Global Poverty and Resistance
“This is like the Santa Rita Bus,” I whispered as I looked over at my comrade revolutionary Aunti Frances Moore’s terrified eyes. We’ve both ridden the bus that carries homeless and other “criminal” people to Santa Rita County Jail. I could barely utter a whisper, lost in my own fear of incarceration and endless criminalization as an unhoused poor person in stolen Turtle Island.
Every year there are hundreds to thousands of suicides that happen across the United States. Some happen on Indian lands that people know as “reservations.” They often go left unreported for traditional reasons. Native Americans struggle daily just for being Native in a white America.
Image Caption: The writer's cousin
I am proud to be Filipino, Filipino-American. I am proud of our legacy in America. I love the laughter and resilience of my people. I love the sound of their laughter, their thick voices of different tongues. I love my people 365 days a year. I love the Filipino youth who stand up for their community. I love our generosity. I love how gracious we are while at the same time possess the fiercest fire when defending our community. The sun rises
Hello Friends & Supporters
It all started when I was in my early teens. I told my mom that I wanted to go to South Africa in the middle of the US anti-Aparthied movement in which my father and I was apart of. In my high school years I tried to do a paper on what was going on in South Africa for people with disabilities/Deaf and remember this was in the mid 80's before computers. My paper turned out to be a half a page cause I couldn't find enough information on people with disabilities/Deaf in South Africa at that time.