Monday, January 20, 2003
A new friend told me
A new friend told me recently that she often does things by herself, on her own, free from attachment or distraction. I admired her independence, recalling how I enjoy my own company and how rarely I seek it.
But Saturday was the perfect opportunity to seize the moment. I had a couple dozen things to do at home - Kel was at work, I had the time to myself - but one distinction marked the date: to honor the ideals of Dr. King, and the dodecal anniversary of Desert Strom, a day of worldwide protest had been declared. Those who think we shouldn’t start another war in Bagdhad gathered in DC and here in San Francisco, where I live and work already. Before I rose from bed that morning I had heard on NPR of 20 hour busrides, Misssissippi to DC - 40 roundtrip hours just to register a protest. It’s less than an hour from my home to the marches here; I can even ride the bus to them for free.
Back in ‘91 my wife took part in similar events; she went with friends from work we no longer even think about, much less discuss or see. Now she’s at another job, doing good for those in need. Though my personal responsibilities should have kept me home, I felt strongly - for myself and for my species - that I should go out alone with mobbing others to express my hope that somehow war could be averted. Nobody has been invaded, nobody is asking for our help, and foreign children are already starving under dictators and sanctions - so I went in silence and alone to encourage our Commander in Chief to find some patience and a better option. And, perhaps, I thought, I’d find a voice of protest in me that has rested quiet since that sit-in out at College Hall in 1984. That one, against apartheid, did not achieve its goal for years, but ultimately that obscenity of politics was ended. So I went in hope that worldwide protest might work faster, yes; and also that I might learn to endure my own companionship more easily, and that of some of those who share the planet with me.
Arriving at the protest site, I noticed first that race politics were being injected into the protests, and that the Iraqi offensive was being linked to US aid to Israel and the situation in Palestine. I can’t buy that line. The Saudis are the same race as the Iraqis from where we stand, and we’re sending them money and support. It’s not race, it’s politics. If you’re having trouble staying on message, wear a more relevant T-shirt and look down at it every so often. Maybe you can find one that’s printed upside down so you can read it as you march and get your story straight. When we’re defending Kuait and Yemen against some chimerical Iraqi threat, you can’t really call us racists. You can call us a bunch of stuff, but not that.
Later, a speaker on the podium before the march began was doing a protest rap; he brought out his two daughters with him. One was about 7 and she adorably screamed the chorus of his song into her microphone right on cue several times. She got huge applause. The other was about 4 I guess, a tiny girl to be in front of 50,000 or more people (I think it was more like 100,000 but I live in a fantasy world); she was carrying a sign that read “Did You Ask Me What I Want?” and was on the edge of tears on the stage, her fists against her ears to block the barrage of sound, unable to join her sister in song. I was figuring, nobody asked her whether she wanted to be in this protest, her sign notwithstanding....
Later, during the march itself, another small child was marching gamely with his parents, shuffling the 3 miles to City Hall, and chanting to the best of his ability: “We want war!” Yeah, kid - you and what army?
But in the end, I was cheered and encouraged to see that, at the very least, by sheer force of mass power, we had taken back the Verizon signal of fore- and middle-fingers held out and up in a “V”. Once it was a peace sign, then a corporate logo, and now, maybe the pendulum has swung back? One small step, as they say… Now if we can just repossess the phrase “nucular” and have it scuttled....
