TIGed

Switch headers Switch to TIGweb.org

Are you an TIG Member?
Click here to switch to TIGweb.org

HomeHomeExpress YourselfPanoramaAmerica: Police State Incorporated
Panorama
a TakingITGlobal online publication
Search



(Advanced Search)

Panorama Home
Issue Archive
Current Issue
Next Issue
Featured Writer
TIG Magazine
Writings
Opinion
Interview
Short Story
Poetry
Experiences
My Content
Edit
Submit
Guidelines
America: Police State Incorporated Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Andy Carloff, United States Oct 4, 2005
Human Rights , Peace & Conflict   Short Stories

  


The Africans who lived in the ghetto might not have been working at the local tourist shop convincing foreigners to fork over an unreasonable amount of money for something that has no value. They might not have been in the French Market selling wooden chopsticks for $8 a pair. They might not have been washing dishes for $3 an hour under the table because their employer refused to hire them otherwise. They might not have been holding a frigging sign that said, "Buy Furniture at Joe's!" on the freeway convincing baby boomers to take that next exit to the Furniture Heaven.

There was definitely a certain prejudice between the blacks and the whites of the south. I would say that the ghetto contained around one white person for every one hundred blacks. This I can confirm from the various ghettos that we spent time in. Sometimes Africans were hateful towards Caucasians because they could tell who was getting a better deal. On the other hand there were many Africans who didn't care and were brotherly and fair with all they had met. To those Africans who were vengeful towards whites for any past aggressions that may have incurred among 100 of them, fewer than 5 would still hold aggressions towards the gutter punks. The reasons for this are easy to decipher...gutter punks are homeless. We are poor, probably a thousand times poorer than any African in the ghetto. The system screwed them over too. They didn't look to us suspiciously because they knew who we were, what we wanted and what we were looking for.

Why were we in the ghetto? For the most part we went to the ghetto to get in a squat -- an abandoned building which we would retire to sleep in once we had become tired and drunk enough. I remember those cold nights, the wind whipping at my back as I clenched my trench coat over my body, marching to get to that abandoned building where I could sleep. I remember what everyone had said about walking in the ghetto at night. "You'll get robbed, raped and killed, and not in that order." It didn't matter to a gutter punk, ever because violence to us was its own reward. I never held this personal view but it was something I had to deal with if it arose. I confess that there were some instances where I would have engaged in violence, but I refused to, on account of my rationalization of Pacifism and peace. When walking through these ghettos I could not help but remember pictures of the Warsaw Ghetto. These people have no means to leave except to become homeless. Worst of their greatest problem might be their drug addiction. Walking down the street one is liable to see at least one syringe on the ground for every block. Crack users/dealers typically hold their $10, 2-minute piece of heaven in their mouth. There is also a tactic among crack-heads on obtaining items that involves smacking someone in the hand and capturing what they drop -- this works typically with money or drugs. That is why crack-heads hold crack in their mouth and if cops are to obtain them, they swallow it.

Squats... Apply whatever romantic idea to it that you want, there's nothing enjoyable about sleeping on shards of broken glass. There's nothing appealing about the idea of climbing onto the roof of a building and smashing the window so that you can gain access to a roof over your head, heart pumping a thousand miles an hour, listening intently for sirens so that you can know when to run, so you can know that you failed. There's no happiness when the temperature goes down to 17 degrees and all you have is the clothes on your back and walls to stop the wind. I have, on occasion, lay on the wooden floor of a squat in a ball trying to capture that fleeting mystic hope of sleep. I would reach to pull on my clothes and as I touched my skin I would feel the damp coldness of my own flesh. I would ignore it because it didn't matter. Not to anyone else, anyway. That is one aspect that is completely destroyed from the psychology of a street person -- you never get depressed. No matter how shitty things get, unless you have a reason to be depressed, homelessness is certainly no reason.

There seemed to be a semi-friendly atmosphere among gutter punks. They would share among each other the location of squats and how to get into them. There also seemed to be a secret code among all gutter punks. Upon entering a suspected squat yell out "oi!", if you hear it back then it's a squat with squatters. There are many unspoken rules among squatters. If you find an abandoned building and someone is squatting there and they don't want you there you have to leave. Why is this? The streets tend to be a violent place. I am not denying that gutter punks aren’t violent. On the contrary, many of them indulge in violence the way a person may indulge in drug use. There is an understanding between gutter punks, without knowing anything about another gutter punk, you know this one fact: they could pull out a knife or a baton, and hurt you physically in a matter of 15 seconds so to those who one is not acquainted with usually prefer a distance -- at least, when you're in the place that your sleeping. Plus, squat sizes are preferred to be small, no more than six people. The reason for this is to keep the noise to an absolute minimum. In the Diary of Anne Frank, for instance, the Jewish family that was hiding had to keep absolutely quiet during the day. For us there was another rule that you never enter your squat until dark and leave before sunrise. Cops and police officers raid squats only during the day time, unless there is too much noise or disturbance at one.







Tags

You must be logged in to add tags.

Writer Profile
Andy Carloff


Punkerslut (or Andy Carloff) has traveled all across the United States and has experienced American life in the urban centers, as a homeless squatter and as a blue-collar, working-class laborer. Since high school and early development, he has composed a variety of ideas on education, politics, and economy. His positions are ultra-leftist: politically an Anarchist, economically a Socialist, and culturally a Syndicalist. His writings are available through his website: http://www.punkerslut.com
Comments
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.