An interview with Feministing editor Samhita Mukhopadhyay (28) is like a fast-paced workshop on how to be a tireless wireless feminist. Mukhopadhyay is one of six female staff members that run the blog Feministing. The site editors and founders are motivated by their belief that young women are rarely given the opportunity to speak on their own behalf on issues that affect their lives and futures. Feministing aims to provide a platform for women to comment on and analyze these issues. Roughly 25,000 unique users per day visit the site, which gets more than 50,000 actual hits a day, according to the site's most recent data. A men's group, in response to Feministing's success, has created a mock-feminism blog site at Feministing.org. Mukhopadhyay says: "That shit just makes us more famous."

The site is no sorority house side project. It doesn't "hate" men. It doesn't have male contributors, although men frequently respond to its blogs. It prefers quick, off-the-cuff blogs and rants to fully reported news articles. Mukhopadhyay is the only woman of color among the site staff. They make money off of page ads which is typically spent on new writers or travel.

The San Francisco Chronicle in an article about feminism and First Lady Laura Bush in May 2006 called for a new, all-inclusive "Big Tent" feminism, and chided Feministing as "righteous" in stating that feminism isn't for everybody. AlterNet praised Feministing for its ability to segue flawlessly from rants on Chilean President Michelle Bachelet to reports on a skin-tightening product called "Virgin Cream."

As a feminist blogger, Mukhopadhyay's focus is on productivity and connectivity. During our interview, she huddles up with her laptop and multi-tasks. While firing off responses to my questions, she's also reading an update about an alleged gang rape at Fresno State, recommending other blog sites to me, discussing the pros and cons of polyamory versus hetero-normativity and debating the relevance of mainstream media.

GM: Is the blogosphere the location for a new feminism?

Samhita Mukhopadhyay: If you are an activist and not reading blogs, you're not doing your job. [The blogosphere] is a listening audience and an active audience. It could be anyone out there; an anti-feminist from Ohio, a housewife in Illinois.

GM: Are most of your readers from the Midwest?

SM: We get a lot of response from the Midwest and Austin, Texas, but the Bay Area and New York City are our two mainstays. We hear from a lot of college students.

GM: What do you think draws people to a blog site like Feministing?

SM: Anonymity -- that's the best part about it, for most viewers who want to participate in in-depth discussions. [Anonymous] people say shit they wouldn't normally say. People chime in with very personal stories. "As a woman of color in this town...," you know, like that -- I'm sorry, I just saw an update on this 11-year-old girl who was [allegedly] raped at Fresno City College. Excuse me for a second. I've got to write about this immediately...

GM: It's almost like it's you and your computer against the world. But aren't there drawbacks to leading a feminist movement through blogs? What about face-to-face dialog?

SM: Well, this is our activism; engaging with other bloggers. But yeah, we talk all the time about whether or not we are organizing the people we talk about or if we're just computer nerds. We want to alliance-build. But is it always safe to sit behind your keyboard? No. I still don't always feel confident or safe.

GM: How so?

SM: People come to the site, read my blog and say things like "Don't get out of hand." This is still the dominant view, and there is still such a gendered power imbalance, and it's easy to get caught up in all that and think, "Well, you're right." People have told me I'll never have a journalism career. Some say my writing is unbalanced and anti-white. But it's not, not in this context. I write what I feel and what I see, through the lens of post-colonial theory.

GM: And how, through that lens, are you working to build alliances?

SM: By continuing to read and write. By going to events. I attended "Action in Media" at [the Massachusetts Institute of Technology] this spring. It made me realize how much influence Feministing has. People there knew who we were. In feminism, it's so important to be among colleagues to challenge each other and be surrounded by each other. Plus, a lot of men read my blog. That's how I get laid (laughs).

GM: I think men come to feminism in a lot of different ways. I have a friend whose idea of feminism is to let woman pay the tab at restaurants and bars.

SM: That "what can women do for me" mentality is patriarchy at work. They try to put the joke on us. Statistically, men still make more money than women. But that's not what it's all about. It's about access and power.

GM: Can you elaborate? What are some issues you are focused on right now?

SM: In politics, there is an assault on women and reproductive issues. Look at South Dakota right now and this whole "Plan B-conscience clause-pharmacy ban" thing. I get hundreds of comments daily. I've got 140 comments on drinking and self-esteem alone. I can't read through all that. But also issues like immigration, and how it's a feminist issue. It's not just about the lives of women. It's about how gender and sexism affects our lives. There's Roe vs. Wade, child molestation, rape laws, affirmative action, health care, prostitution, and retirement, like how women have no access to pensions in the UK. I'll even talk about Britney [Spears] once in a while, if it's relevant.

GM: You talk about building alliances, challenging notions of access and power and how gender and sexism play out in society. You don't need to be a feminist to actively struggle against these things. Plus, plenty of folks are quick to dismiss women who stand on a strong feminist platform. Do you consider yourself to be an unmitigated feminist?

SM: Yes. I am a feminist, because I believe that this society is inequitable because of gender, race, class and sexuality. I recognize it and actively seek to change it.

GM: Do you expect people to be on the same page with you?

SM: Feminism can be recognized in many ways. For me, it's more about what our moments of resistance are as women: a mother kicking out her deadbeat husband for not taking care of their child; women with multiple sex partners; women earning power in board rooms. Taking back. Acting back. It's complicated.

GM: Is it possible to have a united feminist movement?

SM: Those chicks who flashed their tits in the 60s largely cater to the white middle class. They often don't do enough to include women of color. I think what you see now is little clusters [of feminists] getting together on issues, like the Duke rape case. It's fragmented, but once something happens, people rally.

What does it mean when a democracy removes the vote from several million adults? How is the political process affected when certain groups -- racial minorities and low-income whites, in particular -- bear the brunt of this disenfranchisement?

These are not abstract questions intended to tax the minds of students in a poli-sci class. Rather, they are questions about a massive contraction of the franchise that is occurring, today, largely in the shadows, in the United States.

Let me explain. Over the past quarter century, the number of incarcerated Americans and those with felony records has more than quadrupled, largely because of the ways in which drug wars have played out. The African American portion of the prison population has skyrocketed -- currently getting to the point where half of prisoners are black.

There are, in 2006, well over two million Americans living behind bars. If you pick up a felony, you automatically acquire a host of collateral handicaps. If it is a drug felony, you are ineligible for welfare and public housing in many states, you lose access to government loans, and depending on which state you happen to live in, you lose your political rights -- your ability to vote and to sit on juries.

In many states, especially those in the old South, picking up a felony means that you can never vote again, unless you complete the extraordinarily cumbersome and time-consuming process of applying for clemency.

In Florida, where nearly three-quarters of a million residents are currently disenfranchised, people who have finished their prison, parole and probation sentences and who want to vote have to fill out pages of questions, provide an array of detailed personal information, and submit an application for clemency to the clemency board, which then makes recommendations to the governor.

Four times a year, the Florida governor convenes a panel to hear these applications. Those seeking a restoration of their voting rights have to travel to Tallahassee to petition the governor in person, a significant journey for a poor person from Miami who has to find travel money, hotel money and also the money to absorb income lost from days off work. While tens of thousands start this process, the governor only hears about 50 cases per session. As a result, far more people lose their vote each year than can possibly hope to regain it.

In Mississippi, the process is even more restrictive. To get their vote back, a Mississippi felon has to convince a member of the legislature to introduce a bill specifically re-enfranchising that individual; both houses of the legislature have to support the bill; and the governor has to sign it.

Not surprisingly, few people navigate these mazes successfully, and as a result, more than five percent of all adults and a quarter of adult, male African Americans in the South are legally prevented from voting by state authorities.

Anyone who pays any attention to politics knows that we're a country divided. While the 2000 presidential election produced the freak outcome of an almost-exactly tied race, with the electoral college coming down to Florida and Florida coming down to a few hundred votes, we're in a period where Republicans and Democrats are both able to rely on support from nearly half the eligible electorate, leaving a couple million votes on the margins to decide electoral outcomes.

With more and more low-income people now being funneled into the criminal justice system -- the result of a recalibration of social priorities that has led America in recent decades to embrace a scale of incarceration not seen anywhere else on earth -- more and more people are returning to society as political invisibles. They complete their sentences, and yet they remain without rights of political participation that most of us assume to be universal.

These political invisibles have a dramatic effect on election outcomes. In 2004, for example, while many of the voteless had too many other things to worry about to care about casting ballots come Election Day, many others were desperate to vote.

Lloyd Brown, in Virginia, had spent the better part of a decade trying to convince state election officials to let him vote again. First he'd encountered active resistance, then, when a new governor came in who wanted to re-enfranchise people, he found the elections department had lost his paperwork and he had to start the multi-year process again from scratch.

In Nashville, Tennessee, Jamaica S. spent five years trying to get re-enfranchised after losing her vote on an accessory charge that had only resulted in 15 months probation. Clinton Drake, a Vietnam veteran living in Alabama, had been permanently disenfranchised following a marijuana conviction. Victoria, in Washington State, had lost her voting rights after committing welfare fraud. All of these men and women told me how frustrated, ashamed, and humiliated they felt because they couldn't vote.

Take an increasing number of poor people out of the process, and politics is increasingly becoming a game played by, and for, the affluent classes. Remove the voting power of the urban poor, for example, and issues of importance to inner-city America are unlikely to get much attention when politicians are busily stumping for votes come election time.

Since we presumably want ex-cons to rehabilitate themselves and become law-abiding stakeholders in the community, we should encourage, rather than prohibit, their political participation. By not doing so, society has given up on them. By not doing so, society is keeping them invisible.

I think my first indication that taking a beginners' stripping class was not going to be exactly what I had been envisioning was when we (a group of ten girlfriends on a bachelorette party outing) were introduced to our instructor, Daphne. She happened to be a perfect physical mix of Jenna Jameson and Mary Lou Retton.

She also paraded around the waiting room in little more than a bra (think see-through black lace, not sports), short shorts (think matching black lace with ruffles on the butt, not something she would wear biking), and five-inch red and black platform shoes. Earlier that day, anticipating nothing more than maybe a minor deviation from a run-of-the-mill aerobics class -- doesn't Teri Hatcher do this as a workout? -- I'd thrown on a faded tee-shirt I'd had since high school and stretched-out, paint-spattered sweatpants.

Daphne led our group into a large studio, illuminated only by big candles dripping sexy red wax amidst five metal poles. She turned on Barry White, and I almost died when she then whipped out a bag of neon-green g-strings with ties on each side and started passing them out. Sure, I was among close girlfriends -- but let's just say I wasn't thong-ready under any circumstance.

I felt better when she ordered us to put them on over our underwear, because we were going to learn how to give "our men" a sexy dance involving the removal of said g-string. I felt less better when, upon my attempted sexy removal, the piece of neon-green floss actually got stuck and I had to reach down into the back of my sweats and yank it out.

My dismay mounted when we started learning more moves: we had come from a huge brunch (and I was admittedly about three Bloody Mary's deep), so I could barely move, much less roll around the floor, splay my legs, gyrate my hips, twirl like a ballerina around a pole, or according to Daphne's impassioned instruction, "sloooooowly trail my fingertips from my hair -- giving it a sexy tousle -- down the side of [my] body, across my breasts… " At one point, my friend Liz looked over at me and wailed, "I feel like a 90-year-old woman with arthritis trying to be sexy!"

Part of the reason why we took the class in the first place is because my girlfriends and I tend to consider ourselves pretty adventurous and free-spirited. A few months back we started regularly going to (female) strip clubs and getting the occasional lap dance, while the mostly male clientele licked their chops. However, suddenly two things made all of that a lot less alluring for me -- and one of them wasn't that every time I tried to swing around the pole, I got dizzy and my sweaty hands caused me to land in a heap on the floor.

First, taking the strip class put me square in the stripper's shoes (heels), right there on the stage, under the flashing lights. Second, and more importantly, reading Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy gave insight into the mind of the stripper, and the overall rampant pornification of our culture at large.

Levy writes about the proliferation of "raunch culture," which, regardless of my self-proclaimed staunch feminism (women can make any choices they want!), I have been unwittingly engendering by doing things like going to strip clubs. Levy says in raunch culture, it's the norm that "all empowered women must be overtly and publicly sexual … and the only sign of sexuality we seem to be able to recognize is a direct allusion to red-light entertainment."

All during strip class, Daphne kept repeating the mantra ad nauseum: everything we were learning was for "[our] man." To me, empowerment signifies control -- and the man-centric philosophy strip class (not to mention the whole stripping industry) seemed to espouse flew in the face of female control, either in society or just swinging around the pole.

Empowerment in my view is also about equality -- and if all things were equal, would women necessarily want to be stripping for the greasy dollar bills that men throw at them with the same hand that wears their wedding bands? If my experience is any indication, I don't think so. Proponents of "female liberation" might argue that some women are really comfortable with their bodies and like what they do with that pole, but as Ariel Levy says so perceptively, "because I am paid to is not the same thing as taking control of my sexuality." Liberation implies we have broken the chains that have bound us to our status as sexual inferiors, and as Daphne's sultry intonations suggested, that's definitely not the case.

Ms. Levy continues, "The vast majority of women who enter the [stripping] field do so because they are poor and have no more attractive alternative" -- and they stay poor. It really unsettled me to discover that I, as a "feminist," would exploit one woman's lack of power in the name of my own empowerment. This sort of hypocritical "empowerment for sale" mentality strikes me as another layer of conspiracy in the race to keep women down, and indicative of the fundamentally economic nature of the inequality of the sexes.

If we were smart and really empowered, we women would use our economic power to take sex out of the equation. Similarly, Female Chauvinist Pigs quotes Erica Jong as saying "sex is not power -- women in decision-making positions -- that's power. When the senate is 50 percent women, that's power. Sexual freedom is a smokescreen for how far we haven't come."

In a perfect world, I'd love to be able to be judged for something other than my physical appearance, and for something other than just my sex. Strip class taught me though that at least for the moment and to the detriment of all women, even the rare few who actually hold truly powerful positions, achievement for us is tied to sex.

The question is, what are we going to do about it?

When conscious and political hip-hop had risen to its zenith in 1993, the radical anti-capitalist hip-hop group The Coup, led by politically-minded emcee and producer Boots Riley, released their first album, "Kill My Landlord." The video for the Oakland, California-based group's first single, "Not Yet Free," was on regular rotation on BET's Rap City and Yo! MTV Raps.

When the genre of politically conscious hip-hop was removed from the mainstream spotlight soon after, Boots and DJ Pam the Funktress remained active, receiving acclaim and praise for their follow-up albums. Their last ablum, "Party Music," was named the best rap album of 2001 by Rolling Stone and best album of 2001 by the Washington Post.

Now signed to Epitaph and armed with a better record deal, the Coup is ready to make another killing with their upcoming release, "Pick A Bigger Weapon." PopandPolitics.com caught up with Riley, a former youth activist, at his home in west Oakland to rap about politics, hip-hop, and the new album.

PopandPolitics.com: What motivated you to become an activist and what motivated you to pick up the mic?

Boots: Everyone wants to connect to the universe. I found that to really be part of it all, to really connect to the universe is to help to change it as opposed to just being there watching everything go past me. I think once I started organizing when I was 15, I realized that this is why I wanted to get involved. This is what I wanted to do. I wanted to feel like my time here is significant.

PandP: On "Laugh/Love/Fuck," (a song from the upcoming album "Pick a Bigger Weapon") you say on the chorus that you're here to, "Make the revolution come quicker." How do you plan on doing that through your music?

Boots: Hopefully, my music can be used by organizers as something to inspire themselves and others to keep doing the work they're doing. Also, there are messages that can be rallying cries to rally more people to the cause of what they're doing. I think music in and of itself serves as a cultural point of reference. People can hear an idea, a theme, and some music and know that everyone else that is listening to this music is relating to that theme or idea or goal in some way -- so it can help and create a unity of thought in some way, shape, or form. Hopefully my music can be used that way.

PandP: The new album's heavy on funk. How does The Coup's sound fit in with the current Bay Area scene, juxtaposed with the hyphy culture that's going on?

Boots: We've always been very funky in our music. And what's coming out is a variation of that funk that's been in the Bay Area for a long time. So we're right there in the middle of it. Our bass has always been low. Our stuff has always been crazy. My rhyme patterns have always been unorthodox. I think some of what people call "hyphy" music is mainly drums with few instruments. There are a few hits that are out that sound like that, and people call it hyphy. People think of Mac Dre's music as hyphy and his stuff is very much bassline, keys, guitars, everything. It's the same sound…. And our music is part of that sound that's always been there. The hyphy thing is more of an attitude than a sound change.

PandP: How did the industry react to the original cover art for "Party Music?" [The original artwork, completed three months prior to 9/11, depicted the twin towers blowing up and was slated to hit shelves around the same time.] What was your personal reaction when 9/11 happened?

Boots: I heard about it [9/11] on the radio and I didn't make a connection to the cover really, because planes slammed into the World Trade Center and I didn't picture it looking similar. On the album I have a bass tuner and Pam [the Funktress] has conductor's wands. It's supposed to make the statement that our music is destroying capitalism. I was fine with pulling the cover. My music talks about masses of people coming together to affect change. The album cover was only a metaphorical piece of art that talked about what we wanted our ideas to do… I was fine with pulling it so that people didn't mistake what I was talking about.

At the same time, it had gotten so much publicity. Many entertainers at that time that had anything political about them were scared of getting shut out of the industry. I had publicists that were like, "I can't work on your album anymore 'cause I won't have a career after that." I used it as an opportunity to speak out at the time against bombing Afghanistan. The main controversy I got was not for the album cover, but for the statement that came out afterward that stated the U.S. had created worse atrocities all over the world, and what the flag stood for, to me, was slavery and oppression. That's what got all the right-wing writers up in arms.

PandP: Your new album's coming out on Epitaph, what used to be a predominantly punk label. Why is a punk label enlisting more conscious hip-hop?

Boots: As you see from marketing, the same people that buy Jay-Z buy Linkin Park. The same people that buy David Banner buy Evanescence. It's the same people buying all of this stuff. Record labels see that. A lot of the punk audience listens to "underground" hip-hop. Also, Epitaph is known for taking groups that sell 100,000 to 150,000 copies each time out and tripling, if not quadrupling and quintupling their sales. They have groups that they have taken from 50,000 sales to 700,000 when they join them.

PandP: I remember watching your videos in the early 90s. Your videos used to get played on BET, but they don't play any of your recent videos.

Boots: BET's Rap City used to be a format in which, if you could show you had a good quality video and song and you had national distribution, you had a good chance of being able to get played on Rap City. It's not like that anymore. You have to show that you're getting regular rotation spins on the radio.

PandP: Is your audience generally comprised of an alternative crowd? You were featured in Bakari Kitwana's article "The Cotton Club: Black-conscious hip-hop deals with an overwhelmingly white live audience" in the Village Voice.

Boots: My live audience is the same as most hip-hop audiences, which has to do with the fact that black people are kept away from shows. Even here, the KMEL crowd [a popular mainstream urban radio station in the San Francisco Bay Area], it's not mainly black when you go to their shows, it's mainly a white audience. A lot of that has to do with how shows are promoted. That doesn't mean that the crowd that listens to this music doesn't have more black people listening to it, it has to do with how promoters are encouraged to keep black people away, everything from ticket pricing to where flyers are passed out to where events are held.

What I was talking about [in the article] is that hip-hop is being gentrified by the police and by the industry, which is quite a different angle than what he [Kitwana] took. What he tried to say was that black people don't listen to any music that's political anymore, which is not the case. He tried to make it seem like 50 Cent and Eminem have a greater percentage of black fans, and we know that's not true. If you get anywhere close to platinum or gold, most of your fans, 90 percent of them are white. My point is not that a lot of my fans aren't white. Many, if not most of my fans, are white -- but that is the same for Master P, that's the same for Jay-Z, that's the same for all of hip-hop.

Hip-hop in general, when black folks get together, the police don't like it. A fight that happens when there's a black crowd turns out the whole show, the police shut it down. But a fight that happens when there's a white crowd, those fighters get pulled outside and the show goes on. You don't hear about it because the show didn't get cancelled… The other thing is, police can decide based on no obvious criteria at all, to okay the permit for your event and that really just depends on who they deem the crowd is going to be.

Yeah, most of my audience is white. Most of the people that buy Nikes are white, most of the people that buy FUBU are white, most of the people that watch Dave Chappelle are white. We live in the United States and the people that have the money to buy these things are going to be white. My music is about the working class defeating the ruling class, and in the working class, there are people of all shades.

PandP: Why the title "Pick a Bigger Weapon"?

Boots: It means "up the ante." And the reason I used "Pick a Bigger Weapon" is because I think that we're all fighting the system whether we feel like we're in the struggle or not, and that fight takes the form of struggling to pay the rent, trying to keep the lights on, things like that. Those are the struggles we all should be engaged in collectively. It's about taking our daily struggles and collectivizing them and it would be a stronger blow to the system.

Also, my girlfriend and I were having dinner with poet Jessica Care Moore and my girlfriend was on her third or fourth martini and Jessica was like, "C'mon girl, pick a bigger weapon." That's symbolic of people looking for ways to make their lives better and right now we've been taught to overlook actually fighting the system together to make our life better.

Every time I drive down La Brea here in L.A., I always do a double take when I cross Pico. There is this huge red sign in front of a store in a strip mall that says, "100% Indian Hair." As a South Asian woman, I find this sign ridiculously strange and wonder just what exactly would happen if I walked into the store. Would they turn me away? Would they kidnap me into the back room for a hair hijacking? Should I start collecting the hair out of my drain and bring it in for some extra money to pay for grad school? What is it about my kind of hair that makes beauty shops so excited about advertising that they have "100% Indian Hair?"

I am reminded of a former African-American co-worker of mine every time I think of hair weaves. I remember the first time she told me she was getting hair extensions in her hair, how she was so excited and ecstatically told me, "I'm paying more money for my extensions because it's real human hair!"

I was mortified. "Whose human hair is it?!?!"

She thought about it for a minute. "You know, I don't know. I just know it's human hair."

I was seriously grossed out by this thought. I likened it to using old nail clippings and glueing it onto someone else's nail. You see, in the process of getting hair extensions, one gets long strands of hair, sometimes fake, some times real. These strands are then placed into people's hair to give the appearance of longer, fuller hair overnight. The hair can be braided in, glued in, sewed in, or clamped in. People pay a lot of money to get this hair placed into their own. But the thing that they don't know is where this human hair comes from.

Why Indian hair? Because our hair is the best. No, for real, that's what the research shows. Indian hair is thicker than European hair and thinner than Chinese hair. Once treated, it is less prone to breaking. The best kind of hair is long and untreated, with all the cuticles in the same direction. It is collected in plaits. Where, oh where, can you find such hair?

Well, the web research show that plaits of hair in India are cut off for weddings or offered to god at religious temples. This hair is then collected by "hair factories" that buy it for 15 rupees (25 cents) per gram. This one hair retailer based out of Chennai says, "Indian women donate their hair as an offering to their god as a sign of modesty. It is their understanding that it will be sold by the monks for a substantial sum of money that will be used to finance schools, hospitals and other publicly favored facilities."

I have some serious problems believing this. First of all, I don't remember an Indian wedding I’ve attended or a Bollywood movie I’ve seen where the hair was cut off the women. Secondly, women in India are ridiculously vain about their hair and will spend hours going through the ritual of soaking their hair in warm coconut oil and shampooing twice. A woman would have to be desperate and really in need of the 15 rupees per gram to cut her hair. Thirdly, supposing that women cut off their hair at the temple as an offering to a god. I'm not so sure that they'd be happy in knowing that their hair is really going around the world to be weaved into someone's hair for $50 a plait.

OK, here comes the speech. The thing that disturbs me about the whole hair trade is the "south corrupts the south" mentality, i.e., women of color in the United States are the ones benefiting from the exploitation of woman of color in South Asia. How can women consciously get human hair weaved into their own without knowing where the hair came from? Or that it came from the exploitation of other women of color? It's the same way people of color will go to Wal-Mart to buy their clothes without consciously thinking of the people of color who created the clothes in sweatshops. Where's the solidarity, people?

I'm all about looking good and spending the money on making that happen. I'm also totally aware that I have cream of the crop hair that is the envy of all, and whatever I say will be met with, "What do you care, you have 100 percent Indian hair." I also understand that there is a whole culture of getting hair weaves that I am not a part of, and that by telling people not to get hair weaves anymore, I am inflicting my cultural values on theirs. I get it. But I do think that, as one woman of color to another woman of color, it is important to know the truth about 100 percent human hair, that this hair was actually alive and had a life before it entered into a weave.

As for me, I'm going to start collecting the hair off my pillow and see if I can make some money with my 100 percent Indian hair.

During an interview with Mike Wallace on "60 Minutes" last month, Academy Award winning actor Morgan Freeman called Black History month "ridiculous," igniting a firestorm of debate about its observance. Freeman told a visibly shocked Wallace, "I don't want a Black History month. Black History is American History. There's no white history month."

Since Freeman's statements became public, I have read numerous editorials written by black intellectuals calling for the end of the celebration of black history month. The premise is that Black History month is no longer necessary, and that a 28 day observance both confines and trivializes the historic contributions of African-Americans in this country.

Prior to even thinking about what Freeman was saying, I had to first get over my continued outrage at white people asking black actors, athletes, and entertainers what they think about issues that are outside of their areas of expertise. Publicizing the opinions of Morgan Freeman doesn't make him a spokesman for the black race. I don't see anyone seeking out Robert DeNiro for opinions about Iraq, but that's a whole different discussion.

But in response to Freeman's comments, all I can say is, "Please."

Celebrating Black History Month no more confines the history of African-Americans than the one day MLK holiday confines the achievements of Dr. Martin Luther King. Or that St. Patrick's Day confines the history of Irish-Americans to March 17th. Want to know how to trivialize African-American history? Eliminate Black History Month.

Mr. Freeman and others maintain that in place of Black History Month, black history should be incorporated into the mainstream history of America. Their thought process is that black history can be celebrated every day by its proper inclusion in American history. Mr. Freeman went so far as to ask Mike Wallace, "Which month is white history month?" The answer unfortunately, is that every month remains white history month in this country, and it is precisely for this reason that Black History month remains relevant and necessary.

Sylvia Cyrus-Albritton, director of the Association for the Study of African American Life and History, (which originated the observance of what is now Black History Month), points out that the country still has a long way to go in making its history inclusive. As she told the Baltimore Sun in December:

"We have a mission to research, promote, preserve and disseminate information about the contributions of African-Americans in history and their diaspora," she said. "When that mission is complete, maybe celebrations like Black History Month can take a different slant. American history books -- and the way it is taught -- still [do] not include the full contribution of African-Americans or other minorities for that matter.

"Dr. Woodson hoped that one day there would no longer be a need for Black History Month because it would be incorporated into American history all year round. So the goal Morgan Freeman speaks of is our goal as well."

In some ways, I can understand where Freeman is coming from. Ideally, we wouldn't have to have a special month because American history would be inclusive of all history. Freeman, however, also seems to be advocating that we shouldn't even speak of our differences. Instead, we should just pretend that not only is everyone equal, but that we are the same.

When Mike Wallace asked Freeman how we can get rid of racism, he replied:

"Stop talking about it. I'm going to stop calling you a white man. And I'm going to ask you to stop calling me a black man. I know you as Mike Wallace. You know me as Morgan Freeman. You wouldn't say, 'Well, I know this white guy named Mike Wallace.' You know what I'm sayin?"

I don't know about you, but I simply cannot agree with Freeman. We will not solve racial issues in this country by putting our collective heads in the sand and hoping they will go away. We can't run from our own racial past and delude ourselves that everything is ok in America. Our society still remains segregated in many ways, from where we live and where we worship, to who survives a hurricane. We like to think that we are a society beyond racism, but reality doesn't bear that out.

Race is America's great taboo, and the fact is that there are differences -- cultural and physical -- between people of different races. We need to acknowledge those differences. Pretending like they don't exist is ignoring the elephant in the room. Mike Wallace is a white guy. Morgan Freeman is a black guy. Why ignore the facts?

It's been said that history is written by the victors. Until American history becomes more inclusive of the contributions of all its citizens, Black History Month remains one of the few tangible ways that we can keep our nation's history accurate.

Who needs Black History Month? We all do.

The fate of the printed press will rest in your hands. Or rather, at your fingertips. In fact, you are becoming part of this media shift as you read this article -- not in print, but online.

According to the latest reports from the Newspaper Association of America, newspaper readership continues to drop, going from 62.4 percent in 1990 to 54.1 percent in 2003. In an extreme case, the San Francisco Chronicle reported a 16 percent decline in sales from March 2005 to September 2005.

Part of that decline has to do with how people like me get the news. It's not that I'm choosing to be uninformed and not reading the news anymore. In fact, I'm more in tune with what's happening than ever before. While copies of my printed local daily newspaper, The Davis Enterprise, sit on the stands collecting dust, I'm online getting my news for free.

These days, who has time to read the lengthy daily newspapers when there's laundry to be done and quarters to be salvaged? I want to see my news delivered in up-to-the-minute free byte-sized pieces -- and thanks to the BBC Online and CNN, I'm saving lots of quarters for laundry.

That's good news for me, but bad news for the newspaper industry. Unknown to many newsreaders, the digital age is wreaking havoc on printed newspapers -- both in readership and in classified advertising.

Classified advertising is the backbone of the newspaper industry. The money from classifieds funds a significant portion (27 percent, according to a December 11th article in the LA Times) of a newspaper's budget. Even my high school newspaper survived solely because our advertising efforts paid for the paper's printing.

But with the rise of sites like Craigslist.org, which provide the same classified advertising that newspapers do -- but for free -- newspapers are facing a huge loss in revenue. According to a November 30th article in the SF Weekly, Craigslist.org takes away $50 million a year in revenue from Bay Area newspapers. I still remember the days when searching for a job, a car, a house, or even grocery coupons took place through the daily newspaper. Now, one can accomplish the same tasks online without paying a dime.

Major metropolitan dailies, such as The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, The San Jose Mercury, and The Los Angeles Times are trimming down their staff and their text in the wake of declining readership and revenue. As a result, the quality of newspapers are suffering and young journalists such as myself will have a more difficult time finding a job. I received a letter from The Oregonian saying that they cannot have their summer internship program because of "budget cuts." Uh-oh.

On the bright side, I believe that the digital era of journalism will usher in a new system of news reporting. The next generation of reporters must work harder and faster (and unfortunately, for less pay) to develop news for the next generation of news consumers.

It is a transition that I witnessed as a newspaper intern for The Visalia Times-Delta when it launched an online breaking news section. Reporters would upload a short five-paragraph preview of their story and update the story as it developed. The final story would appear in the newspaper the next day.

I wondered why the newspaper would instantly offer its latest news for free. My editor told me that many of Visalia's residents were frequently visiting the newspaper's Web site, so this was a way of reaching out and retaining them as readers.

Newspapers' websites are also helping newspapers retain advertisers, too. According to a December 11th article in The Los Angeles Times, the readership at newspaper sites overall is up 11 percent in the last year to 39 million. "Newspapers are seeing a rapid rise of online advertising revenue to $2 billion," according to the article. It may mean more pop-up ads for newspaper readers, but the press will survive.

As long as there are still people who read and make the news, journalism will still have a place in society. The Internet and the digitalization of the daily metropolitan is only fueling the reader's ease to find out about the latest events developing in their community. A generation that loved the smell of a freshly printed newspaper will be replaced by a generation that loves the speed of digital text loading through DSL.

It's easy to dismiss Confessions of a Video Vixen, a book by ex-groupie turned 15-minute-fame-purveyor Karrine Steffans, which is rocking the hip-hop world.

Although Steffans -- whose tell-all remains on The New York Times bestseller list -- bills her story as a cautionary tale to young girls aspiring to be the next hottie in a hip-hop video, she lacks the necessary introspection and self-criticism, and she has an inflated view of herself and the goldilocks weave she sports.

So what if Steffans drank and did lots of drugs with A-list rappers and athletes? Her sexual diary includes romps with Jay-Z, Ja Rule, Damon Dash, DMX, Dr. Dre, Shaquille O'Neal, Irv Gotti, P. Diddy, Ice-T, and Fred Durst. Rappers passed her along to friends like bottom-shelf champagne.

Still, there is something to her story. Women's voices in hip-hop are muted, and Steffans' book comes along at a curious time. Essence magazine is attempting a campaign to take back the music, protesting vile video images degrading black women. Hip-hop feminist conferences are sprouting up across the country.

Meanwhile, the "video vixens" subculture is a be-seen-and-not-heard paradigm. Indeed, though Steffans' voice shouldn't be elevated as an emblematic one, in a fair critique of the video industry, accounts like hers need to be included. While Steffans has bought into the hegemony of her fate, she is offering a narrative in a genre that essentially relegates women to visual eye candy. Despite her poor choices, Steffans' tale has the potential to at least advance the debate.

"You would like to think [that] maybe these men who are exploiting women in hip-hop videos…will think twice, because you could be named or called out," says Gwendolyn Pough, a professor at Syracuse University and author of Check It While I Wreck It: Black Womanhood, Hip-Hop Culture, and the Public Sphere.

Pough says young girls who read Confessions need to understand how Steffans was objectified. "The story she ends up sharing, for people who want to help younger black women, knowing about those kinds of pitfalls and traps out there is helpful on that level."

Steffans, a former stripper, would sidle up to rappers on the set. After working a day on Jay-Z's "Hey Papi" video, the two took a beach drive that ended with him whipping out a condom and placing his hand on the back of her neck. When Irv Gotti wanted to kick her off the set of Ja Rule's "Between Me and You," Steffans, um, convinced him orally.

"She's very smart when it came to thinking about something to market. That, to me, is genius," says Whyte Chocolate, the Atlanta video dancer who stirred controversy last year by having her rear end swiped with a credit card by Nelly in "Tip Drill." But the veteran of 30 videos adds that Steffans is more groupie than video dancer, given that her portfolio is only a handful. "If she's a video vixen, then what the hell am I -- a video queen? This book was a disappointment. It could've been more exciting. What she said was true -- the artists wanting to fuck and get their dicks sucked. But it's not for everybody. She portrayed herself as a ho…You are only as good as your reputation. I built mine. Don't stereotype me. You earn the respect you demand."

Steffans is promoting herself with the aplomb of an ex-reality television star, appearing on urban radio shows, giving book signings and interviews. Her book caused so much stir in New York that she had to hire a bodyguard, and endure the wrath of emcees' wives calling radio stations, incensed at her accusations and pluck.

And some wonder if her narrative is giving ammunition to feminists -- or setting back women in hip-hop. "She's clearly an opportunist, and her perspective is sort of delusional. Her take on a lot of her 'relationships' are romantic when it's obvious to me…that the [rappers] really didn't see her as a romance. They saw her as sex. She sort of glamorizes this idea that she's having sex with these people. I don't see where there was a relationship or a bond there," says Tunesia Turner, of the Detroit-based hip-hop/soul group Black Bottom Collective.

Steffans tries to justify her reasoning -- she grew up in a household rife with emotional and physical abuse. Her baby-daddy is rap pioneer Kool G Rap, a man she hooked up with at age 17 and whom she claims beat her and forced her to perform oral sex until her nose bled.

She escaped his thumb, venturing to Los Angeles and immersing herself in the glamorous hip-hop world of parties, VIPs, and decadence. "The top reason a woman finds herself in a rap video, sprawled undressed over a luxury car while a rapper is saying lewd things about her, is a lack of self-esteem. I know it sounds like a cliché, but no one who values, loves, or knows herself would allow herself to be placed in such a degrading position," Steffans writes in the introduction.

But after she finishes her underbelly tour and learns that people like Shaq won't break her off any significant loot after she crumbles, Steffans veers back into her old ways. She trademarks the name "Superhead," a sexual nickname that stuck like ear wax. Steffans also writes that she can't wait for her son to read the book, and concludes by saying that she would do it all again.

I stood in a line that wrapped around the block for an hour and a half with hundreds of other women. I'd like to say that we were lining up to vote, to donate clothes to the needy, or maybe even to see "March of the Penguins." But I can't. It was a Thursday night and we were the lucky ones who had been invited to a special pre-opening shopping party of the clothing chain store, H&M.

For months, women in San Francisco were abuzz with the news that H&M was finally opening its doors in our city. Low-cost yet fashionable clothing would be ours! Ours! If you aren't familiar with H&M, it may difficult to understand the excitement this store causes in women across the board, whether they are hard core shoppers or not. I think it would be best if I illustrate this point with a personal example.

It was in New York City last summer that I discovered the delights of H&M. I was in town to cover the Republican National Convention and happened upon the store in my off hours. I only buy clothes twice a year and for me, shopping at H&M was like freebasing crack -- except it was cheaper and I got to buy really cute outfits. I was hooked and all of a sudden, nothing else mattered, not even the fact that at the exact moment I found and was trying on the perfect black knee-length floral skirt for $20 -- $20! What a bargain! And it wasn't even on sale! -- I was supposed to be covering a protest outside the Fox News building.

H&M won't make you lie, steal, or kill, but it will make you do crazy things like stand in line for an hour and a half, get into fights with people who try and cut in front of you, and squeal at ridiculous window displays. I never thought I'd be the type to stand in line just to hand over my hard-earned cash to a big chain store, but there I was -- and just hours after seeing Robert Greenwald's new movie, "Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price."

The movie documenting the evils of Wal-Mart is currently showing at small screenings across the country, and I was lucky to be at work when there was a free screening of it at San Francisco State University. While the film doesn't expose any earth-shattering information about Wal-Mart, it's very effective in hitting home the negative effects of the big chain store on communities, local economies, workers, and the environment.

The movie was still on my mind when I finally made it through the doors of H&M, and it made me question how much they were paying their employees. What benefits did they receive other than a 25% discount? As I tried on a black canvas pea coat with a fur hood for $60, I wondered who had made it and what hours they were forced to work. I picked up a wooly green knit cap priced at $8 and thought about all the small mom and pop stores that had closed because of Wal-Mart. Would anyone in San Francisco suffer because I purchased this hat at H&M?

In my mind I started walking out the door and away from the store. Everything within a three block radius was chain store after chain store. If a Wal-Mart opened in downtown San Francisco, it wouldn't be mom and pop stores that would suffer because they had already been run out of the area. Instead, it would be a retail battle of epic proportions, where Wal-Mart is Godzilla and Macy's is Mothra and all the people who have just stuffed themselves at the Cheesecake Factory are trampled and eaten as these two monsters battle it out. Similarly, H&M is taking business away from Gap, Express, and Urban Outfitters, not the local mom and pop stores. Would I shed a tear if H&M stomped the life out of Gap? Not likely.

Then I thought about my friend who owns a small boutique in the Mission neighborhood five miles away. I should spend my money at her store instead of H&M, but she didn't carry knit hats right now and when she did, they were much more expensive. This may come as a shock, but being the editor of a non-profit website isn't exactly the most lucrative profession. Shopping at small expensive boutiques, especially with rising housing and gas prices, isn't in my budget.

At the same time, being a 31-year-old working professional means that I need clothing other than t-shirts from American Apparel. Admittedly, the knit hat would be an unnecessary purchase, but the gray zip-up sweater top and the canvas pea coat were items I needed. Of course, when I say "needed" I don't mean that I would die without them, but they are necessary for performing my job in a professional manner. Kind of like a laptop, staples, and stickies.

Last year after I watched "Super Size Me," I stopped eating fast food. It wasn't hard, actually, because there were so many alternatives. I started bringing my lunch or would eat only at independent delis, taquerias, and chinese take out places. But after watching the Wal-Mart movie, I still don't know what the alternatives are. There isn't any other place where I can buy affordable, fashionable clothing.

In the end, with visions of Wal-Mart employees getting hours erased from their timesheets and Chinese workers getting locked in factories, I took my purchases up to the cash registers. What else could I do but carry my bag of H&M clothing out of the store and start walking home?

It was dark outside and I was a few blocks from my apartment when a car pulled up next to me and started honking. I was scared and quickened my pace, but the car continued to follow me. I looked around for help, but not many people were on the street. Then I glanced behind me and realized the car had three women in it and they were yelling at me. At first, I couldn't understand them, but then they pointed at my bag. "H&M!!! Is it open yet??"

Sage Francis ain't for your everyday Nike-clad rap fan. The Rhode Island native's music has been labeled "nerd rap" and "emo-hop," probably because he makes more references to Jack Kerouac and Johnny Cash than 2pac and John Gotti. Politically-charged and poetically-versed, his messages, buried in metaphors and witty wordplay, might take several listens to catch.

It's been a busy year for the one half of Non-Prophets (the other half is producer Joe Beats) and seasoned rap battle veteran. He released "A Healthy Distrust" earlier this year on Epitaph Records, recently released the "Life Is Easy" DVD, and is currently on tour in support of KnowMore.org, an online community website co-founded with his friend and fellow poet Bernard Dolan. The goal of the new site is to provide consumers with detailed information on corporations including -- business history, statement of ethics, shareholders, employee relations, and more.

Sage spoke to Pop and Politics in early November.

*****

You were the first hip-hop act to sign to Epitaph, is that true?

That's true.

Now their roster includes Atmosphere, Blackalicious, MF Doom, and the Coup…

Yeah, that's a pretty strong hip-hop lineup. It's probably the best hip-hop label out there, strangely enough.

But it's a punk label.

What makes it a punk label?

Well, most of their artists were predominantly punk.

They're a label that collectively puts out the hip-hop that I think is most important and the best hip-hop of right now. To me, it's a hip-hop label. But I don't care if it's a hip-hop label or not. I wish I was the only rapper on the label so I could have the novelty of bragging rights. But yeah, I'm really proud to be on a label with other artists of this era that I think are doing some really cool stuff.

Why is it that Epitaph is enlisting some of the most powerful hip-hop acts out there today, as opposed to hip-hop labels? Is it that they allow more artistic freedom?

SF:They do allow more artistic freedom. I think they have a better understanding of the hip-hop we do and how it came about and why there's an audience for it and how it actually is shared by some of their audience. Although, I think the punk pop contingent fan-base of a lot of Epitaph artists' aren't really into hip-hop or even whatever we're doing.

But personally when I went to Epitaph, I got a big kick out of giving the finger to all the hip-hop labels. I could have gone with Atlantic or Epic or whoever is putting out hip-hop that is "eh" to me. A lot of them have talked to me and talked about signing me, but when they realized I didn't fit the face of what they wanted from a white hip-hop artist, they tried to urge me to fill that role, and I fled to be a pretty good selling artist on Epitaph. I like making Epitaph the money rather than those labels that were trying to make me fit the white rapper role.


What is the stereotypical white rapper role?

You know, you gotta co-opt black culture just like Eminem, be a white man in black face without the black face. It's insulting. We could get into a big racial debate about it, but I come from Rhode Island. I come from a white community, a small town Irish Catholic community and I was given different opportunities in life and I accept that and I acknowledge that. I lived a unique life and that's what I reflect. I can't reflect street life.

Coming up through the years, I've had managers… trying to push me to talk about drugs or even sell drugs in real life so I would have fodder for songs. I look at Eminem's career and I'm like, this dude fell into that. I feel like he did what I could have done and I don't feel worse for not doing it. I see where he's at, it's incredibly successful. He has incredible skills. I don't think he would have been used if he was talentless. I think Dr. Dre is a very brilliant man who saw the potential in it all. And when I first saw they came together as a unit, I was like "Man, it's over now."

This guy's got the street credibility with the support of black artists who get respect from a black audience, and he has incredible skill and he has something original about his background which I don't think he really is too honest about but, whatever.

The hip-hop labels wanted another Eminem. Who's gonna be the next Eminem, who's gonna be the next Eminem?

Now you got Paul Wall.

SF: Who I have never heard. I'm glad, too. I see his pictures and I think I may steal his mouth one day, put it in my pocket and save it for later. Everyone was waiting for the next Eminem. Who's the fat white guy that came out?

Bubba Sparx. He had Timbaland behind him and he still flopped.

Because he didn't have enough skill. I watched him do a performance on Saturday Night Live and he was sad. I was very embarrassed for the guy, looked like he had never been in front of an audience in his whole life.

So whatever, I went with Epitaph. They took me as is. They're like, "We like what you do. We trust that you're gonna have a long career. We see how it's developing. We see how you've treated your fan-base. We see how it's grown over the years and we're on board. Would you like to help build that?" Because they have more resources, they are able to give me access to more people and that's why I make music. I make music so people will hear it. And they validated me as a more official artist as far as the media is concerned. So I'm happy about that. I knew that was the most important thing about going with a bigger label (I wouldn't really call them a major label). And yeah, everything's been going great.

It just seemed odd when I heard you on the Punk-O-Rama compilation. There's all this punk and then there's Sage Francis.

I dig that. It was good for me, being able to stick out on a punk rock compilation. All of a sudden, here's a hip-hop song. People take notice to that. A lot of people have told me, "Hey I started listening to you after I heard you on that Punk-O-Rama CD" because otherwise, the only hip-hop they're hearing is the stuff that was on the radio, the stuff that was force fed to them by the media. And that's not what they liked. Those type of hip-hop songs were not the life they were living. That's not what they understood or appreciated. Then they heard a song of more substance to them. I'm happy to have finally had access to an audience who normally would not have checked out a hip-hop record. Now they're like, "Man now I listen to so much hip-hop. Thank you, you opened me up to hip-hop."

Obviously, you're influenced by punk yourself. You make references to Minor Threat, Fugazi, GG Allin. You were also a slam poet. What roles do they play in your music?

I only listened to hip-hop as a kid, I would never listen to anything else. I was always scared of losing a hip-hop stripe for checking out some other kind of music. In 1996, the whole Chronic era of hip-hop annoyed me and I just wasn't feeling hip-hop like I used to. I had friends in college who were into the hardcore [punk] scene. So I went and checked out some hardcore shows.

I recognized that these groups were selling their own merchandise. They had made their own tapes, they were selling magazines they put together themselves. I was introduced to the DIY movement in music which was not prevalent or even existent in hip-hop. Hip-hop was major label driven. Hip-hop was very mystical. I didn't understand how the hell you get a record out. I didn't understand how you get records into stores.

When I saw the DIY ethic in punk rock, I realized, "Wow, you don't need a million dollars to put out a record. You really can start out small, selling [your record] to friends, and put on your shows and do everything yourself." Of course it's not gonna be big, of course you're not gonna make a lot of money. But at least you're gonna be doing music and at least you're gonna do what you love. Starting at that point, I built my own record label which was Strange Famous records. I started selling my own music to the point where I could quit my job. I started doing music full time, did "Personal Journals," started putting out more official albums. The more the money came in, the more official I could get.

Technology was changing quite rapidly at that point. I wasn't even on the Internet in 1996. 1997, 1998 comes and now I got an e-mail address. Now I figure out, "Whoa, I got access to the whole world." Boom, Napster happens. Free file-sharing network where everyone has my music, where I'm able to tour the world without having an album out yet. That just took the DIY movement to a whole new level of "I don't care if you buy my record or not, if you like my music come to a show." Bang. More money comes in. Now my career has developed well beyond where I ever thought it would simply by sticking to my guns and making the music I enjoy. Quality music that I didn't let outside influence change what I was saying or how I sounded. That allowed me to flip off all the hip-hop labels who I thought were pushing me in the wrong direction.

Meaningful, political, and socially conscious hip-hop was more prevalent in the early 90s/late 80s with groups like Public Enemy. From a rapper's perspective, what happened? What factors contributed to the suppression of the political and active voice in mainstream hip-hop?

The political and active voice is still there. It never went away. It just that there's a kind of hip-hop that caters and panders to the lowest common denominator. It's the cheapest, cheesiest, easiest music to make that you know a mass amount of people will easily accept and buy in to and will generate a lot of money.

Therefore, a lot of publicity and promotional power goes into that kind of music. Therefore, that's all the media will cover, that's all you'll get to hear about unless you dig a little deeper and find artists that are making music that has more substance to it.

Groups like PE I think were the pinnacle of hip-hop and its purpose. The reason why I think it came about. The sound that it had, the aggression, the revolt, rebelling against the status quo was essential to its cause and the reason why I think hip-hop existed.

Now we're in an era almost 20 years later and a lot of things have changed. Technology has changed, people have changed. Society isn't better. The purpose for that music hasn't gone away. And for all these artists who have benefited from pandering to the lowest common denominator and for them not to feel any kind of responsibility for not doing the right thing for social improvement is upsetting.

What motivated you and Bernard Dolan to launch KnowMore.org?

It was Bernard's brain child. He had thought it up. I thought it was a brilliant idea. In fact, I couldn't believe that it didn't exist already, to have an organization that supplied the public with info to figure out who owns what business. Where the money goes, how do they treat their workers, are they someone worth supporting, do you want to put your money into this company.

So he's like listen, we have to buy the technology to catalog and archive info on every company we can get info on and allow the public at large to also edit and contribute info about these companies. He gave me the bill and was just like, "It's gonna cost this much money, whad'ya think?" I think this is an awesome idea and I'm willing to pay for this, so I funded the project. I also know that I have a politically active audience. So I said, "Let's open this up to my forum, let's open this up to my audience at first. Let them kickstart this project so it can grow." So that's where we are now. We're on this tour promoting KnowMore.org and we've got like 40,000 hits a day and we expect that to grow more and more.

His brown eyes deliberately stare at the motionless head in front of him, like a lion preying on a helpless gazelle. A buzzing sounds echoes and ricochets off the asylum-colored walls. Every cut is precise and on point. Nothing can distract the professional and steady hand of the newest barber at Stuntastics, a barbershop in the Lakeview district of San Francisco, California.

A dab here, a dab there of aqua color peroxide are the finishing touches on the Picasso-like masterpiece of Jeremy Sarmiento. Ebert and Roeper would give the work two thumbs up and customers second the motion; with no words exchanged, Sarmiento simply lifts up the mirror, the customer looks from left to right, up and down, then gives a nod of the head. The work is accepted.

Taking a break, crunching on potato chips and savoring every liquid drop of soda, 21-year-old Jeremy Sarmiento seems like your regular young adult eating breakfast in the morning… but that is not the case. Sarmiento is not your normal Filipino American guy, dancing like Usher or displaying his new Air Jordans. Sarmiento is a barber in a black-owned barbershop.

Say what?

In some San Francisco neighborhoods like Bayview Hunters Point and Lakeview, black barbershops have a little twist; the community of hair cut seekers seem to be more impressed by how well someone can cut hair rather than what the barber looks like.

It's no surprise, given our capitalistic society and abundance of different cultures and ethnicities, that if you are good at a certain craft, no matter if you're white, black, gold, or green, your talent will be appreciated on all levels -- even if you are a Filipino barber in a black barbershop.

Mark Bautista, a 26-year-old youth empowerment specialist, says that the high concentration of Filipinos who reside in the Bay Area is the reason some have taken on the craft of barber in a black shop. Bautista, who also has a masters degree in Asian American Studies adds, "We [Filipinos] share the same community space and even experience with our African American brothers and sisters. We share the common identity of being colored, working class people. Thus we will always be working side to side with one another. Filipinos working in black owned barber shops is not the first or last time that Filipinos and blacks unite," says Bautista.

When groups begin to interact with one another, adopting each others' styles, language, and ideology become the norm. Hip-hop culture is a blatant example of this blending of cultures. Once an art form created mostly by African Americans, hip-hop has blossomed to what some would call a universal genre for all.

"If someone has skills, then at a certain point, it shouldn't matter what you are," says 22-year-old Fredrick Roots, a political science major at San Francisco State University who attends the barbershop on Third Street in Hunters Point of San Francisco. The shop has a Filipino barber of their own.

For those who are not aware, the black barbershop has served as a space for black men to discuss the world around them without being censored, a space where they are allowed to be themselves and gossip about anything and everything, such as politics and who is going to win the game later on that night.

When Sarmiento started work as a barber, he wasn't specifically trying to enter the black community. Cutting hair wasn't even a hobby or a profession that he was considering. "The thing is, I wasn't event thinking about cutting hair a couple of years ago, but I thought I was going to have a kid, so I had to get into something fast," explains Sarmiento.

It took him about a year to finish barber school. During the first six months, students would be in class learning how to shave with a razor, shampoo hair, and perform other basic skills of hair stylists. The next six months were dedicated to cutting hair on a manikin or a live person.

"It was uncomfortable at first because I really didn't know how to cut hair, but the other students helped me out a lot. I mean that's how you really learn about cutting hair, you learn from the people around you," says Sarmiento.

At the Sixth Street Barber school, Sarmiento's clientele were mostly drug addicts and homeless people, allowing him to interact with different people from his normal everyday life. After transferring to Bayview Barber School, Sarmiento's clients were predominantly black; the interaction would later surface as a stepping-stone for him becoming a Filipino barber in a black barbershop.

After about one year of school, Sarmiento had no problem finding a gig at a shop because the owner of the school owned a couple of barbershops. Soon Sarmiento was tossed right into Stuntastics.

His transition of becoming a full-time paid barber was what some would say easy, but in the words of Sarmiento, "It was real cool." He had luck on his side because when he first started, the other two barbers were Filipino. "They were really good so I really got my skills from them. I picked up quick."

The two barbers served as mentors, telling him how it was when they first started at the shop; Sarmiento would also eventually pick up on their cutting skills and become a premiere barber at the shop once the other two left for different jobs. "They used to tell me how people would just walk right by them and not want a cut from them. Eventually people saw how good they cut and they were impressed."

It took 21-year-old Brandon Landry about an hour and three hair cuts until he was convinced to let one of the Filipino barbers cut his hair. "I wasn't real sure at first, so I just watched. I saw what skill they had, so I had no problem in letting one of them cut my hair," says Landry.

"If people never been to the shop, they look at me funny, but my work speaks for itself," proclaims Sarmiento about how black customers view him when it's their first visit. He adds that the community has welcomed him with open arms and have been real nice about the unique situation.

"It's nothing new, people still go to the barbershop because it's part of our community," explains Cameron, a 17-year-old high school student who lives in the area.

Everyday new barriers are broken. The barrier could be large like gaining access to vote or small like in the case of a Filipino barber working in a black-owned barbershop. Whatever the barrier, someone and someplace is affected. In the case of the small barbershop on Randolph Street, 21-year old Jeremy Sarmiento and the Lakeview district seem to be doing all right with their unique setting. "This is what I got going for me right now, but I wouldn't mind doing it forever."

Every year, thousands of illegal Mexican immigrants make the arduous trek across the dry lands of the Southwest in an attempt to enter the U.S., risking their lives in order to perform work most Americans wouldn't dream of doing. Those who make the journey face days of walking in the burning desert sun with sketchy directions, little water and supplies, and temperatures that regularly exceed 100 degrees.

According to the U.S. Border Patrol, in the last year over 229 migrants in Arizona alone died of dehydration and heatstroke while attempting to make the trip. While armed Minutemen patrol the border with guns, El Paso-based Paisanos Al Rescate (Countrymen To the Rescue) use an aging Cessna plane to deliver water and hope to desperate people facing a slow death in the desert. San Francisco-based engineer Luis Rivas, a volunteer with the organization, spoke recently about the group's work.

What does Paisanos al Rescate do?

Luis Rivas: Paisanos al Rescate is a humanitarian organization comprised of volunteer pilots and non-pilots dedicated to reducing the number of needless deaths of those crossing the Arizona & New Mexico deserts.

We fly north of the border in our private aircraft searching for folks crossing the desert. Once found, we then drop 2-liter bottles of water attached to parachutes. The parachutes contain important information such as the symptoms of heat stroke and dehydration. The chutes also include instructions on how to signal the aircraft for help. Once the signal for help is given, the Border Patrol will immediately be notified so that the person(s) can be rescued.

Where did the idea for starting Paisanos al Rescate come from?

Our founder, Armando Alarcon, was alarmed at the ever-increasing number of deaths by heat stroke and dehydration that were occurring along the border near El Paso Texas. Coincidentally Armando was learning to how to fly and it was during one of his lessons over the New Mexico desert that he came up with the idea of dropping bottles of water to those lost, abandoned or otherwise in distress.

Armando's decision to turn his idea into a reality came when he learned of a young girl who sprained her ankle while crossing the desert and was abandoned by the smuggler (coyote). The coyote later notified the girl's relatives who then contacted the Border Patrol, but the poor girl succumbed to the heat before the Border Patrol could rescue her.

What are some of the dangers of crossing the border?

Being ill equipped for the summer heat can cost one their life. The temperatures of the desert floor often reach more than 110F during the summer months. A person can easily succumb to heat stroke, dehydration, and there is also the threat of rattlesnakes or the unscrupulous coyote.

Disorientation is another danger. Many start off at sunset to avoid the daytime heat. At night the desert is pitch black and it is not uncommon for a person to lose their bearings and walk deeper into the desert. The elderly, the very young, or those that are basically unfit struggle with the strain of walking with a backpack, an inadequate supply of water.

What sort of obstacles or problems did Paisanos al Rescate encounter when you first started doing this?

First off, Armando did not own an airplane so that was the first hurdle that we had to overcome. Armando purchased with his own funds a Cessna 172. Armando did not know how to fly, so he had to find a pilot that would fly the Cessna until Armando earned his pilot's license. We did not know the best way to deliver the water to people on the ground so various methods were tried before we settled on a parachute system.

Fund-raising and getting the word out about what we were doing was challenging. Until just recently we were funding the entire program ourselves, which includes purchase of the aircraft, fuel, maintenance, supplies etc. Finding volunteers and sponsors that are committed to furthering our cause is also an obstacle we face.

What have been some of the most memorable experiences you've had while flying missions?

The most memorable experience happened recently while we were on the ground. We took a couple of journalists to the small town of Las Chepas Mexico. Las Chepas is a launching point for those seeking to cross into New Mexico. We encountered a group of 11 young men ranging in age from 16-32 years, with the majority in their teens and early 20s. They were all from the same town of Durango, Mexico. These men had tried working close to home but the jobs paid a meagerly wage that would not allow them to support themselves or a family. So they all decided to make the trek into the States together.

These were young men filled with promise, who did not want to leave their homes, family or friends. Economic circumstances being what they are convinced them that their only hope was to make the dangerous journey across the desert. We watched them rub their shoes and pants with garlic to ward off the rattlesnakes, don their backpacks, make the sign of the cross, pick up a 1 gallon jug of water in each hand and literally march off into the sunset.

From whom do most of your donations come?

Private parties. We did receive over $15k from a gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous. We were told that he was raised in Juarez and his mother used to cross over and work in El Paso to support their family. We have received inquiries from foundations that would like to contribute to our cause, which we will follow up on.

Does Paisanos al Rescate ever come into conflict with the Border Patrol or other such government agencies?

No. Andy Adame, a Border Patrol spokesman, was quoted as saying that we are one of the better humanitarian organizations out there. We work in cooperation with the BP. We will notify the BP if we encounter anyone in distress. The BP will send the BORSTAR team (Search and Rescue) and provide aid to those in distress.

Meshell Ndegeocello fights AIDS and ignorance with song. On Monday, Nov. 11, Ndegeocello performs with and directs some of America's most talented musicians, including Cassandra Wilson, Stephanie Mills and Bilal, at Carnegie Hall. All proceeds go the 21 year old organization GMHC, whose clientele is now two-thirds people of color. By the year 2010, half of New York's AIDS cases are projected to be women.

The mix of music and message is called "You Rock My Soul." Here's what Meshell, who's been touring for her album "Cookie: The Anthropological Mixtape," had to say:

What was the genesis of the event?

The crisis that we are in. We are on a verge of a pandemic, not to mention that there are still so many misconceptions about HIV/AIDS as being a gay disease or drug users disease. Everyday people of all economic strata, cultural backgrounds and sexual orientations are getting sick and the fastest growing population is women. So if my little bit of time and my band's time and the other artists who have donated their time can help raise awareness and raise some dollars, then I'm thankful.

How did you become music director?

GMHC and the event producer asked me. I view it as a privilege to be invited to join with other people to address an issue, whether that's HIV/AIDS or peace or the prison industry. I've been involved with HIV/AIDS events and organizations for the last 10 years and will continue to be so engaged until this disease is wiped off the planet. Check out the Red Hot+ Riot album that's in stores now -- it's a tribute to Fela Kuti's music and a benefit specifically for HIV/AIDS efforts in Africa. It's also super funky. I live to create and to play, but also to do so in connection with the world, in connection with humanity. I have no real interest in living in my own musical fantasy land. The world is real, things people are living through are real.

How did the artists become involved?

They were hand-picked. Some were people who I've met through my musical travels and others I just wanted to get down with and this was an incredible opportunity to do that. We pulled together about 45 minutes of music that incorporates the many talented artists we have participating -- Jazz great Cassandra Wilson, R&B songstress Stephanie Mills, Afrobeat artist Femi Kuti, Afro-Cuban group Yerba Buena, and amazing vocalists Rahsaan Patterson, Bilal, and we just added Caron Wheeler.

It is wonderful that so many talented people have volunteered and have fit this into their busy schedules. It's not just showing up and playing -- they have to learn new tunes, rehearse, come to sound check the day off, etc, so I certainly appreciate them for their commitment. It's gonna be super funky. The folks we have in the house are going to shine, each and every one of them. Together we will bring African music, Gospel, Jazz, Rock and Funk to tell a story of perseverance and struggle and triumph in the face of adversity.

With AIDS rates in several major cities -- DC, Newark, Jersey city -- reaching 5 percent, what needs to be done to reach urban and black Americans? Do you believe existing messages haven't targeted or reached African-Americans in particular? What would you like to see done differently?

AIDS plagues the African and African American communities, mainly due to lack of access to sex education and health care and all the myths about AIDS being a "gay disease." I think that all HIV/AIDS organizations need to work hard to educate in communities of color and to partner with mainstream educational institutions to break down stereotypes. Unfortunately, lack of HIV/AIDS awareness in communities of color and homophobia are walking hand in hand -- at this point we have to stop the ignorance because all of our lives depend upon it. And if we can let our kids watch movies and play video games where people's heads are getting blown off, we should certainly be able to talk with them openly about sex. If the epidemic is going to be halted, it starts with kids. It starts with open and honest dialogues so that young people don't feel the need to be secretive and on their own.

How do you believe U.S. AIDS policy influences the international community? What would you like to see changed?

Well the U.S. influences the world because of its economic and military importance; meanwhile, healthcare around the world is far more humane and ethical than it is here. Of course I think it is reprehensible for any drug company to not make helpful HIV/AIDS treatments available in critical and impoverished nations. I think there is value in exploring the way that Cuba has isolated the disease and the way it has worked to keep its HIV/AIDS community connected to their families, but because of the political relationship between the U.S. and Cuba, this has been under-researched.

What I'd really like to see is an integrated international team of researches with the type of financial resources that the U.S. throws into fighting baldness and impotence. Then we might move further along in finding holistic, humane treatments.

Your music helps re-define black, female, urban. How hard is it to follow your own style versus be influenced by current trends? Or do you not see it as a challenge?

I don't set out trying to redefine the black, female, urban perspective. I've been called a revolutionary soul singer, although I've never called myself that. Revolution is a process of transforming oneself, of healing, of growing, of freeing one's mind and then being brave enough to encourage that growth in the society around you. There was a time when artists were engaged in that process, when their art was part of spreading that word, was part of creating a forum for discussions... Emerson's marketplace of ideas to a beat or on a canvas or on a stage. Now art is marginalized -- literally, limited to profit margins. You see this everywhere, from the government cutting funds to the National Endowment for the Arts to radio formats. To survive financially, so the economic order says now, an artist must build commercial value into his or her expression. My music critiques this idea, and by critique, I mean I participate in the very thing I critique.

I try to record the spirit of the times as I see it, be a voice that opens dialogue, that reflects my listening more than my own opinions. I just try to express myself and be funky, and if folks are feeling that, they'll come out to the show or pick up the record and have an experience. That's what its all about -- having your own experience, not something that's been dictated to you by some marketing strategy or demographic determination. Breaking free of the idea that we are all just here to accumulate products has everything to do with revolutionizing oneself, honoring your soul and singing the truth as you know it to the world.

The irrational subordination of people of color. Basic human rights stripped away like clothing, leaving people of color naked, broken, oppressed. The struggle to be treated fairly, not persecuted and profiled with prejudice, an arduous uphill battle. Perverse laws and a justice no longer blind but cock-eyed, allowing people to be convicted and thrown ?under? the jail based on the color of their skin. 1955? No, the year is 2002. Jim Crow is back, this time wearing a brand new hat labeled The War On Drugs.

?This so-called war on drugs is a war on people of color, first and last. Whatever its intent may have been, that?s what it is now, and the devastation that it has wrought and that it is reaping on communities of color would never be tolerated if it was visited upon white communities,? stated Theodore M. Shaw, the Associate Director-Counsel of the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. ?We can?t, as civil rights lawyers, ignore this issue any longer. We are in this fight for the long haul because it has become, I think, as prominent an issue when it comes to civil and human rights as any other issue on the agenda.?

Shaw was one of many impassioned and impressive speakers at the recent conference Breaking the Chains: People of Color and the War on Drugs. The groundbreaking event, hosted by the Drug Policy Alliance (DPA) September 26-28 in downtown Los Angeles, saw hundreds of religious leaders, drug treatment providers and recipients, community organizers, media workers, and victims of racial injustice gather together to push aside rhetoric and address the urgency of drug-policy reform.

The facts and figures are frightening, but sobering. The number of African-Americans and Latinos in prison on drug-related crimes? despite roughly equal rates of drug use across all races and socio-economic lines ? belie logic. Of those incarcerated in state prisons for drug felonies, Blacks comprise 57 percent and Latinos, 22 percent. According to a report released two years ago by the advocacy group Human Right Watch, black men are sent to state penitentiaries on drug charges at 13 times the rate of white men. However, approximately five times as many whites had used cocaine than blacks. The report called the gross disparities a ?clear warning flag concerning the fairness and equity of drug law enforcement across the country.? There are two million people behind bars; almost two-thirds of them are people of color.

Who?s the Enemy?

The unequal treatment of black and brown people permeates every stage of the criminal justice system. Each stage ominously builds upon the next, creating a larger, more devastating syndrome from which emancipation seems like an unattainable idea.

America?s zero-tolerance approach to the pervasive drug problem is not working. Punitive measures like the ?three strikes? law, mandatory minimum drug sentences, racial profiling, and the adoption of severe penalties for crack cocaine offenses have resulted in the progressive disenfranchisement of people of color: the political invisibility of people of color by taking away their right to vote during the course of their incarceration, their parole and, in some states, for the rest of their lives because of felony convictions and deprivation of housing, education and social assistance. In the current system, people of color are being locked up for non-violent offences, making it almost impossible for them to rejoin society and succeed as good citizens.

Post-conviction sanctions for drug offenses and punitive policies have created stifling collateral consequences that have virtually branded those individuals with drug felonies or a history of drug use, compounding the impact of the conviction. The negative effects on eligibility for public housing, student aid, welfare as well as parental rights and immigration status being severely affected only dehumanize and marginalize these people who have already been punished and served their time. Most public benefits can be revoked or denied on the basis of a previous drug conviction. In 42 states, a drug conviction means a lifetime ban from welfare. In 1998, the Higher Education Act was revised to include a provision that denies college opportunities to students who have drug convictions by disallowing federal funding. A convicted murder that is out after serving the time is eligible for public housing. If a drug felon, you are not. Denying former drug offenders these public benefits only perpetuates the cycle. Many are left in the same dire socio-economic situation that may have led them to drugs (trafficking and/or using) in the first place. ?The country is trying to use the criminal justice system to solve a public-health issue,? said Kurt Schmoke, the former mayor of Baltimore, at a lunchtime press conference held on the first official day of the three-day event. The poignant press conference also featured members of US Congress speaking out against the war on drugs and the horrific true-life story from one of the victims of Tulia, Texas? egregious drug bust.

Battleground Tulia

What went down in Tulia on the morning of July 23, 1999, was simply atrocious: Blatant racism. A drug sting in the small town of 5, 000 resulted in the arrest of 46 residents, 40 of whom where African-American. Now, in a town where there are only 250 black people, this bust put more than 10 percent of Tulia?s African-American population in jail. The others arrested where whites or Latinos who had relationships with blacks. Denounced as a form of ?ethnic cleansing? by the NAACP and the ACLU, the Tulia drug bust was based on the uncorroborated testimony of undercover officer Tom Coleman.

With no proof of the alleged drug trafficking, and a shady reputation and despicable work history of his own, Coleman was able to convince a jury to send people to jail with extremely harsh sentences, e.g., a hog farmer in his late 50s was given 90 years in prison. There was no money or merchandise recovered, no weapons or drugs, during this ambush. One defendant was cleared after time cards were produced proving that he was at work at the time of the alleged drug buy. Another?s charges were dropped when her lawyers revealed that she was in fact out of town, cashing a check in Oklahoma City at the time when she was supposedly selling drugs to Coleman.

A complaint has been filed with the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice, and there is an ongoing US Justice Department investigation in the Tulia case. The NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, the William Moses Kunstler Fund for Racial Justice, the Tulia Legal Defense Project, and a number of private law firms are working to free the14 men and women who remain in jail (some serving life sentences) as a result of this tragedy.

Fight the Fight

The war on drugs and the fallout from the losing battle appear to be a key manifestation of racial oppression. Where can we look to begin to remedy this public-health syndrome? Look within, proposed Deborah Small, the director of public policy for the DPA.

?I believe the remedy for all oppression comes when the people who are oppressed stand up and say, ?Enough!? So one of the goals of this conference is to really help people connect with each other and to feel the strength of their own power. As communities, we really felt powerless to respond to what we perceive as an assault on our communities by law enforcement,? said Small.

?Many of us who were unconscious to [police accountability and police misconduct] a decade ago, even five years ago, are increasingly becoming more conscious, and once people become conscious you can?t stop them. They start looking for ways to resist, whether it be refusing to convict and send people to jail on these low-level, bogus drug charges or by refusing to vote for politicians who only offer harsher penalties. Or by saying that we are going to demand that more money be spent on providing treatment for people as opposed to incarcerating them. All of these are options available to us.?

As Small views it, education is the cornerstone of the war on drugs and working towards healing the problem. ?Public education is so important, and for me, it?s an education that needs to take place in our community. People weren?t aware of the racial history of drug prohibition, or the way in which the drug laws have been used historically to reinforce racism and classism in this society. And when people learn that information, they get mad. And after they get mad, they get into action. I have faith in that. I see [DPA?s] goal as contributing to the awareness and helping people channel their anger in a positive direction in ways that will produce social change.?

Nicole Blades is a freelance writer currently based in Los Angeles.

I spent Sunday brunch with a bunch of journalists, many of them on war patrol -- doing quickie documentaries on Saddam, for example. But one producer with a major media company spent the past week trying to get a member of the Bush cabinet to return her calls and those of her even better-connected on-air reporter on an economic story.

"They just refuse," she said. "Worse, they won't refuse [outright]; they say they're too busy. Why should they spend their time answering the legitimate questions of a reporter? Why should they be accountable?"

One of the biggest underreported economic stories today (and boy is there competition) is the Vice President's attempt to withhold records of his meetings with oil companies. For the first time ever, the General Accounting Office (auditors for Congress) is going to federal court to order the executive branch to turn over documents. The 81-year-old agency wants to know which energy companies helped the Bush administration shape its policies. Yes, the energy companies were right there in the White House, all but holding the pen as policy was drafted. It's one thing to be friendly to business interests, another to walk out of the Oval Office and let them raid the till.

Cheney and other members of the Bush administration met with Enron executives six times last year. But that was just the beginning. In just four months during the dawn of the administration, February to May, Cheney and his economic task force met with hundreds of representatives from 150 corporations and trade associations. Then they set the administration's new energy policies, which included the plans to drill for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and build hundreds of new electric plants. Now, despite a Congressional request for documents, they've been stonewalling for more than a year.

Both President Bush and Vice President Cheney have long records of allying themselves with oil interests, being rewarded in 2000 with campaign contributions, and rewarding the companies with policies that will enrich them. Cheney, who polishes his image as a thinker and policymaker, is actually much more of a wheeler-dealer than Baby Bush. As the former CEO of Halliburton, a multi-billion dollar oil and energy corporation, he once stated, "The good Lord didn't see fit to put oil and gas only where there are democratically elected regimes friendly to the United States."

At the time, Halliburton was brokering a deal with military dictators in Burma, who were using slave labor to build oil pipelines. One of the companies involved in the Burma deal was Unocal, which also courted the Taliban as a possible protector of its oil projects in Afghanistan. In addition, as CEO of Halliburton, Cheney -- the former Secretary of Defense during President Bush pere's war on Iraq -- sold $24 million in oil-related construction services to the Iraqis. Money is inherently amoral. Oil is money.

Now, to add fuel to the fire, Cheney's former firm is embroiled in an Enron-style scandal. The Securities and Exchange Commission is investigating Halliburton for allegedly fudging its accounting numbers. Cheney has refused to answer questions about this issue as well.

There are dozens of political catchphrases that come to mind, particularly "It's not the crime, it's the cover-up." But Cheney's chicanery also reminds me of a song from Disney's animated film, "Lady and the Tramp." Two devious felines sing, "We are Siamese if you please; we are Siamese if you don't please." The Bush administration is ruthless in flouting all public accountability, and crafty in cloaking itself in the flag. It's a Siamese government, which presents the face of a grieving America to the public while continuing to cut backroom financial and political deals.

As a bona-fide internet junkie, I did a search on "White House" and "Stonewall" and came up with a little site called Disclose the Documents. It is clearly partisan -- constructed by the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee -- but, unlike the blather on Iraq coming from many Democrats, it is also clever. Once you access the site, you can email the Vice President asking him to turn over the goods. It might work.

But I suspect what might work better is simply being aware of the connection between our self-interest and the public good. Right now, the White House is telling us to ignore the economic crisis at hand in the name of patriotism. At the same time, it refuses to admit its own complicity in the decline of our economy. When you feel the pinch in your wallet or pocketbook, think how Bush and Cheney have helped siphon out the American economy. Then contact the White House and Congress, and most importantly, vote your conscience and your future.

Farai Chedeya is the founder of Pop and Politics.com. She is currently a Knight Fellow at Stanford University.

The only paper I read with regularity these days is the Wall Street Journal. Although its editorial writers are patently insane, the news and feature writers have recently dedicated themselves to thoughtful pieces on what should be the most important story of our day: the collapse of our economy.

Perhaps I mean the collapse of the illusion of our economy -- a place of endless riches, where everyone's a winner. (Old America: Getting off the plane in Vegas. New America: getting on the plane back home, broke and jacked up.)

Take the Sept. 10 edition of the Journal. On the far left of the page is a feature story on New London, Connecticut. This tired, slumping, working-class town invoked the government prerogative of eminent domain and razed the houses of elderly citizens, so that drug company Pfizer could come in and build a new plant. The article by Lucette Lagnado details how the company was promised millions of dollars in tax breaks and incentives in exchange for building a $300 million research facility, conference center, and hotel. The project hasn't been completed because some empowered and pissed off residents have filed suit.

The completed part of the plant doesn't employ many folks from New London, nor spill revenue over to local businesses. This is the downside of globalization: Demolish locally, employ globally. Many conglomerates these days act like mercenary armies, bringing in the troops they need, and asking little except food, shelter and complete obedience from those who quarter them.

In the center of the same day's Journal is a story titled: "WorldCom Board Will Consider Rescinding Ebbers's Severance."

WorldCom, known to many of us as the company that swallowed MCI long distance, has been in the news for misplacing $7 billion and filing for bankruptcy. This story, by Susan Pullam, Jared Sandberg and Deborah Soloman, details how the former CEO, Bernard J. Ebbers, got a whopper of a good-bye present: a $408 million loan at 2.3 percent interest, plus $1.5 million per year in lifetime salary.

Let me run that by you again: a man who was at the helm of a company that just up and lost $7 billion got a $408 million loan, plus $1.5 million in free cash each year. Let's pretend to spend that money for him:

-- $408 million is the equivalent of: 204,000 fancy laptops, enough to give one to roughly one in 10 graduating high school seniors this year, or 2,000 new homes at their roughly $200,000 average price.

-- $1.5 million a year equals: 345 average yearly payments of TANF (the post-reform welfare); 100 students' full tuition, board and fees at UCLA.

I hesitate to compare lost corporate cash to real world dollars. While we're more than happy to talk about "welfare queens" and "poverty pimps" (and yes, there are welfare cheats), we don't seem to hear the vast sucking sound of white-collar criminals hoovering out our economy. (Not to mention the estimated $12 billion in legal federal "corporate welfare.")

A quick note about welfare, which more people will need in the current downturn. Since "welfare reform," the number of child-only families receiving assistance has doubled across the nation, rising in New Jersey, for example, from 17 percent of the caseload to 33 percent. This means that parents with addictions, mental health disorders, or simply too few coping skills have left their children as wards of the state. Like most people, I have no idea where the money lost in Enron, et al., really goes. But I'd love to see it spent on programs like childcare and drug rehab. Even for people of means, like Florida Gov. Jeb Bush's daughter, Noelle.

I will spare you my full rant on Jerry Springer and Eminem but let me simply say: White kids have figured out this country isn't rolling out the red carpet for them, the same way black and brown kids did years ago. The result is an often poorly articulated but justified rage against a country that manages to stock 50 types of snack products in every mini-mart but rarely generates a decent neighborhood public school.

America has found one very successful method for dealing with black rage: massive incarceration of people who were never trained nor expected to be a part of "mainstream" society, regardless of their potential. And in fact, incarceration of non-white Americans (often on drug crimes) is a growth industry that largely employs working-class whites and non-white Americans. But at a certain point, particularly in an economic downturn, the system begins feeding on itself. We will either have to jail undereducated white youth en masse, or we will have to try something radically different, like training working-class kids to think for themselves, and not just take jobs, but invent them.

Actually, a lot of white-collar Americans are feeling the need for a good solid job right around now. I've never had so many unemployed friends in my life; friends who, admittedly, are still holding out for something new and better, while running up their credit card bills to bridge the gap.

One problem is that the implicit contract between companies and workers seems very much broken. Today, no matter what the job level or contract, people are being fired seemingly at will, from downsized managers making six figures to the 17,000 employees of Consolidated Freightways, who were laid off via voicemail on Labor Day. Employees, in turn, find little reason to offer themselves as paragons of loyalty. No, they do not want to work unpaid overtime. Yes, they steal the pens and fax paper. Yes, they take two-hour lunches. Why? They're looking for another job.

In his two years in office, President George W. Bush has managed to mangle the economy, allow the guise of homeland security to demolish the guarantees of freedom inherent in the Bill of Rights, and get away with seeming -- God knows how -- presidential. At least to some of us. On trips abroad, the comments, even from conservatives, usually run something like, "Your President's an idiot, eh?" In fact, the conservatives (I'm thinking here specifically of a trip to Switzerland) are often more vitriolic, embarrassed and abashed that someone with so little sense of governance speaks in their name.

There's good reason for President Bush to go on the warpath. After all, war is a traditional and often successful distraction from domestic woes, which we have in abundance. We also still have, in my humble opinion, the greatest country in the world. So I will wave my little flag for America, the country that I love, and note:

You can telephone the White House at (202) 456-1111. Wait out a short machine message and then a live operator will take your (hopefully concise) message for the President, along the lines of "I oppose" or "I support" the proposed war against Iraq. And, if you're really feeling your beans, you could mention the need to reconsider mandatory minimum drug sentencing laws, which his niece may soon be facing.

Farai Chedeya is the founder of Pop and Politics.com. She is currently a Knight Fellow at Stanford University.

Let me be the first to say it in the language of hip hop: I've been hating on Eminem for a long time.

Yeah, yeah, I know he's got skillz, but so do a lot of other guys whose rhyme dictionary begins with "bitch" and ends with "ho." Maybe it's the fact that I heard the original version of his album, including jokes about raping lesbians, before he cut a clean version and became a crossover hit. Rappers like Eminem made it harder and harder for women like me (who actually listen to the lyrics) to dance to the music we once loved, and many of us have abandoned ship for other music like soul or drum 'n bass.

But when the FCC, led Gen. Colin Powell's son Michael Powell, decided to battle the Real Slim Shady by fining Colorado's KKMG for playing an edited version of his song, I reluctantly have to stand up not in his defense, but ours.

The call to make the airwaves safe for America's children sounds good, doesn't it? The problem is, the approach is all wrong.

First of all, it's a slippery slope.

Just look at who else has gotten caught in the FCC's net: one of the most effective critics within the hip hop movement. Sarah Jones is an actress, writer, and poet whose song "Your Revolution" has given young women a sense of personal freedom. In it, she sings lyrics like "The real revolution ain't about bootie size/The Versaces you buys/Or the Lexus you drives." It gets spicier, and more effective. for that, the FCC fined station KBOO in Portland $7000 on May 14 of this year...for playing the song in 1999.

Frankly, hip hop was a lot less vulgar before it became a crossover hit in white households, and a cash cow to record labels. When the music was an underground phenomenon, DJs and MCs produced party music and more political songs like the anti-cocaine track "White Lines" and KRS-One's black history lesson "You Must Learn." But how many white suburban kids want to listen to a black history lesson? The market quickly devolved into lowest-common denominator blaxsploitation, images of the "real" life on the streets that often bore no semblance to reality.

The reason teens listen to rap is probably twofold: one, to piss off their parents and, two, to find an authentic mode of expression in a world where everything seems shiny-happy-false. Yes, hip hop often presents a false mirror of the gritty and grimy, but censoring it will simply end an incomplete conversation about issues like drugs, sexuality, schools, and aspirations for the future, all of which come up in hip hop lyrics.

But how do you urge the conversation to go to a higher level when market forces are pushing it to a lowest common denominator? The record industry itself is finally beginning to take proactive steps with meetings like June's Hip Hop Summit, attended by moguls including Russell Simmons and artists including Queen Latifah, Sean "Puffy" Combs, and Talib Kweli. Nation of Islam leader Minister Louis Farrakhan, who has long set out to have a dialogue with the rap community, stated: "Society wants lyrics cleaned up but it (society) doesn't want to clean itself up." For their part, artists committed to bring more positive content into hip hop without top-down censorship.

Led by a bipartisan group including former Vice Presidential candidate Senator Joe Lieberman, Congress seems set on proposing even more restrictions on pop culture content. But the best reason not to censor musicians like Eminiem is the same reason prohibition backfired -- government repression increases demand. Those parental labeling stickers simply made f***ed-up lyrics sexier to teenagers. Efforts to take songs like Eminem's off the airwaves will create even more of an us-vs.-them mentality, leading people who don't support the lyrics but do support free speech to band with moneymakers in it for a quick buck. Meanwhile, a much better approach would be to turn down the rhetoric, discuss the actual issues behind the music, and make sure the Sarah Joneses of the world are as well known as the Eminems.

In the finale of the hit show "The Sopranos," angry mob bosses retaliate against a rogue youngster, Jackie Junior, by executing him near a housing project and letting the blame fall on black drug dealers. One Mafioso who's had drug problems of his own praises boss Tony for the way he handled the situation. On screen, and in real life, black dealers are a convenient scapegoat for America's much larger drug problem, the public face of a multi-racial, multi-national, multi-billion dollar industry.

In fact, an analysis of government statistics by the organization Human Rights Watch last year revealed that in ten states from Maine to Illinois, black men are 27 to 57 times more likely to be locked up for committing exactly the same drug crimes as whites, though five times as many white Americans use drugs as blacks in raw numbers. This system, says the group's executive director Ken Roth, "corrodes the American ideal of equal justice for all."

While the focus of drug use in America is on street dealing and street crime, the bulk of dealing and consumption goes on quietly, in private settings far different from the urban street corners depicted on shows like "NYPD Blue" and "Law and Order." The May issue of Spin magazine ran an article called "Confessions of a Pot Delivery Girl," in which an Ivy League graduate talked about her uneventful time at a high-end delivery service for Manhattan marijuana smokers. She stated, "I soon became convinced that virtually every person on the island of Manhattan smokes pot. I delivered to doctors, lawyers, professors, architects, housewives, and stockbrokers." And while seeing a young black man arrested by police, she added, "for a moment, I felt my heart race. But the feeling passed as I walked by them in my black leather mules and knee-length skirt, a confident felon, young and white and female, handily concealed from the scope of the law."

The delivery girl's tale reveals a fundamental truth about drug use in America. Recreational use of drugs, as well as addictive use, cuts across socioeconomic sectors, but enforcement falls only on a few, in part because of laws that actually reward drug kingpins for turning states evidence on their low-level employees. The discrepancies between use and treatment, and use and punishment, are finally starting to hit some discordant notes with observant Americans and culture mavens. The hit movies "Traffic," "Blow" and "Requiem for a Dream" all turned popular attention to drugs at the same time that stars Robert Downey, Jr., and Daryl Strawberry have been arrested again and again.

The weekend of June 1 in Alberquerque, academics, activists, and high-level government officials--including the governor of New Mexico--are meeting to re-think the future of drug policy in America. The confab is funded in part by billionaire George Soros, whose funds leading think tank the Lindesmith Center-Drug Policy Foundation. Soros and two other financiaers are also funding ballot initiatives in Florida, Ohio and Michigan designed to send first and second time drug offenders to treatment instead of prison. A similar measure, Proposition 36, already passed in California.

America's "War on Drugs" has produced few successes and a number of high-profile failures, including the recent downing of the missionary plane in Peru. Throughout this decades-long "war," we have been willing to accept massive collateral damage in poor, black and urban communities. Now, other Americans are feeling pressure as well. In some states, the prison industry has grown so rapidly that 19 year olds are being recruited as guards for violent maximum-security facilities -- the equivalent of sending teenagers into battlefields. Laws that once provided loopholes for the rich and famous now are snaring them as well, admittedly after they've been given second or third or fourth chances.

And what have been the results? The rates of teenage drug use have recently nudged down slightly. But despite a focus on interdiction, the flow of drugs into the country continues unabated. Only half of America's addicts are receiving treatment, and many are on waiting lists stretching for months. "Plan Colombia" is a $1.3 billion military approach similar to that used in Peru. But when White House officials debated spending just $100 million of that on treatment last year, the suggestion was shot down by "Drug Czar" General Barry McCaffrey. Failing to deal with the cycle of addiction (and support harm reduction and needle exchange programs) has helped prolong the cycle of IV drug use and raise AIDS infection rates. In some cities, including Jersey City, NJ, one in fifty African Americans is HIV positive.

Ignoring the civil rights and public health implications of the war on drugs is like examining the remains of Aloha Flight 243 and saying "Who cares if one of the flight attendants got sucked out the ceiling?" For now, the casualties have mainly been poor, black and brown. That's changing. Will our policies change, too?