Arts and Culture

What We Do for Art and Democracy

I’m in New York again for a return engagement of Oakland resident Ishmael Reed’s “The Conductor,” his new play on the current state of race in America. Reed’s twist is that Blacks are running an underground railroad to help South Asian minorities under siege by whites in the Bay Area. Based on the recent San Francisco Board of Education and district attorney recalls, Reed turns real life into a “what if” satire to expose the racism at play.

Published

3 years ago

October 10, 2023

Oakland Post

Emil Guillermo, left, takes a bow after the performance of a play by Oakland’s Ishmael Reed at the Theater for the New City in New York. Courtesy photo.

By Emil Guillermo

I’m in New York again for a return engagement of Oakland resident Ishmael Reed’s “The Conductor,” his new play on the current state of race in America.

Reed’s twist is that Blacks are running an underground railroad to help South Asian minorities under siege by whites in the Bay Area. Based on the recent San Francisco Board of Education and district attorney recalls, Reed turns real life into a “what if” satire to expose the racism at play. It’s funny, provocative, and an example of how white supremacy has suppressed our sense of history. You’ll marvel at all the facts in the play you didn’t know about.

I play a conservative Fox News-type commentator. I know, a stretch. It’s a paid acting gig, but more of an honor to be in the 11th play by Reed. His five decades of literary artistry in drama, novels, poetry, and essays in the name of diversity and inclusion makes him worthy of a Nobel laureate in literature.

The show isn’t streaming over the internet, but it’s worth it to be in New York to see what could be the final production of “The Conductor,” at the Theater for the New City, 155 First Ave, Thursday to Saturday @8pm, Sundays @3pm through Sept. 10. https://ci.ovationtix.com/35441/production/1149771

The Untold Filipino American Story

While here, I’m also doing my own one-man show, “Emil Amok, Lost NPR Host: A Phool’s Filipino American History.”

In the show, I talk about my relatives’ reaction to me being a broadcaster on television, coming out of the same box as their favorite TV stars when I was on NBC local in San Francisco. To them, that’s where I worked—inside that box. Seeing an Filipino American on TV in 1980 was akin to witnessing an astronomical event. Sort of like the recent Blue Moon.

When my relatives, all hard-working immigrants from the Philippines who came to the U.S. between 1928 and 1975, saw me, they were all amazed.

“So, Emil, you just get on the camera, and you talk?” my Auntie Pacing would ask me. She worked in service jobs in hotels, restaurants, and hospitals all her life. “And you don’t have to clean up or anything? You just talk? That’s work?”

It was a foreign notion to her that Filipinos who came to America mostly to work in the fields in the 1920s and 1930s for 10 cents an hour could wear a suit, speak, and afford to pay the rent.

I think on Labor Day about how lucky I am to have done what I’ve done as a journalist. Something that my relatives a generation away weren’t able to pursue.

I call this iteration, “A Phool’s History of Filipino America,” because “phool” is how they spelled it at the Lampoon when I competed to be a member freshman year at Harvard. I had to explain why it wasn’t spelled, “Philippino.” And then they made me carry a pineapple around Harvard Yard.

A Latina friend paid me a compliment saying my show was akin to John Leguizamo’s “Latin American History for Morons.” Flattered by the comparison, you don’t have to be a moron to see my show! Check it out for yourself.

Two performances only, Sept. 6 @7pm, and Sept. 14 @9:30pm (all times ET). https://www.frigid.nyc/event/6897:499/

This one you can livestream from Hawaii, Europe, Rockridge. Anywhere. It’s better in person, where we can exchange our humanness. But get a livestreamed ticket if you can’t be in New York’s Under St. Marks Theater in the East Village (94 St. Marks Place, NYC)

One Last Labor Worth Considering

So, there’s what we do for money and for love. What do we do for democracy?

And so, we must not forget the nitt- gritty work done by election workers everywhere. The unsung heroes. They don’t get paid all that much. But they do important work. How do voters get information? Translated materials? How do ballots get distributed, sorted, then counted?

If you ever doubted the value of election workers, just look at Ruby Freeman and her daughter Shaye Moss. You met them during their testimony at the Jan. 6 Committee hearings in Washington last year.

They were stand-ins for average Americans like you and me.

Freeman and Moss were accused by Rudy Giuliani of nefarious deeds aiding in the theft of an election against Trump.

The fals accusations wrecked Freeman’s life.

“I’ve lost my name, and I’ve lost my reputation,” Freeman testified. “I’ve lost my sense of security. All because a group of people, starting with No. 45, and his ally, Rudy Giuliani, decided to scapegoat me and my daughter, Shaye.”

Giuliani is one of 18 co-conspirators in the organized racketeering case in Georgia accused of attempting to subvert democracy.

In a separate case, Freeman has sued Giuliani for defamation, calling him out for spreading lies about her and her daughter.

Last week, Giuliani conceded the facts of the case, which means the court will only consider the damages at the next hearing.

And right now, Michael Gottlieb, the lawyer for Freeman and Moss, told CNN the damages could be “tens of millions of dollars.”

“You heard me correctly,” said Gottlieb to a CNN anchor. “It is our expectation that we’ll be able to prove tens of millions of dollars in compensatory damages before you get punitive damages in a case that we will present to the jury.”

When people like Giuliani defame and lie about election workers in a brazen attempt to steal an election, there must be a stiff price to pay.

When you find yourself ever confused by all the legal proceedings over the Trump indictments, just remember Freeman and Moss and what they endured to protect our democracy.

No one should doubt the heart of patriotism in our community.

# # #

NOTE: I will talk about this column and other matters on “Emil Amok’s Takeout,” my AAPI micro-talk show. Live @2p Pacific. Livestream on Facebook; my YouTube channel; and Twitter. Catch the recordings on www.amok.com.

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Alameda County

Lower Bottom Playaz Presents Lee Blessing’s ‘Going to St. Ives’

Played by Dr. ayodele nzinga, May N’Kame, the mother of a deadly African dictator, travels to England to see Dr. Cora Gage (Teresa Foss) about medical treatment for her failing eyesight. But what she really wants is a poison to assassinate her son. Gage is then put in a personal dilemma to either uphold her vow to ‘do no harm,’ or help put an end to the atrocities the dictator visits on his people.

Published

2 weeks ago

July 5, 2026

Oakland Post

Oakland’s oldest North American African theater company presents a story of race, women, violence, and empire.

By Cat Brooks, Special to The Post

The Lower Bottom Playaz 27^th season will kick off on July 9 with “Going to St. Ives,” a play by Lee Blessing.

Directed by playwright, actress, and community advocate Cat Brooks, the play by Lee Blessing is the story of two impressive women brought together by the personal and divided by the political, as both seek to accomplish the greatest good.

“While the Empire’s location is fictional, a very real genocide is happening in the Congo right now that many of us are ignoring,” Brooks observed. “We set this play there in hopes of utilizing theater to make audiences aware of injustices moving in places and amongst people that mainstream media omits from its headlines.

“In these times, it is more important than ever that theater do more than just entertain. It must tell tales that ignite us into action.”

Also explored in Going to St. Ives are themes of motherhood and sacrifice. What does it cost mothers to raise sons only to lose them to the violence of the world? What experiences are shared amongst mothers across race, class, and country?

“Going to St. Ives examines the weight of privilege against the cost of ‘being responsible’ in a world carved by colonialism, greed, and loss in a high-stakes chess game between two women with only one thing in common,” said nzinga who is also the artistic director of Lower Bottom Playaz.

The play was first performed in 1997 in Seattle, eventually enjoying a highly praised off-Broadway run in New York in 2005.

For this production, Lower Bottom Playaz is partnering with non-government organizations that focus on raising awareness and providing support to displaced refugees across the diaspora, emphasizing community solidarity and collective action.

“Going to St. Ives” premieres on July 9 at BAM House in the Sister Thea Theater, 1540 Broadway, Oakland, CA 94612. All performances are scheduled through July 26 on Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and matinees on Saturday and Sunday at 2 p.m. For tickets and more information, please visit http://www.lowerbottomplayaz.com/. Reservations: 510 332-1319, leave a message.

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Activism

‘The Oakland Street Academy Saved My Life’

The first time a teacher pulled up a chair to sit next to me to help me out, I panicked because no adult had ever sat so close to me in any kind of a caring or helping way. My English teacher, Kitty (Epstein), would make the biggest impact in my life. I didn’t know then what it meant to have a teacher who would care about me enough to spend her precious time with me even through all of my frustration about learning and thinking the whole time I couldn’t learn anything because I thought I was stupid.

Published

2 weeks ago

July 5, 2026

Oakland Post

Mural at the Emiliano Zapata Oakland Street Academy, an alternative high school in the Oakland Unified School District, located at 417 29th St. in Oakland. Phone: (510) 874-3630.

By Ze Segundo, Special to The Post

This is an autobiographical statement by a former Street Academy student who overcame many obstacles in the1970s, attended S.F. State University, and built a successful life for herself.

I was born and raised in Oakland, living in a household with a single mother and eight children. My life was chaotic: I never felt loved, never hearing the words, “I love you.”

I was 4 years old when all of us were sent to foster homes. There, my little sister and I were tortured. I believe we were there a little over a year.

When we finally returned home to our mother, she had a new husband who was very abusive to all of us including my mother.

I and my other sisters were sexually abused by two uncles and my big brother. I remember my uncle choking me and telling me if I told anyone, he would kill me and my little brother – so I didn’t tell. I was terrified of him. I tried to stay away from him as much as possible, but that’s kind of hard to do when a sexual predator lives with you.

My mother would have parties on the weekends where there would be many people drinking and fighting. The police were often at my home. I hated Sunday mornings because my mother would make us kids clean up after the parties. The house had the stench of cigarettes and booze.

Having to clean up other people’s vomit made me sick to my stomach. This is when I started to drink myself. Taking sips of leftover alcohol in glasses and beer cans. That would be the start of my alcoholism.

I started cutting myself when I was 11 years old and didn’t know why. I think it was because it made me feel something different and somehow made whatever I was feeling go away for the moment.

I didn’t have many friends and didn’t have any social skills. I was very shy and withdrawn. In my early teen I couldn’t look people in the eyes. If I was walking down the street and someone was walking towards me, I would purposely cross the street, so I didn’t have to have contact with them.

I was terrified of the world around me. I didn’t even talk to my mother much because I didn’t know what kind of mood she would be in. I learned to stay silent and stay away from her.

My grandmother lived in Hayward; my sister, brother and I took a bus from Oakland to attend junior high school there. Because I didn’t have any social skills, the kids would tease me and bully me. I had to fight a lot, so much that my brother and I were kicked out; they didn’t want any of us in their schools.

After we were kicked out of the school district, I tried to attend a junior high in Oakland, but the noise in the classroom overwhelmed me. The sounds rumbled in my ears.

Again, I was bullied and teased. So, I stopped going to school. I would leave the house with my brothers and sisters but didn’t set foot into any classroom after that. I just wandered the streets until it was time to go home.

It was a very chaotic home life, and I was a severely abused child, overwhelmed with everything around me.

When I was 15, a social worker talked to my mother about sending me to Oakland Street Academy. My mother thought it was a continuation school, where the worst students went.

I didn’t want to go to Street Academy, fearful of being bullied again, but I was tired of hanging out in the street all day. I thought the Street Academy was strange, a school that took over an old furniture store building. It was an open floor plan with partitions that sectioned off classes.

During class, we could hear the buses go by and people talking as they were walking by. I was still painfully shy and withdrawn. I would show up to school early, so I didn’t have to walk past other students in the classroom. I didn’t speak to any students and barely spoke to the teachers. Even when class was going on, I would sit across the room in a small chair and table between two lockers.

I isolated myself from the rest of the class, not really knowing why, but that’s where I sat. I had a third-grade reading level at age 15 and couldn’t spell much at all.

Kitty told me that I could learn, and that there were no stupid students. I remember one time a small group of students walked to fast food restaurants just to read the menu because reading anything is better than reading nothing at all.

Kitty didn’t give up on me – so, I didn’t give up on myself.

School was difficult for me because so many things were going on at home. It was hard for me to focus, but the teachers were really patient with me. Street Academy empowered students by teaching Chicano studies and Black studies. We were learning about our own histories and cultures. Street Academy students participated in demonstrations like the United Farm Workers grape boycott of the mid-1970s. We learned that we could make a difference with our voices. It was a great self-esteem builder.

In many ways, Street Academy saved my life because I was going nowhere.
The minute I set foot into that school I knew it was something special. It took me four years to graduate because I was so far behind in my schooling, and I was dyslexic.

When I left Street Academy, I was reading college material and attended San Francisco State University. I was the first in my family to graduate high school and the first to go to college. As a 15-year-old with CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), I accomplished what I thought would never happen to me.

I am grateful to the school’s staff and what Street Academy stands for. Schools and teachers should treat students like human beings, care about them, spend a little extra time, believe in them, and they will believe in themselves because you never know what students are going through and what they have experienced in their past that affects their learning.

There are no stupid kids, bad kids, or lazy kids, only kids who need to be understood and loved. Street Academy gave all of that to me.

During the 1970s, Ze Segundo attended the Oakland Street Academy, an Oakland Unified School District school now known as Emiliano Zapata Street Academy located at 417 29^th St. in Oakland.

Oakland Post

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Arts and Culture

Prescott Circus Theatre Presents Free Summer Performance Series

Now in its 41st year, the Prescott Circus Theatre is a nationally recognized performing arts education program for Oakland youth. The circus offers safe environments that challenge Oakland youth, through circus arts training, to develop the skills and confidence to thrive on stage, in school, and in life.

Published

3 weeks ago

June 26, 2026

Oakland Post

Prescott Circus showcase pathways pyramid. Photo courtesy of Prescott Circus.

By Post Staff

The Prescott Circus, Oakland’s longest-running youth circus, is returning this summer with its free shows. Join the Prescott Circus’s young stars as they share their joys and talents through stilt-dancing, tumbling, juggling, and more.

At the heart of this one-hour show, which demonstrates teamwork, pride, and joy, are Oakland Unified School District students ages 8 – 17 from more than 10 different schools

This is accomplished through no-cost school and community programs for more than 300 Oakland youth each year. Performing company members from Prescott, where the program began, perform and make appearances at as many as 40 Bay Area events each year.

The summer program is funded in part by Oakland Fund for Children and Youth, California Arts Council, Port of Oakland, and the West Davis & Bergard Foundation.

Performances will be held Tuesday, July 14, 11 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. (ASL interpreted) and Wednesday, July 15, 11 a.m., at the Malonga Casquelourd Center for the Arts, 1428 Alice St., Oakland. For free reservations go to