with the Black Power paramilitary presence of the Huey P. Newton Gun Club. Examples of community control, such as getting streets and parks named after real heroes of the hood like Fahim J. Minkah and Marvin Crenshaw, should not seem distant and less relevant.

We Are Balogun offers readers both an intimate personal narrative and an important historical document. It captures the essence of the environment that molded Black militancy during one of the most transformative periods of the last decade. In order to lead and succeed, we must get the youth to read. The lack of literacy in Black communities is a part of the sickness and menticide that we have to cure in order to free ourselves.

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4.5/5)

“To describe We Are Balogun as merely a Black Lives Matter memoir is to underestimate its historical significance. It is, more importantly, a contribution to the literature of the Black Liberation Movement, a work that documents the political development of a revolutionary organizer, preserves the organizing traditions of Dallas’ Black Freedom Struggle, and situates the Black Lives Matter era within the longer lineage of Black resistance, self-determination, and community self-defense.”

Eric “E Da Ref” Hunter is a guest journalist for the San Francisco Bay View

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A bill temporarily prohibiting law enforcement agencies from using electric shock gloves in California is awaiting action by Gov. Gavin Newsom.

Assembly Bill (AB) 2760, authored by Assemblymember LaShae Sharp-Collins (D-San Diego), passed the Senate 29-9 on Aug. 31. The Assembly concurred in Senate amendments the same day on a 55-16 vote.

The bill would prohibit state, local and federal law enforcement agencies from using wearable electroshock devices in California until Jan. 1, 2030. It would also bar agencies from using state funds to purchase the devices and require them to update their use-of-force policies accordingly.

Traditional handheld devices, including tasers and stun guns, are exempt.

Newsom has until Sept. 30 to sign or veto the bill. If he takes no action, it will become law without his signature.

Sharp-Collins introduced the measure after reviewing information indicating that the devices could cause serious injury or death if used without adequate safeguards and training.

“AB 2760 draws a line that public safety technology must be proven safe and accountable before it is employed. Not after someone is killed or injured,” said Sharp-Collins, a member of the California Legislative Black Caucus (CLBC).

“Our commitment is to protect our communities, especially the most vulnerable. That is what AB 2760 is about and that is what AB 2760 will do,” Sharp-Collins told her colleagues.

The device at the center of the debate is known as the G.L.O.V.E., an acronym for Generated Low Output Voltage Emitter. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement awarded a $16.7 million contract for 6,000 pairs of the gloves, which are designed to deliver an electric shock through an officer’s hand.

For most of the legislative session, AB 2760 addressed an unrelated subject. The original proposal would have authorized county boards of supervisors to establish inspectors general to oversee agencies such as animal control departments and county probation offices.

On Aug. 21, Sharp-Collins used a legislative procedure known as “gut and amend” to replace the bill’s original language with provisions restricting wearable electroshock devices. The revised measure was fast-tracked during the closing days of the session.

The initial version sought a broader prohibition, but it was revised following opposition from law enforcement organizations. The final language establishes a temporary moratorium and directs the California Department of Justice to study the devices’ safety and community effects. The department must report its findings and recommend standards and safeguards to the Legislature by Jan. 1, 2029.

“AB 2760 emerged as a last-minute gut-and-amend prohibiting wearable electroshock devices. PORAC immediately engaged and secured amendments protecting traditional handheld/Taser devices, replacing the prohibition with a three-year moratorium and requiring a DOJ study,” the Peace Officers Research Association of California stated on its website.

During the Assembly debate, Assemblymember Rhodesia Ransom (D-Stockton), also a CLBC member, thanked law enforcement representatives for helping negotiate the amendments.

“This is something new to us (and) it’s something that absolutely should be studied,” Ransom said. “I appreciate law enforcement for agreeing to work with the legislature to figure out if this is an appropriate tool to be used.”

Neither the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department nor the Los Angeles Police Department has reported using electric shock gloves. However, the Santa Monica and El Monte police departments have obtained devices for testing.

The Sacramento County Sheriff’s Office purchased 10 shock gloves as part of a $35,000 acquisition that also included 10 remotely activated shock bands. Sheriff’s officials had been developing training and policies for the devices before AB 2760 advanced.

State Sen. Tony Strickland (R-Huntington Beach) opposed the legislation, arguing that it would unnecessarily force agencies to change their use-of-force policies and could compromise public safety.

“I don’t disagree with the author that the electric shocks are not a great option, but at the end of the day, I think it’s important to understand that we need to give law enforcement the tools they need to keep themselves safe and the community safe,” Strickland said.

Supporters countered that wearable electroshock devices have not been sufficiently studied and could pose particular risks to immigrants, children, older adults and other vulnerable groups.

Although AB 2760 expressly includes federal agencies, that provision could face a legal challenge. Under the U.S. Constitution’s supremacy clause, states generally cannot regulate how federal officers perform their official duties. The bill’s restrictions on state and local agencies would not raise the same federalism question.

Assemblymember Mark González (D-Los Angeles), a member of the Assembly Public Safety Committee, warned that the devices could be used disproportionately against immigrants and people of color.

“People who are Black or Brown could be test subjects for these gloves of torment,” González said. “I appreciate law enforcement for agreeing to work with the legislature.”

Antonio Ray Harvey for California Black Media

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by JR Valrey

One of the dopest events of the year in the Bay is the 17th annual Fist Up Film Festival, which runs from Oct. 1 to Oct. 4, profiling international films that deal with themes surrounding struggle, resistance, self-determination, love, art, migration and more.

The Fist Up Film Festival is known for bringing rare international cinematic gems to the Bay that deserve to be seen and pondered upon. Bring your family and friends to the festival because it is a great example of political and cultural edutainment. Check out Eli in his own words.

JR Valrey: When and how did the Fist Up Film Festival begin? How did you choose the name?

Eli: The Fist Up Film Festival began out of my experience as a filmmaker. After our film Inventos: Hip Hop Cubano, we wanted to submit the film to festivals and we quickly discovered that the traditional festival system is expensive and extractive. I also felt that many festivals weren’t sufficiently connected to the communities whose stories were being presented. So we decided to flip it and create a festival for filmmakers like us.

The idea was simple and based on two core ideas: A good film can change your life and some films are made to be discussed.

From the beginning, the Fist Up Film Festival was conceived as a community-based, accessible film festival, with free submissions for filmmakers and free admission for the community (powered by people’s donations). Rather than simply screening films, the festival was designed to create spaces where people could watch, discuss, connect and be inspired to take action.

The programming grew around films that center underrepresented communities, cultural identity, social justice and community empowerment. A key philosophy emerged: Films shouldn’t just tell people about communities — they could help create relationships with communities. That original impulse has remained remarkably consistent. Today, we describe our mission as creating spaces where communities can engage with and learn from one another, connect global stories to local issues and experiences and become inspired to take action. We are blessed to say that this is our 17th annual festival and our community keeps getting bigger and stronger.

Our name comes first from our production company, Clenched Fist Productions. When I wanted to create short-form content, I created FistUpTv. This year, we launched an umbrella organization for all of our non-extractive storytelling work called FistUp. For me, the fist represents something that I believe in deeply, and that’s people power. I have always been inspired by pan-African, anti-colonial, anti-fascist and anti-apartheid movements and, of course, the Black Power movement and every movement fighting for liberation worldwide.

JR Valrey: What films are selected for this year?

Eli: You don’t want to miss the films this year. We have a lineup full of life-changing documentaries.

Oct. 1, Thursday — Culture Keepers (a night of short films)

The man behind the magic is Berkeley-based international filmmaker and cinematic giant Eli Jacobs Fauntauzzi, who, with the support of his brother Khalil, has created inspiring films in culturally rich and politically charged places like Ghana, Cuba, Colombia, Puerto Rico and more.

From the Kingmakers in Oakland to Barrio Chino in Havana to the Amazon in Brazil, these short films remind us of the importance of culture keepers.

Oct. 2, Friday — Let the City Speak — Follows the journey of Quetzal, a Chicano rock band that emerged from East Los Angeles.

Post-screening conversation with Director Akira Boch.

Oct. 3, Saturday — Mujer Mariposa — Follows three first-generation daughters of migrant and refugee women as they navigate the complexities of building a home in the United States.

Post-screening conversation with Director/Producer Diana Cervera and Cinematographer/Editor Magdalena Ramirez.

Oct. 4, Sunday — Honoring Our Ancestors (short films about Caribbean resistance)

Mataron A Pedro, about the revolutionary Pedro Albizu Campos from Puerto Rico; Beach Inna Bondage: The Fight for Jamaica’s Coastline; and Call of the Jab from Granada, with a post-screening conversation with director Fletch Power.

JR Valrey: How and why did you select those films?

Eli: We believe that documentary films don’t need to just show the problems of the world and make us feel helpless. Documentary films can show our power and our creativity, they can share solutions to the problems we face and they can leave people inspired and ready to take action to make this world a better place. That’s how we select our films.

JR Valrey: Do you have any filmmakers coming? Where are they coming from?

Eli: This year, we are proud to welcome filmmakers representing communities from the Bay Area and beyond, including Fletch Power representing Grenada, Akira Boch from Los Angeles, and Diana Cervera and Magdalena Ramirez, two Transborder Chicana artists rooted in the San Diego–Tijuana borderlands.

What makes Fist Up Film Festival unique is that we don’t just bring filmmakers to share their work. We also bring local grassroots organizations and organizers who are actively working on the same issues explored in the films. The conversation doesn’t end when the credits roll. Audiences have the opportunity to connect directly with people doing the work here in our communities, learn how to get involved and turn inspiration into action.

JR Valrey: What do you want people to get out of the film festival?

Eli: I want people to see reflections of themselves, with the possibility of healing, building community, feeling loved and seen. I want people to learn and want to learn more. I want people to feel their own power and beauty. We will experience storytelling that can build relationships, spark dialogue and become a catalyst for community action. Together, we will leave inspired to imagine and create a more just world.

JR Valrey: How can people get more info?

Eli: Web: www.fistup.tv/festival

IG: @FistupFilmFestival

JR Valrey is a veteran journalist and Editor in Chief at the San Francisco Bay View. He can be reached at JR@sfbayview.com

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by Leah Harmony

According to a civilian-made interactive map there have been 48 Black people found hanging from 2018 to 2026 in the United States. Families and communities of the deceased view these deaths as highly suspicious. They have also expressed feelings that the investigations were insufficient or classifications were premature.

Zero cases have been publicly ruled homicides as of September 2026.

This year has seen the public profiling of other race-related incidents. The internet responses to these incidents show a white vitriol that is unprecedented in modern times. They seem emboldened by the current president’s commitment to ignore the history and reality of Black people in America.

Mississippi. July 2026. Nolan Xavier Wells, 18, traveled by boat with white friends to Mississippi’s Horn Island. His companions returned without him. His body was found two days later. Ignoring Mississippi’s violent and racist history, vocal defenders of white America say Black people’s low IQs are making us think racism is involved. They wonder what we expected, since “Blacks can’t swim.”

Frisco, Texas. June 2026. Karmelo Anthony, 18, an excellent student with no criminal record, received a 35-year prison sentence for using a knife in self-defense. He acted after a fellow athlete and others cornered him, attempting to push him from the tent where he sought refuge from the rain. Karmelo was called a “murderous thug” who needs to be “hung in the streets.” They made memes. So many memes.

Columbia, North Carolina. June 2026. Karmelo’s jury selection began the same day Rick Chow was acquitted of all charges after fatally shooting 14-year-old Cyrus Carmack-Belton, who was falsely suspected of stealing a water bottle. Because the child was also armed for protection, he was called a thug, a violent predator and a thief. They have said these things to his grieving mother.

Senatobia, Mississippi. That same month, Walmart police shot and killed 1-year-old Kohen Wiley. The police claim the driver drove right at them. The independent coroner says the baby was shot in the side. They say the baby’s death is her fault because she should not have been with someone who may have been stealing.

In 2026, this is where we are.

The beast feeds itself

If America and her racism were a metaphor, she’d be a beautiful tree with rotten roots. After she flowered, she’d grow poisonous fruit, unrecognizable as something from nature. The fruit that fell would soak into the earth, and the dark juice would feed her sickly roots, so she could do it over and over and over again.

For just a moment

In the time of Black Lives Matter, there was a moment, before the corporation of the same name took the money and ran, when it felt like there could be a reckoning. When Joe Biden was coming into power he directed his loudest voice toward activated Black youth and enraged white liberals, promising long-overdue equality and equity. His defining campaign pledge was big: He vowed to end white supremacy.

The political right viewed his impossible promise as a threat to the nation’s core values. It was then they began planning how to end his efforts and stop such a thing from ever being possible again.

Biden ran his election campaign almost completely on the infamous “many sides” propaganda and the people’s outrage over the George Floyd travesty. With that as a starting point, the radicals on the political left spent four years gaslighting the masses and overplaying cards that weren’t theirs to play, ironically providing all the kindling MAGA needed for the racist firestorm we feel today.

Reverse racism

In Trump’s second term, the first thing to go was the word “racist,” which activists and their opposition had already effectively gentrified, followed by the term “stay woke.”

Through the most ridiculous demands of over-correction imaginable and the shoving of a broken history down the throats of an under-educated population, Black people became public enemy No. 1 to MAGA — in real life, online and from within our current administration.

Starting in the White House, all anti-discrimination efforts have transitioned into anti-DEI efforts. Lawsuits have been filed and won for white men “negatively affected” by the elimination of the usual preferential hiring practices. It doesn’t matter that DEI and affirmative action disproportionately benefit white women. Or that Black people are the smallest recipients of DEI policies. Black people were made the face of DEI and therefore became the largest recipients of the MAGA backlash.

In response to the “very bad white man” label attached to each anti-racist campaign during Biden’s time in office, “the very bad white man” has come undone. He and his president have decided to exonerate all white men, past and present, from wrongdoing. Luckily for Trump, this includes himself and his friends on the one crime list they can’t say Black people appear on.

The killing of Black people in America, though generally accepted, is not only fine but celebrated in most cases and therefore meme’d ad nauseam. Because of the exorbitant way George Floyd was commemorated, MAGA took it to mean that Black people consider Floyd a hero, up there with Martin and Malcolm.

Their delusions activated fellow conservative whites to raise mediocre men, and even their wives, to royalty status. In retaliation for statues desecrated or relocated by the left, they consider it justifiable to erect statues honoring these basic men and mandate their existence on college campuses.

Using our tax dollars, more than 13,000 white South Africans have been relocated to America through our refugee program and given land to “save” them from discrimination by Black people in Africa. This is real. This is happening..

In the middle of an AI revolution, Elon Musk trained his large language model with the same out-of-context, nonsensical arguments that users of his social media platform regurgitate with authority. Many of those users have loud platforms and millions of followers.

They don’t “believe” in racism. Or they say only white people experience it. This is why, they say, they have “Black fatigue.”

They believe Black people are coddled and that they are forced to walk on eggshells around us. This makes them angry because they also believe Black people are the most violent, most criminal group on the planet.

Black past

They don’t see a lack of resources as a government obligation. It is, of course, the fault of Black people. They raise their children with this as truth.

Ancestral trauma does not exist if the traumatized have dark skin. Nor do remnants of the psychological and physical abuse form the familial foundations of slavery’s descendants.

To them it doesn’t matter that families torn apart in decades past contributed to fatherless children, poverty, rising crime statistics and incarceration. All of that, they say, is just Black people blaming the white man and playing the victim. Always playing the victim.

They believe and teach that the burning of Black towns is a myth and that Black people tear apart beautiful white cities, not in protest, but because we don’t get our way. To racist white people in 2026, there is no exhaustion worthy of protest. The brutality and unequal treatment in question are just more whining.

They joke about not making the Black kids mad because they’ll stab you, then burn the city down if they get in trouble for it.

In 2026, American Black people don’t have a right to resist. These people sincerely think racism is a plot by Democratic presidents of the past to eliminate the almighty white man who created every aspect of our modern existence.

Back to reality

Not in 2020, nor in any year before it, was white supremacy or racism solved. In the end, Black people are the ones left holding the bag. Many, in search of a brighter day, put aside the former president’s indiscretions to save themselves from the current president.

Some never knew Biden proudly declared himself the Last American Dixiecrat while campaigning for segregation. In truth, he was a man who used the word “nigger” on the Senate floor with the kind of comfort and arrogance that, ironically, only an American white supremacist could have.

This is America, where there’s nothing more American than racism. An aging white man set the stage for another aging white man to hand it back to the first aging white man. We have all lost 12 years in the meantime, still trying to explain to the programmed masses why kids like Karmelo Anthony need Black people on their jury and why it’s not OK to make a lynching joke or an “I can’t breathe” joke on Netflix.

This is the poison seeping into the earth, feeding the roots. This doesn’t get better. This kills us all, with Black people on the front line.

Constant arguments about things that should be common knowledge continue to go nowhere. So what’s lacking? How do we end this cycle?

Start somewhere

People on both the left and right need to understand the role of slavery, Jim Crow and the long list of discriminatory, murderous, debilitating and covert actions that followed. They need that history to understand why the monsters America created are “chimpin’ out.” No one can teach empathy, but we can offer tools.

Tools to see racism for what it is.

It is a thing so deeply rooted that there isn’t even another reason to offer for the chaos and karma of America. Racism isn’t a single action or an on-switch to someone’s rage or counter-rage. Racism is a living, breathing, breeding thing.

It is the design of “great men,” philosophers, psychologists, alchemists and doctors. It was written with quill pens by writers who stole libraries and men who knocked noses off statues, burned sacred books and felt righteous doing so.

Their children became the aristocrats and then the high society that ordered racism fashioned. They sewed it onto flags of victory, passed on to explorers who murdered countries, then gave away stolen land for free to create civilizations of desirable people, using altered Indigenous doctrines and structures left standing.

These celebrated men of honor and royalty, these men with family crests, had children with their sisters and their sisters’ children so their bloodline remained pure enough to sit on thrones, then benches, then boards. They are also presidents, world bankers and prime ministers, part of a machine made of hate at least as strong as what we call love.

These people have woven racism through so many timelines that it must be in the DNA of their children’s children. Racism is written into religious doctrines and stays quiet in thoughts that will never see the light of truth.

They must know it is so perfectly crafted that its effects are what these teen takeovers and sideshows are made of, and that those per capita crime statistics would make their buried kings smile, if such a thing were possible.

In the end

Racism is not of our making. It is a thing of white people and so white people must fix it.

Leah Harmony is a journalist and Manager of Production for the Bay View, She can be reached at leah@sfbayview.com.

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by Tabari Morris

After the California Supreme Court ruled that a single use of the N-word can support a workplace-harassment claim, the former District Attorney’s Office investigator now faces a new and extraordinary turn: San Francisco’s entire Superior Court bench has recused itself, and an Alameda County judge will preside over the trial beginning Oct. 5.

“I’m hoping for victory because I think I deserve it,” Twanda Bailey says. “I was the one that was called a racial slur. I didn’t do anything, and they made me feel like I did something wrong.”

Twanda Bailey’s workplace discrimination case is headed back toward trial in San Francisco Superior Court after a unanimous California Supreme Court decision reshaped state law — and after more than a decade in which Bailey says the City and County of San Francisco treated her report of being called the N-word as if she were the problem.

The consequences of this case reach far beyond one office: It establishes that an isolated act of harassment can be unlawful when it is severe enough, including a coworker’s use of the N-word, and it raises a plain question for every employer from San Francisco to the rest of the world: What happens when a Black worker reports racial violence in the workplace and the institution charged with justice refuses to act?

Her hope, she said, is larger than her own remedy. “I’m hoping they won’t go through what I went through. I’m hoping my case would definitely change the way the city deals with African American workers, because we are treated different.”

Bailey worked a little more than 14 years as an investigator in the San Francisco District Attorney’s Office. Her attorney, Daniel Bacon, said the incident began in January 2015, when a coworker told Bailey that a mouse had run toward her desk. Bailey reacted to the mouse; Bacon said the coworker then walked by and said, “You niggers is so scary.” Bailey, he said, was stunned because the two had worked together for years.

The next day, the incident was discussed with other coworkers at a holiday gathering, and a supervisor said she would report it, Bacon said. Bailey believed the report would lead to action. Instead, she says she encountered a system that did not protect her or even reliably document what she had reported. She later met with administrators in the District Attorney’s Office, and Bacon said a manager’s deposition testimony indicated the coworker did not squarely deny making the statement at the time. “There was no real denial,” Bacon said. “That didn’t happen until the lawyers got involved.”

By March, Bailey asked the office’s human-resources manager for a copy of her complaint. “There is no complaint,” Bacon recalled the manager telling her. He said Bailey was warned that, because she had spoken to other people about what happened, she could be accused of creating a hostile work environment for the coworker who had used the slur. Bailey and the coworker were not immediately separated. “They kept them working together. There was no separation,” Bacon said.

Bailey then filed a charge with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The San Francisco Police Department later contacted City HR after Bailey told a police-department attorney about the incident and about the treatment she said followed. Yet in a July 22, 2015, letter described by Bacon, City HR informed Bailey that her allegations were insufficient to support an inference of harassment, hostile work environment or retaliation, and that her complaint would not be investigated. “So basically the city takes the position that being called the N-word was not harassment,” Bacon said.

That position is at the heart of Bailey’s long legal fight. Her case was dismissed in trial court and the dismissal was upheld on appeal. In 2024, however, the California Supreme Court unanimously reversed. The court held that “an isolated act of harassment may be actionable if it is sufficiently severe in light of the totality of the circumstances” and that a coworker’s use of “an unambiguous racial epithet such as the N-word may be found to suffice.” Justice Kelli Evans wrote that the slur carries “the stinging barbs of history, which catch and tear the psyche the way thorns tear at skin.”

For workers who had previously heard that one single event was not sufficient for a claim, the decision has turned the tables on their heads. “For years, racial harassment, sexual harassment, a lot of times employers would take the position, ‘Well, it’s not severe and pervasive,’” Bacon said. “The Supreme Court’s decision makes it clear … it’s not a matter of how many times you use the slur.” He said the decision requires employers to examine the totality of the circumstances, not hide behind a numerical threshold while a worker absorbs the harm.

Bacon said the legal question now is also about what the employer did after receiving notice. Where harassment is committed by a coworker rather than a supervisor, he said, an employer’s defense depends on proving it took immediate corrective action. “If they didn’t investigate it, didn’t consider it harassment, how could they have taken action to tell [the coworker], ‘Hey, look, that’s harassment. You can’t use it. And if you use it again, you can be disciplined up to termination’?” Bacon asked. He said the only measure taken was to have the coworker acknowledge receipt of an anti-harassment policy.

The City’s public position after the Supreme Court ruling, as recounted by Bacon from a press statement, was that San Francisco does not condone or tolerate the language at issue and took immediate corrective action. Bacon disputes that account. “Even though they lost, they claimed the city did corrective action when the facts are going to show they did the opposite,” he said. The City’s response to the current allegations and evidence will be tested in court; the claims described here remain allegations Bailey is pursuing against the City.

Bailey says the institutional response changed the course of her life. Bacon said she sought psychiatric care, went on leave in 2018 and tried unsuccessfully to secure a job outside the District Attorney’s Office. He said her psychiatrist later medically separated her from city employment, and that Bailey’s disability-retirement application was delayed for years before a hearing found her disabled. Bailey’s Social Security disability claim was also approved, he said. The City, Bacon said, has continued to contest the extent of harm and liability.

Her case also arrives in a city with a well-documented history of Black municipal workers describing unequal treatment. Bacon recalled three days of San Francisco Board of Supervisors hearings in 2018 where African American city employees came forward with their stories. Bailey testified at those hearings, he said. “Three days of all these stories of African American workers, but nothing changed,” he said. Bailey added that people from other communities spoke in support of Black workers, saying they had witnessed the different treatment.

That is why Bailey’s case matters to SF Bay View readers: It is not only a fight over a word or one employee’s claim. It is a test of whether a public institution that prosecutes wrongdoing will recognize racial harm inside its own walls; whether Black workers can report discrimination without being isolated, threatened or disbelieved; and whether a Supreme Court victory becomes lived protection rather than another principle kept on paper. It is also a warning to employers everywhere that they cannot excuse a slur’s violence by calling it a one-time event.

“I hope that employers take from that, that it creates a working environment, especially for African Americans, where they don’t have to be subjected to that slur,” Bacon said. “And if it happens, they should be disciplined appropriately instead of being protected like the city has done here.” Bailey’s persistence has already set a statewide legal precedent. What happens next in San Francisco can set the stage for whether that precedent reaches every job site where workers are still being asked to endure what should never be tolerated.

Editor’s Note: This article has been updated following interviews with Twanda Bailey and her attorney Daniel Bacon, along with an update provided by Brenda McGann with the document which states that the entire San Francisco Superior Court bench stepped down from the case, Judge Rebekah Evenson of the Alameda Superior Court was appointed, and the hearing is scheduled for Oct. 5. The update provided by Ms. McGann does not explain the reason behind this recusal. The City and County of San Francisco had not provided their version of the events by print time.

Tabari Morris is Managing Editor at the San Francisco Bay View as well as an investigative journalist. He can be reached at Tabari@sfbayview.com.

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by JR Valrey

The Indica Auntie aka Lady Namastizzle is one of the more famous Black cannabis authors, educators and entrepreneurs hailing from the Bay Area. This article is the result of a very informative conversation that she and I had around different aspects of the cannabis world, including the scars of the Crack Era, heavy taxation that California state government imposes on cannabis business owners, her own “indicactivites” and more.

JR Valrey: You and I recently had a dope conversation about the stigmatism that crack has left in the minds of Black people when it comes to using cannabis pipes, especially glass pipes. Can you expand on that? How does that stigmatism affect our health in the long run?

Lady Namastizzle: De-stigmatizing glass is about the effect that the Crack Era and the war on drugs had on our community, acutely reflected in the cannabis culture. I have come to witness the trauma of glass, the fear of rosin, hash and torches on the Black and Brown communities. The Crack Era trauma didn’t disappear. It shows up in other ways. While we minimally use glass pipes or rarely participate in the concentrate culture, we are traumatized and uninformed. It’s not about health in this aspect; it’s about healing trauma and proper education on a variety of consumption methods. When you understand the trauma of the Crack Era, the effects of the war on drugs and speak the same language, it allows a release of pain, knowing we are not doing the same thing, and being able to make connections in our reflection of language and culture.

Not to say that dabbing doesn’t have her benefits too, like it’s great for chronic pain, offering fast relief from anxiety and nausea. It is considered to be a cleaner smoke and requires a lot less product with a higher THC content.

JR Valrey: How does that stigmatism affect us in the long run, in reference to business?

Lady Namastizzle: As of this article, I have only heard of two Black-owned concentrate companies located on the East Coast and two Brown-owned concentrate companies located in the Los Angeles area. After asking others in the industry, just to get feedback, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. Some never thought of it and even asked if there was a market for us in that sector of the industry. When as far as I am concerned there is a market for us in every market, but I was also informed that it’s the equity required in these sectors that isn’t necessarily accessible to us in business, that keeps us out of spaces, markets, education and holding on to generational trauma that we deserve to let go of.

JR Valrey: What is the difference between rosin and resin? Who should use what?

Lady Namastizzle: Concentrates can be complicated enough with all the terms, but it’s important to be informed. Many think they are the same; however, let the spelling be your guide. Rosin, with an O, it takes heat and pressure to create. Resin, with an E, requires chemicals such as propane or butane to create. Think gas tank E, chemicals, and O for organic without chemicals. The sticky brown substance is resin on the back of the papers or cigars when smoked. Hash is another term which many of us have heard of. Hash is kief compressed and treated similar to rosin, with heat and pressure, but also there’s a few other extraction methods.

These terms are important in personal consumption choices, not necessarily just for who should or shouldn’t use them. Being able to make an informed choice on how and what you consume, is the key.

JR Valrey: What have your experiences been like as a Black cannabis women entrepreneur when you attend these different cannabis conventions?

Lady Namastizzle: When I first began going to events, it was for networking connections in the industry. Then too more often than not, I was the only Black woman in the room, and it became about being in these spaces to learn more to bridge the gap for my community. Like Hash Week happened this past July. It was amazing talking to vendors about the trauma of rigs, torches and the reactions to concentrates. They were mostly white males, and being the only Black women in any space can be exhausting sometimes.

JR Valrey: Can you talk about your cannabis yoga classes? When and where are you offering them?

Lady Namastizzle: One on one classes are available, and I am special event focused. Cannabis advocacy and education is the most important highlight now, with laws changing and targeting small businesses, we need to know all we can. Some laws like the “Hemp Ban” can and will affect class offerings. Navigating this helps to make sure there will be classes in the future for me and others. Currently I host “De-stigmatizing Glass Experiences” and a “Ladies Night” at Moe Green’s dispensary in San Francisco, once a month: making glass accessible, having new experiences in safe spaces, and with people that look like us. I am for the culture and the representation of my people.

JR Valrey: Can you talk about your book? What is it about?

Lady Namastizzle: My book “Indica Aunties” duality edition, is about the historical significance of cannabis used by women throughout history, the holistic use of cannabis in aiding with a variety of feminine ailments, as well as endocannabinoid system pairing with herbs, plants and mushrooms including magic mushrooms. I just wanted women to have options in pain, healing and natural remedies passed on, not bought on some shelf with ingredients we can’t pronounce; custom made for you personally for your body’s needs: from sitz baths for postpartum, tinctures for PMS, teas for womb care, infusion for lube, suppositories for menopause to mushrooms for overall health. “Indica Aunties” duality edition has got you covered.

JR Valrey: With the high state taxes and all the required permits needed, is it worth it for Black entrepreneurs to invest in 2026 in cannabis? Why or why not?

Lady Namastizzle: The cannabis market is overflowing with all the fees, rules, regulations and taxes; it’s scary and overwhelming. The market is hard. Many people stick to the same format, such as prerolls, eighth and gummies. What about the other elements of cannabis – pipes, concentrates, edible baked goods, candy etc? Black men hold minimal ownership, and Black women hold even less equity and ownership. With any business, loss can happen but Black ownership is always worth investing in!

JR Valrey: How could people contact you?

Lady Namastizzle: Follow me on IG @ladynamastizzle to contact me for speaking, hosting, or yoga. Email me at ladynamastizzle@gmail.com.

SF Bay View Editor-in-Chief JR Valrey is a veteran journalist. His work can also be heard on www.blockreportradioworld.com. He can be reached at jr@sfbayview.com.

The post Are scars from the Crack Era affecting how we use cannabis? appeared first on San Francisco Bay View.

by Leah Harmony

Hip Hop grew up and the work kept movin’

Twenty-five years ago, Hard Knock Radio entered KPFA’s afternoon drive time as “a talk show for the Hip Hop generation.” On airwaves Hip hop had graduated from background music between “serious” subjects and begun making news of its own. It was now a way into politics, policing, housing, education, war, culture and the communities public radio too often discussed from a distance—or ignored.

The show grew out of a fight over who public radio belongs to. Following massive resistance to the attempted corporate takeover of KPFA and the Pacifica network in 1999, listeners demanded programming that spoke for and to them, especially young people of color. Hard Knock Radio helped answer that demand. It brought the people living the story to the microphone as analysts of their own conditions, not specimens to be studied after think-tanks and scholars decided they had become newsworthy in the moment.

A quarter-century later, co-host and producer Anita Johnson and host, producer, journalist, educator and hip hop historian Davey D are still doing that work. I interviewed them separately, but their answers kept finding one another. That speaks to the overall formula of the duo. It works. The conversations have been edited and interwoven here as a roundtable. Johnson sees an anniversary; Davey D did not even realize it had been 25 years. Together, they explain why Hard Knock Radio has lasted without treating longevity as permission to kick back and enjoy the ride

Leah: Happy 25th anniversary! The show began as “a talk show for the Hip Hop generation.” What happened when that generation — and hip hop itself — grew up?

Anita:: Twenty-five years ago, young people were fighting to be heard and challenging systems from the outside. Now many are parents, educators, organizers, journalists, elected officials, entrepreneurs and cultural leaders.

Hip hop is no longer outside the mainstream. That creates opportunity and tension: Who controls the narrative, who profits and is its political consciousness still being amplified?

Davey D: Hip hop is 50 years old, and at 50 it has a maturity that should come to the forefront. Your peers control levers of power in institutions. We need to discuss how to affect those levers. You went to school with the mayor. Tell us what we need to do — not only who the best rapper is.

We are hip hop, period. But we should not have to lead with being rappers when trying to resolve a missing-persons case.

Leah: In the beginning, did people resist the “talking” part of a hip hop show?

Anita: Yes. Conversations on politics, racism, policing, housing, education and social movements — presented by people of color during afternoon drive time — generated responses rooted in fear and racism. Voicemails called what we played “jungle bunny music” and used other racial epithets.

KPFA’s audience was not accustomed to our voices or communities. But we were intentional: Communities of color and young people would not be subjects somebody else studied. They would bring their own analysis and lead the conversation. But an audience was waiting to hear itself reflected.

Davey D: We brought a hip hop perspective into the burgeoning activist scene. The conversation grew beyond quote-unquote hip hop. It is about what is happening in the community and where we can fill a void as so many things are shut down.

Leah: What makes somebody an expert on Hard Knock Radio?

Anita: We have hosted mainstream figures, grassroots organizers, independent journalists, artists, academics, formerly incarcerated people, young people and people you may never hear nationally. Visibility has never determined whether somebody has something important to say.

The question is: What do you know? What have you experienced? What can you help us understand?

The expert may be a veteran organizer, an artist documenting events or a resident who knows a place better than a reporter parachuting in. We never separated culture from the “serious” conversation.

Davey D: If somebody is a rapper but has spent 10 years collecting files on police, that is what we need to know. Unless the music is germane, I do not need to announce, “By the way, this is a rapper.” If we are talking about Palestine, let us talk about Palestine. People from our extended hip hop community do not have to perform their credentials before offering analysis.

Leah: Anita, how does a producer earn trust from people whose communities have repeatedly been misrepresented?

Anita: Trust starts before the microphone comes on. I am a Black woman, I am queer, and I have a deep commitment to truth and justice. I know what it is like to have your voice dismissed because of who you are. Sometimes I am part of the community we are discussing.

But I cannot assume I understand somebody else’s experience. Class, gender, geography, generation and culture matter. Do your homework and ask better — not necessarily safer — questions. My job is to listen for what we might be missing, not impose a narrative.

You build trust over time by treating people’s stories with seriousness, context, dignity and respect, especially after everybody else has packed up their microphones and moved on.

Leah: What did that look like when the country suddenly turned its attention toward a community?

Anita: After Michael Brown was killed, we examined what happened before the national cameras arrived — the policing, politics, organizing and history — and what would happen after they left. Our coverage of the murder of Oscar Grant III centered affected communities. During COVID, we insisted not everybody was living through the same pandemic.

Media can connect people doing the work and give language to what a community already knows. We talked with people making history while it happened.

Davey D: With Oscar Grant, national shows would ask me to come on. I would say, “OK, I am bringing Uncle Bobby, or I am bringing this person.” If I went on, I called everybody involved and asked for their talking points. It should be about the people doing the work.

When Ferguson happened, I did not go for the first year, though I had invitations. People there could speak to their reality, so we brought them on every day — from Tef Poe on down. Our job is to give people on the ground space, not become the centerpiece.

Leah: Institutions learned to say “diversity,” “equity,” “inclusion” and “belonging.” Did the language improve journalism, or become branding?

Anita: Both. A broader vocabulary helped us ask whose voices are missing, who tells the story and what counts as a story. But the language sometimes moved faster than the institution.

You can change what the room looks like without changing who controls it. For us, it was about perspective, power and whether we show up only during a crisis. Hard Knock Radio did not wait for somebody to diversify the table. We built our own.

Leah: What does keeping a daily community show alive require that listeners may never hear?

Davey D: When you care, it takes a mental and physical toll. Before airtime, you may hear somebody crying about what happened to their child but afraid to discuss it publicly. Then comes another police story, another crisis, and you try to give it meaning. I read, watch and watchdog the bullshit people are bombarded with, hoping to leave listeners better.

This is not stuff you take bows for. You fill the voids and carry your communal weight. People opened doors for me, so I open doors for others. People pulled me up, so I pull others up. We are part of a continuum.

Anita: Independent media survives because communities decide their stories and issues are worth supporting. Support KPFA and Hard Knock Radio financially when you can, but also listen, share interviews and send stories. Hold us accountable. Help bring the next generation of journalists, producers, artists, DJs, organizers and storytellers through these doors.

Leah: What has 25 years taught you about community in the age of algorithms, bots and online performance?

Davey D: Nothing beats hand-to-hand, face-to-face conversation. Technology lets me talk to 100 people at once, but I had better pick up the phone. One friend’s pictures online said one thing; when I called, I learned they had stage-three cancer. Another friend’s mother had died, and they were still grieving. I would not have known from what I saw online.

Check in with your people. We must nurture our relationships and commit to people we love and want to fight alongside for collective liberation.

Not everything online needs an answer. Some of it is bots or paid contrarians. If you respond, have a strategy. Some can speak truth to power unimpeded; others hold positions that help the community and should not lose them performing militancy online.

The Bay View can say things a person at a commercial outlet cannot. That does not mean we are not on the same page. I learned to fight smarter, not harder. We do not have all the time in the world.

Leah: Davey, is 25 years a milestone? How are you celebrating?

Davey D: I did not realize it was 25 years. Each day and each show is important. We try to dial in with presence, urgency and commitment.

I do not want to say, “We have been doing this 25 years; let me mail in the show.” No. We wake up, try to do our best and not rest on our laurels. We are part of a larger collective, and our job is to hold up our side of the weight.

Anita: There have been talks, but nothing I can share publicly just yet.

Leah: What does a mature hip hop generation build now?

Davey D: Collectively, the question is: What institutions do we have? What tools have we fashioned for the community to counteract everything going on?

Community is knowing who goes where, what we are doing and how we protect one another. It is strategically putting people in positions where they and we can win.

We have been blessed with platforms. We should use them wisely. We have sat at the feet of people who laid solid groundwork. We are supposed to add to it. I do not look at that as extraordinary. We all do our parts.

__

Hip hop does not have to keep proving it is hip hop. At 50, it should know what it is. At 25, Hard Knock Radio does not need to admire its history either. That history is in the lives of people who found language on the air, organizers whose work was amplified and listeners who got the answers mainstream didn’t bother to seek.

That is worth celebrating. But Davey D’s inability to stop long enough to notice the anniversary is as honest a celebration as any. It’s not a ceremony. It’s a life. Each day brings another story, another voice, another chance to open the door and keep movin’.

Hip hop isn’t arriving. It’s arrived. Now we build and sustain our own institutions — independent enough to tell the truth and rooted so strong in community, they cannot take either away.

Hard Knock Radio airs Monday through Friday from 4 to 5 p.m. Pacific on KPFA 94.1 FM and streams at KPFA.org. Past programs are available through the KPFA archives.

Leah Harmony is Manager of Production at the San Francisco Bay View and can be reached at: leah@sfbayview.com.

The post Hard Knock Radio at 25 appeared first on San Francisco Bay View.

by Haiti Action Committee

Haiti Action Committee condemns the wave of massacres in Haiti and demands that the Trump administration stop deporting Haitians back to Haiti.

On Sunday, Aug. 23, the heavily armed paramilitary death squad Viv Ansanm carried out another major massacre in the Kenscoff commune in the hills outside Port-au-Prince. The death squad attacked survivors of previous violence who were sheltering in a church in one of the villages.

Many people in the church were killed, along with people in their homes. Women and young people were targeted in particular. Community sources have provided different estimates of the number of people killed, but they range from 40 to above 70 people. Women were raped and dozens of people were additionally taken hostage; they remain captive with imminent threats to their lives.

According to local officials, this attack was announced by the paramilitary death squad at least two weeks before it occurred. The police and government authorities were made aware of the threat, but once again failed to provide protection, as has been the case in many other massacres. The population is furious over the obvious collusion between the U.S.-installed puppet government and the death squads.

Kenscoff has repeatedly been targeted by Viv Ansanm as it seeks to consolidate its control of the commune and expand control into the adjacent Petionville region of Port-au-Prince.

Other massacres by paramilitaries, armed with weapons from the United States, have likewise continued across Haiti in recent weeks, notably Gresye south of Port-au-Prince, a village in the Akaye region north of Port-au-Prince, and Dessalines and other towns in the agricultural center of the Artibonite region.

There are now 1.5 million people internally displaced by this violence in Haiti and more than 5.8 million people on the brink of starvation.

These are the conditions into which the Trump regime is attempting to deport 350,000 Haitians who have had their TPS in the U.S. revoked.

Contact your senators and demand that they immediately pass Senate Bill S. 4814 to extend TPS for Haitians! The House has already passed a version of this bill, H.R. 1689, and now the Senate must do the same!

Learn more and contact the Haiti Action Committee at https://haitisolidarity.net/.

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by Leah Harmony

With Nola’s first words, my thought is: “This woman knows her shit.” For two decades, Nola Brantley has worked with communities in the Bay Area to transform the response to sex trafficking.

Sex crimes and trafficking haven’t slowed down since the now-famous Epstein files were “released.” These abuses are often married to zero accountability. In August, police arrested San Francisco 49ers owner Jed York in a prostitution sting after he used an alias to arrange paid sex. York is no stranger to red and blue lights as a member of the DeBartolo family, who has been the subject of rumors surrounding organized-crime ties and federal investigations for decades. Yet law enforcement dropped the charges in each case. And, like a footnote in a never-ending saga of prominent offenders being set free, this latest arrest is no exception. The authorities let Jed York go, allowing him to continue living his best life. They all would like us to believe that the buying and selling of sex, and the trafficking of children, happens to no one, by no one.

The message is as clear as the billboards high above The Blade, the Bay Area’s most notorious corridor for sex trafficking. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands. Enter Nola.

In the following conversation, the co-founder of MISSSEY and founder of Nola Brantley Speaks discusses the conditions that make young people vulnerable, the failures of systems charged with protecting them, and what genuine safety, accountability and healing can look like for Black girls in the Bay Area.

Leah Harmony: You began this work in 2001 and later helped build one of Alameda County’s first community case-management models for commercially sexually exploited children. What first made you understand that individual rescue was not enough — that the whole system had to change?

Nola Brantley: When I started this work in 2001, I quickly realized that what we called “rescue” was often happening at the end of a much longer story. Many of the young people I encountered were Black and Brown girls who had experienced abuse, foster-care involvement, family instability, homelessness or generational poverty before an exploiter ever entered the picture. And in Oakland, we can’t separate those conditions from the broader history of racial and economic inequity that has shaped many of the communities we serve. If we only remove a child from the street without changing the conditions that made her vulnerable, we’re not really changing her life — we’re interrupting one moment in a much larger cycle.

Leah Harmony: What exactly did you see that helped you understand exploited young people need support that police, courts, child welfare agencies and existing nonprofits were not providing?

Nola Brantley: I saw young people who had already been failed by multiple systems before they ever encountered an organization like MISSSEY. A girl might have been removed from her family, moved through multiple placements, experienced abuse or neglect, run away, become homeless and then encountered someone who offered her exactly what the systems around her had failed to provide — belonging, protection, money or what felt like family. And when many of those children come from communities that have already experienced generations of institutional inequity, we have to ask whether our systems are actually repairing harm or reproducing it.

Leah Harmony: What are some of the conditions that make Black girls in San Francisco, Oakland, Vallejo and surrounding Bay Area communities especially vulnerable to trafficking — and how do housing and inflation factor in?

Nola Brantley: We have to be careful not to suggest that being Black, Brown, poor or from Oakland somehow makes a child inherently vulnerable. The vulnerability comes from the conditions surrounding the child. Housing instability, inflation, poverty, family disruption, foster-care involvement, inadequate behavioral-health resources, school disengagement and a lack of safe places for young people to go can all increase vulnerability. And when those conditions are concentrated in communities that have historically experienced racial and economic exclusion, the impact becomes even more pronounced.

Leah Harmony: You have said that Black girls are being bought and sold in plain sight in Oakland. Why can the community see this but authorities can’t?

Nola Brantley: I don’t think authorities literally can’t see them. I think we’ve historically failed to see these girls as children deserving protection. Oakland has a large population of Black and Brown communities whose families have experienced generations of racial discrimination, economic exclusion, housing instability and unequal treatment by institutions. So when a Black or Brown girl is standing on International Boulevard, people can see the street and the behavior, but they don’t necessarily see the history, trauma, foster-care involvement, poverty or exploitation that may have brought her there.

Leah Harmony: What have you learned about the ways racism and adultification cause Black girls to be treated as willing participants, “fast,” troublesome or criminal instead of recognized as children experiencing abuse?

Nola Brantley: I’ve learned that Black girls are often denied childhood at exactly the moment they need adults to protect them most. Their survival behaviors can be interpreted as attitude, sexuality, defiance or criminality instead of trauma responses, and when a child also has a foster-care history or comes from poverty, those labels can compound each other.

In communities with a long history of racialized stereotypes and unequal treatment, those assumptions don’t exist in isolation — they can shape decisions made by schools, child welfare, law enforcement, health care providers and the courts. After training more than half a million professionals, I know that changing that lens requires more than diversity training — it requires changing how agencies make decisions about children.

Leah Harmony: In Oakland, International Boulevard is frequently named in conversations about exploitation. What patterns are you seeing elsewhere — in Vallejo, Richmond, San Francisco and online — that the community as a whole should recognize?

Nola Brantley: The geography changes, but the vulnerability doesn’t necessarily change. In Oakland, Vallejo, Richmond, San Francisco and online, young people may be navigating many of the same conditions — housing instability, family disruption, foster-care involvement, poverty, isolation, trauma and unmet needs — and exploiters know how to identify those vulnerabilities.

And we should remember that these communities are not simply “high-risk communities”; they are communities with enormous resilience that have also experienced historical disinvestment and discrimination. The street may look different, but the underlying equation is often the same: a young person needs something desperately, and someone else presents exploitation as the solution.

Leah Harmony: What should young people notice when a relationship begins to turn from affection into grooming?

Nola Brantley: Pay attention when someone starts asking you to keep secrets, isolates you from people who love you, makes you feel indebted, controls where you go or who you see, gives you things and then expects something in return, or tells you that nobody understands you the way they do. Grooming often doesn’t begin with something that feels dangerous — it can begin with attention, affection, validation, gifts or making you feel uniquely special. If a relationship increasingly requires secrecy, control or something in exchange for love, that’s a serious warning sign.

Leah Harmony: How have phones, social media and gaming platforms changed recruitment over the past 10 years — and how can the community combat the negatives?

Nola Brantley: Technology has dramatically expanded the access an exploiter can have to a young person. Grooming can happen privately, continuously and across platforms, sometimes before an adult in the child’s physical environment realizes anything is wrong. We need digital literacy, stronger platform accountability, adults who understand online behavior without simply spying or shaming children, and conversations about healthy relationships that begin before a child encounters a groomer.

Leah Harmony: What universal behavioral changes should parents, teachers and other adults take seriously that could save a child before the threat becomes embedded in the child’s life?

Nola Brantley: Don’t just look for a child suddenly standing on a street. Look much earlier. Chronic running away, placement disruptions, sudden homelessness, unexplained money or gifts, an older romantic partner, withdrawal from family, school disengagement, increased secrecy or a child suddenly becoming dependent on someone outside the family can all be opportunities to intervene before exploitation becomes deeply embedded. And particularly with Black and Brown children, adults have to be careful not to interpret survival behavior as simply defiance or criminality. The question should be, “What is happening to you?” rather than “What’s wrong with you?”

Leah Harmony: Can you describe a situation from your work that changed your understanding of what a young person needs before they can trust an adult offering help?

Nola Brantley: My own experience taught me that authority and safety are not synonymous. When the adult who is supposed to represent protection is also connected to your exploitation, it fundamentally changes how you understand trust. That’s why I learned that young people don’t owe us immediate trust; we have to earn it through consistency, transparency, respect and showing up when there is nothing in it for us. That is particularly important when working with young people whose families and communities may have legitimate reasons to distrust institutions based on generations of experience.

Leah Harmony: You have worked alongside law enforcement while also witnessing the misuse of authority. Do police interventions often help or hurt exploited youth?

Nola Brantley: They can do either. But when we’re talking about Black and Brown girls who may already have experienced poverty, foster care, trauma and institutional intervention, another authority figure showing up and treating them primarily as a problem can reinforce everything they’ve already learned about systems. My own experience with exploitation by a San Francisco police officer makes this question deeply personal for me: Authority is not automatically synonymous with safety.

Leah Harmony: If you could tell police, as a single entity, what they should not do — what standard practice absolutely does not help?

Nola Brantley: Don’t use the authority of a badge to exploit, intimidate, manipulate, control or silence a vulnerable young person. And don’t assume that because a child is Black, Brown, poor, homeless, in foster care or behaving in a way adults don’t understand, she is somehow less deserving of protection. I say that not only as a professional who has spent decades training systems, but as someone whose own exploitation involved a police officer. If you’re an officer, the power you carry should make a child safer — not make her more vulnerable.

To be continued …

Leah Harmony is manager of production at the San Francisco Bay View and can be reached at leah@sfbayview.com

If you or someone you know needs assistance or if you want more information, contact:

MISSSEY:

(510) 999-6884/510-99-YOUTH

or Direct Support: directservices@misssey.org

Housing: housing@misssey.org

For more information on Nola Brantley Speaks, please visit nolabrantleyspeaks.org.

The post “Black girls are being bought and sold in plain sight” appeared first on San Francisco Bay View.

With District 10 Supervisor Shamann Walton nearing the end of his term on the Board of Supervisors, his seat, which covers Sunnydale, Visitacion Valley, Dogpatch, India Basin, Potrero Hill, Bayview Hunters Point and more, is up for grabs in the November election. Nearly a dozen serious contenders have joined the electoral fight.

One of the top names being mentioned as a major competitor for the D10 seat is Jamo Muhammad, a man who is literally a son of Hunters Point. Many have known him for decades as the community brotha who is always in the streets with a smile and some good, wise words and is ready to help. As election season begins to go into overdrive, I wanted to bring you a sincere community voice for your electoral consideration.

JR Valrey: How will you deal with the issue of public safety in District 10 if elected? On one hand, everyone wants and deserves to be safe, but on the other hand, SFPD is notorious for killing Black young people like Gus Rugley, Kenneth Harding, Mario Woods and others.

Jamo Muhammad: I believe public safety is probably a bigger issue for us Blacks remaining in the district and throughout the city. Public safety is a primary reason some decide to leave. Studies show our numbers have been decreasing at alarming rates.

We as a group no longer speak from that power position we used to enjoy years ago. Our voices aren’t as loud. Many times, such voices even go unheard. Our public safety is being infringed upon daily. One would think there would be more energy to protect a fragile population, as they do with wildlife. Yet that doesn’t seem to be the case.

First and foremost, when we talk “public safety,” who do we really believe is supposed to make that happen for us? Is it the responsibility of the mayor? Is it the responsibility of the Board of Supervisors or a supervisor? Is it the job of the police or others? Or do we, as an affected community and an affected population, give more attention to solving some of the issues that make our communities unsafe?

As some know, for many years I’ve been in these San Francisco streets, lending myself to the various communities in the way of decreasing some of the violence. For years, I’ve been instrumental in bringing together some of those who have had issues that put our safety in question. Such an effort was and is being done without any public or private funding.

So when the police come before us at the end of the year, taking credit for decreases in crimes, they actually slight the many who also lend themselves as such. In relation to the police killings, we as a community can’t allow the solutions of others to become the solution. We need a solution to our problems. We can’t throw our hands up, encouraging these types of entities to assist us and remove ourselves from the equation. We open up the door for such misbehavior.

As some know, I was involved in the aftermath of some of these instances of police brutality. Unfortunately, we as a community still haven’t recovered. As a district, we, as those of us in these various communities, have to be a part of the solution to such safety concerns. I believe I have the potential to encourage that kind of participation from our communities.

JR Valrey: How would you address the environmental degradation and environmental racism in District 10 such as the Navy refusing to clean up the radioactive waste at the shipyard, Lennar corporation spreading hazardous asbestos illegally, PG&E spreading pollution, as well as data centers scheduled to be built in District 10?

Jamo Muhammad: I believe this is a good question. I would address such an issue as a victim. I would address such an issue as someone who has been affected by such an issue. I’m a longtime resident, so I’ve come to know many who call some of those places that border such parcels home. We know this has been an ongoing issue. The thing is, do the new construction efforts make the situation better or worse? I believe they make it worse.

I had a friend, Chris Carpenter, with whom I went to high school. He and his family were District 10 residents. He passed. Some of you know him to be one of the first whistleblowers, as it related to the many violations of public safety from this developer, subdevelopers and the City. When we found out about some of these issues, we began mobilizing in the community. We sought to inform the surrounding communities of the possible exposure. Many had symptoms showing they’ve been exposed. The energy of such an effort put our community voices on the floor of the Board of Supervisors at City Hall. We were there to inform them of the exposure. We were there to ask of them to halt the project, to test the people. Again, many of the residents were showing symptoms of being exposed.

There were district supervisors that voted on behalf of our cries for justice. Would you believe our own district supervisor at that time cast the final and deciding vote against the work stoppage? She ignored the hurt, the pain of her own people. They recently put her name on a development in District 10. Was that part of her reward? What did she really accomplish that earns her such an honor? Seeing such an episode play out is part of my motivation for running for this District Supervisor seat, on behalf of a friend and those of our community that have been affected.

Another thing, since the City knows this to be an issue, what are its health recommendations as it relates to those taxpaying citizens that live in that area? Is there any type of programs available to those who may be running around affected? Several violators were mentioned in one of the many class action lawsuits, one blaming the other. All need to be held responsible! I believe the data centers will be more of the same.

JR Valrey: What are your ideas around retaining Black residency in San Francisco, a city that was once 22% Black but is now 3%?

Jamo Muhammad: As Black people in such a city, we have a beautiful opportunity before us. It’s a very pivotal moment in our history in this city. The moment has the potential to become something good and inspirational. Yet, there also exists the potential to be something other than good. Let me ask this: How inviting is this city to Black people? We just spoke on environmental exposure. We have to really look at reasons why we believe people leave. Of the reasons they leave, how many are legitimate reasons?

We can’t make people stay here. There are people I know who have moved. Someone said to me, “Brother, when I’m in the City, I find myself being overcome by addiction.” He then shares how productive of a citizen he has become elsewhere. Can you blame him for leaving? Some of these mothers move out of fear something may happen to their children. Can they be blamed for such a thought? In a city like this, they have said low income is six figures. How many of us are making six figures? When someone inherits that family home, what do they really know about holding on to that home? Most of us aren’t being taught such financial lessons. If someone decides to sell, can you blame them?

If the average home in San Francisco goes for $700K-$800K and someone finds a better deal outside of San Francisco, can you blame them? Mind you, you could have spent a million dollars on a home, yet can’t park in your own driveway. In other places they could gain more bang for their buck. They may be able to have space between homes. They may get a larger front and back yard. They may get a larger garage and a driveway. These decisions are logical decisions that we make all the time.

JR Valrey: What other issues are extremely important to District 10?

Jamo Muhammad: I believe an important issue for District 10 is our children, especially the children of our fragile Black population. We are not really knowing how our young people are being affected by what they are seeing and experiencing in our communities and throughout this city. It’s said any community’s greatest natural resource is its children. As elected officials, I believe we really have to be mindful of the decisions we make. We may be making a decision that may negatively affect them.

JR Valrey: How could people stay up on what you are doing?

Jamo Muhammad: I’m quickly putting some things together. Some things aren’t coming together as I would like, yet it’s all part of the training, the experience. I’ve done things in the community in an attempt to allow people to know me in more of a real way. I’m on Facebook, under my name, Jamo Muhammad. I have offered and accepted new friend requests from so many new people, many based on them hearing I’m running for office and attempting to learn more of me. Soon, I will have a social media platform dedicated to the various things I’m doing in the community. May God grow our many voices, that we may become more mindful of our choices. Thanks again, Brother. Be sure to send our love to the Ratcliffs, the contributing staff and, of course, the many readers! For more information, you could email Jamo Muhammad’s campaign at dxweupnext49@gmail.com.

JR Valrey is editor in chief of the San Francisco Bay View and can be reached at jr@sfbayview.com

The post D10 candidate Jamo Muhammad speaks appeared first on San Francisco Bay View.

Festival organizer David Roach says the program is designed to make room for independent filmmakers, connect audiences with artists and invite people to see Oakland beyond the narratives that too often define it.

by Tabari Morris

The Oakland International Film Festival will launch its season on Sept. 9 at the Grand Lake Theater, presenting a program of more than 50 films that its organizers claim have emerged from the community testimony of those dealing with issues of environmental destruction, violence, exile, censorship and imprisonment.

The festival is set to run through Oakland venues, such as Informal Spaces and the Oakland campus of Northeastern University, formerly Mills College, among others. Screenings will be combined with workshops, panel discussions and Q&A sessions with filmmakers. Festival Founder and Director David Roach told the SF Bay View that about 90% of the filmmakers would attend the event, providing audiences with a special chance to talk to the creators of the films themselves.

“Independent filmmakers are taking a stab at these kinds of stories that often times mainstream media do not touch. That’s why we’re really trying to create space for them — conversations.”

Among the films Roach highlighted is “The Right to Fight to Breathe,” a short documentary connected to the long environmental justice fight in West Oakland. He described how truck traffic serving the Port of Oakland moves through nearby neighborhoods, where residents have observed soot on windows and endured the health consequences of pollution, including asthma.

The film’s local framing points toward a broader question that runs through the festival: Who bears the cost when commerce, development and resource extraction move forward without communities having an equal say? Roach connected that question to oil spills, data centers and the increasing demands placed on water and energy systems.

“Commerce is made, but the people who don’t get the commerce suffer the most.”

The program also turns to immigration, free expression and young people navigating pressures that should not be ordinary. Roach cited “Unidos 26” about young soccer players in the Los Angeles area, and “Free Speech Costs Plenty,” a film by comedian and radio personality Donald Lacy that examines censorship and the exposure artists can face when their work draws hostile reactions.

Opening night will feature short films including “This Is Private” and “Waiting for Afra’s Ivy.” Roach declined to spoil their central turns, but said the works reflect how short films can establish a filmmaker’s storytelling vision and become a bridge toward a feature-length project.

The festival’s cultural reach includes “Brewing Stew,” about the late guitarist Calvin Keys; “Breaking the Cycle,” which follows an intergenerational break-dancing program in Colombia; and “A Salty Frontalia,” a documentary that Roach described as tracing the global imprint of Black radical culture. “Soul Searching” explores Chicano collectors and DJs preserving slow soul records, with a related music-centered event planned at Geoffrey’s Inner Circle.

“We’re always trying to figure out how can we highlight culture. We see culture as history — oftentimes history is a big part of our culture — and music.”

Indigenous history is another focus. In partnership with Humboldt County education partners, the festival plans to screen “People of the West, Episode Eight” and “Native California,” films that Roach said offer accounts often omitted from conventional school curriculum — including the Red Power movement, the occupation of Alcatraz, tribal stewardship and relationships with the land.

The program will also make room for stories about women’s survival and the criminal legal system. At Northeastern University, the festival’s “Preventing Violence, Healing Our City” screening will pair “Set Her Free,” about women who faced severe sentences after defending themselves from domestic violence, with “Liberty and Limits: Guns in California.” Roach said the latter examines gun law history as well as violence prevention workers whose program reduced violence before funding was cut.

Films about housing and home will follow: “What We Dreamed of Then,” about a man in Seattle trying to survive homelessness while working, and “Home,” a short film about family bonds, a grandmother and the meaning of a shared home. For a city facing entrenched displacement, the pairing places personal struggle alongside the question of what stability requires.

“We’re hoping that we can just learn how to support each other. We know we need each other.”

Oakland itself is not merely a backdrop. “Guardians of Oakland Chinatown” follows community members who organized to protect Chinatown during the hardships of the COVID era. “Oakland Strong” traces a youth weightlifting initiative that sought recognition and support by staging a demonstration outside City Hall. “The Blackumentary” follows people connected to Oakland’s Black Cultural Zone and their efforts to sustain Black community amid development pressures.

Roach said the festival is also deliberately sending audiences into the city’s restaurants and neighborhood spaces, including Talibah’s, Sabri and other venues still being finalized. The aim is to counter a narrow, fear-driven picture of Oakland with lived experience: food, art, history and people gathering in places that deserve investment.

“Instead of preaching about it, we’re hoping that we can introduce folks to a side of Oakland that keeps them returning back to Oakland.”

The closing program is expected to include “Earthseed: A People’s Journey of Radical Hospitality,” about people connecting with communities practicing sustainable ways of living, and “Native Son,” centered on Oakland chef Nelson German and the challenges behind his work at the city’s restaurants. Other films Roach mentioned include “Prison in Time,” an animated account of barriers to education while incarcerated; “After 24 Years,” about reentry after a long prison sentence; and “More Than Santa Baby,” about songwriter Philip Springer and a lifetime in music publishing.

“A screening can introduce a story; a discussion can help a community carry it forward.”

Tickets, schedules and film information are available through the festival’s websites, oiff.org and oaklandfilmfestival.org.

Tabari Morris is Managing Editor at the San Francisco Bay View as well as an investigative journalist. He can be reached at Tabari@sfbayview.com.

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