Luis Javier Rodriguez

The ride from the main airport in Venezuela to the capital city of Caracas took close to three hours, normally a half hour ride, due to bridge construction that complicated the accommodation of some 300,000 visitors to the World Social Forum here (with the slogan "Another World is Possible"). The re-routing took our bus through mountainous and heavily trafficked roads laden with shacks and poor people selling food and refreshments as traffic moved like molasses. Venezuela, as most Latin American countries, is extremely poor. Before you get to the main center of Caracas, you have to pass the poor dwellings, built as if on top of one another, in the outskirts.

Yet, Venezuela is in a revolutionary process, as the young members of the Frente Francisco de Miranda say, to remove poverty, erase illiteracy, and help become a beacon for social equitable change in the hemisphere.

I came as a delegate of the Poor Peoples Economic and Human Rights Campaign from the United States, representing leaders among the homeless, migrant workers, inner-city poor, Native American reservations, and in the battles of health care, decent housing, education, and dignity in the richest country of the world. The irony of bringing US leaders among the poor is not lost on me as Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez and the government-owned oil industry have made numerous offers to get gas and heating oil to the poorest sectors of the US.

I also came as a writer for the various magazines and radio outlets I freelance for. This, as you can see, is not a contradiction. I can be part of a movement and I can also bring out the voices, stories, truths of this vitally engaging conference, its mission, and diverse participants.

There is a US Tent where many groups, including PPEHRC, will hold panels, reading, and press conference. On Thursday night, January 26, at 7 PM, I will do a poetry reading and lead a talk on the major issues facing the poor in the US.

My first night in Caracas involved trying to find a place to stay (some of our party ended up sleeping under the US tent in the cold). I was able to hook up an $18 (which translates into 40,000 Bolivars) in a rundown section of the city (few amenities and lots of cockroaches). I didnt mind since Ive slept in park benches, in caves, and hammocks in Mexico and other countries Ive visited.

The highlight of my first evening was an impromptu talking circle with members of the PPEHRC delegation (which included a cross section of US activists) and the youth leaders of the Frente Francisco De Miranda, presently active in the re-election this year of Hugo Chavez and the continued growth of the Venezuelan Revolution.

The country seems to be united on the need to end poverty and have the world come here to witness as well as to voice the intricacies and complexities of this process. I was particularly impressed with the intelligence, spirit, and selfless efforts of the Frente to make sure the US delegation was taken care of, protected, fed, and talked to.

There are some people I met who had bad things to say about Mr. Chavez and the whole revolution, including the hotel proprietor who, when he found out we were part of the World Social Forum, threw four of our company out of the hotel (thus their night in the open), despite our pleas and willingness to accommodate them. He said he had to follow "rules of business." We said, damn the rules, people shouldnt be forced to walk the streets at night looking for places to stay, especially guests of the country. Fortunately, most Venezuelans were hospitable and self-sacrificing, particularly to the needs of the many foreigners in their country.

Today, I hope to make some connections as well as interviews to leaders in the US delegation, the Venezuelan Revolution, and among the many visitors from around the world.

This past month, on January 8, a good friend of mine -- I am Godfather to her daughters -- passed away from complications due to stomach cancer. Alma Delia Gamez was only 46 years old. Yet she had been a fighter for the rights of migrant workers, the working class, and other oppressed peoples all her life. Her mother, Trini Gamez, has been a community leader in the Hereford, Texas community (and the Texas panhandle and other parts of the Southwest) for decades.

Delia became involved with the Texas Farmworkers Union as a teenager. In 1979, Delia moved to Chicago and became active with the Illinois Migrant Council. She later became an organizer in the highly diverse, mostly immigrant Chicago community of Rogers Park. In 1996, she returned to Texas where she remained active until the final stages of her illness.

She leaves two wonderful daughters, Janelle and Micaela, now young women and activists in their own right. I also recall how Delia helped my son, Ramiro, and daughter, Andrea, when they were both troubled teens in Chicago during the early 1990s. Ramiro, who's now 30 and incarcerated in Logan Prison in Illinois, wrote this about Delia:

It truly saddens me to learn that Delia has passed away. When hearing of this, the many memories I shared with her flashed before my eyes. My sister and I had an opportunity to be part of her life when we were in the Rogers Park Youth Congress. Delia had brought together many youth and elders to help form this organization when she was working with the Jewish Council for Urban Affairs. It was a great experience. The meetings at her house were great events. Eveyone there were like family. There was music, poetry, laughter, and lots of food (for me, that was my favorite part!). Delia had a loving heart and compassionate spirit. Especially when it came to her girls, Janelle and Micaela. She loved them so much and tried to keep them involved in all the positive things she was doing.

I can honestly say I'm a better person having known Delia. I learned a lot from her. She helped me to see that I had the potential to be a leader and the willingness to help others, even when it came to helping my "enemies." Delia was devoted and dedicated in helping the youth. And even when she moved back to Texas, I know that devotion and dedication stayed in her heart, that her revolutionary spirit filled her soul. She was a mother to us all.

I'm sorry I couldn't be there by Delia's side during her sickness. But I know she will stay by mine to help guide me, enlighten me, and to help me stay strong in being a better father to my children. I know her spirit will always be with me.

Mexika Tiahui,

Ramiro

Over the years, I've been interviewed about various aspects of my life, including my writing life. Here I share one group of questions with you all as we begin the new year. Writing not just for work or for fun, but for life.

What kind of writer are you?

I write in various genres – poetry, children’s books, novels, stories, journalism, essays, memoir, and now screenplays. I try to bring craft and rigorous work to my writing, but also an emotional center. It’s an odd combination of discipline and follow-through with levels of don’t-give-a-shit madness. At the root of my work is a revolutionary soul. I want to transform myself, my community, my world. Words as hammer, words as feather. I know I’m in the right space when I write and it scares the hell out of me.

Why do you write?

Why do I write? To heal. To dance (words as drum). To wake up something beastly as well as some beauty (women are beauty – even if they don’t look too hot; men can carry beauty if they do their art well). I write to stay alive. I feel the most whole when I’m in a deep state of transcendental writing. Writing then is my practice, my career, my life line. I learned this when I was in jail, on heroin and other drugs, drinking, and suicidal. Turning to my art, I found what could save me. My writing always carries the wounds of my life, and it’s the gift these wounds have to offer.

What made you want to be a writer?

I first wrote while in jail and juvenile hall as a teenager. Something about telling my story overcame me. I felt the need to voice these experiences, these traumas, the depths of what I saw and where I had come to. I began a life of “crime” at seven. At age nine, my family fought all the time and once my oldest sister stabbed her husband. At ten my best friend was killed after we broke into an elementary school. At 11, I joined a gang. At 12 I started using drugs – huffing, dropping pills, then heroin. At 13, I began getting arrested for stealing, fighting, disturbing the peace. At 15 I dropped out of high school and got kicked out of the house. At 16 I was put into an adult facility following the so-called East LA Riot. At 17, I was arrested for attempted murder in which four people were shot. At 18, I faced a six-year prison sentence for fighting with police officers, I was hooked on heroin and by then 25 of my friends had been killed. I needed to tell why. I needed to express the pains, the sorrows, the hates as well as the glories of this reality. After I left “the life” at around 19 years (including getting clean of heroin “cold turkey”), I worked in industry – I became a welder, pipe fitter, mechanic, carpenter, smelter, and a steel mill worker. Again, so many stories accumulated in me. The pressure of the stories was so great, that by age 25, after seven years of drug addictions and seven years in industry, I decided to become a writer – working in weekly and daily newspapers, in radio, as a freelance journalist, and a poet. It’s the stories, damn, the stories. I went to school at night, took part in writing workshops and circles, and began this writing life that I’ve done seriously now for more than 25 years.

What advice would you give to a fellow writer who was just starting out?

Writing is a practice, a passion, hard work, a business, a dream, and the most frustrating thing in the world. A writer must withstand all of this. Oh, yes, sometimes there’s money and sometimes there’s recognition. But that’s only sometimes. If you can’t help writing, then write. Write all the time. And always read. Despite my pathologies and rages, I loved to read. In the streets. When I was homeless. In jail. I never stopped reading. And, of course, I still read in this calm family home environment. Reading has been the one constant. Beyond that you must never give up. Persistence is the true test of shamans and madmen. Do it no matter what. No matter what obstacles and sacrifices exists. It shows in the work. Those who breathe in and exhale words, who can’t live without them, can’t help but write life-affirming work (no matter how dark). You write even when it seems the world says no. In every no, there’s curled up a universe of yeses. The only art that matters is the art that is not supposed to be there.

This has been quite a year: War in Iraq continued with US casualties passing the 2,000 mark (more than 840 killed this year alone); members of the Bush Administration faced indictments in the CIA outing case; Hurricane Katrina tore through the Gulf States, exposing the insecurities in our Homeland Security system; accusations of torture were leveled against the Bush Administration (their main response: arguing the fine points of what constitutes “torture”); immigration issues became highly polarized with Minutemen on the border and members of Congress trying to make illegal immigration a felony and putting forth a multi-million dollar border fence; and revelations that domestic wire-tapping and surveillance went beyond possible “terrorists” to those who oppose the war and others not favored by the Administration (even former Black Panthers, although they were already targeted in the 1970s).

It looks like, as the saying goes, “we’re going to hell in a hand basket” (not sure what that actually means, but it sounds about right).

However, there is some good news.

There is a growing awareness and unity among people in the US as well as the world against globalization, war, the death penalty, and poverty. All these became major concerns of the media, entertainers, and an increasing multitude. It appears that previously marginalized issues and ideas are now moving center stage.

While there’s darkness in the body politic, there is also an expanding conversation about where we go as a people. Included in this is how we achieve a world we know can be just, humane, peaceful, cooperative, balanced, and healthy? Words, by the way, you will seldom, if ever, hear from Republicans or the Bush Administration.

The right wing in this country long ago declared a war for the “hearts and minds” of the American people. They have much on their side—wealth, most of the media, fundamentalist Christians (not all, however), and their reliance on people’s fears and uncertainties.

Some of these conservative warriors were around in the 1960s and 1970s, and much of their ire seems to be directed at the last structural reforms in government (around civil rights and the rights of women). They held a grudge since then and are now getting their payback. That this is indicative of mental instability is another matter—or that their “scorched earth” tactics ends up destroying civil liberties, national unity, and real lasting peace for everyone (even their own children).

Their real opposition today, however, is not liberals—they were ideologically defeated when “reforms” could no longer meet the basic needs of the people. No, the very nature of the system they hold sacred will do them in. Capitalism has reached critical limits in its ability to expand and to find new exploitable markets (although it keeps trying). Even oil is finite and getting closer to being exhausted. War, lies, corporate greed, scrambling for power (or cover as the indictments keep coming) is now par for the course for the most powerful and wealthiest in the land.

The façade of social decency, civil discourse, democracy, and honesty has been slipping away as the most fascist elements in this country prepare their rule (summed up as the unity of capitalists and the government, but not the people).

Today more people are impoverished than ever before—while the richest share in the most obscene waste and extravagance (when poor people in the hood rap about “bling bling” and Bentleys, where else is there to go?).

So as the New Year dawns, let our hearts and minds and creative powers flourish as we collectively challenge the thieves, liars, and death-dealers.

We have to imagine another way to go, to envision a world where science removes disease, poverty, and cultural waste; where people are politically, economically, and spiritually sovereign; and where the world’s vast socially-produced wealth is distributed on the basis of need, not just to those who can pay for it.

Ashé

So the Republicans in the House want to make illegal immigration a felony—and to build a 700-mile fence on the Mexican border. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. But consider the source: These are the same fools who most ardently supported Bush’s war in Iraq without real evidence (including backing the Patriot Acts’ most insidious provisions); they’re the same ones who failed the people of the Gulf States when Hurricane Katrina swept through there; they’re the same ones who have enriched their corporate friends (Halliburton and the oil companies never had it so good)—but moreover, they’re helping turn the US government into the administrative arm of the capitalist class.

Since the Republican’s control of the White House, the Supreme Court, and most of Congress, we’ve seen our liberties erode, our economy throw more people into poverty, and our government deeper in collusion with the most powerful corporations. Now supposedly alien concepts like “torture,” “voter fraud,” “illegal wire tapping” and “partisan corruption” (Delay and others) are linked to this country (the US always had these, but they were never part of the national debate as they are now).

And they also want to make felons out of people who just want to live? To make a fence that will cost billions that should go instead to housing, healthcare, jobs, and real security (economic as well as from natural or man-made disasters)?

As Bush once said, “Fool me once, shame on me…uh, fool me twice... uh, and you’ll never fool me again”—something like that.

Actually the saying is: “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

How long are we going to be snowed over by these narrow-minded, incompetent, and callous people? And, still, they come back with more inane ideas and debacles (I must say they’re persistent).

Enough already.

Of course, I’m not saying the Democrats are doing any better (remember, 30 House Democrats voted for the latest immigration bill). They have no real challenges or meaningful responses to Empire, war, economic polarity, and racist and mean-spirited border policies. Both Republicans and Democrats are trapped in the past—the Democrats for the most part are in the New Deal era; the Republicans, unfortunately, are back there in the 19th century.

Who’s got a vision for our future? A vision that does not require war, fences, dividing the country (we are more divided now than anytime since the Civil War). Who’s got a vision based on cooperation and laying the economic, political, and cultural foundation for the full and healthy development of everyone?

Who’s got the vision that utilizes the massive social energy of people—our greatest resource—and the most advanced technology ever known to humanity to better our lives, our connections, and our world?

I heard a Republican once say that the border fence was to keep the “third world” from coming to our country. He forgets that we already have a “third world” here—parts of the de-industrialized Midwest and much of the South; inner-city LA, Chicago or New York City; and just about any rural hamlet in the country. We helped defraud and exploit most of the world’s resources and labor—now we don’t want the people who have paid the price for this from coming over to our shores?

What about consequences? Oh, these Republicans are gung ho about the death penalty; three strikes and you’re out; and having poor people suffer just for being poor—but not about their own crimes?

This situation is, as Malcolm X prophetically and truthfully once said, “the chickens coming home to roost.”

Only these “chickens” are not our enemies. They are not terrorists. They are human beings, like us, wanting to feed their families. As long as the extreme inequalities exist between the United States and Mexico (and the rest of the so-called third world) you will have people trying to come over (the 10 million Mexican undocumented and legal residents in the US make more money than all of the close to 100 million still in Mexico).

Enough already.

The Republicans and Democrats do not represent our interests—as poor and working people; as families with mouths to feed; as they ones who labor at the lowest levels of economic life and keep this economy going (despite never getting enough to cover the basic needs).

We have more in common with Mexicans, Central Americans and others who have had to come to this country to survive than we do with Halliburton, Bush, Cheney, DeLay or any of the other Republicans (and most of the Democrats) running this government.

The real con is thinking that these fools have the same interests as we do.

The real shame is having a significant portion of Americans falling for their schemes, their lies, and the deep mess they’ve put us all in.

These past couple of days, I've taken part in some Internet debates on the execution of Stanley Tookie Williams. Here I present some of my responses.

One person claimed that Tookie was no hero--that he deserved to die because he was found guilty of murdering four people in cold blood. And if he was a real gangster, he should have "taken it like a man" and accepted the death sentence. This is what I wrote:

Okay, let's say Tookie was no hero. That he was a low-down gangster bum. Maybe Tookie "deserved" to die. He may have played everyone. But we shouldn't have anything to do with killing him. Not as a people, a conscious, alive and moral community with standards that should be higher than Tookie's or his victims (most victims want payback). If he was in the streets of LA instead of prison some rival gang member might have done him him. But why did it have to be us?

Now, I don't happen to think that about Tookie. But from the gangster view point, he should have "accepted his fate." He's supposed to do and die and not cry. Who the hell needs that? I've known countless homies and other vatos who've lived by that. What a waste.

The complexity of this issue, like any other, has to find a clear line of march regardless of the difficulties. Some stand with killing him. I stand with that's not for us to decide.

We're either in the life business or the killing business.

You want a hero? There's nothing heroic in having the full power of the state kill a man. Nothing. It's more heroic, believe me, to want to kill, to have so much pain and hate, to want revenge, and then decide, after the most wrenching battle with oneself, that there's got to be another way to go.

Violence is the closing of our imaginations. Tookie could have taught our kids there's another way to imagine life, even if you've done terrible things. That even in prison, you can do some good (we have enough of our brothers and sisters in prison, wasting away. Let them do some good).

Remember, he was the one leading Crip who turned against the gang life. Far more who continue the gang life from behind prison bars are still at it, doing damage as we speak. Nobody is stopping them. But even if we could, we can't kill them all (nor do I advocate we do that--many of them are also capable of helping our youngsters).

We have to imagine another way out.

Another person said, "I consider myself liberal and progressive... but I don't object to capital punishment for cold-blooded murder." Here's my response:

You have to maintain a certain assumption to believe we have the means, the desire, or the kind of system that can actually make a cold-blooded killer pay for his crimes. In South Central LA--as most poor communities--there are no CSI teams, no great forensics doctors sweating over details of evidence to make sure they get "the right person." That's TV, in fantasy land (although quite possible in wealthier communities).

Instead there are overworked police, detectives, and lots of pressure to "get somebody" versus getting the truth.

I know. My wife worked for the Cook County court system in Chicago for years--she quit, finally, after witnessing too often the injustice of poor black and brown people being shafted by mostly white judges, prosecutors, and defense lawyers in a complex and intricate system (and I know there are good white people out there who do care, many of whom stood by Tookie until the end).

I've also been a court advocate for a number of youth (including my own son, but also in a "Walking With" project I've been involved with for years) and an expert witness in some federal deportation cases. And with my own experiences as a youth in juvenile hall and adult jails in the East LA area I can tell you--if you're poor, you're screwed.

I was around LA in the 70s and early 80s (I moved to Chicago in 1985), when police went all out war with gangs, including Crips and Bloods. There were lots of murders, lots of arrests, but not necessarily the right arrest to the right murder. It's possible Tookie killed other people. We don't know (and I may have a strong assumption about this, but who cares). It's also possible in that kind of warfare climate that he was set up. Many thousands were set up. I know of killers walking the streets, while some other poor fool is in prison for life. I also know that Tookie was somebody the police wanted to get. Find the right murders, the right people to turn against him (his own accomplices, done by separating them, scaring them, even beating them if they have to--real "gang" loyalties fall quickly in many a police station), and some jailhouse informants (who would lie to save their own asses), and they got their man.

What's the more probable? He could have killed those people. But it's also probable in that climate that he was set up.

People get arrested for things they didn't do all the time. Remember, 120 men have been found innocent and taken off death rows around the country, despite prosecutors, jurors, police, and others swearing to their mothers that they were guilty.

President Bush once claimed he could sleep at night despite allowing the executions of many Texas death row inmates because he said the system was infallible and they were all guilty. Now there's proof that at least one Texas executed man, Ruben Cantu, killed at 26 for a murder he allegedly did at 17, has been found innocent.

But he's dead. "Sorry. We'll try harder next time."

No. If there were a real system of justice, with real equal access to science, dedicated detectives and resources, and no racism or class prejudice in the mix, you might say, just maybe, that real killers should be killed.

But a real system of justice wouldn't even go there.

There are 3,000 murders in LA that have not been solved--what about those victims? There was a time when the United States had 20,000 murders a year (significantly down over the past ten to 20 years). Yet slightly more than 1,000 people have been executed since 1976. What happened to all those other murders?

Can we possibly kill 20,000 a year for every murder committed?

How come there are Crips who have done more damage than Tookie, yet are still alive?

Maybe (here's something to think about), since Tookie was accused of killing non-black folk he needed to go. Maybe that was his downfall. Lynch a black man for daring to kill a white guy (and Asians as well). Most Crips who have killed have killed their own people. When was the last time one of them got executed?

There are statistics proving that blacks who murder outside their race have a greater chance of being executed than if they killed other blacks.

How much more do I have to go on?

No, we can't allow the state to kill in our name. I will fight for the healing. For the peace. For the imagination and the deep changes we need for real justice to exist. California, or any other state, don't kill for me.

This past weekend, several of us drove by San Quentin Prison on the way to and from a Mosaic Multicultural Foundation meeting (which included plans for “Voices of Youth, Voices of Community” events in the Bay Area next year; I’ve done these events with some of the most troubled youth in LA, utilizing poetry, their voices, story, song, and community celebration).

Looking out the car window, I saw that people had not yet gathered for the daily vigil against the execution of Stanley Tookie Williams. Silently, I said a prayer as we climbed onto the San Raphael Bridge, overlooking a wondrous sight of Bay waters, hills, and the amazing skyline of San Francisco in the distance.

I’ve been to San Quentin Prison a couple of times to read poetry, along with Mosaic teachers Michael Meade, Orland Bishop, and Jack Kornfield. The prisoners say looking at this sight from their cells may be more torturous than if they only had to stare at deserts or flowing cornfields.

The scenic beauty surrounding San Quentin contrasts sharply with the darkness inside the state’s only death row. As many had predicted, Governor Schwarzenegger denied clemency for Tookie, the redeemed former gang leader’s one last shot at life pulled out from under him. Early on Tuesday morning, December 13, after struggling for 35 minutes to find a vein, Tookie’s died of lethal injection.

I’ve received a myriad of responses to what I’ve written on my weblog and to what I've said on the radio (I did a 5:30 AM interview for New York City’s WBAI radio shortly after Tookie’s death). Most support my position that Tookie should not have been killed. A few didn’t... although they not only supported his death, they gloated about it (“boo hoo hoo for Tookie Williams,” one emailer wrote sarcastically).

In death penalty cases you see this kind of reversal all the time—the so-called “good” people sometimes exhibit the most callous, cold-blooded justifications (Governor Schwarzenegger’s statement denying Williams clemency was a rehash of the state’s case against Tookie as well as a right-wing diatribe against his politics).

It’s all hypocritical and rotten to the core of our being.

That same morning, I read how President Bush, responding to a question, declared that 30,000 Iraqi civilians and 2,140 US troops have been killed since the invasion of Iraq. Yes, the Crips have done massive lethal damage to communities all over the country, but how can this government claim it can stand above the mentality that drives most of these killings? Iraq didn’t even have involvement in the 9/11 massacre of the World Trade Tower (and the Bush Administration’s dance around this won’t change that basic truth).

I even read about a new book on the Skull & Bones "gang" that President Bush, his father, and his father before him all belonged to. In fact, Prescott Bush--Dubya's grandfather--reportedly dug out the skull of Apache resistance leader Geronimo that apparently is still missing and presumably in the possession of Skull & Bones.

We do a terrible disservice when we only designate poor people's (black, brown, and white) street organizations as "gangs." As you can see, there are many other types of gangs doing crazy things in this country, although they will never pay a price for this.

The reality is we as a people and a state squandered an opportunity. Faced with the dilemma of grieving crime victims and Tookie’s vast community support we failed to rise to the challenge of becoming compassionate, humane, imaginative, and to lay the groundwork for real healing. Instead we chose death. And the cycle continues.

Tookie’s struggle is not over. They’ve killed the person, but not the spirit. We will have to carry on. For peace, for justice, for real redemption (ours, not just Tookie’s), and real social change.

Yes, I agree with Tookie—let’s stop gang warfare. Only not just in the barrios and ghettos of the country. Let’s stop it from the Bush Administration, to Governor Schwarzenegger, to the local police. Let’s work to stop it all.

“Should we kill this Crip?” This was the main headline in the December 4 Los Angeles Times’ Current magazine, one of several about Stanley “Tookie” Williams. The subtitle was “He’s a murderer. He should die.”

Umm. This sounds as if an enemy Blood member could have written that. I mean what’s the difference between what a lethal gang member might do on the streets of LA and what the state of California plans to do on December 13? Yes, I’m sure anyone can enumerate various “superficial” differences, but essentially it’s the same emotion, the same pain, the same wound that says “Tookie Williams should die.”

Haven’t we had enough?

Another article had the headline: “Our Real Heroes Don’t Kill Black Kids.” But arguing for Williams to “pay” for what Crips and their wannabes have done is lynch mob mentality (even if the article was written by a black man). Williams is not killing “black kids.” Hyperbole when a man’s life is at stake is not a proper humane response (and to say that Williams may not have had the same level of humanity when he supposedly killed his victims does not justify any inhumanity on our part). Besides, the killing of blacks in our streets can’t be resolved by killing another black man.

I see a certain madness enveloping us when it comes to the death penalty and race. We become caught in a web of hate, revenge, fear, victimization—and now we can’t see straight. Even if Williams actually did what he was convicted of (the murder of four innocent people in particularly brutal armed robberies), what closure can anyone really get from his death?--except the most dark/revengeful kind that ends in blood. Isn’t that what drives gang members to acts of vengeange? Again, how do we rise above this if we get the law and the state to do the same thing?

Here are some facts we shouldn’t overlook: Most gang members are lost youth needing mentorship, guidance, resources for work and life, and strong, cohesive community. Most do not murder (with 125,000 gang members in LA, according to some official numbers, we’re not seeing 125,000 murders). While a couple hundred gang murders a year in LA is bad enough, can we really stop the madness by killing Williams? The fact is so-called gangs form in the spaces where community, family, schools, and real mentoring have stepped out.

Tookie’s death is not going to be a “lesson” to any potentially murderous gang kid with these persistently empty spaces in their lives.

Let's not forget also the possibility, as Williams and his lawyers have consistently stated, that the murders may have been done by someone else. The system is not infallible--no one should die when too many cracks and improprieties continue to condemn innocent people (more than 100 men have been released from death rows around the country these past few years).

On the other hand, someone of Tookie’s stature—something most of us will never have—can do more good if he turns against the violent, destructive aspects of this life and helps young people, black young people in particular, have a vision, a hope, and an imagination for another way to go.

This has more currency in the street where most of us have none. I’ll work with Tookie. Others will help. He’s not going to do this alone (many of us, including former gang members, have been doing this already for years). I wouldn’t just leave this up to Tookie—everyone needs to be positively and actively involved in the lives of our youth.

It’s time for us to be the heroes—forget Tookie’s alleged heroism. Remember, Williams had a longer road to travel to get to where he is now. It may seem harder for us, but I’m sure with real leadership, real caring, real humanity, we can get there as well.

The young men at Green Hill’s maximum security juvenile detention center waited patiently for the other units to come in and sit down to hear me speak. Earlier I had addressed another group of incarcerated youth at the Maple Lane maximum security youth center. I usually try to visit a prison or a youth facility during the many talks and readings I do around the country.

This time, professors and students, including from Mecha, at Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA had invited me to speak to a class and at a public event; they also arranged for me to address the incarcerated youth through an important intervention program called Gateways.

These facilities were two of the three groups of juvenile detainees (the other was from the Rancho San Antonio juvenile facility in the San Fernando Valley) that I addressed in November.

As usual, the young men were attentive, respectful and full of questions. Many had already read my true-life account of gang life, Always Running, La Vida Loca, Gang Days in LA. Others knew about my poetry. The racial mix of the groups were almost evenly divided between Mexicans/Latinos, African Americans and whites. Regardless of this, they were all interested to hear my story—and to add their stories to the continuing one of this country’s poor youth: broken families, little or no economic life, bad schools, little or no recreation, and wholesale social neglect. All faced deep crisis in spirit and vision. Most did not know what they were going to do with their lives. Yet, as always, they were smart, incisive, and capable of great imagination.

One of the young men I met was the nephew of former Black Panther Geronimo Pratt, who was falsely incarcerated for 27 years in the California Penal System before he was exonerated and then released. Compare that to the Ku Klux Klan and other racists who killed civil rights workers and leaders in the South, mostly getting away with it (even after confessing, as the killers of Emmett Till did 40 years ago) or not facing their comeuppance until they were ripe old men.

These and other realities are not lost on these young men. They know because of race or their social class position they were going to be handed a raw deal. Opportunities were going to be few and highly competitive. They were not going to be adequately prepared for jobs or better schooling. If they couldn’t hold a decent job (in communities where unemployment can reach 50 to 70 percent), they would probably end up in prison.

After telling my story, I also conveyed to them the idea that they, too, have valuable lives. They, too, deserve chances to heal, to overcome their traumas and issues, and to contribute in a positive and meaningful manner to the world around them.

I told them how we don’t need anymore “raggedy” men in our communities—where there are too many men not fathering, not working, not learning, not going anywhere. We didn’t need anymore of their faces in our prisons. We needed them to stay strong, get skills, learn to be healthy and loving to their partners and children, and to give back from their own gifts and passions to enhance the streets they came from.

It’s a hard message to get, let alone agree to. But most of these visits usually end in some insightful communication and shared recognition of what needs to be done.

As a teenager stuck in the same kinds of facilities—I was in several East LA and West San Gabriel jails, Central Juvenile Hall, a continuation high school, and two adult jail facilities before I turned my life around in my late teens, I wish I had people talk to me. The few who did reach out meant so much. I was one of those who needed a lot of help, who had few people willing to help, but who finally made a decision to listen to them and make the most of their assistance.

We all need help. Particularly if you’re caught in the webs of gangs, drug addictions, violence, and the streets. But too many of us end up turning away from this help—we end up letting the few doors that open for us close shut (doors that usually take a long time to open again, if ever).

My talks have to be straight forward, clear-cut, and to the point. There can’t be any BS. Luckily most youth, particularly those behind bars, have a built-in BS meter. Being honest and open, knowledgeable and poetic, truly helps in reaching youngsters often designated as “unreachable.”

In November, I also got to speak in Chicago, including at an elementary school a junior college, and an international conference on “Gangs and Globalization” at downtown’s Northwestern University School of Law. Here we had researchers, former gang members, current gang members, youth organizers, and community advocates speak on how best to deal with the growth in gangs across the country. My friends, the long-time activists Tom Hayden and Bernardine Dorhn, invited me to be a keynote speaker.

Again, the issue is to be clear on the facts. To realize that more police, more prisons and more punishment only makes the situation on our streets more dangerous. We need real and comprehensive rehabilitation, real resources for work and schools, and real creative outlets for all our young people.

We need the social resources designated for the so-called gang problem to heal, help, and turn our youth around—not enshrine them in their pathologies and pains. Not warehouse them. And not forget they are human and capable of vital changes in their lives and the lives of their communities.

They'll be a price to pay no matter what we do. But the price we pay if we don’t change from punishment to redemption, from having youth face a vacant future to one filled with immense possibilities, will be worse than if we do.

To California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger:

In the state of California, there are many wonderful people and accomplishments to commemorate and honor. But we are also a state rife with conflict, pain, and trauma. We need to be about healing and reconciliation. We need leadership that can help this state get through some of the terrible violence and sorrow we've had to deal with over the past thirty years.

There is too much death, too much hate, too much fear, too much trivializing "justice" by using it for revenge. Stanley "Tookie" Williams has done more to save lives these past few years then most people who are not in jail. He made many mistakes (although he contends he's innocent of the murders he was convicted of--something I don't think should be taken lightly). But what he has done to redeem his life, to make some value of his mistakes, is noteworthy as an example for anyone who may also be faced with such choices: we need more people to stand up and do the right thing.

And former gang members can reach present gang youth better than anyone--if we have examples of any who do, we should not diminish the power of such examples.

I am a former gang member, author of the best-selling memoir, Always Running, La Vida Loca, Gang Days in LA (Touchstone Books/Simon & Schuster). I know the importance of reflecting on and assessing one's life--and helping others do the same. I know the importance of rehabilitation and then allowing people to help others when they can.

Official revenge (which much of the death penalty is about) should not be sanctioned any longer. You cannot make right the murder of others by murdering the so-called culprits by so-called legal means. It only continues the cycle, the pain, the hate.

I ask of you to be as human as we want the most inhumane person to be. Our callousness as a community, a society, a state, contributes to the callousness in our streets. We need to feel. We need to care. We need to differentiate ourselves from the very real murders that destroys whole families and often communities. We need to be the more conflicted, complicated, and caring of all.

Please don't let Stanley "Tookie" Williams be killed on December 13, 2005. Please stand above the politics and pressures to not care, to not feel, to "be tough." We don't need no more tough guys (they're in our streets, in our culture, in our homes). We need the complicated but difficult humane response.

Tough enough to care, not to kill. Thank you for reading this.

Respectfully,

Luis J. Rodriguez