OAKLAND
Where killer moves take the place of gang violence
Dance competitions getting hundreds of teens off streets
- Jim Herron Zamora, Chronicle Staff Writer
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
The dance battles at Youth Uprising community center are like ritualized combat played out in a section of East Oakland where too many people do the real thing with assault rifles and 9mm handguns.
The informal competitions have drawn hundreds of teens who challenge their peers for bragging rights. They face off on a stage just a few feet away from a mural bearing the names of dozens of young people killed in Oakland since 2002.
[Podcast: Jim Herron Zamora interviews Jazmin Noble, Danny Mora and Jacky Johnson about the monthly hyphy turf dance battles ]
The mural is full. No more names will fit. The dance battles are meant to keep the list from growing.
"We don't want any more names on that wall. That's what we're doing here," said Danny Mora, 20, who co-hosts the dance battles on the first Friday of each month with Jazmin Noble, 19. "We know more people are going to get killed -- that's the Oakland we live in. But right here on that dance floor we're taking a stand."
Virtually everyone at the dances has friends or family named on the wall, or who ought to be on there if the tally was complete. Many wear hoodies or T-shirts honoring a dead friend.
It's a grim reminder that young people in East Oakland have almost zero degrees of separation from Oakland's mounting homicide tally, which at 60 is nearly twice what it was by this time last year.
They come to Youth Uprising because it's more than just a place to dance or rap. It's a place to vent their emotions, work out their fears and learn how to cope with -- and hopefully rise above -- the violence they live with and the devastation it causes.
"I feel pain every day because Demetrius is gone," said Loretha Henry, a 15-year-old dancer known as Li'l Skrapi whose friend Demetrius Ziegler was killed last year. "But it's like he lives on when we dance."
The teens dance as a way of rejecting more dangerous pursuits like hanging out on the corners, burning rubber in sideshow car rallies or attending impromptu house parties that often deteriorate into gang melees.
Noble and Mora know firsthand about gang violence. One of Noble's brothers was killed and another seriously injured when they were shot while driving to an anti-death-penalty rally in November. One of Mora's best friends, Salvador Villarreal, was gunned down in January after he was mistaken for a gang member.
Instead of resorting to revenge and bitterness, Noble and Mora joined a coalition of young graffiti artists, musicians, rappers and dancers who are channeling their energy into music, art and community organizing with help from Youth Uprising. Noble organizes fashion shows, and Mora raps under the moniker Brown Buffalo.
They are joined by 17-year-old painter Camilo Velazquez, who lost two friends to violence last year and is painting a mural celebrating life and commemorating death in Oakland.
Anthony "Liquid" Moore, 17, performs with Henry in a group called the Architeckz, and Henry is so good she recently appeared in a video by rapper E-40. They'll dedicate a forthcoming video to Ziegler, who was a fellow dancer.
"We dance for him," Moore said. "Every time we dance, we do it for love."
Everyone involved in the program is younger than 22, and they've see more death than most adults twice their age. But they resist the violence they so often see, and represent a wholesome side to hyphy, the latest hip-hop craze of dance, music and fashion. Hyphy is a derivative of "hyper," and while a dozen kids will give you a dozen definitions, it's about letting go of inhibitions and getting a little crazy.
Rap and hip-hop have long celebrated guns and gangs, drugs and sex and fast money, and hyphy is no exception. But with help from the Youth Uprising community center near Castlemont High School, teens find acceptance and love while carving out a positive niche in hip-hop hyphy culture.
"A lot of the youth we serve are not used to anyone caring about them," said Jacky Johnson, 21, a Youth Uprising organizer. "A lot of people see these rowdy youth with dreads and gold teeth and they just want them to go away. We're embracing these young people as long as they play by the rules here."
Since its founding one year ago, Youth Uprising has offered programs teaching teens and young adults about music, dance, rapping and computers and it has provided job training. The long-term effects of the programs are not yet clear, but it has been praised by a range of people, from beat cops to ministers.
Youth Uprising must walk a tightrope with the dance battles, keeping things loose enough so the lively, often rowdy teens can express themselves freely while keeping security tight enough to ensure everyone's safety.
There were about 150 teens packed into the place at last month's dance battle, all of them hooting, hollering and clapping as a booming hip-hop mix blared through the speakers.
Up on the stage, Man Williams, in baggy pants and dreadlocks, danced toward a rival, did a quick spin and glared into the teen's eyes, their faces inches apart. His challenge issued, he strutted to a "neutral" corner.
"Brother, you've got a challenge on your hands," Noble said into a mike as he cued another track. "What are you going to do?"
Brandon Harris jumped onto the stage and broke out a combination of old-school break-dancing and new-school crunk before sauntering over to Williams, as young ladies in the audience cheered, to return the challenge without saying a word, and let him know he'd been one-upped.
"It's a fight out there, but it's all through dance," Noble said afterward. "This is for young people from the inner city who want to battle on the dance floor instead of the street. We want to come here, have fun and leave all your baggage on the dance floor. Just let it go. Life is too hard and too short to stay angry and scared."
E-mail Jim Zamora at [email protected].
VIDEO AND PICS HERE:
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/c/a/2006/06/13/BAGJSJCVF21.DTL&o=0
Where killer moves take the place of gang violence
Dance competitions getting hundreds of teens off streets
- Jim Herron Zamora, Chronicle Staff Writer
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
The dance battles at Youth Uprising community center are like ritualized combat played out in a section of East Oakland where too many people do the real thing with assault rifles and 9mm handguns.
The informal competitions have drawn hundreds of teens who challenge their peers for bragging rights. They face off on a stage just a few feet away from a mural bearing the names of dozens of young people killed in Oakland since 2002.
[Podcast: Jim Herron Zamora interviews Jazmin Noble, Danny Mora and Jacky Johnson about the monthly hyphy turf dance battles ]
The mural is full. No more names will fit. The dance battles are meant to keep the list from growing.
"We don't want any more names on that wall. That's what we're doing here," said Danny Mora, 20, who co-hosts the dance battles on the first Friday of each month with Jazmin Noble, 19. "We know more people are going to get killed -- that's the Oakland we live in. But right here on that dance floor we're taking a stand."
Virtually everyone at the dances has friends or family named on the wall, or who ought to be on there if the tally was complete. Many wear hoodies or T-shirts honoring a dead friend.
It's a grim reminder that young people in East Oakland have almost zero degrees of separation from Oakland's mounting homicide tally, which at 60 is nearly twice what it was by this time last year.
They come to Youth Uprising because it's more than just a place to dance or rap. It's a place to vent their emotions, work out their fears and learn how to cope with -- and hopefully rise above -- the violence they live with and the devastation it causes.
"I feel pain every day because Demetrius is gone," said Loretha Henry, a 15-year-old dancer known as Li'l Skrapi whose friend Demetrius Ziegler was killed last year. "But it's like he lives on when we dance."
The teens dance as a way of rejecting more dangerous pursuits like hanging out on the corners, burning rubber in sideshow car rallies or attending impromptu house parties that often deteriorate into gang melees.
Noble and Mora know firsthand about gang violence. One of Noble's brothers was killed and another seriously injured when they were shot while driving to an anti-death-penalty rally in November. One of Mora's best friends, Salvador Villarreal, was gunned down in January after he was mistaken for a gang member.
Instead of resorting to revenge and bitterness, Noble and Mora joined a coalition of young graffiti artists, musicians, rappers and dancers who are channeling their energy into music, art and community organizing with help from Youth Uprising. Noble organizes fashion shows, and Mora raps under the moniker Brown Buffalo.
They are joined by 17-year-old painter Camilo Velazquez, who lost two friends to violence last year and is painting a mural celebrating life and commemorating death in Oakland.
Anthony "Liquid" Moore, 17, performs with Henry in a group called the Architeckz, and Henry is so good she recently appeared in a video by rapper E-40. They'll dedicate a forthcoming video to Ziegler, who was a fellow dancer.
"We dance for him," Moore said. "Every time we dance, we do it for love."
Everyone involved in the program is younger than 22, and they've see more death than most adults twice their age. But they resist the violence they so often see, and represent a wholesome side to hyphy, the latest hip-hop craze of dance, music and fashion. Hyphy is a derivative of "hyper," and while a dozen kids will give you a dozen definitions, it's about letting go of inhibitions and getting a little crazy.
Rap and hip-hop have long celebrated guns and gangs, drugs and sex and fast money, and hyphy is no exception. But with help from the Youth Uprising community center near Castlemont High School, teens find acceptance and love while carving out a positive niche in hip-hop hyphy culture.
"A lot of the youth we serve are not used to anyone caring about them," said Jacky Johnson, 21, a Youth Uprising organizer. "A lot of people see these rowdy youth with dreads and gold teeth and they just want them to go away. We're embracing these young people as long as they play by the rules here."
Since its founding one year ago, Youth Uprising has offered programs teaching teens and young adults about music, dance, rapping and computers and it has provided job training. The long-term effects of the programs are not yet clear, but it has been praised by a range of people, from beat cops to ministers.
Youth Uprising must walk a tightrope with the dance battles, keeping things loose enough so the lively, often rowdy teens can express themselves freely while keeping security tight enough to ensure everyone's safety.
There were about 150 teens packed into the place at last month's dance battle, all of them hooting, hollering and clapping as a booming hip-hop mix blared through the speakers.
Up on the stage, Man Williams, in baggy pants and dreadlocks, danced toward a rival, did a quick spin and glared into the teen's eyes, their faces inches apart. His challenge issued, he strutted to a "neutral" corner.
"Brother, you've got a challenge on your hands," Noble said into a mike as he cued another track. "What are you going to do?"
Brandon Harris jumped onto the stage and broke out a combination of old-school break-dancing and new-school crunk before sauntering over to Williams, as young ladies in the audience cheered, to return the challenge without saying a word, and let him know he'd been one-upped.
"It's a fight out there, but it's all through dance," Noble said afterward. "This is for young people from the inner city who want to battle on the dance floor instead of the street. We want to come here, have fun and leave all your baggage on the dance floor. Just let it go. Life is too hard and too short to stay angry and scared."
E-mail Jim Zamora at [email protected].
VIDEO AND PICS HERE:
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/c/a/2006/06/13/BAGJSJCVF21.DTL&o=0