They Have They Plant But We Have The Power

This movement, these protests – I’m not very comfortable writing my trivial insights, my perspective, when there are literally millions who have far more valuable and important stories. But this is how I figure shit out – or try to, anyway.

A Step

I marched with Black Lives Matter on Saturday, and again the next Sunday. There are a lot of reasons why, reasons I’m still defining.

I marched because I was tired of “showing support” from the comfort of my living room.

I marched because George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and Philando Castile and Tamir Rice and Trayvon Martin and Freddie Gray and an impossible, disgustingly long list of black men and women deserve more than to have hundreds of thousands of people speak their names in memory, in tribute, in recognition; they deserve more than retroactive condemnation and outrage, they deserve justice, they deserve more but this is what I have, what I can do, right now.

Nerves

Saturday was the first time I’d left my house since March for anything other than food. I was nervous. I was nervous about COVID. I was nervous about the police brutality seen across social media, all across the country, the police responding to problems with the same techniques that got them in trouble in the first place. I’m white, so I wasn’t that nervous, but the potential was there, more than ever, for things to go south very quickly.

Social distancing kept us pretty far from the speakers so I didn’t hear much until someone belted out a song that my wife knew, inspiring chills that never really went away. Off we went down the 101, through downtown and along Balboa to North Park.

Growth

As we walked up Ash Ave and the march grew in confidence and numbers the chants began.

It took a few minutes before I felt comfortable enough to speak, to join, to physically overcome ingrained silence and lend my voice to this cause, this belief in human dignity and respect that I’ve always inherently believed in but hadn’t actually supported in any tangible way.

I heard my wife’s voice, I heard the voices from the front, and I heard voices of those behind us. But they didn’t hear mine. So I used it. Slowly, at first, but then as my insecurities faded I did my best to embrace the moment, to feel the Power of The People, feel that brotherhood and sisterhood of a common cause, shared and driven.

I physically spoke George Floyd’s name because to do so was to ignore his murder, one we all watched. I spoke Breonna Taylor’s name into the world to make her name physically exist from my vocal chords and vibrations and their reception through ears to brains, so she won’t be forgotten, can’t be forgotten, so that we learn from these atrocities, so that none of this is in vain – not anymore, not if we see this through.

Change

I hope we recognize the power of Us, the Power Of The People.

OUR tax dollars, OUR elected officials, OUR country.

We need to be fully cognizant of this, because the elusive they often referred to, they are very aware.

It’s why they defund education: you’re only value is as a consumer, and that’s all that you need to know.

It’s why the only budgets that consistently pass arm the men and women that policy makers hide behind, literally and morally, from us; they need to protect their interests, and if push comes to shove and you’re arrested, they make money via their private prisons and government contracts.

They install divisive policies because this world is fucking ours, we fucking built it, not these fascist fucks hiding under their authority.

People should not be afraid of their governments; governments should be afraid of their people.

You Say You Want A Revolution? Well, You Know…

The parts are here, the infrastructure is built; we just need the ship run by people who give a fuck about the ship. We have the knowledge, we have the ability to take everything back and use them for the benefit of everyone, for every community, for every county, every state, this whole fucking country and the rest of the world.

The only thing missing is Us.

We need to fucking vote.

So I hope you’re ready, because I am. I hope you’re ready to keep this pressure up through election day, I hope you’re ready to keep it going through the New Year, and I hope you’re ready to fuckin’ go forever because even if we catch a break and Biden wins, he’s a placeholder. We know this. He’s a stepping stone in the right direction, but he should not be celebrated for what he is not. We’ll argue specifics once we’re through the door.

Please.

The Wave

In Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas Hunter Thompson wrote, “With the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” He was talking about the Peace Movement and lost momentum, how, for a few beautiful moments in history it really seemed like Peace would Win.

Those beatniks believed in something greater, something different than what had been tried, and gave their damnedest to take a stand.

Then one half sold the other half out, and the Boomers sold us down the river.

In 20 years someone else running ragged on mescaline, ether, and cocaine will recognize this tipping point – in the other direction. They know it; you’re about to see the last push of a dying ruling class, grasping and gasping; no low too low; no law that won’t bend until it breaks.

But I’m genuinely soothed, albeit to a very small degree, by the letter from General Mark Milley to The Joint Chiefs of Staff, reminding them who they serve.

That’s comforting, in a sense. These guys can’t be eager to rebuild another country.

Don’t listen to the talking heads; listen to yourself (and trusted, reputable news sources: BBC, Reuters, NPR, etc). You’re seeing the government deploy the military against American citizens, on American soil (tear gas is banned by the Geneva Convention). The Arab Spring succeeded, as much as they did, through the freedoms of the internet and social media. Remember that, but don’t forget they have learned, too.

Learn. Pay attention to fear mongering, and recognize who benefits and profits from your fear.

The Simpsons’ Did It

As always, we can draw inspiration from Lisa Simpson:

We’ll march ’till we drop
The girls and the fellas.
We’ll fight ’till the death
Or else fold like umbrellas.

So we’ll march day and night
By the big cooling tower.
They have the plant
But we have the power.

Keep the pedal down.

Vote.

It’s our time to run the plant.

Vote.

We have the power.

Vote.