Ya-Ya Network, New York State Youth Leadership Council and PEN American Center

August 23, 2012.

My bicycle had a flat. I could have patched the tube and tried to ride it but the tires needed replacing and the bike shop that I am religiously loyal to is closed on Wednesdays - I'd forgotten and stopped by far from public transportation in the shadows of the BQE or LIE or whatever that highway is that runs over Park Ave in Brooklyn.

I became a pedestrian for a day.

I work on Seventh Avenue between 28th and 29th Streets. I get out of work at 2pm. I had to be at an MSF goodbye party at a bar around the corner from the office (see image below) by around 5pm so I could get to a GGs Reunion on St. Mark's Place by around 7pm. It was a sad day (see image below - the sunshine of the office was departing for the field) but a business day.

I was doing the pavement pound: spontaneous interruption of grassroots youth advocacy orgs in action. If I was from a different time with a different kind of upbringing I think I would have enjoyed being a door-to-door salesman.

First on the list: YA-YA Network. Just around the corner on 29th Street.

Stepping out the elevator, I walked into a wide open space where a group of teenagers was gathered enjoying their last day of the year as community organizers for YA-YA (Youth Activists - Youth Allies). I was given a platform and told to sell my product to the youth. Would they buy it? We'll see, I hope I recognize some of their activist faces at the launch in a couple of weeks.

You can't really see my outfit in that photograph but I probably do look like some sort of a queer salesman with a vest, no sleeves, a tie with Yogi Bear and my generic fedora. Not to mention super-city hoop earrings. And my baggy boy jeans in an early state of disintegration. The hole in the crotch not yet noticeable.

Second on the list: Southbound to Lafayette and Bleeker to walk in on NYSYLC. There was a buzzer and an intercom. I walked up a couple of steep flights of stairs. Found their suite and was met with curious but dismissive glances from a busy staff in a narrow office each at his or her own computer working efficiently. I commenced my pitch, a little bit breathless not really caring what effect my fedora and Yogi Bear tie would have on these gritty activists. One of them kind of looked at me and asked if I was in the right place. Yeah, I said, a bit breathless from the stairs. And got through my pitch, their eyes turning toward me with a bit more attention, one woman especially interested. This would be her niche. They took my flyers and said their thanks. I said mine and headed to

Third on the list.

PEN America. The literary giant of Freedom of Expression. Heroes. Icons. Lots of straight white people having debates about how to have more people of color and women on their panels. I don't think they have progressed the argument so far as different sexualities, trans-identified ... I mean, they're still working on women in leadership positions. But still, an international force to be admired. They're huge, founded in1922 and still manage to avert missionary styles of speech. I mean, their president from 2004-2006 was Salman Rushdie and he founded the PEN World Voices Festival in 2004, so that's pretty much my knowledge of the organization. Which is a beautiful angle.

I found their Broadway building and went in and the young security guard pulled out his book to tell me PEN's floor. Shaking his head and commenting on how he could never remember which company was on what floor. He was cute.

I had to wait a minute for one of the two old-fashioned elevators to descend for me to then ascend to the 3rd Floor.

Immediately across the elevator bank was a closed door with a sign PEN American Center. Easy find. There was a bell that I rang and nothing happened. I tried the door. It opened. I entered. There was a high reception desk to my right and a wall of cubicles preventing a deeper view of the office. And then an open space on the left. A small conference library looking space. But memory is funny and this happened five days ago so who knows what the office actually looks like. There was no receptionist to be seen. No sound of clicking keyboards, rustling paper or murmuring voices. I thought if I walked in there would be empty desks and computers turned off. It would have been too much like a Paul Auster novel based in New York City turns into a Haruki Murakami novel and when I left the building I'd end up in the sewers of Tokyo.

So I left my propaganda on the reception desk which had a few other stacks of paper on it, perhaps from months ago. Maybe no one had been in the office since the World Voices Festival. Maybe I'd stepped into France or Germany and everyone is Out For August (OFA). And I left, in tact, still in New York City and with the low hopes that my project would be circulated amongst their young writers.

All in all I walked about seven miles that day. Participated in an MSF send-off to be remembered. Speeches and messages read aloud from Blackberry phones to say you are our light, we'll miss you. Then to a grassroots organization reunion at Grassroots Tavern and made connections with community garden activists while drinking pitchers of beer and shooting darts with grace, if not accuracy.

African Voices, A Bike Ride Up Frederick Douglass Blvd, Charan P. Morris and Akeema-Zane

Tuesday, August 21, 2012.

I had a meeting with LAMBDA fellow poet and high school teacher Charan P. Morris at Astor Row Cafe at 4 o'clock.

I finished work at 2 o'clock so I decided to ride up the West Side Highway and swing by African Voices to personally invite Carolyn A. Butts to Raw Fiction's launch at FiveMyles on September 15. The magazine shares an office with the NAACP and as I sat next to this driven editor and journalist I couldn't help but conjure W.E.B. DuBois and think about The Crisis. Harlem in the early 1900s, in the 1920s. Harlem a century later: Red Rooster and Starbucks, The Apollo and H&M, The Library, The Schomburg Center, rent prices going up while community staples are shutting down.

Hue-Man Bookstore. I rode up Frederick Douglass Boulevard. It has a bike path etched along the side - I love how powerful the bike lobby is in this city.... if only those people could rally for our schools and social services then we might actually see some progressive change. Instead they get lanes carved into roads that push out ancient business owners because they are now safe roads in safe neighborhoods attracting all sorts of safe people. The city needs more bike lanes so Harlem's jazz legacy can eke out a living based on the generosity of bussed-in tourists.

I saw Hue-Man Bookstore. An empty storefront. What will move in? A real estate agency? A Five-Guys burger joint? An organic restaurant? Owned by how many people who have only been to Harlem once?

I passed the building that once housed Hue-Man Bookstore and I felt something akin to disillusionment washing through my gut.

I crossed 125th Street and continued north. On my right appeared Amsterdam News. Inspiration resurfaced and an idea for a really cool field trip was planted.

After getting a coffee and chips from the deli I go to when I go to The Schomburg Center and sitting on somebody's stoop watching people coming and going from the Countee Cullen Library I popped into the Schomburg to see what was up in the front gallery. Gordon Parks: 100 Moments. Gordon Parks was the first black artist to produce and direct a Hollywood film, "The Learning Tree."

A lot of thought and inspiration can happen in two hours. As can a lot of cycling. I rolled down to 130th and locked up outside of Astor Row Cafe, named for Astor Row which is the nickname for the stretch of semi-attached row houses along the south side of 130th Street between Fifth and Lenox.

There are some people that you know you're not going to get a lot of time to talk to so it's important to make the most of the conversation. Charan P. Morris is one of those people. She is a straight-shouldered, straight-talking kind of poet, performer, educator. And I wanted to know what she thought ... about education, community, gentrification. I wanted the reality check I knew she'd be able to give me. She, like me, speaks without smiling when she's passionate, her eyes clear and vision focused.

College: Everyone should have the opportunity to get there.
Literacy: Our youth need to learn how to read and think critically. Literacy is necessary in high schools because our elementary schools and middle schools have failed our youth and continue to push them out toward adulthood.
Charter Schools: No. Not a solution.

The Future:
Charter Schools, Bike Lanes and Red Rooster

The Past:
Hue-Man. Public Schools. Baldwin.

But not if we can incite change. How? I don't know. But it won't happen unless we try.

After eating a toasted sesame baguette filled with mozzarella tomato and avocado with an iced hibiscus tea, discussing Raw Fiction and the logistics of connections made I said goodbye to Charan and headed back to The Schomburg to meet up with Akeema-Zane and catch the Moneta Sleet, Jr. exhibit in the back gallery. Glorious photojournalist. Rosa Parks. Lena Horne. Martin Luther King, Jr. singing and playing piano with Coretta Scott King and their daughter, Bernice. Eartha Kitt and her baby, Kitt. Haile Selassie.

Akeema took me to The Shrine. We caught up. Recollected about a movie seen and totally forgotten over a year before. It was a French film she remembered. African. Cote d'Ivoire. And out tumbled a loose storyline of images of love, betrayal, violence, obsession, lesbians, homophobia, friendship, exile and a heroic return. Who called Jared Diamond a racist? We spoke about her love for Octavia Butler and disbelief in the universe. I hate outer space and all discussion of conquering("exploring") it but I love the universe and her energy, even when she completely baffles me with her lessons and methods of interference. Imagine though. We've never been to outer space. There isn't even an outer space. No man on the moon, Curiosity is zapping some dust on a rock that is floating around in our very own atmosphere. Man has duped himself into believing far more absurd impossibilities than the existence of the universe, our planetary system and life outside of earth.

What is the purpose of mankind within a universal context? Probably insignificant.
What is the purpose of the individual within a universal context? Irrelevant.

What is the purpose of mankind on the planet earth? Arbitrary.
What is the purpose of the individual on the planet earth? To be significant in his community.

exalt youth

I was prepared. I had flyers and brochures printed, I had my wallet, the sky was clear and I'd left my bike at home. There were no train delays and I exited at Borough Hall, found Remsen Street sans ado, went through two friendly security guards and found Suite 1000: home of exalt youth, the most exciting organization I found without referral. I found them on Idealist.

exalt's mission:

exalt is premised on demonstrated success showing that substantive, supported internships can be powerful catalysts and incentives for youth to pursue their education and employment goals. Our mission is to transform the lives of court-involved youth by equipping them with the skills and experience necessary to become self-sufficient members of society.

exalt fulfills this mission by providing a cohesive program with four components: employability and life skills training; paid internships in youths' fields of interest; post-internship skill development and support services; and an alumni network that provides ongoing access to education and career development support and resources.

Instead of sending an email I decided to show up unannounced on a Friday afternoon and introduce myself to a receptionist. What a presumption I made! I walked right into an office in action. There was no front desk and there was a lot of movement of very well-dressed youth and staff. They were preparing for graduation. The energy was high and focused. Despite my intrusion I was greeted pleasantly and I was welcome to state my business.

Luckily enough I'd opened the door on Gisele Castro, the Director of Programs and External Relations. When she said her first name I recognized having seen it on the website, right below the name of Founder and Executive Director, Sonja Okun. I started describing my project and Gisele saw connections and movement and opportunity for the youth who were about to graduate. I hope something can come of it, if there is a youth in their midst who is interested in writing I can only be confident that Raw Fiction would benefit from the skills and community awareness he or she would bring to the table.

I left feeling rather exalted. Headed up Fulton Street barely taking in the commodity lined blocks and bustling Brooklynites, thinking about what I was doing with Raw Fiction. This one time project. So many organizations struggle endlessly to keep their doors open, and I really don't believe I have the personality type to endure a long-drawn battle, but one time, is it really enough to make the difference I want to see, to create the debate I hope to inspire and to learn the skills and theory I seek to develop?

Make the Road by walking it and you will find your path.

Still Waters in a Storm, Make the Road & the day I rode nearly 40 miles

The first time I contacted Stephen Haff, Chief of Still Waters in a Storm, a reading and writing sanctuary in the volatile, big-hearted neighborhood of Bushwick, Brooklyn, was in March when I was still trying to figure out how exactly I was going to pull off Raw Fiction. He was immediately welcoming and told me when the best time to stop by would be. The day I attempted to ride out to the small schoolhouse on Stanhope, I wound up with a flat tire while crossing the Williamsburg Bridge and then got so caught up with my own work I never made it back to see the school.

Five months later I finally made it to this haven for happy children. One day later than expected because of the rain it poured on Wednesday. What was the universe trying to tell me, I wondered? And I almost didn't make it again. And then I almost didn't make it on Thursday, 16 August, 2012 because I left my wallet at home. I didn't realize I'd left my wallet behind until I was going to pay at the print shop on E. 4th Street that only charges $0.39 for a color copy as long as you get 100 made. Plus 100 black and white double sided prints at $0.15 a pop. And haha, Mr. Independent Business Owner, I forgot my wallet and can't pay you for that $55 order.

Liton, the owner of the copy shop, was a lot more calm than I was and didn't accept my phone as collateral preferring to send me racing off to Brooklyn on my bike with my phone and his number in case anything came up. Hooray for good people! One hour and 10 miles later I was back, paid and had exactly an hour (minus 3 minutes) to get to Stanhope before 5pm.

I felt dizzy, my temples were pounding, my throat was parched. I knew I needed water but I was too spaced out to go in and buy some quickly so I snapped my helmet strap under my chin, threw my leg over my trusty black Mercier and headed for the Williamsburg Bridge. I took Broadway to Flushing and my adrenaline was so high I was flying past cars as I sprinted into Bushwick, and then I flew too fast past, way way past, Irving then Wyckoff, the cross streets, past Metropolitan before I stopped and thought, I've gone too far. Retraced my steps, legs growing muscle with every pump of pedal, and I made it, with 15 minutes to spare.

I locked up and walked into the store front school house with curtains and children's art work dressing the windows. I walked into a party, a festive scene with delighted children and relaxed adults. A table display of different kinds of cake stood as the centerpiece to this end of summer party scene. Stephen Haff, with blondish wisps of hair under his cap, came forward to greet me. The Chief of Still Waters, an appropriate title for this gentle soul who is at home in Bushwick with gleeful youth swarming around. Unfortunately, programming for teens is no longer available so his connection to that population is limited.

Stephen referred me to an organization called Make The Road which was not too far away. I went directly, dehydrated and on the verge of delirium but my adrenaline was so high I knew I could do it. Luckily I had to wait a few minutes before a youth power project organizer could meet with me.

I really must remark upon how graciously I've been welcomed into all the organizations I've interacted with. Me: sweaty and wild-eyed on Thursday or soaking wet from thunderstorms the previous day at The Center for Black Literature. People are willing to meet me, sit down with me, hear what I have to say. "I'm doing a project for youth, I want to give them professional skills." "Sure, come on in, let's hear it." It's all about the opportunity, the youth, the community.

So, I had a few minutes to cool down. I drank some water and collected my thoughts. When Jaritza came out to meet me she led me through the offices to the youth section. I confessed my lack of knowledge for the organization and had only just stopped by on the suggestion of Stephen Haff of Still Waters in a Storm. I was given a brief tutorial of what Youth Development means to Make the Road: activism, community involvement, knowledge of social and political issues. In their words: Make the Road New York (MRNY)* builds the power of Latino and working class communities to achieve dignity and justice through organizing, policy innovation, transformative education, and survival services.

Stop and Frisk is a big issue for youth. For those of you who don't know: "The police are stopping hundreds of thousands of law abiding New Yorkers every year, and the vast majority are black and Latino."

One of their big project is creating a newspaper written by youth in Brooklyn and Queens.

Young people thinking about and reporting on everything:

Not only am I doing my best to establish an idea and create a project that is inspirational I am realizing as I go along that I have been seeking inspiration and by going out, pedaling around, pounding the pavement, I am meeting and seeing the passion and drive that gets so overlooked by most forms of popular media and I am inspired.

I am thinking a nice aspect of the launch could include a table at which Brooklyn organizations can leave their flyers and information, get people signed up to their email lists and create connections with like-minded people doing social justice work all over Brooklyn and New York City. Launch meets Recruitment meets Networking event - with something of a chilled out carnival feel.

LJ Walker, The Center for Black Literature and Susan Kent

I've been busy finalizing paperwork and creating head space for clear and concise thinking and I haven't blogged in ages. I've been superficially surviving raw fiction but I need to explore the depths - by writing.

This week has been busy. I interviewed a writer who is about to enter the 11th grade. I connected with the Center for Black Literature, I went to Susan Kent's monthly event: Tell it Brooklyn, and had an involved conversation with Erica about the meaning of collaboration.

This is going to be a long and healthy post. I am going to find myself here.

Let's start with the interview. Had I mentioned this is not my first. Do you know that the goal is to find a web programmer before the launch even happens? In July I met with a young programmer who does not want to have to commit to anything. His name is Georgiy, a son of Eastern European immigrants, and was referred by iGotITtoo. A nonconformist to an enviable degree. Even Darwin, the mentor to the Web Programmer, a model citizen who fits in from the country club to the projects, Wall Street to OWS, elite athlete to star at the bar, and so on. Even Darwin was envious of this young man's sense of freedom and inability to conform to the positive learning space that Raw Fiction offers.

This past Tuesday candidate number two met me at the Brooklyn Public Library. He was another direct referral: a young relative of a woman I work with. He goes by the pseudonym of LJ Walker and self-publishes on a website called booksie. He's ahead of the game almost too much so, but I would love to radicalize his mind. He's perfect except he is not community-centric. Which then makes him perfect because it presents a challenge, and I like challenges. And he's confident enough to know that he doesn't want to be brainwashed by a radical like me so I could fail. I don't like to fail.

This situation kind of reminds me of the woman whose memoir I'm transcribing, but in reversed roles. She completely respects who I am but she is Saved and wishes I too were saved. She tells me about the love of Jesus Christ and I know she's not proselytizing at me but sharing and wants to open my heart. As a community activist I feel like I am saved (from the corporate materialism and conformist mentality of the system) and I don't want to force a sense of independence, freedom or nonconformity on anyone, I just want to share it and for it to be embraced unhesitatingly.

I'm flyering. Olin at The Center has been a glorious connection. Yesterday, in the pouring rain I met Maeshay K. Lewis, Program Director at CUNY MEC's Center for Black Literature, who went out of her way to put up copies of my flyer before I'd even delivered them. Thank you Olin, Maeshay and Erica of HMI! And Stephen Haff of Still Waters in a Storm, who I didn't see yesterday because of the rain and didn't meet in March because of a flat tire, but I will definitely, come sea monster or heavenly plague, make it into Bushwick today!

There's something disorganized about my efforts of outreach. It's inexperience. Timidity. Funding. Know-how. But I'm learning and getting the hang of it and being received well by strangers who care about the community as much as I do and are working for and running great organizations and programs. I would fall flat if it wasn't for this giant interconnected community that genuinely wants the best for the youth.

But I'm doing it. I even put flyers for the launch reading on random people's tables at Susan's event last night. I need to digress.

How cute is Susan Kent?! She hid behind the curtain all night so when I saw her briefly it was hard to take in the whole ensemble. Pigtails and hoops. There was a jester cheerleader to her look that was neither mocking nor to be taken seriously. One just wants to sit and chat and look into her eyes and flirt with her all night long. Alas, she has a job to do. Alas, she has a girlfriend. Alas, I'm just a kid to whom she had to explain Flyering at a Bar 101.

Can I digress again? Erica. I've already swooned in a number of past posts. But last night she was wearing a white, 1950s kind of conservative and classy dress. Skirt length, button down. Her hair evokes the passions of our Civil Rights Era. Her intertextuality of style is contemporary: New York City radical to be reckoned with.

And how do I find my way back to the thread of this post? I've thoroughly distracted myself. Zahra, why are you doing this project? I wanted to meet all the greatest women in New York, why else?

Oof, and that takes me back! Erica is contemplating becoming Raw Fiction's Project Consultant. If she had more time to offer I'd make her Executive Director because this girl is like come on Z, get on track, put it on paper. Share the theory, define the vision. And she tells me this in such a way I can totally hear her. Surprise surprise, I don't work well with everyone, I'm incredibly motivated and headstrong and often end up hurting other people's feelings. Other People's Feelings. Ha, that should be the name of my band. Or rather, I'm not even capable of hurting other people's feelings so I keep my mouth shut and then become all repressed and irritable so I end up hurting other people's feelings because they think I don't like them. And it's not that at all! I do really really like most people. I just don't like working with them. Teens are different. I love working with young people because they are just downright honest and I feel like I can be myself.

Fleshing it out, getting it out.

So, Erica needs me to write a job description for Project Consultant, Description of the Project, Motivation behind the Project, Mentor Outlines, Fundraising Plans, Expectations for the Youth, Expectations for Myself: What outcome will satisfy me. Let me throw in a timeline to the launch with it.

DEFINITION!!!!!!
Thou art the bane of my sense of arbitrary experience.

But I'm going to do it because it will be necessary and important. In order to sell this and get some grant money I need visibility with vision.