The Poor People's Summit, held in Philadelphia the second weekend of October, hosted representatives from every state, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico (Canada, too). They came from Chicago's Cabrini Green housing project and from Big Creek People in Action in rural West Virginia; from a Christian commune in Philadelphia and from the Haitian/Guatemalan/Mayan farmworkers union in Immokalee, Florida; from Brooklyn and the back roads of Arkansas; from Salem, Oregon and Salem, Massachusetts. The entire Summit was presented in English, Spanish, and American Sign Language (ASL).

Three intense days of meetings, speakers, workshops, and networking yielded a feeling of unity and a sense that years of isolation were finally over. Dozens of organizations agreed to a proposal put forward by the Immokalee farmworkers for a March of the Americas. The March will gather thousands of poor people from the U.S., Canada, and Latin America in Washington D.C. in October 1999 for a month-long trek to the United Nations to press demands for economic human rights.

The Poor People's Summit was filled with culture, especially singing. There was a burst of song at the beginning of nearly every session, and often in the middle and at the end. We watched with awe all day Saturday as a beautiful piece celebrating the Summit was created by graffiti artists Sat and Snow, even though graffiti art is illegal in Philadelphia. An unexpected treat was the way that everyone in the crew that translated into sign language for the hearing-impaired would use body language not in the ASL dictionary to convey the nuances of a gospel singer's swoop or a rapper's anger. It was smart, sexy, and conveyed new meanings to everyone.

Two moments highlighted the cultural/political intersection that defined the Poor People's Summit. One came on Sunday morning, when everyone was drained of energy yet overflowing with ideas. Fresh fuel was provided by singer Heather McCelvey of Philadelphia's Kensington Welfare Rights Union (KWRU), who led hundreds of people in a purifying rendition of "Rich Man's House." "I went down to the rich man's house," McCelvey sang in her confident, powerful voice, "Took back what he stole from me/Took back my dignity/Took back my humanity." The crowd joined in, clapping, and hit the bridge together: "Now he's under my feet…. ain't no system gonna walk all over me." As the voices grew stronger, as others began to dance more vigorously, McCelvey grew more and more animated, shouting, "What?!" between lines, driving up the temperature in the room until everyone felt ready to take on the world outside. This was church fire, the field holler as pentecostal weapon, a crucial ingredient of rock's power brought home to roost.

At the Saturday night "Culture Jam," after poets read in English, Spanish, and ASL, a vision burst from the raps of MC Tim Dowlin. Dowlin rode the KWRU Freedom Bus this past summer as it made its way across America, signing up groups for the Summit. He drew upon his diary of those events, at one point freestyling personalized rhymes to four children from the bus, one at a time, as they sat on the floor and grinned ear-to-ear when he called each by name. At another point, he dropped a rhyme written specifically for the Summit, calling out "we know what we're here for…. watch the stock market drop/watch the stock market drop!" Looking the coming Depression in the eye, Dowlin shared his ability to see another reality--of community, hope and triumph--a vision that could only come from experiencing the power of the burgeoning poor people's movement firsthand.

Contact KWRU at 215-203-1945 or kwru@libertynet.org.

Rock & Rap Confidential's web site is http://www.rockrap.com/rockrap.