The project “Where We’re From” was coordinated by Summer Brenner, author of Richmond Tales: Lost Secrets of the Iron Triangle.

“You’d think that stories like that would have been talked about in the family,” she said. But, as Ruby Jean Fox told her great-granddaughter Bianca, “Nobody ever asks you to sit down and tell them about your life, and by the time they think of it, it’s too late.”

On display at the Hilltop Mall until February 15^th, are the poems and pictures of this year’s “Where We’re From” project. Under Brenner’s tutelage, 19 students from Kappa Continuation High School conducted interviews with older family or community members in order to find out more about their family history, getting creative with it in the process.

Brenner says that at first, the students were standoffish. But “they were totally transformed” when visitors started coming into the class and sharing stories, such as community leader Fred Davis Jackson.

He told them what it was like for him, coming here from a small town in Missouri to pick cotton in California, and how he still could not escape racism.

“It was amazing,” he said, talking about his young interviewers. “They kind of sifted through me… little did I know they would so precise – and so poignant.”

The kids asked their elders about family traditions, recipes, and places they’ve lived. In class, Brenner taught them interview techniques and discussed genealogy and migration. The result is large, colorful panels with a black and white photograph (taken by Community Works director, Ruth Morgan) and poems written by the kids; both about themselves and the person they interviewed.

Many of the students, like Jose Navarro III, were surprised by what they found out about their family. He said that he never knew that his dad had been to Mexico City – nor that the police had robbed him there.

Navarro was the only student to come to the exhibition’s opening. Brenner said she was disappointed; she had tried to reunite her class for the occasion, but in the seven months that passed, her students – most of which come from socioeconomically disadvantaged backgrounds – had scattered. Navarro read his poem aloud to the 30-odd people who had gathered. In the crowd were the mayors of Richmond and San Pablo, who spoke warmly about the program.

This is the second year “Where we’re From” has taken place; the first, done with ninth-graders from Richmond High, came about in 2007 thanks to a grant from the Christensen Fund. This year, the Lesher Foundation contributed the funds.

Morgan coordinated the project with Brenner. She said she hopes they will get a grant to descend upon yet another Richmond school next spring, and help more students discover their rich, unmined family histories.

James demanded access to Richmond High at a safety meeting that followed the attack, to offer training that gives bystanders tools to intervene in acts of violence against women. She should have been admitted to the school before, she said. James is the executive director of Community Violence Solutions, the rape crisis center that serves Contra Costa and Marin Counties.  CVS offers a training called My Strength, a rape-prevention program that is directed at young men rather than women and is offered through rape crisis centers statewide.

Offering sexual assault prevention classes for men—and the classes are gender-specific—seems counterintuitive to some training participants.

“A lot of men don’t believe that it is their issue or that they have anything to do with it,” said Jack Schmidt, a prevention educator at CVS in San Pablo. Schmidt’s job as a My Strength trainer is to draw out young men’s beliefs about sexual assault. An essential part of My Strength is showing men who will likely never be perpetrators how they can end violence against women, Schmidt said.

The My Strength media campaign is bilingual

Students begin with exercises that ask them to consider traditional ideas of masculinity, said Chad Sniffen, a Prevention Services Coordinator at the California Coalition Against Sexual Assault.  The coalition licensed and adapted the My Strength training from Men Can Stop Rape, a Washington D.C.-based organization devoted to sexual assault prevention.

In a typical discussion of what it means to be a man, “themes emerge around power and dominance, physical appearance and strength, invulnerability, leadership, violence, emotional control, overcoming obstacles,” Sniffen said.

Schmidt reports similar discussions in his classes. “Those are the widely held beliefs, not just for the guys in My Strength, but in society as a whole,” he said. Masculinity is also associated with sexual prowess, he said, “being heterosexual and having lots of sex with women.”

Trainers are careful not to push students too far away from their ideas about gender, fearing too much of a challenge to their beliefs would be counterproductive.  Instead, they offer a version of masculine strength that is not associated with dominating women or perpetrating violence against them.

They also ask students to think of public figures who fit their idea of what it means to be a man and who would never condone violence against women.  Barack Obama is frequently mentioned as such a role model, Schmidt said.

Trainers also emphasize that seeing women as sexual objects, or degrading women by describing them with words like “bitch,” help to create a cultural atmosphere that fosters sexual assault. “There are going to be some men out there who take that to heart and do treat women like dogs or animals,” Schmidt said.  “It certainly contributes to a culture of violence.”

My Strength training shows men who witness the degradation of women how to speak up and challenge it, Schmidt said. Students role-play to practice confronting a man harassing a woman on the street or using abusive language to describe women.  “That may not be the easiest thing for young men to do, especially in a locker room setting or in a social setting like that,” Schmidt said.

My Strength treats men as a force of positive action, trainers said. “We look at men not as potential perpetrators but as potential agents of change,” Schmidt said.

As Richmond struggled for answers in the aftermath of the assault at Richmond High, crisis director James crystallized the logic of this approach to ending rape. “What the heck are we talking to girls for?” she asked more than once.  “They are not assaulting.”

It is the 12th year that North Richmond’s Verde Elementary has been the recipient of this drive. District Supervisor chief of staff Luz Gomez is coordinating the effort. She said the school was chosen because of its location in an unincorporated part of Richmond, which means it often falls below the county’s radar.

While the school’s API score has been rising, Gomez said, the neighborhood remains one of the city’s poorest: All 326 students are on free or reduced lunches. According to the school’s 2008 Accountability Report Card, 65 percent of the children are English learners and 100 percent are socioeconomically disadvantaged.

The drive ends Monday. Santa Claus will visit the school and give out the toys at a holiday assembly on Friday. The coats are given out in a more discreet way. Teachers identify those who are most in need, Gomez said, and then the kids are surprised with the coat privately.

Gioia is urging people to continue to give, despite the hard times.

“For many, your generosity will provide the only gifts under the tree this year,” he writes through his electronic mailing list.

All donations may be dropped off at the District Supervisor’s office located at 11780 San Pablo Avenue, Suite D, El Cerrito, CA  94530. For any questions, call 510-374-3231.

“We see a very strong correlation between transportation and attending school,” said Marin Trujillo, spokesman for the West Contra Costa Unified School District.

Trujillo’s office, in conjunction with Supervisor John Gioia’s office, talked to students before launching the program to get a sense of whether it would be helpful, and why.

“To get to high school sometimes, some of these kids if they can’t afford a bus pass, the only other way of transportation is to walk,” said Terrance Cheung, chief of staff for Gioia’s office.

Cheung said walking sometimes exposes them to gang activity, whether as victims or as potential recruits. His office also found that many of the crimes teenagers commit, like graffiti or robbery, happen after school. Bus passes could help students get to after-school programs or jobs more easily and possibly cut down on the mischief.

To be eligible for a free pass, students must be enrolled in the existing federal free or reduced-cost lunch program. To keep the pass, they must maintain a 95 percent attendance rate. Trujillo’s office is working on marketing ideas, such as a recently-launched poster campaign, to promote the program and fill the remaining 500 spots. He suspects the program hasn’t drawn more applications because it’s new and people don’t know about it.

“We thought we were going to have all the slots full, but this is our first year, so we’re still learning what works,” Trujillo said.

In addition to the value of having kids in school, the program has an added benefit for the district. Some of the district’s funding from the state is based on school attendance rates, so administrators have an incentive to keep those as high as possible. The district also receives federal funding for students enrolled in the free and reduced-cost lunch program, so the more students enrolled, the more money the district gets.

The program focuses on high school students because, compared with younger students, they tend to live further from school and are more likely to have after-school jobs they can reach by public transportation.

The passes are funded by sales taxes through the voter-approved Measure J. Initial estimates projected that sales in the county would garner about $14.5 million over time, which is estimated to buy bus passes for about 25 years. Due to the recession, however, recent sales have been bringing the program less than a quarter of what officials expected. The fluctuations could prove challenging for the program in the future.

For now, though, officials just want to get the word out so that more students can make use of the free passes.

Students interested in applying for the Student Bus Pass Program can download an application for passes from the district’s home page at www.wccusd.net and submit it to their school, or contact Marin Trujillo at the school district at (510) 307-4527. To be eligible, students must be enrolled in the national free and reduced-cost lunch program.

But Homecoming night tends to transcend such temporary inconveniences. On the biggest night of the high school sports season, the cheerleaders have to bring their best.

And the team of bubbly De Anza Dons cheerleaders did exactly that at the school’s Nov. 13 homecoming. On the field, the football team endured its 10th game without a win, but you’d never have known it from the sidelines, where De Anza’s cheerleaders kept up the “Let’s go D.A., let’s go” cheers for 48 minutes.

Cheer coach Lori Nardone said her girls didn’t lack for enthusiasm or energy despite some of the less than cheerful circumstances on the gridiron. She also noted that her girls, while not the most high-flying aerial troop around, do well with what they’ve got.

“It’s hard,” Nardone said. “We don’t have a gym or mats, so we can’t do any throwing or catching.”

The energy never flagged and the smiles stayed strong deep into the 4th quarter. But when the final whistle sounded on the 49-7 defeat and the curtain fell on the 2009 season, some emotions welled from within.

“I started crying, it makes me sad because it’s our last game,” said cheerleader Tatianna Montoya, a senior.

The Dons were blown out 49-7 by a much better Alameda High School team. The Dons gave up hundreds of yards, but never yielded an inch when it came to heart.

Defensive coordinator Damariea Blanchard implores his players to continue their intense play.

They came in 0-9, and they left 0-10. Most of the  23 players who suited up were seniors, playing possibly the last organized football game of their lives.

After the game, Coach Mike WIlliams said he was proud of his boys for never giving up. Anyone who watched that night couldn’t help but agree.

Jacy Dike-Pederson, fullback and middle linebacker for the Eagles, after CSD's defeat to Salesian. (Photo by Leah Bartos)

While Richmond Confidential’s loyalties would ordinarily land us on the home team’s sidelines during this football season, we decided to breach that tradition and pursue another question — how does a deaf football team play a hearing team?

So, last Friday, before our colleague Ryan Phillips covered the Salesian Varsity home game, we spent some time with the opponents.

During the junior varsity match between the Salesian Mustangs and the Fremont-based California School for the Deaf (CSD) Eagles, we hit the visitors’ stands and sidelines to snap some photos and grab some stories from CSD players, parents and siblings.

The first—and perhaps most obvious—distinction we noticed was that the ordinary shouts and screams of coaches and players on the bench were nowhere to be heard. Instead, with every play came a frenetic burst of signing and signaling as the small confab of sideliners communicated with players on the field, silently scuttling up and down the white line to follow the action.

“There’s a lot of visual communication during the game,” varsity coach Kevin Bella wrote in an email. “All players must read their opponents’ formations first before making the calls.”

In fact, for the uninitiated, half the fun of watching the game was trying to follow this combination of American Sign Language and football signaling. We were so fascinated we barely noticed the Eagles lost 34-0.

After the game, we talked to 14-year-old freshman Jacy Dike-Pederson. He’s #30, a fullback and middle linebacker for the Eagles. The fresh-faced Newark native said he’s been at CSD since he was 18 months old and has been playing football since the third grade.

While hearing impaired, he is an excellent lip reader and a clear verbal communicator. Despite the Eagles’ loss, Jacy was all smiles. When asked about being a deaf football player, he had a lot to say.

CSD coaches say deaf players are just as competitive. (Photo by Leah Bartos)

“We’re all deaf, but it makes no difference,” Jacy said. “We play the same, we hit the same, except we can’t hear. The deaf mind can play any sport.”

There are, of course, some modifications.

We wondered, how do deaf players call an audible in the line of scrimmage?

Jacy replied that it’s just a matter of being attuned to the quarterback’s hand signaling.

This night, playing Salesian, Jacy and his teammates were free to sign indiscreetly, assuming their opponents wouldn’t comprehend the signals.

But, he continued, the biggest difficulty comes in playing against other deaf teams. It requires some additional strategy, lower-key, less-obvious signing and closer huddles.

And here’s where it all comes full-circle, so to speak; the modern, in-the-round football huddle was in fact devised back in the early 1890s by a deaf quarterback at Gallaudet University named Paul Hubbard, according to Coach Bella. With the circular huddle, it was easier to keep the plays secret during games against other deaf teams.

When we headed toward the crowd in the bleachers, we found a group of folks for whom football with signing was nothing new. A small collection of talkative, blanket-clad fans watched their loved ones battle it out on a chilly fall night. We learned from talking to parents that CSD pulls students from all around the Bay Area and boards them during the school week. And, if the parents’ observations are any indication, CSD creates some strong bonds both on and off the field.

Mark Conti of San Francisco was there with his mother, Avelina (who spelled out her name for us, saying for the second letter, “V as in victory”). They were there to see Bryant, a junior offensive and defensive lineman who is Mark’s younger brother and Avelina’s son. In between hits and cheers—and Avelina’s excited frets over each of Bryant’s takedowns—Mark said he didn’t think Bryant’s being deaf made much of a difference. In fact, Mark said, Bryant has thrived as a CSD Eagle.

From the sidelines. (Photo by Leah Bartos)

“He actually embraces it, I think,” Mark said. “From the outside looking in, they seem very close-knit. For [CSD students] there’s not a culture barrier, like there was at my high school.”

Tonisha Cudjo of Oakland said she notices the same phenomenon among the Eagles—a culture of camaraderie that cuts across ethnic and racial lines and transcends simple team spirit. Her son, Gregory Spriggs-Cudjo, is the team’s quarterback.

“He loves his school. You couldn’t take him away from his school,” Tonisha said. “They’re all in unity—kind of like their own culture. They take care of each other.”

While she said she appreciates her son’s football skills and the popularity that often accompanies the enviable position of high school quarterback, she said she wishes he would focus more on his academics.

“I wish I would hear about how smart he is rather than how cute he is,” she said.

As it turns out, other than the fact that these guys use their hands to both play the game and communicate the necessary on-field strategies, they’re really not much different from any other high school’s JV team.

“We want to win and play hard,” Jacy said. “Mostly the game is about respect.”

“Let’s get that ball back, de-fense, attack!” they yelled to their team, flinging their arms and legs around in synchronization.

Being a cheerleader at Richmond High isn’t the coveted position television shows like Glee would have you believe. Students say not many girls in school are clamoring to wear the red white and blue of the Richmond Oilers.

To make the team, cheerleaders have to maintain a 2.0 grade point average and have good attendance and disciplinary records. Coach Vicki Tukeva also looks for enthusiasm, a must when cheering on a team with a losing record and a fair-weather fan base.

“At times, it’s like really weird cause it’s like you’re cheering to nobody. But we’re just here to cheer on the team,” said junior varsity cheerleader Maria Luna, a junior.

Some became cheerleaders because they like watching football, and some want to gain confidence by performing in front of a crowd. Some just want to meet new people. Like any good cheerleaders, they can even find the silver lining in a game without an audience.

“It’s sad, but then, if we make a mistake then we won’t be embarrassed that we made a mistake. So, it’s all good,” said junior varsity member Angela Latakoon, a sophomore.

The empty stands that night in Pinole are in part because it’s an away game and it’s hard for high-schoolers to find rides. But the cheerleaders say there’s not an overwhelming amount of school spirit at Richmond High anyway.

“I guess because we don’t really win a lot of games, they don’t want to support us, but it’s not about winning or not – it’s about playing and having fun,” said Carla Portillo, a junior.

It’s a message the team would have to spread on its own if it didn’t have the cheer squad.

“They’re always very appreciative,” Coach Tukeva said of the football players. “They feel like they have some support in their corner.”

The Oilers ended the season with a record of 3 wins and 7 losses. The pummeling by Pinole Valley marked the last game for both senior players and cheerleaders, but nobody on the cheer team shed tears over the loss or even looked upset.

“We are proud of you, yeah, we are proud of you!” the cheerleaders shouted, facing the team rather than the stands, as the Oilers lined up to shake the hands of the winning Pinole Valley High team.

“This is it, this is our big game,” said Athletic Director Mike Aloi as he paced the sidelines before kickoff. The crowd was modest, about 100 spectators, but the band wailed on their wind instruments and the players rampaged through a paper banner, a homecoming night tradition.

De Anza players sit in a tight semi-circle in their locker room during halftime.

“You remember nights like this as a kid, the big assembly during the school day, the energy, and you have a lot of fun,” Aloi said.

Judging by the way the players shouted, hollered and subjected coach Mike Williams to an unwanted Gatorade bath, the team accomplished its goals despite the 49-7 loss –the Dons’ tenth without a win.
“These kids have a lot of heart,” said Williams, soaked and shivering after the game. “They don’t quit, and I admire that.”

De Anza suited up just 23 players for the game, most of them seniors playing in their school uniforms for the last time.

After the game, the players sprinted up a hill on the visitor’s side of the field and performed celebratory “De Anza Jacks,” a school tradition that looks like jumping jacks.

Defensive coordinator Damariea Blanchard, 30, rallies his players during a halftime speech.

De Anza played hard all game despite Alameda scoring on a long  pass on the first play of the game. By the end of the first half, De Anza trailed 35-0, but not for lack of effort.

Turnovers and porous defense hampered De Anza all night, but running back Donta Ward punched in the Dons’ lone touchdown on a 27-yard run late in the fourth quarter.
“I scored, I scored a touchdown!” Ward hollered as he jogged off the field.

The crowd remained spirited throughout, cheering at even the smallest of positive plays by the home team. Cheerleaders coach Lori Nardone kept her squad active throughout the game.

“It’s cold out here, but we couldn’t be more excited,” Nardone said.

Many of the seniors had parents in the stands cheering them on.

Phillis Carpenter, 36, a De Anza graduate, attended in support of her son, senior Aaron Carpenter.

“We were a great team when I went here,” Carpenter said. “But I tell my son, sometimes you have to lose in order to really appreciate winning.”