by Sabrina K. Hall
Sabrina Hall in front of San Francisco City Hall at a People’s Budget action on June 18, 2026. Funding for Free City College, the program that ensures residents free tuition, was endangered until supervisors restored funding in last-minute negotiations. Photo by Zach Bollinger.
They want to audit the ambition of the block,
Put a price tag on the pivot, put a padlock on the clock.
They see “Free City” on a ledger line, a budget line to bleed,
But don’t see the holy water that it pours upon the seed.
They calculate the pennies but they never count the cost
Of the brilliance we awaken and the spirits that get lost.
Look at me.
They wrote the script to keep me in a cage,
Bound by steel, then bound by stigma, trapped inside a page.
A student-parent fighting just to keep the demons back,
In recovery, rebuilding everything they claim we lack.
The system said my story ended right there in the dirt,
Just another statistic wrapped in generational hurt.
But you can’t box in the spirit when it’s ready for the flight—
Now I’m walking through the Ocean Campus, heavy with the light.
I don’t just take up space; I’m the one who holds the line.
An honors student shining, making up for stolen time.
Serving the collective, standing bold and talking back,
Leading at the SSCCC, putting power on the track.
From the cellblock to the senate, yeah, the glow up is profound,
I’m a testament to what happens when you let us clear the ground.
And the sweetest part of victory, the piece that heals the split?
Two of my five babies are right here at CCSF with me, getting it.
We walking the same hallways, changing history in real-time,
Breaking every curse they laid upon our bloodline.
But now the Mayor wants to come and tamper with the well?
Cut the funding for the people who survived the fire and hell?
They want to balance city budgets on the backs of those who strive,
To make it harder for a working-class community to thrive.
If you pull the plug on Free City, let me tell you what you do:
You aren’t just cutting dollars; you are cutting futures too.
It’s an eviction of the mind, a systematic gentrification
Of the one place left in SF built for transformation.
Without that free tuition, the classrooms will go cold,
The stories of the resilient will go unshared and untold.
You strangle out the lifeline for the worker and the dream,
You turn a bridge of hope into a corporate, cold regime.
The single mother trying to pivot has to put her dreams on pause,
The brother coming home gets locked outside without a cause.
You’ll take the ladder that we climbed and break the bottom rung,
And silence all the anthems that our ancestors have sung.
If CCSF ain’t free, then San Francisco ain’t secure—
You’re telling every hustler that they’re forced to stay poor.
You tell the block its brilliance doesn’t matter if it’s broke,
And turn a city’s promise into nothing but a joke.
We are the backbone of this county, we’re the culture, we’re the grit,
We took the broken pieces and we resurrected it.
Free City is the sanctuary, the catalyst, the spark,
The thing that keeps our people moving forward through the dark.
It belong to every elder, every youth, and every hood,
It’s the institutional proof that our survival is good.
So tell ’em leave the funds alone, protect the sacred space,
Keep the doors wide open for the ones who set the pace.
‘Cause Free City isn’t charity, it’s not a handout or a grace—
It’s the equity we earned, and how we win the race.
