MUSIC / Greg Moses : 'Grifter's Hymnal' is Ray Wylie Hubbard on the Cosmic Sly

Tricked out tunes on the cosmic sly:
Ray Wylie Hubbard's 'Grifter's Hymnal'

From the beats of the opening bar of the opening track you can tell that Ray Wylie is in a mood to groove right through this millennial year of long reputed doom.

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / May 10, 2012

So there I was hearing nothing but this wicked whirring Bandit Model Whole Tree Chipper rammed up against a load of Bibles, books, old newspapers, and brown-paper-covered magazines piled high as the Davis Mountains being scooped up and fed to the chipper by a Cat Ultra High Demolition Hydraulic Excavator.

And with the backup alarm blaring from a 469 horsepower Segmented Ejector Truck moving relentlessly into loading position I was finally able to focus my attention on the dusted vinyl lettering that marked every piece of equipment as the property of Ray Wylie Hubbard, Unlimited.

Because when you tune into the opening tracks of Hubbard's freshly released Grifter's Hymnal (2012: Bordello Records) you can't help but thrill to the sound of re-shredding everything you thought you knew.

From the beats of the opening bar of the opening track you can tell that Ray Wylie is in a mood to groove right through this millennial year of long reputed doom. After all, there's nothing at risk if your gods are archaic enough to come from places that can't be undone. And all powers of such antiquity have something to say about eternal slyness and the essence of trickery that goes by the name of existence.

Go ahead, I dare you, roll tape, then see if you don't start smiling right away, finding yourself snakebit before you hear the first warning rattle.

Mirothane is one word you might study up on in preparation for track number one. As defined by its inventors at Mirotone.com, Mirothane PU (TM) is a "flexible sealer with good clarity, superior chemical resistance and resistant to white marking under sharp impact." Might be a sign of Hubbard's acquired taste for custom interiority. Might not.

By the time we get to track two, we're tuned up, warmed over, and rockin', but not at one of those smokeless, sober, early venues like the kind they put Hubbard through at SXSW. No, no. Here we are full tilt throttled for that wide open midnight threshold where everybody grabs everybody else and jumps into the future unknown, crossing over into some other life that may or may not catch you just in time. Yes, yes.

Then, long after the midnight hour, some random mirror catches you reflecting on life and death. And if you've been reading Gloria Anzaldua lately, you'll have some additional enrichment to draw upon as Wylie Hubbard sings in track number four about life up against the memory of Lazarus, who only died twice, not five times like Gloria did.

Track four finds us lighting up and looking around on "New Year's Eve at the Gates of Hell," somewhat like Dante, finding all these familiar faces and refusing to be all that repentant about it. So another year comes and goes and we're still looking at all the souls who haven't yet been sorted where they're supposed to be. As our judgment turns on its own temper, lookout Ma, ain't nothin all right now.

Nahuatl poetry is what you might be thinking about while you're listening to track number five. Indigenous juxtapositions of beauty and death. The song is called "Moss and Flowers" so you have to know that if eternity is what you're after then it's not the kind of eternity that can be measured with an infinity of clocks. You get a very nice experience of duet here, with the harmonies on the guitar parts split between the buds of your Skullcandy (TM).

While speaking of death, "Red Badge of Courage" takes us into war zones of the mind where we have sent our kids these past decades. Somehow, you know the song already. It's just a matter of hearing it played for the first time. Track six is an excursion into protest music, with the weariness of our war habits sounding deep down.

"It's unbelievable" is how I want to sing the opening stanza of track seven's "Train Yard," and we are indeed treated to an unbelievable metaphorical trip involving a red hot penny. Even the great Yeats would nod to the greatness of this hot penny poem, looped in the loops of its steam-powered grip.

"Coochy Coochy" is a plain song of desire with a profoundly felt absence of the one thing that makes everything else sweat. It's a fun song, simple, and I reckon it may begin to replace "Snake Farm" as a crowd sing-along favorite the next place Ray Wylie Hubbard plays. One more sing-along song is not surprising from Mr. Hubbard who, as we say in Texas, writes sing-along songs, "so well, so well, so well." Thing is, this sing-along song was written by Ringo.

If we find ourselves lost in a mood for another Hubbard Mother song, track nine is called "Mother Blues." It's the longest track on the album and may be properly styled epic. The thing about Hubbard's Mother songs is you can't help but find yourself laughing from the gut. You may want to get yourself checked for hernia after this track, and if a professional is unhandy, perhaps a lay practitioner will have to do.

The genre that Hubbard works in is listed on my iTunes spreadsheet as "Country," so you'll not find it out of place for Mr. Hubbard to sing a little song about a rooster, some chickens, foxes, a blackbird, and the way truth stains our memories like wood. The song is called "Henhouse," but the whole family is here, including a grandpa with Dixie roots.

The blackbird from "Henhouse" reprises its appearance in track 11. "Count My Blessings" is a song that weaves a grifter's autobiography with reflections on the death of Sam Cooke. The grifter assures us that three card monty is a lucrative occupation if you keep the game moving fast enough. And the grifter somehow can't forget how the jury acquitted Sam Cooke's killer in 15 minutes flat. In such a fast-paced world, an ironic sense of gratitude can some days help a living body try to get by.

Pretty much everything I know about country music is what I've learned from Willie Nelson shows, so when country music concerts end with gospel tunes I think of young Willie playing honky tonks all night Saturday and then staying up to play church Sunday morning. Somewhere the line between Saturday night and Sunday morning gets crossed, you might say.

So when Ray Wylie Hubbard ends this Dionysian romp with a song about God's light, it's like we've all stayed up through sunrise. To our day-people's routines we have been re-delivered. Nor have we forgotten to tip the night people for the things they come to do.

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. His entries on King and Racism appear in the Encyclopedia of Global Justice. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com. Read more articles by Greg Moses on The Rag Blog.]

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Greg Moses : Occupy May Day: Life, Labor, and Liberty

Occupy posters by Eric Drooker.
Life, labor, and liberty:
May Day then and now

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / May 1, 20112

Counting in reverse through the great Theses on Feuerbach, we pass by the iconic eleventh, which demands that we quit describing the world and start changing it, in order to re-visit the lesser-known tenth.

"The standpoint of the old materialism is civil society;" says the Smith-Cuckson translation of the tenth thesis, "the standpoint of the new is human society or social humanity." In plain English we recognize the warning already sounded in 1845 that normalized uses of "civil society" bring with them bureaucratic retinues, orders of articulation, credentials, and border-sweeping technologies of lethal effect.

In the author's German original, the term for the old society is not "civil" but "burgerliche," which is usually translated into "English" as bourgeoise. Therefore on this May Day 2012 we ask how far from a bourgeoise society have we traveled and what are the prospects of ever realizing our "social humanity" (oder die gesellschaftliche Menschheit)?

This May Day question is born from the robust and passionate vision expressed by the twenty-something German author when he dashed off the tenth thesis as a prelude to his life's work. It reminds me of a slightly older Thoreau, who wrote in his great "Civil Disobedience" of 1849 that "when men (sic) are prepared for it" they will be governed by no government at all.

Together these authors sing lyrical sentiments worthy of May Day, a calendar occasion for marking human celebrations of life, labor, and liberty.

As Rosa Luxembourg tells the modern history of May Day, it was born in Australia by workers -- the stonemasons of Melbourne University, says Wikipedia -- who in 1856 won their struggle for an eight-hour work-day. In the radical Republican aftermath of the U.S. Civil War, the eight-hour day was adopted for federal employees and proclaimed as a presidential principle by Ulysses S. Grant.

Deploying the eight-hour policy into "private" employment became a bloody struggle for several decades more, validating the sorts of things that Marx liked to write about revolution, and solidifying the modern association between May Day and labor struggle.

And still, the story of May Day goes back into archaic traditions of human responses to springtime. Dancing around maypoles, people enact a sense of participation in the joys of natural renewal and growth won back from winter's death. Even in the "Official Eight Hour Song," we hear a human demand to experience the things of spring. "We want to feel the sunshine, and we want to smell the flowers, for surely God has willed it and we mean to have it ours."

In the accumulated history of factory work, the cruelty of long hours would become ever more unbearable in proportion to April's lengthening light.

"Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe?" asked Emerson, anonymously, in his essay "Nature" of 1836. "Our hands and hearts are weary and our homes are heavy with dole," rejoined the singers of the eight-hour song, "if our lives are filled with drudgery, what need of a human soul?"

In some parts of Texas especially this year spring has gushed from the soil like a trillion geysers of greening promises. Landscapes that last year groaned under dehydrations the color of burnt toast this year have sprung into unbelievable thickness of life. Just add water, and up from underground it comes dressed for dancing in the sun.

"All social life is practical," declares thesis number eight, as our countdown continues. "All mysteries which lead theory to mysticism find their rational solution in human practice and in the comprehension of this practice."

May Day 2012 promises to revive the greening energies of general strike, when people declare for themselves a day to stand apart from everything they do in the name of "civil society" and posit the experience of a more social humanity.

The global Occupy movement inspired by Tahrir Square is this spring beginning to makeover vacant lots and abandoned bookstores into gardens and museums. People are seeking new ways to practice their social humanity. Dead spaces, dehydrated by a "capital strike" are being renewed through social labor, which is the only source that capital can come from in the first place. People are exploring human practices and comprehending possibilities in the best ways they know how.

"There is no doubt," wrote the wise Jane Addams, "that the great difficulty we experience in reducing to action our imperfect code of social ethics arises from the fact that we have not yet learned to act together, and find it far from easy even to fuse our principles and aims into a satisfactory statement."

There is no royal road to the new, but that has never stopped life from moving forward. We don't have to live out other people's gridlock as our own.

So when I hear that San Francisco activists have ploughed under idle land the better to grow their own food, or that people in East Lansing have transformed an abandoned book store into a museum, I think of Henry George scanning his beloved bay area and recognizing the absurd contradiction of a system that would enforce monopoly over idle property even as it grinds out longer lines of joblessness and poverty.

Throw property open to anyone weary of idle hands, and you practically eliminate idleness altogether. "It is not the relations of capital and labor," said George, "not the pressure of population against subsistence, that explains the unequal development of society." No. "The great cause of inequality in the distribution of wealth is inequality in the ownership of land."

We don't know if Henry George was right. In the end it will be a practical question answered in practice, not theory alone. But we do have some acquaintance with the practical absurdity of "civil society" reacting with brutality to the social, human occupations of idle spaces. Pardon us please if we are well reminded of Hawthorne's immortal account of what happened to Thomas Morton.

A general strike would at least emphasize an insight that unifies both ancient and modern histories of May Day. It is through our sheer participation in life itself that we find any shred of value whatsoever. By dedicating a day each year to the dancing practices of our social humanity and their comprehensions, we remind ourselves of a proper standard for evaluating everything in between.

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. His entries on King and Racism appear in the Encyclopedia of Global Justice. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com. Read more articles by Greg Moses on The Rag Blog.]

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Greg Moses : It's all Trick, no Treat, as Cops Bust Occupy Austin Protesters

Austin police confront demonstrators at City Hall, Oct. 29, 2011. Photo by Ann Harkness /Flickr.
All trick no treat:
Austin police take down
food table in midnight raid

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / October 31, 2011

Police in Austin, Texas, made 39 arrests early Sunday as they moved to enforce a new rule banning food tables in the City Hall plaza where protesters have camped out. Some protesters surrounded the tables with arms linked. Most were charged with criminal trespass, Police Chief Art Acevedo said. No injuries were reported.

Protesters had been advised of the food table ban on Friday, Assistant City Manager Michael McDonald told the Austin American-Statesman.“We want to facilitate their activities,” he said, “but we can’t allow this to be a permanent campsite.”

Some protesters found the ban arbitrary. “On a night where there are hundreds of drunks driving around town, they have all these resources here to take down three food tables,” protester Dave Cortez told the newspaper. -- Salon / AP

If last Friday you could pull yourself from the temptation of ordering a $17 risotto among jam-packed downtown luncheoneers, then you could walk a little further to the west side of Austin City Hall and catch a free viewing of the noon sun as it stopped to warm a heap of oversized sleeping bags right outside the picture window of city council chambers.

Probably the architect who west-walled the council room in glass was suggesting something about democracy, so you wondered for a minute how that impromptu pile of cozy bedding looked from inside and how long the sight would be tolerated. Out on the west plaza meanwhile a well-bred dog concentrated on the art of warming, stretching its front legs out in such a way as to flatten its tummy across the sun-stained stone, stretching, and coughing just a little bit.

Of course it sounds too perfect that the only other thing you heard was the quiet melody of guitar strings being finger-picked by a youngish man whose presence, style, and musicality seemed to account for the dog’s single-minded attention to relaxation.

Now at what point exactly on this fourth weekend of Occupy Austin did the Austin Police swoop down to scoop up all these sleeping bags and dump them at some pre-authorized location? By Sunday afternoon a shoeless young woman will be trying to explain it all, pointing to her feet and saying yes, that’s why she has no shoes, because they were lost in the sleeping bag raid.

And sure enough on Sunday afternoon when you walk back around to check out the view near “democracy window” there is nothing but bare stone.

Rounding the corner to the south plaza on Friday, you saw a dozen folks sitting in various places upon the amphitheater to your upper left and another dozen people gathered in the plaza before you. Beyond the plaza, and around the sidewalks, perhaps another dozen sat, walked, or stood. Three dozen in all, up, down, and around.

A shirtless man with a bicycle mocked you on Friday for gaping at the scene, then turned his attention to two middle aged men with really cool bikes who were also just looking at things.

Where the east steps of the amphitheater met the plaza was an empty metal bookshelf labeled “Free Library,” not too far from a line-up of books sunning themselves on a warm block of stone. Sitting also on the stone was a young woman deep into the art of making a sign from poster-board and magic marker.

“The police took the bookshelf, too,” explains the barefoot woman on Sunday. “I think they called it a permanent fixture.”

Austin police arrest demonstrator at City Hall, Oct. 29, 2011. Photo by Ann Harkness / Flickr.
On Friday also you recall making notes about the food table that was serving free lunch on the lower deck of the amphitheater. “Mom’s Work” said a sign behind the table as food was being served by a healthy looking blonde.

“They didn’t come for the food table until midnight Saturday,” the barefoot woman explains on Sunday. “There was a new rule about no food from 10 pm to 6 am, so we were kinda giddy about it when they didn’t come for the table at 10. But the rule didn’t go into effect until Sunday, so that’s why they waited.”

Although the food-table arrests were not the first arrests for Occupy Austin, they were the first to be met with a unified and organized response. As the barefoot woman was informing me on Sunday about the overnight arrests, she wondered how she was going to march barefooted from city hall to the county jail.

Thinking back on Friday, you got the impression that the occupation camp was mostly glowing on the question of police relations. The Austin Police Chief had come to Thursday night’s General Assembly with some encouraging words and promises. Folks were chatting Friday about how Austin was an exception to the police attacks that had rocked other occupations.

Not that police had been exactly kindly up to the fourth weekend of Occupy Austin. For example, the “flag man” of the movement who wore a Veteran’s Administration tag around his neck and who camped out near the front sidewalk with an American flag said the cops warned him once that if he put his head down to sleep they would arrest him. After 36 hours of sleepless occupation he walked several miles to the VA facility before he felt safe enough to close his eyes.

After the food-table take-down, the police came back.

“Oh I don’t remember exactly what time it was, maybe between two and four in the morning,” says a trusted witness.

“One group of cops lined up at the top of the amphitheater.”

“No, there were two lines of cops at the top of the amphitheater,” says a friend.

“And they had another line of cops over there,” says the trusted witness, pointing to the sidewalk along the east side of the city hall plaza.

The cops swept southward down the amphitheater and westward across the plaza.

“It was ridiculous, because we have been moving to that side two or three times a week so that they could power-wash the plaza and amphitheater,” chimes in the friend. “Then last night they also changed the order of the power washing. Usually they wash the amphitheater first so that it has a chance to dry first and we can go back to sleep. But last night they washed the amphitheater last and we had the feeling they did it on purpose so that we would have wet spaces to sleep on.”

By the time the police intimidations were over with, nearly 40 people had been arrested. They were being bailed out all day Sunday, and at 4 pm it was time to redouble the support group that was assembled at the door of the county jail.

After a brief double-check via an iPhone map, organizers led 60 marchers north, up Guadalupe, from city hall to the county jail. Our barefooted marcher carried a sign taller than her that read: “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing’s going to get better, it’s not.” Signed by, “The Lorax.” Next time I will see her, she will be educating a television reporter who doesn’t appear shoeless to me.

“Shame on APD, Occupiers must go free!” chant some 60 marchers as they step past prime retailers and polished tour buses. “It’s the War Economy,” declares one protest sign as marchers pass a couple of banks. Small cars honk friendly notes as they pass us going south. Then as the last stragglers of the march finish crossing Fifth Street a big white gas-guzzling combo SUV pickup monstrosity lays on its horn and gas at the same time, nearly threatening to run ‘em down.

After marchers pass the John Henry Faulk city library and take a turn around Wooldridge Park, they are greeted with cheers from the branch occupation at the county jail. The merged rally is easily 150 strong. In this hour of triumph, the arrests themselves have energized the movement to a new plateau of solidarity and determination.

“Free Speech Dies, [The Police Chief] Lies,” chant the occupiers. They recite the First Amendment in unison.

The Bail and Jail Magnet for the occupation announces that $400 has just been posted for two more releases, a third release is pending after that, and a supporter has donated pizza! Boxes of pizza are stacked five high on a bench.

“This is what Democracy looks like,” chants the crowd as a lead organizer points to them. “This is what Hypocrisy looks like,” they chant as he points to the jail house door. All this is going out via live stream on the occupation’s trusty laptop, which has been marched up here, too.

“What happens when people violate your constitutional rights?” asks an organizer. “Do they get arrested?”

“They get elected!” answers a backbencher, cackling.

At that point the door to the county jail opens up and out come three jail trustees in blue scrubs, walking a dog, supervised by a uniformed deputy. The four of them take the dog to a grassy patch where he knows just what to do.

Two television crews break down and return home. A third crew arrives with a satellite truck. The air is swooning with the smell of hand-rolled tobacco.

Arrests accompany police shutdown of food table at Occupy Austin. Photo by Ann Harkness / Flickr.
Then we see our first liberation. Out from the glass doors of the jail strides a young man of stocky build, green t-shirt, desert camo pants, black bandana tied around his neck, and topped with a broad, flat Mohawk. He looks good to us, and you can tell we look good to him. He saunters toward the back benches where the jail veterans are sharing stories. Someone passes him a Coke.

Another stocky young man about this time is talking to the live stream about getting in and out of jail. Inside, they told him there were too many people in jail. He said he told them that’s an easy problem to fix. Just let the folks who didn’t do anything out.

When organizers report three more arrests back at city hall, I walk south to check it out. At Wooldridge Park, three women have set up a table to give food, socks, undershorts, and t-shirts to a line that is already 60 men long. A man is asking for extra socks that he can give to his girlfriend. Down 9th St. near the Hirshfeld-Moore House I catch the back end of a Zombie march. Then it’s past the Texas Observer on 7th, under the porch at Betsy’s Bar, and down a stretch of Lavaca that stinks like puke and grease. At an upscale hotel, valets are lining up a Prius, an Audi, and a BMW.

“Yes, two guys got arrested here about ten minutes ago,” is what I hear from several people back at city hall. “They were fighting. Then while they were being arrested, another guy kept talking to the cops and wouldn’t shut up, so they arrested him too.”

It’s close to 6 pm Sunday and the fourth weekend of Occupy Austin is coming to a close. The last jail release won’t be live streamed until 9:22 pm. Meanwhile Bob Jensen is leading a few folks to the West side of city hall for a teach-in on toxic economics.

Occupiers on the plaza are already debating the meaning of today’s arrests and planning further actions to seek divestment of the city from Bank of America. Everybody is thinking about the next move.

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com. Read more articles by Greg Moses on The Rag Blog.]

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Greg Moses : Even Weather Turns Spiritual at Occupy Austin

General Assembly at Occupy Austin. Photo from Occupy Austin.
Even the weather turns spiritual:
Onward through the storms at Occupy Austin

As Occupy Austin entered its second week, organizers were looking more rested, wholesome, happy, and relaxed as they mixed themselves into the festival of people...

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / October 19, 2011

AUSTIN -- For Bernice King the timing of things must be spiritual. There must have been a reason she says for Hurricane Irene to move in on the August schedule and force a delay to October so that when the monument to her father was officially unveiled Sunday, it would be presented to a nation properly prepared.

For Martin the Third, time also seemed to flow spiritually from the season of his father’s death right into the economic justice movements that are springing into view across the globe inspired by Occupy Wall Street. It was an economic justice movement that occupied Martin Luther King, Jr. the day he took his last fall.

Occupying the only memorial on the National Mall not dedicated to a president or a war, the stone-hewn image of our beloved American prophet transfixes our national conscience upon renewed possibilities. Tourists banned from the Washington monument due to earthquake damage will be compelled more than ever to stop looking at where we came from and go find out where we’re going.

The weather in Texas also had been holding out. Sunny skies greeted the opening-day festival for Occupy Austin on Thursday, October 6, and stayed for the sidewalk picket of Bank of America that Friday. When the storms finally hit Austin on the second Saturday of October they broke the harshest season of heat and drought on record, pouring down their pent-up refreshments all over the first weekend of Occupy Austin.

It wasn’t an easy night for Occupy Austin organizers who showed up to the matinee edition of Sunday’s General Assembly with fatigue and desperation barely contained. What they needed was unity right away. But the thing about real organizing work is that you don’t get what you need when you think you need it most. And so you learn in real time how to stretch yourself across an abyss because somehow it still seems easier than falling apart.

What was most interesting about the first stormy weekend of Occupy Austin had to do with the issue that churned this predominantly white movement nearly to early dissipation. It was the issue of the indigenous peoples and what any real economic justice movement should do about that?

Although the Occupy Austin General Assembly had passed a resolution in support of indigenous peoples on that stormy first Saturday, it was an expensive lesson in the deep-rootedness of all problems American. And for weary organizers who showed up for Sunday’s aftermath, there was a real fear expressed that the occupation might have already seen its last hour.

So it wasn’t an easy meeting up at the City Hall amphitheater, where the west-side railings were still wrapped in black plastic as an improv windbreak. But eventually things worked out. A set of Unity Principles was adopted that would keep the compass of Occupy Austin fixed upon its “true North” purpose as an action guided by the example of Occupy Wall Street.

On Columbus Day, a banking holiday in America, the indigenous movement staged a symbolic protest outside Bank of America and then rallied at the Texas Capitol against a half millennium of occupation. On the Saturday after Columbus Day, the 9th Annual Indigenous People’s march stepped off from the Alamo, joined by folks from Occupy San Antonio.

Meanwhile city officials from Austin to New York were working out their own unity principles, and their word of the week was “sanitation.” On Wall Street the sanitation issue became international news and city officials backed down from their ultimatum that the occupied park should be cleared for proper cleaning. In Austin a few arrests were reported during the sanitation action, but the movement was too young and sparse to make much of an issue out of it.

As Occupy Austin entered its second week this past Friday, October 14, organizers were looking more rested, wholesome, happy, and relaxed as they mixed themselves into the festival of people that array themselves around the Guitar Cow at City Hall Plaza. On my third visit to the occupation I still count more than 100 participants, about 40 of them beginning to look like regulars.

Folks sit up in the amphitheater, hold signs along Cesar Chavez St., mill about the stone plaza, or arrange themselves into small groups on the limited grassy area near Lavaca St. Huddled up against the East side of the amphitheater is another tiny patch of grass that supports knee-high stone blocks. This is where some of the more “official” occupation activities take place, like a food table, an info table, or a small organizing meeting.

On the second Friday of the occupation around 5:30 p.m. about a dozen mostly young folks are discussing strategies of nonviolent communication. This is a survival skill for the occupation movement as any casual visitor to a General Assembly will see. Either this movement will be able to organize itself through group discussions or it will fall apart.

And this is worth remarking in our age of social media. What all the Facebook, cell phone, text message, and Twitter technology has created here is an electrifying need for face-to-face solidarity.

Among the dozen participants who hold handouts at this nonviolence workshop, you don’t hear the usual questions such as what’s nonviolent communication got to do with me? Instead you hear voices who are up to their necks in the need for this skill, and you listen to questions eager to understand how it works.

Just as I’m catching the flow of discussion about the distinction between a request and a demand, up comes a visitor to the occupation who wants to know if we are anti-corporation.

A young man who I recognize as an organizer points to the sky in a gesture that appears to signal something like hey dude that’s not what we’re here to discuss, but one of the facilitators of this workshop checks him with a glance before addressing the questioner.

“How does it make you feel when you hear the words anti-corporation?”

“It pisses me off.”

“When you think about the corporations that you are familiar with, do you think of them as addressing the kinds of problems that we are here to solve?”

No. Clearly our questioner has a lot of corporate experience and he shares with us his mental checklist. One by one, we listen to him tell us how none of the corporations that he knows personally could be counted on to join this movement for economic justice. They all have something else in mind.

“Well, we’re here discussing nonviolence,” says the facilitator.

“I grew up with nonviolence,” says the questioner, a remark that sort of calls attention to his Black skin.

“Nonviolence?” says a white guy who is walking his bicycle through the occupation. “How far are you willing to take that?”

“The question sounds vague to me,” says the second facilitator. “Can you make it more clear?”

“I mean how would you respond if someone was doing violence to you?”

“With compassion,” answers the second facilitator introducing a longer answer that involves Gandhi and some core principles of self-protection.

Soon enough we’re back into the flow of our workshop on nonviolent communication and very pleased to have such handy examples to think about.

Out on the plaza a three-piece band is putting out a vibe. The keyboards hit at the opening chords of “Higher Ground” and soon enough the keyboardist is singing, “People!”

It feels good to see the organizers smiling and chatting casually during this Friday evening festival. The skin that seemed so drained last weekend has come back flush with life. They’ve had a chance to shower and rest and eat and get to know each other a little better.

Back on stage the guitar player strikes a few hard chords and asks us to sing along if we’d like.

“Once upon a time, you dressed so fine...”

And suddenly it’s like people don’t walk past each other any more, but everybody checks out everybody else’s eyes just to make sure they’re sharing the feeling. The keyboardist and bass player dig into their notes. And everything is suddenly new all over again.

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com. Read more articles by Greg Moses on The Rag Blog.]

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Greg Moses : Dream Remains for Hector Lopez and Others

Photo from Reuters.
Despite defeat of DREAM Act:
Hope remains for Hector Lopez and others

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / December 21, 2010

Two weeks ago 21-year-old Hector Lopez was the poster-perfect picture for hope in the DREAM Act. The story of his American dream, his abrupt deportation, and his heroic bid for asylum was featured in The New York Times just one day before the House of Representatives passed the act on Dec. 8. News reports called for a quick vote in the Senate. Lopez was riding high on a hope that the American system would shortly set him free from a federal lockup for migrants in Arizona.

Then the DREAM Act came unraveled. The Senate vote was postponed for a week. The vote to vote on it fell five votes short. And Lopez, the former student-body president of Rex Putnam High School of Portland, Oregon, suddenly felt the air sucked out of his hopes.

"But the failure of the Senate to pass the DREAM Act in no way changes the status of the dreamers," insists immigrant advocate Ralph Isenberg, who has been working on the Lopez release full time for several weeks. "This is not a time to panic. Instead, we need to make certain that our national policy of not deporting students like Hector remains intact."

Isenberg is referring to widely publicized statements made earlier this year by President Barack Obama and federal immigration authorities promising that they would cease spending tax money on efforts to deport young people who had been brought to the U.S. as children.

"I am absolutely certain that Hector Lopez will be released," says Isenberg on the Sunday before Christmas. "He meets all the criteria for dreamers. He has lived in the U.S. for all but a few weeks of his life. He has been an exemplary student. And if the President's words are any good, he said dreamers are not to be deported. I have not found another case where a dreamer with Hector's qualifications and background has been deported."

Encouraged by what he calls a "sincere tone" in his communications with Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) authorities in Arizona, Isenberg has promised to meet all expenses involved in the bonding, release, transportation, and supervision of Lopez so that he can spend the holidays at home with his mother.

Isenberg says he is thankful that ICE officials conducted an interview with Lopez last Wednesday exploring claims that Lopez has a "credible fear" of being re-deported to Mexico. After two full months of life as an American exile in Mexico, Lopez came back across the border in mid-November carrying written appeals for asylum. Officials have reportedly promised a speedy evaluation of the claims in the coming week says Isenberg. Yet despite hopeful signs of sincere treatment in Arizona, Isenberg claims that the past week was stressful for Lopez.

Hector Lopez. Photo from ColorLines.
"Hector had a very bad week," says Isenberg. "He was shocked by the DREAM Act failing in the Senate." And he was informed that on Human Rights Day, Dec. 10, an immigration judge in California ruled that the Lopez deportation case could not be reopened at this time.

"Hector is starting to show signs of extreme stress that I fear could lead to depression," wrote Isenberg in a weekend communication to ICE officials in Arizona. "I also understand the facility psychologist met with Hector. I sincerely hope Hector will be released soon and know that he will most likely suffer from post traumatic stress upon his release. He will get the love and attention he needs from his family and friends. It is imperative that we get Hector released to minimize the amount of mental trauma he has suffered and allow him to resume his position in our society."

As for the immigration judgment coming out of California, Isenberg points to a passage in the ruling where the judge appears to be appealing to some common sense that cuts through the rigid legalism of the immigration codes.

"The Court notes that were the Government to agree to joint reopening of Respondent's proceedings... [Lopez] is eligible to pursue relief in the form of suspension of deportation," wrote the judge in his concluding remarks.

"Respondent has apparently lived in the United States since his entry in 1989... and therefore accrued the requisite physical presence. Respondent has presented voluminous evidence of his good character, contributions to society, and accomplishments. His affidavit also provides evidence of the hardship he has faced upon removal to Mexico.

"While the Court would be amenable to granting Respondent's Motion sua sponte so that he could pursue his application for suspension of deportation, it is prevented from doing so due to lack of jurisdiction."

As Isenberg sees it, ICE authorities in Arizona have the sua sponte discretion to release Hector Lopez immediately and return him to his American life by Christmas.

"I told Hector on the telephone this weekend not to give up," says Isenberg. "He is still on track for being released this week. It would be cruel and unusual punishment not to release this kid."

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. A chapter by the author appears in Philosophic Values and World Citizenship: Locke to Obama and Beyond, edited by Leonard Harris and Jacoby Adeshei Carter. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com.]

Also see:

• "Greg Moses: The DREAM Act Should Set Hector Lopez Free" / The Rag Blog / December 8, 2010
• "How Undocumented Youth Nearly Made Their DREAMs Real in 2010," by Julianne Hing / ColorLines / Truthout / December 20, 2010

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Greg Moses : The DREAM Act Should Set Hector Lopez Free

Hector Lopez. Photo Courtesy of Lori Horton / ColorLines.
Calling from a migrant lockup in Arizona:
Why the DREAM Act should set Hector Lopez free

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / December 8, 2010

“We’re not criminals,” says the young man on the phone. “I’m not here to use the system.”

If he could address the U.S. Congress when it votes on the long-lost DREAM Act, 21-year-old Hector Lopez would ask for freedom from a "106-day nightmare” that started in late August when American immigration authorities ripped him out of his tax-paying, college-going, hard-working life and deported him to Mexico.

He would happily save American taxpayers the money they are now spending on his room and board in a lockup built for migrants near Florence, Arizona.

“What I’ve said the whole time is that people like us -- the college dreamers -- didn’t have any choice. We were brought to this country as children and now we’re your future doctors, lawyers, and neighbors. We’re the future of this country and they’re trying to kick us out. Here you have people who are willing to fight for this country and all we’re asking is permission to call this country our home for the rest of our lives.

“Congress could enable so many productive people by passing the DREAM Act,” says Lopez. “And they would be foolish not to.” With all the things that Lopez has to worry about on Tuesday night, the main thing that keeps his mind busy is how to manage the expectations of what Congress will do with the DREAM Act on Wednesday. “The DREAM Act is finally being voted on,” he says. “I’m trying not to think about it, but it’s making me a nervous wreck.”

Hope is a serious thing to contend with when you’re locked up in Arizona thinking about holiday food. If Congress passes the DREAM Act, Lopez has been advised by attorneys that he would be made a free man. The DREAM Act would make it legal for young folks like him to return to college, get back to work, and make a future in the hometowns of America.

“We could ask for my immediate release,” he says, letting his hope build up momentarily. “So I’m hoping for the best. But on the other hand, I’m trying to stay pessimistic, too.” After all, it’s the U.S. Congress we’re talking about here. They have had good days in history. Maybe even enough good days to make up for the bad.

Whichever way the DREAM Act goes this week, Lopez has backup plans. It’s been three weeks since he crossed the border from Mexico with papers in hand requesting a hearing for “credible fear.” The hearing is usually done in two parts, says immigrant advocate Ralph Isenberg. Lopez is still waiting for part one.

“If people have to wait a long time for the hearing process to begin, that’s a problem in itself,” argues Isenberg from the office of his real estate business in Dallas. “ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) has the discretion to release Hector to his home immediately.”

Alongside the effort to free Lopez, Isenberg is also working for the return of another college dreamer, Saad Nabeel, who was deported from Texas in 2009 during the first semester of his freshman year.

If Congress and ICE continue to harass Hector, Saad, and the millions of college dreamers that they typify, then Isenberg will sponsor a civil rights delegation to visit Hector on Friday.

Rev. Peter Johnson was born into a civil rights family in Plaquemine, Louisiana. He was at the Freedom Rock Baptist Church the night state troopers rode their horses right up to the pulpit. That was the night James Farmer had to be smuggled out of town alive in a coffin.

“I want to tell Hector that he is not alone,” says Rev. Johnson over speaker phone. “There are people all over the world who believe in dignity for all human beings and who have a problem with America when it sets out to destroy families.

“There is a long history of America destroying families,” says Johnson. “Under slavery, they would send the father to Georgia, the mother to Alabama, and the children to Virginia. Today America is literally destroying families. I know of cases where a mother puts her kids in school for the day. The mother is picked up by immigration and sent to Haskell (Texas) prison. And when the children get out of school their mother is gone. They are literally destroying families.”

Johnson plans to take books by Gandhi and King as gifts for Lopez. He has a Gandhi book on nonviolence and a favorite by King, Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community? Destroying families is chaos, not community. Where will we go from here?

“Look here,” says Isenberg jumping into the conversation. “I’m reading the inscription in Rev. Johnson’s copy of Where Do We Go from Here? It says: ‘Peter, Read this book. There will be a test. In fact, now that I think about it, life will be a test for you, (signed) Martin.’”

“That’s right,” says Rev. Johnson, “and when Dr. King gave you a book to read you made sure you read it because you knew he was going to question you about it. Where Do We Go from Here? was a book written in preparation for the Poor People’s Campaign (of 1968). The Poor People’s campaign was going to unite Black and White and Hispanic people so they could confront the trap of poverty and unemployment.” It was a handbook for a movement to come.

“King specifically talked about people South of the border. He said it was America’s moral obligation to help them find a better life.” The timing of Friday’s visit to Florence, Arizona will have three dimensions of significance for Rev. Johnson. It’s nearly a month away from the annual celebration of King’s birthday. The holiday season is coming, which is “a season of forgiveness and atonement.” And finally, Dec. 10 will be the 62nd Anniversary for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

“Fundamentally, the case of Hector Lopez is a question of human rights,” says Rev. Johnson. “America is punishing a man who was brought here only weeks after he was born. In our treatment of Hector Lopez, we need to remember the human rights values of dignity and respect for all.”

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. A chapter by the author appears in Philosophic Values and World Citizenship: Locke to Obama and Beyond, edited by Leonard Harris and Jacoby Adeshei Carter. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com.]

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Greg Moses : Saad Nabeel, the Sophomore Who Isn't

Saad Nabeel: An education interrupted.

The sophomore who isn’t:
How Saad Nabeel's freshman year got ICE'd

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / September 29, 2010

See Saad Nabeel video, Below.

[See Greg Moses' earlier articles about Saad Nabeel on The Rag Blog here.]

As the 2009 graduates of Liberty High School in Frisco, Texas begin their sophomore year of college under new stresses of time and study, they do not forget that their classmate Saad Nabeel never got to finish the first semester of his freshman year. And Nabeel’s immigration advocate Ralph Isenberg says the young man’s abrupt deportation last year was so unfair and illegal that he should be immediately restored to his college career in the USA.

Thanks to Nabeel's energetic internet campaign seeking return to his American homeland, the young man's deportation has been covered by reporters in Texas, Germany, and India. His open letter to President Barack Obama was recently published at The Huffington Post.

Pinak Joshi is one of Nabeel’s best friends and was able to take calls during some of the cruelest days of detention last year. Joshi is a sophomore in molecular biology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where he is already doing independent experimentation on prostate cancer.

“Although I'm proud of all that I do, it is a very strenuous weight to hold at the age of 19,” says Joshi via email. “What happened to Saad showed me that this is a privileged kind of stress. Being a sophomore in college has changed how I look at the world. Thanks to my research experience and coursework, I'm more thorough with my responsibilities and I'm able to think about complex problems analytically.”

“Saad is missing out on all that,” says Joshi. “He's missing out on the ridiculous volume of math problems he would get as an engineer. He's missing the laughs, the good times, and the beauty that is in the struggle of leading a scholarly life. He's missing out on making new friends and building a network that could help him in the future. Most of all, he has been denied the opportunity to pursue his dreams.”

At the College Station campus of Texas A&M University, another close friend of Nabeel, sophomore engineering student Chris Anderson, finds himself already caught up in three-day bouts of homework and tests.

“Being a sophomore in college is more than just a title of what age I am,” says Anderson, “it means that I was able to make it through a whole year on my own. Being able to manage a tough engineering curriculum while still having time to do other activities has helped teach me how to prioritize and manage my time better. If I hadn’t had these skills coming into my sophomore year then I would be behind and struggling in my classes.”

“When Saad’s first semester of his Freshman year of college was disrupted he lost not only his grades which he spent so much time and effort to keep up, but he also lost the whole Freshman experience and the ability to prove himself as an independent person,” says Anderson. “College is about more than just getting a degree, it’s about learning to grow as a person and getting that life experience, but because our government decided to deport him and interrupt his education he is missing a year of his life that he will never get back.”

In Bangladesh, Nabeel struggles with living conditions quite different from the college apartments that he enjoyed last year while attending the University of Texas at Arlington on full scholarship for engineering.

“It is very hot and humid here,” says Nabeel in a draft script that he is preparing for an update to his YouTube page. “The temperature is constantly above 100 degrees outside. The apartment I live in has no air conditioning. To make matters worse, the electricity stays off for upwards of nine hours a day. Then there is the pollution. The air can make you sick here and some days I can barely get out of bed. I have also suffered several bouts of food poisoning. I hope you can better understand why I am so anxious to get home. Bangladesh is not home but rather a nightmare that I hope soon ends.”

To get his American dream back on track, Nabeel has been working with Dallas businessman and immigration advocate Ralph Isenberg. After a recent review of Nabeel’s case, Isenberg is arguing that U.S. immigration authorities contradicted themselves when they first separated Nabeel from his mother and then failed to treat him as an unaccompanied minor.

On Isenberg’s reading, immigration law defines minors as younger than 21. Therefore, when Nabeel at age 18 was separated from his mother, immigration authorities should have transferred him to Health and Human Services (HHS), where he would have been entitled to education and legal representation, both denied to him under supervision of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

“Saad’s detention was unlawful and ICE knew it,” says Isenberg via telephone. “Immigration law defines a minor as 21 years old or less. And there are two types of minors, accompanied and unaccompanied. Saad coming to America at age three was clearly an accompanied minor the whole time.”

ICE authorities in New York separated Nabeel from his mother on the day before Thanksgiving, 2009. ICE then detained the 18-year-old in an adult facility and refused the young man’s requests to communicate with his parents who were both under ICE detention. ICE could have allowed communication between the young man and his parents. They could have transferred the younger Nabeel to detention with his father in Haskell, Texas. Or they could have released the 18-year-old to the care of his uncle in New York.

At no point during their 15-year immigration saga in America were the Nabeel family “illegal,” explains the younger Nabeel in his upcoming YouTube video. They arrived with visas in 1994 and were very close to finalizing Green Cards in 2009. It was not the application of immigration law that forced the family to Bangladesh in 2010, but the misapplication of law by authorities who misused their powers.

“There is no gray area in the law,” explains Isenberg. “Unaccompanied minors must be handed over to HHS. ICE knew it, but refused to do that. They took a minor and put him into an adult detention facility without protections of law that minors are entitled to. There are halfway houses for unaccompanied minors. HHS has definitive responsibilities to provide education and social services. Saad was denied all that.

“When Saad asked for help he was called a security risk. ICE not only could have but should have paroled Saad to his uncle,” says Isenberg. “I dare say had that happened he would have never been deported. ICE broke the law by ignoring Saad’s request for political asylum while detained. They broke the law, put him in jail, threw away the key, put him on the plane, and there was no due process whatsoever.”

Saad Nabeel and Taylor Swift, in better times.
On a sweltering day in late August Nabeel received an email with a link to the just-released Taylor Swift video. When he clicked on the link he was informed that the video was not available for viewing in the Bangladesh region.

“It sucks,” he emailed, “because I had tickets to her concert twice but couldn't go because my parents said, ‘we don't know if immigration will extend our time that long.'” The family was living lawfully and obediently according to the directions that ICE had communicated. What else could keep the young Nabeel from twice buying his Taylor Swift tickets in advance?

Of course, eight hours after the first email a second one arrived from the computer saavy Nabeel. In all caps it read “just watched it, greatest music video ever!” How do you get to be more of an American kid than that?

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com.]

Also see:

• Greg Moses: A Conversation With Saad Nabeel / The Rag Blog / August 18, 2010
• Greg Moses: Deporting Texas Student Was Big Mistake / The Rag Blog / August 9, 2010

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Greg Moses : A Conversation With Saad Nabeel

Image from Dallas Morning News / Facebook.
A Conversation with Saad Nabeel:

'While Everyone Goes to College, I Go to Jail' or How Saad Nabeel became an All-American Kid, majored in Electrical Engineering, was Thrown into Jail by the USA, deported to Bangladesh, denied Re-Entry, and Ignored by the New York Times White House Info Regime. All of This Instead of what he Really wanted, which was a Kickass Freshman Year...

[Previously on The Rag Blog: Greg Moses: Deporting Texas Student Was Big Mistake.]

By Greg Moses / The Rag Blog / August 18, 2010

The following conversation with Saad Nabeel was stitched together from more than a hundred emails during the months of July and August, 2010.

Part One: An American kid

Where were you born and when did you arrive in the USA?

SAAD: I was born in Dhaka, Bangladesh in 1991. I moved to the USA in 1994, when I was three years old.

And that was in California?

SAAD: Yes I moved to Los Angeles, California.

Do you recall those first impressions of LA? What was it like?

SAAD: Well it was my home. That's all I knew since I have no memory of anything earlier than LA. I loved my home.

What was it about your home that you loved?

SAAD: I loved everything. Being able to play with my friends, go to school and have fun, go to all the cool places in LA with my parents. What I loved most about my home was that it was a place I knew that I was safe. It was a place I always knew would be there at the end of the day, no matter what happened.

But that changed?

SAAD: Yeah it changed when I was about to graduate from the 5th grade. Immigration forced my father to choose between returning back to Bangladesh and getting persecuted by rival political groups, or moving away from California and awaiting the approval of his green card that his brother had applied to get him.

And that's when your family brought you to Texas?

SAAD: Yes, in 2002, a few weeks before graduating from elementary school.

So you arrived in Texas just in time for summer. What was it like for you?

SAAD: Well I was in a place where I knew no one. I had just left my entire life behind and everyone I knew in it. Much like what it feels for me now in Bangladesh.

And then you started Middle School. What was that like for you?

SAAD: I started the 6th grade in Allen, Texas. A school named Reed Elementary is where I went. Middle School began in Allen when you started 7th grade, so I was stuck in elementary for another year. Reed was interesting to say the least. Going to school in Texas is where I experienced my first taste of racism. People made racist jokes on a daily basis about me, in front of other peers.

So you found it difficult to make friends at first?

SAAD: Yeah, at first. But I quickly made friends, though the racial slurs kept on at a steady pace with the kids who were strangers.

So let's talk about the friends for a minute and how your final year of elementary school ended.

SAAD: Well elementary school ended decently I'd say. I was good friends with most other students. Everyone generally liked me. After 6th grade we moved to our home in Frisco, Texas.

And that’s where you stayed until college?

SAAD: Yes sir.

What was it like making friends in Frisco? What was the Middle School like for you?

SAAD: It wasn't difficult making friends in Frisco, probably because the initial shock of leaving my life behind in California had eased away. Wester Middle School was fun. Eighth grade was the best because it was easy and I knew everyone. Going to Six Flags at the end of the year with my class was also great.

As you were busy growing up, how involved were you with your family’s immigration status? Given the upsetting nature of your family’s move from California, how much did it weigh on your mind that you might have to leave the United States?

SAAD: Well I was not involved. I was told it was being taken care of since we almost always had lawyers doing some sort of work for us. I didn't have time to be involved with immigration, because I knew nothing about it. I thought I was just a regular kid like everyone else I knew. It never occurred to me that I would have to leave America since it was my home. I was told we would eventually have our green cards.

So let’s talk about High School next. Did you go to the same High School as most of your Middle School friends? What interests did you develop there?

SAAD: I went to high school with all of my middle school class (at least for freshman year that is). I developed a keen interest in computers and everything about them. I learned everything I could about them. Other than that, hanging out with friends, going to the movies, going on dates were all the norm.

And you started your own company at that time? Tell us about that.

SAAD: That's when I started Easy PC (for lack of a better name). I figured "why not use my skills for a job?" I found cheap website hosting, made a site, and went around trying to advertise. Got a few flyers up in classrooms of teachers I had. Made an honest buck or two.

All in all, an all-American story. Then you went off to college?

SAAD: I applied for scholarships and was pleasantly surprised to receive enough funding to get a full ride for the University of Texas at Arlington. My years of hard work in high school finally paid off.

Did you move to campus housing or commute from home?

SAAD: I moved to the on-campus apartments. Centennial Court was the name.

I looked it up online. Seems like a perfect place to live out your college years. What was that first month like in September 2009?

SAAD: It was awesome. For the first time in my life, I was living alone. I had great roommates and we always had awesome times together. Classes weren't so hard since we had just begun. Everything was going right in my life.

And then came the turning point? What was your first notice that things had changed for you?

SAAD: I'd say the first indication was when my parents called to say that they were going to report to ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) in the morning, just as they did every month, except that day, they didn't call me to tell me how it went.

Is that the infamous ICE office on Stemmons Freeway?

SAAD: Yes it's the one on Stemmons.

How were you notified that this visit to ICE had turned out so differently?

SAAD: Honestly I wasn't aware of the implications of the situation until my father was detained, and he was detained before the date that ICE allowed him on his papers. I was honestly caught up in loads of school work.

Saad Nabeel. Image from Dallas Observer.

Part Two: Jail at the border

OK, so let’s focus for a minute on your experience of the events that unfolded. How did you first become aware that the situation was dire? How were you notified, and by whom? What did they say? What went through your mind?

SAAD: I first became aware of the situation on Nov. 3 when my mom called me at my apartment telling me that my father had been taken by ICE. Things didn't really function in my head. She told me the only choices we had were to go to Canada and try to seek refuge there or to go to Bangladesh, a third-world country. I had no idea what to say about any of this. Losing my life in a heartbeat isn't exactly something that's easy.

Nov. 3, 2009 was a Tuesday. By that time you would have completed your mid-term assessments? How were your grades at that point?

SAAD: Actually, mid-term exams were about to start. I had an Electrical Engineering lab exam in the morning so I was up studying all day. My grades were good in my opinion. I put a lot of effort into my work.

So what did you think about your options at that point? Canada or Bangladesh?

SAAD: I didn't want either one. I wanted to stay where I was at. I wanted to stay home. But I couldn't let my mother go alone to Canada. I had to go with her. She's my mother.

So you traveled with your mother from Dallas to the Canada border?

SAAD: We flew to NYC. Then my uncle drove us to the border.

Was that your father’s brother? Was he someone you had known well? What was that trip like? What was going through your head? Which border station did you approach?

SAAD: It was my father's brother. We used to live with him when we first moved to the USA. But we had not seen each other in years. The trip was long and tiring. The only thing in my head was, "Am I really leaving everything behind?" We approached the Buffalo border.

And this was still early November 2009? As you were approaching the border at Buffalo, what was the weather like? What time of day? Did you just try to drive through, or did you park the car and approach the border station on foot?

SAAD: It was towards mid-November since it took us a while to prepare clothes, food, and other items for the trip. It was very cold the entire time. Snow on the ground everywhere we went. When we got to the border, we worked with an organization that helps immigrants who are out of status and have only Canada left as a choice. We filed paperwork with them, camped out at a one-room motel for over a week. I would sleep on the floor, my mom on the bed.

As November wore on, were you able to keep in touch with friends? What were you saying to them? What were they saying to you?

SAAD: The motel had internet, so that's how I was able to communicate to my friends. I was telling them that I had to move to Canada. Only my closest friends knew the real deal. They helped me pack my belongings in Texas. They were all bummed out.

Do you want to talk a little about the organization that was helping you with the process? Besides filing papers and waiting for an answer, was there anything else for you and your mother to do?

SAAD: The name of it was Vive La Casa. They have a website. All my mother and I had to do was wait for the call to go to Canada, meet with her relative (in this case her uncle), and convince the border authority that their relationship was legitimate.

Her uncle?

SAAD: Yes. You need a relative to go into Canada. She was fortunate enough to have one. Although I use the term “fortunate” very loosely seeing as I'm not exactly in the best shape.

At Vive la Casa, they would call your mother’s uncle an “anchor relative”? So if we continue to use terms very loosely you had some “hope” that your passage to Canada would be approved?

SAAD: I do not know the terminology, honestly. That's probably correct though. You are also safe to assume that I had little to no hope that we would enter Canada. Why? Because I was never able to get over the shock of leaving behind everything in my life because of immigration, for the second time -- the first was the move from LA.

So what happened next?

SAAD: To make the depressing story short: we got the call that we had to go get interviewed at the border. We went there and met up with my mom's uncle. All three of us were separated from each other into different rooms and drilled with questions. Hours upon hours later, Canadian immigration said, "we do not believe you two -- my mother and her uncle -- have a relationship. Sorry, but we are sending you back to U.S. immigration."

By that time it was very late in the day? Were you able to communicate with anyone?

SAAD: I had been awake all night and they finally rejected us around 4 p.m. when the office closed. After that we were sent back to U.S. immigration and locked in a room until one in the morning or so. I was able to call one friend. That's it.

So there you were, locked into a room with your mother for eight hours, and the Canada option was closed? What kind of room was it? What were you expecting next? How was your mother holding up?

SAAD: It was a room with a few seats, a TV, and a glass wall looking out at the other side of the building we were housed in. A lot of people were there. There was a counter at the top of the room. Behind it is where the police officers and ICE agents were. I only expected to be taken to jail. That's what they told us when we got there. My mother was in tears the whole time.

It sounds miserable. Two weeks prior to that you had been in Texas studying for your electrical engineering midterms. Now you were a thousand miles away in New York, waiting to go to jail.

SAAD: That's my life. While everyone goes to college, I go to jail.

And that’s where they took you next? To jail?

SAAD: Yeah. Handcuffed mother and me and took us to separate facilities.

Did you have a clear idea of why you were being jailed? I mean it seems that you were doing everything according to established procedures. Were you given any kind of hearing or any chance to get a lawyer before they handcuffed you?

SAAD: No. I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that ICE was okay with us living in Texas. We did not get the right to a lawyer.

Did you get the impression that ICE was treating you as your mother’s child, under her supervision? Or were they treating you as an adult with full rights and privileges to be informed about what was going on with options of your own?

SAAD: I never had to report to ICE. Only my parents had to. I thought I was still under parental supervision.

Where did they take you? What did they tell you? How were you handled?

SAAD: They didn't tell me much. Not much conversation other than, "We're taking you to Batavia. Your mom is going to Chautauqua County Jail." We were handled like luggage.

So they took you to the Buffalo Federal Detention Center at Batavia, New York? That’s about a one-hour drive from the city of Buffalo. Were you cuffed the whole time? Am I correct to imagine that you were pretty numb from the shock of it all?

SAAD: I was cuffed the whole time. I had not eaten or slept in 36 or so hours. It was 4:30 a.m. when I was finally stuck into the room I was to live in for the next 42 days.

Do you recall the date? I see that the Batavia detention center has three diamond-shaped pods. Did you have a sense of your location within the facility?

SAAD: It was the day before Thanksgiving. No, I had no sense of location when I was inside.

Were you alone in your cell? What was the typical day like?

SAAD: I was with 60 men in the room. A typical day was spent by doing nothing. Later on I made friends with a few people there and we played cards for five hours at a time to kill the day. I kept a 20-page journal of what was in my mind.

There were 60 beds in one room? Do you want to share a passage from that journal?

SAAD: Yes, the room had two floors with 30 people on each floor. I was prisoner number 301. The journal is a madman's journal. It's full of random mood swings and trauma.

Were you able to communicate with your mother, your friends, or an attorney?

SAAD: I was not able to talk to my mother or father. I was able to contact a few of my friends.

What was that like? Not being able to talk to your parents? Did your friends help to keep your spirits up?

SAAD: It made me worry about them. I knew my father could take care of himself. But my mother had never even imagined she would experience torture like this. My friends tried their best to keep my spirits up. They told me time and again to not blame my parents for what was happening.

So you were kept in jail through the holidays? Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year?

SAAD: Yes.

Dallas Morning News, April 5, 2010. Image from Facebook.

Part Three: Deportee

And then you were deported? How did the deportation take place?

SAAD: Yes, I was deported. They took me out of the room. Forced me to sign papers stating I had a 10-year bar from returning to the USA. "If you do not sign what we give you, you will be criminally charged and kept in jail." I signed the papers. They stripped me in front of another officer once again to see if I had something concealed then gave me the 42-day-old clothes I wore when I entered the facility.

I was then taken by an officer out to a van that my mother was in. We flew from the Buffalo Airport to Chicago O'Hare, then to LAX -- my hometown... didn't think that was how I would visit it -- then from there to Bangkok, Thailand. In Thailand my mother and I were kept in a cell with no air conditioning, which was literally crawling with cockroaches and spiders.

Did your mother tell you how she had lived for 42 days at the Chautauqua County Jail? How long were you two kept in Thailand?

SAAD: She was devastated as expected. It's difficult to describe the feeling honestly. It's like walking to the gallows. She told me she was transferred three times, denied hot water, and kept behind bars. We were in Thailand for over three hours or so.

Then you were finally transported to Bangladesh for a reunion with your father? What was that like?

SAAD: Father was still in Haskell, Texas, at the Rolling Plains Prison. He came in February. My mom’s brother -- uncle to me -- made special arrangements with Bangladeshi immigration because if he did not, we would have been detained for three days.

Wait. So your father was still in Texas? You and your mother were deported before he was deported? And yet his status was the primary interest for immigration? Everything sounds completely mixed up to me.

SAAD: That’s completely correct. Trust me, I'm just as confused as you are.

For the record maybe we should make a note here that this section of the interview is transpiring on the day that the White House disinvited your Dallas advocate Ralph Isenberg from a fundraiser that he paid $10,000 to attend. We live in confusing times.

SAAD: It was to make it so the New York Times article was not contradicted by my case.

Yes, the Times was reporting that students like you were not being deported. There you were, a bona fide national contradiction. I’m sure we’ll come to Ralph in good time. Meanwhile, you and your mother were getting settled in Bangladesh. How did you find a place? What did you have with you? Who did you know there?

SAAD: My mom has family here. We stayed with her brother for a week or so. Then they found an apartment across the street from his. I arrived with a bag of clothes in a duffel bag. That's all.

And you hadn’t seen Bangladesh since you were two or three? You had jet lag and culture shock? What do you recall about that first week?

SAAD: I had no memory of this place at all. It was and still is a different planet. I don't even know the language, so 90 percent of the signs on the street were and are alien to me. Culture shock -- there's really no way to describe the feelings I had because I knew "I can't go home." The first week, I started getting sick, vomiting, depression, tirades against my mother, etc.

And then your father joined you? What do you recall about that reunion?

SAAD: It wasn't one that I'm proud of. All my life I knew how to control my anger. But when you lose your entire life in front of your eyes, you don't care anymore about control.

But what could your father have done differently? As I understand the situation from talking to Ralph, your father was very close to getting permanent residency.

SAAD: I don't know what he could have done. All I know is that there was probably a way to avoid all of this.

When did you begin campaigning for your return to the USA? How did that begin?

SAAD: I began in March I believe. My YouTube video has the date on there (March 18, 2010). It began after I recovered mentally a bit and regained some of what made me "The Saad" back home. Everyone knows the The Saad back home, and they know that when he sets his mind to something, he makes it happen. It's egotistical but it's what keeps me afloat.

When do you first recall being called “The Saad”? Was it connected to a specific achievement?

SAAD: I first started calling myself The Saad in 2007 during my junior year of high school. It caught on, as much as everyone hated saying it because it added to my ego, ha ha. Teachers started calling me that at one point.

What about “The Official Group: Bring Saad Nabeel Back Home to America”? The first signature at the petition is dated March 26, 2010. And there is a Facebook page. How did all that come into existence?

SAAD: I started the Facebook Page a long time ago. I was the one who created the Official Group. I made it as a central hub for people to learn about my situation. I would stay up all night spreading around my initial deportation video and group link. Very long nights. But the PR paid off eventually when the Dallas Morning News came knocking.

Yes, I see an excellent, comprehensive story on April 5, 2010 by Morning News reporter Jessica Meyers. She describes you as "a Taco Bell aficionado and Taylor Swift fanatic." Did she contact you via Facebook? The story is sympathetic to the unfairness of your status but not very optimistic about the chances of reversing it.

SAAD: My friends and I have been living off of Taco Bell for years now. We used to say "Taco Bell's our second home. It's the hand that feeds. Don't insult it. Don't bite the hand that feeds."

Ah yes, I am completely and utterly in love with Taylor Swift, no arguing that. The salutatorian of my graduating class mentioned me in her speech during our graduation ceremony because of how much I loved Taylor Swift. The Dallas Morning News contacted me by Facebook first.

But before the Morning News published their story, you were contacted by WFAA reporter Steve Stoler? He interviewed you via Skype for a March 22 report. And that was a few days before the online petition was posted (or the domain name created). So the Dallas media must have seen something compelling in your story.

Stoler presented supportive on-camera comments from your Liberty High School friends who called your treatment "unfair." And you say, "I really hope that someone in the government has a heart." Heart and fairness? What's wrong with asking for that?

SAAD: Yes, Steve contacted me on Facebook as well. What's wrong with heart and fairness? I have no idea. I still can't accept the fact that I'm stuck in Asia right now.

Speaking about heart and fairness, how did you get to know [attorney] Ralph Isenberg?

SAAD: After the Dallas Morning News article was published, Ralph contacted Jessica Meyers who wrote my article and she contacted me.

So you've been working with Ralph since about mid-April, 2010? What has that been like? What has Ralph been able to offer in the way of resources and strategy?

SAAD: Yes since mid-April. Working with him has been good. He has more information to share than any immigration attorney will ever tell you no matter how much you pay them. Actually he's more knowledgeable than most attorneys.

And he helped you try to return to college this year? What was your experience of that?

SAAD: Yes, he and I worked on me returning home as fast as possible to attend SMU. Dr. Charles Baker from SMU contacted the Dallas Morning News at the same time as Ralph did and so I introduced them.

So the three of you worked on the SMU option? What was that experience like for you?

SAAD: Well it gave me hope that people hadn't given up on me. I finally felt like I could go home.
How did the process play out over time? What things were you doing to qualify for admission to SMU and secure passport permissions to return to America for college?

SAAD: Dr. Baker would scan up the necessary documents for SMU, email them over, have me sign them, and then send them back. I qualified for SMU thanks to my ACT score. Passport permission was not given to me. I was denied my visa because my passport had an "ineligibility" on it. The U.S .Consulate told me to come back January 5, 2020.

So you visited the U.S. Consulate in Bangladesh? When was that? Did you have to fill out forms? Was there a meeting or an interview? Did they know that you had been accepted at SMU?

SAAD: I believe it was a day or two before June 30, when the Dallas Morning News pumped out a short article about it. At the consulate, I did not have to fill out any forms. It was an interview. There was a man behind a glass screen and I was on the opposite side. They knew everything. I gave them -- all the paperwork, letters from SMU, etc. They didn't care. They took one look at it and rejected me based on my passport. I don't understand how difficult it is for the government to just fix a simple mistake THEY made on my case...

And what mistake was that?

SAAD: The 10-year bar that I was never supposed to have by law.

Why were you never supposed to have a 10-year bar?

SAAD: A 10-year bar is only placed on someone who overstayed in the USA unlawfully for over 360 days starting at the age of 18. I was under ICE supervision since the age of 17 so I was never overstaying unlawfully. It was always with the permission of ICE. A three-year bar is only placed on someone who has overstayed unlawfully for over 180 days. The only overstaying I did was from November 24 to January 4 because I was detained. I was still 18 years old when I departed the USA.

And while you were detained you never got to consult a lawyer? But before they deported you, they said you had to sign the 10-year bar? It sounds like you were forced into an impossible situation. How do you take back a signature you should never have been forced to sign?

SAAD: No, I was not able to consult a lawyer nor given the ability to ask for one because they told me "if you refuse to sign any papers we give you, you will be criminally charged and kept in jail."

Your case has attracted recent coverage from important international press such as the German magazine der Spiegel and the Calcutta newspaper The Telegraph. Your Official Group at Facebook in mid-August has about 5,000 friends who like it. What are the chances that The Saad will be able to high-jump over his 10-year bar?

THE SAAD: Everyone knows The Saad as someone who gets things done. A lot of people expect me home soon and even have things planned out for it. But what the public doesn't know is that, even The Saad has his doubts about himself. We grow up in America knowing that "justice will prevail" so that's what I hope happens. Someone will recognize this mistake and fix it.

[Greg Moses is editor of the Texas Civil Rights Review and author of Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. He can be reached at gmosesx@gmail.com.]

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