Brain Freeze In An I.C.E Storm

I live near a City where this has been happening: 

Along with this, we are seeing an increase in reports of people being stopped by the police for traffic enforcement, and then being asked about their immigration status.

-from washblog-

I look “Latino”- so does that mean if I get stopped I might have to prove I ‘belong’ here?

And if I can’t does that mean I get deported back to my

place of origin?

! WOW !

Good thing it’s a short bus ride to Seattle.

Lynnwood Washington Gets I.C.E’d

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Due to the latest events in Lynnwood, Washington-  Washington CAN! and C2C activated  groups of legal observers in the Lynnwood area to observe and record any possible ICE activity.

Our community needs to be educated about our rights, eliminate the possibility of spreading rumors and how to respond to this type of events.

If you would like to join us please call Maru

206-389-0050 x106

This meeting is open to all community members beyond City of Lynnwood that want to organize throughout the County.

SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 22

5PM

Trinity Lutheran Church

6215 196th St SW, Lynnwood WA

on 196th St between Hwy 99 & 63rd  St

They Got Walter

when you think about it 

it’s very easy for us to express opinions and write columns and argue the

‘immigration issue’

it’s another to live it-

my friend sent me this and asked me to put it up on my blog, so here it is.

amm

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      My daughter told me when I dropped her off at work at Market Basket last week: “They got Walter.” The police, or ICE, had come to the supermarket and picked up “Walter”. He was a young Latino who had worked his way up to full-time. Nobody on the job knew where he was taken, and nobody knew why he was taken. In the following days it was said the he had a false social security number. The large-scale raids were supposed to be aimed at the MS-13 gang, but others, including a union organizer, were caught up, and terror spread through the “New Immigrant” communities like thunderstorm across the Kansas plains.

      White neighborhoods didn’t even know about the raids. But the Latino neighborhoods were deserted. Around the corner from my union hall in Lynn, Ma., Union St. has been transformed in the last 20 years from an abandoned district inhabited largely by drug dealers into a bustling commercial center of Latino businesses. When news of the raids was spread by the Spanish radio stations, a weird silence spread over Union St. and other Spanish neighborhoods down into East Boston. The little store selling religious icons of Jesus and Mary was empty. White employers complained that their workers disappeared. Parents kept their children home from school, behind locked doors.

      Legal residents were affected as well as those who had crossed the border illegally or overstayed their legal welcome. People knew from the workplace raids in New Bedford, Ma. earlier this year that you could be arguing your case from a jail cell in Texas with little access to legal help and far from your children and even prescription medicines. Better to miss pay and risk discipline on the job, and stay home with your children.

      The night before I heard about Walter from my daughter, I had met with a group of Lynn Guatemalans who wanted to organize a union. Their story is important to anyone who thinks a massive crackdown on illegal workers will improve conditions for the rest of us. I’ll call the company Avaricious, Inc. 

      The day after word spread of the raids, sixty percent of the workers did not show. So Avaricious called a temp agency. They paid less than the regular employees—top rate after 10 years was about $14–and of course, no benefits. Now the workers expect Avaricious to lay many of them off and use the temp agency permanently.

      Avaricious thus saves money, but more importantly, is protected from ICE. They are no longer responsible for the “illegals” since they are not the employer of record. ICE would be faced with chasing ever more desperate and impoverished workers through shifting, shadowy scab temp agencies that make Avaricious look like a model employer. 

      So fear reigns over millions of workers and their families in the United States, making them less likely to stick their heads up and organize unions or file complaints with government agencies. Just this week a Guatemalan construction worker from Lynn fell off a roof and was killed—it turned out his age was 17. The problem only gets worse–wages and benefits at the low end of the labor market drop, and are a downward pressure on all wages. This is where we are headed.

      Will this stop undocumented workers like Lynn’s Guatemalans from coming? No. We really need to correct our willful ignorance of our own history if we are going figure out what to do about immigration. 

      In 1950 Guatemalans elected the mildly reformist President Arbenz. Arbenz wanted to give plantations workers rights to the land under their company houses. This would mean the workers could organize unions without being thrown out of their homes. This pissed off the Boston-based United Fruit company, which had enjoyed the unrestricted right to exploit Guatemala at their whim. So in 1954 United Fruit and the CIA organized an invasion from Honduras and expelled Arbenz to Mexico, replacing him with pro-corporate military leaders.

      Many Guatemalans reasonably concluded that the United States would kill them if they challenged the domination of the corporations, and headed to the mountains. A 30 year civil war cost 300,000 lives. The State Department reported to then-President Reagan that US funded and trained government soldiers committed atrocities like throwing babies down wells, in the course of defending “democracy”. More than 400,000 people fled the country, largely to the US.

      Most Guatemalans in Lynn come from San Marcos, which was hit hard by the civil war. Since the guerrillas signed a peace agreement in 1996, “free trade” has continued to devastate San Marcos. Foreign power and mining interests have driven people from their homes to make way for “mega-project” development. Since the neoliberal model mandates that development is for export, 25% of the homes in the countryside still have no electricity, while power is shipped North. There is no work for displaced farmers. Villages are emptied, especially of men. Indigenous protesters have been harassed, even killed, and the area is becoming increasingly militarized. 

      Until conditions improve, immigrants will keep coming. Duh. And it is a desperate journey. You leave your families. You pay a smuggler $5-10,000 to get across the border. Thousands have died during the trip. US Border Patrol funding had already multiplied by six since 1990 to $1.6 billion annually before the wall-builders got their hands in our pockets—to no avail. All so you can send a little over $300 a month to feed hungry mouths at home. You could say that Lynn’s Guatemalans are just making informed market choices, joining the hundreds of millions of workers who search the desolate neoliberal global landscape for work. Simply to eat. Simply to live.

      ICE raids will make things worse for immigrants and other workers here in the US.

      There is of course, another, better choice. Workers at Avaricous could be granted the basic human right to organize a union. Wages and benefits would stabilize and improve. A path to citizenship would bring these workers and their families out from the shadows. Guatemalans already have the highest rate of labor market participation and work the longest hours of any group in Lynn. They could participate civic life. Businesses on Union St. and even Avaricious would have steady customers and workers. The growing chasm between rich and poor would begin to shrink for the first time in decades as a major downward pressure on wages was eliminated.

      These are our choices, at a turning point in our movement’s history. The right choice means fighting not only the haters and their apologists on the right, including the simplistic and intellectually facile harangues of Lou Dobbs. It also means insisting that brothers and sisters in our movement among US born workers think this through and act accordingly.

      A couple of cliches seem appropriate as a conclusion to this column. We need to ask our members to be careful of what they wish for—because we reap what we sow.

      That’s how “They got Walter.”

 

********

for your consideration- read HERE to see how another community

has been affected by Anti-Mexican Hysteria

Peaceful Protest and Vigil for Human Rights

Melt I.C.E.!

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Peaceful Protest and Vigil for Human Rights

1-4pm, Sat. Oct. 13th

Northwest Detention Center

1623 E. J Street – Tacoma, WA 98421

(360)381-0293 – notinmycounty@qwest.net

Federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement (I.C.E.) agents continue to terrorize immigrant communities in Washington State and across the country with increasingly militaristic raids, armed arrests, covert detentions and deportations. We ask that you join us in protest of these aggressive enforcement tactics and violations of our neighbors’ civil and human rights. Many of our friends and neighbors are being held in this private corporate run Detention Center. Join us in honoring the legacy of Cesar Chavez by being in solidarity with immigrant families from across the State. Help to expose this ugly prison being run for profit from the terrorist Actions against hard working immigrant families.

(360)752-3344 – notinmycounty@qwest.net

WWW.NOTINMYCOUNTY.ORG

The ICE Man Cometh!

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ICE agents set up at least two checkpoints on  streets in Lynwood last night around 11pm.

They arrested at least 6 Latino  men.

Legal observers spotted white vans unmarked at the Lynwood Police
Department (this coincides with the reports we have from witnesses). We are
going to continue with our plans to monitor in Lynwood in the mornings the
next couple days but now at mainly at the Police Department.

( from an action alert )

Before I left for work this morning I checked my wallet to make sure I had a copy of my Social Security Card, a pay stub and a copy of my birth certificate.

Why?

Beause the ICE Men are staying at the Hotel down the street from where I live and I look Latina- I’m Filipina but I figure to these guys we all look the same.

And then I thought…you know what, bite me.

Bite my multicultural backside

And I left it all at home.

Bastards.

Midnight Conversation at Riversleigh Manor

I wrote this a couple of years ago- and it’s one of my favorites because of the two nameless ‘characters’.

I don’t where they came from but I like them-they’re bone chilling.

With that….

Enjoy! 

From my Soul Food Cafe Prompt Archives 

amm

 

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There’s something buried in the Gardener’s Shed and why would someone bury something that wasn’t dead yet?

The thing in the shed isn’t buried very deep, so if you were to crawl over the dead fall in front of the door and were able to push your way through he matted cobwebs and you didn’t mind the smell of rotting leaves and small unburied creatures you’d find  there under the window a slightly raised mound of earth.

Were you to look at the raised mound long enough and the light somehow managed to find it’s way through the little panes of glass covered with dust and dirt you’d think someone was lying there on their side with one arm cradling their cheek and the other laying comfortably on their side.

Wouldn’t you?

If you brought a flashlight and the beam was bright you might think you could see something wrong with the entire left side of the sleeping figure’s face. You might think that maybe that the face was gone, smashed in by something like that shovel in the corner.

Isn’t that right?

They might wonder what you were doing back there in a rotting shed behind the Manor House in the dead of Night, they might see you take the shovel and try to smooth and pound that little raised mound of Earth flat.

That’s what they’d see wouldn’t they?

So I must ask you again, why would you bury something that is not dead yet?

Go ahead you can tell me.

Just keep your hands were I can see them.

 

In Respect

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When I worked as a Mortician the first thing I learned was not embalming techniques or how to arrange flowers at the graveside or how to fix a body ruined by disease or violence.

I learned to respect the dead.

I never made fun of a body, or complained about a family’s requests or sat there when someone talked about their now changed lives and planned what I was going to do over the weekend.

Call me weird but I think that messing with the Dead says something about your character- like maybe you don’t have one.

I also think that if there are sins that catch up with you one day disrespecting the Dead- I’m positive is- one of them.

So what brought this post on tonight?

Here in Washington State, in Tacoma, a little girl was taken from her family and murdered.She is only 12 years old and her name is Zina Linnik

Her murderer was a neighborhood man with a violent past- and along with Zina’s death the authorities are now looking at four other cases involving murdered and missing children who were taken from Tacoma as well.

As if that were not heinous enough- Zina is being shamelessly used by ” Anti- Mexican ” groups who want to  secure our borders with Mexico.

These groups are openly blaming her death on ” Illegal Aliens”

The thing of it is, the man who is accused of this crime isn’t Mexican. He’s Thai. He’s not an ” Illegal Alien “.  He is a legal permanent resident of the U.S..

And don’t for one second think that the Anti-Mexican Supporters who are now dancing all over Zina’s grave don’t know that too.

They know and they don’t care.

This little girls family deserves justice and sympathy and support.

They don’t need to see their daughter’s story on blogs or websites screeching about “Immigrants” invading our Country and bringing their evils with them for one simple reason.

Zina Linnik’s family, you see, are Ukrainian.

News Report Here

Certain Truths Are NOT Evident

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When I was little and my family from Hawaii would come to the Mainland during the Summer I used to notice that if it was the 4th of July they used to stand there in a sea of American Flags and oceans of Potato Salad and look…just a little grim, maybe a little quiet and at one point someone would take me aside and tell me the story about Queen Lili’uokalani.

My Filipino Grandfather who always smiled and was a gifted and lively story teller was not so animated when he told me how The Queen was put in chains and imprisoned in her own home and I used to wonder, as he told me the story, what the Queen of England or the President of The United States being put in chains and forced to live in the basement of their homes would look like and I couldn’t see it.

When I was a kid I learned from my Grandfather ( because I sure as Hell never learned about it at school )  that  unlike the ” Declaration of Independence ”  the Queen signed a document that dissolved Hawaii’s Independence. Our 50th State – how ironic- actually LOST its Independence when it was annexed by the U.S. Governement.

I wonder if they took the cuffs off when she signed.

They may have…. but they were there all the same weren’t they?

Queen Lili’uokalani of Hawaii signed a document which read in part: “Now to avoid any collision of armed forces, and perhaps the loss of life, I do this under protest and impelled by said force yield my authority until such time as the Government of the United States shall, upon facts being presented to it, undo the action of its representatives and reinstate me in the authority which I claim as the Constitutional Sovereign of the Hawaiian Islands. – Queen Lili’uokalani to Sanford B. Dole, Jan 17, 1893.”

Hawaii was annexed  ( not admitted, not ‘became’ a state- amm )to the United States through a joint resolution of the U.S. Congress, signed into law by President McKinley on July 17, 1898.

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When The Burden Is Your Soul

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I used to think that doing nothing was much easier then doing the right thing.

And then I realized what a burden it must be to have to tell yourself every single day that you didn’t donate food to the food bank or one of those Scout Troops or kid’s sports team leagues because ‘ you were to busy ‘ to drop a can of soup into a barrel.

It had nothing to do with the fact that you just don’t CARE enough to drop a can of food into a barrel.

But that’s what you have to tell yourself every single day.

That conversation must have gotten old for you ages ago.

Over the weekend a friend of my husband’s asked why he was out protesting a Hate Group when ‘ it’s not that much of a problem you know’ my husband’s friend said.

I’m sorry, if you’ve ever had just one person jab their finger in your face and say you don’t deserve to live because you’re a race mongrel it’s a HUGE problem.

I’ll be honest, I used to think it was easier just to ignore bigotry too because dealing with it can be a real danger to you and your home and your family.

But now I think it’s much easier to deal with a Mob of guys wearing hoods on their heads or with Swastikas tattooed on their arms and shaved into their hair then it is to live with the knowledge you told a friend to accept that they should spend the rest of their life hiding behind a locked door watching American Idol and ‘relaxing’ then to try to do their best to bring dignity and safety into the lives of their friends and family and community.

It must be hard to know you just told a friend to pretend they don’t exist, that in a way they don’t really matter. What a waste of time it must be to tell yourself everytime you look at your friend’s face that you’re telling him he’s less entitled to human dignity then you are ‘for his own good’.

I’ve changed my mind, it might be harder to do right, but when I think on it, I think its far more easier then doing nothing at all.

Church On Thursday

I’ve had bad moments in my life but I haven’t reached the ” kill me now God ” stage.

It’s been close but I’ve dodged that bullet- however I have been around people when they all but dropped to their knees and hoped, they prayed that the Black Hole that’s supposed to be in the middle of the Milky Way Galaxy will burst and then spread and suck them up like lint into a dust buster.

You can’t NOT watch those human train wrecks no matter how hard you try not to.

I like to go to this little Chinese restaurant for lunch- the staff is nice, the food is good and I happen to like watching the Chinese Music Videos that they have going on the TV.

I can’t understand a word of it, but who cares? The music is good.

Anyway, I’m eating my lunch and the waitress is telling me about her weekend and what she’s going to do to celebrate the Chinese New Year.

That’s when these 5 guys come in and she seats them at the table right next to me and sets them up with menus. While she waits for them to order she comes back to my table and she’s telling me all about her New Years plans and the food she has to make.

Sounded good and she did almost all of the chatting when the guys say they’re ready to order. So she goes over, takes their order and goes back to the kitchen.

That’ when these guys start going on about this case and how they’re going to play it in court and it was an education because I had know idea the law was so – flexible.

Lawyers I thought to myself- but you bet I listened in because the dirt they were dishing was pretty interesting. It was like Law and Order on TV but nastier.

Then they move on to other subjects, like this other attorney in their office whose sleeping with the receptionist … and this attorney and the receptionist are both women.

I’m just amazed at this point that these guys are so loud and vocal about this stuff when it dawns on me that they’d only heard the Waitress talk…and my friends she has a heavy, heavy accent.

And I am very very not white looking.

In fact there was a couple of dozen other people in there for lunch besides me and the Attorneys and almost none of  the other patrons were speaking English to each other.

So I wondered if they knew I could understand every single word they’d said and I decided these are well educated people in the middle of Seattle having lunch should know better then to think something that…lame.

The waitress got the food out and just before she walked passed me I reached out and touched her arm and said, ” so, like are you gonna have Pizza at your party? Cause if you do I am SO there. ”

That’s when the silence from the next table spread and blotted out the Sun and changed reality as we know it.

I heard somebody’s fork hit the table and then I looked up and smiled at my co-patrons with a wolfish smile. That smile involved all of my teeth and it was so big I think I may have hurt some of the muscles in my face.

But it was so worth it.

It’s funny but at that moment I would have swore in a court of law that all five of those guys looked exactly the same…maybe it was the looks on their faces that gave that impression. You know it was that look that said,

” Kill me God, please kill me now. “