General Strike!
This past week has been intense. Since my last post, Mayor Quan pulled the police cordon away from Frank Ogawa/Oscar Grant Plaza and the Occupiers took it back over. Now she is saying that the Occupiers are “damaging the city.” This is just part of the manic flip-flopping that has been going on in City Hall. She is the best-worst friend of the Occupiers. After instructing the police to bust up the encampment downtown on October 24/25, she turned around and on the day of the General Strike, November 2, she sent out messages to her constituents (including me) that she “support[s] the goals of those protesting on behalf of the 99% today” the day of the announced general strike. WTF?
All politics aside, this has been very exciting, but also very frustrating for me because I was not able to participate. Well, “not able” isn’t the best use of the English Language because I was physically able but the time I need to put in to educating tomorrow’s protestors was zapping all of my political drive.
I realized this and it was pissing me off. I had no drive to be a teacher anymore and certainly did not want to deal with the day-to-day grind of not only schooling, but the peculiar institution of East Bay Independent School schooling: the helicopter parents, the politics around grading, the precocious self-indulgence of tweens, the thinly veiled air of entitlement and self-importance. I was verbally stating to colleagues that I no longer wanted to be a teacher and I meant it. The sound of helicopters (not the parents, the tried-and-true whirlybirds) were not only keeping me from the rest that I so desperately needed but they were a constant reminder that I was not participating in something that I have literally waited most of my life to participate in.
Then the General Strike.
On November 2, I was saying that I wasn’t going to go downtown to the protests. Mostly, I couldn’t take off work and I would be “too tired.” I was going to “support” them from home (like some sort of fucking arm chair quarterback). I would speak my praise and support into the air and hope the ether would carry it to those braver than me. But, my wife had other plans. She knows me better than I do myself. She told me in no uncertain terms would we not not go down to the protest.
It was late in the day of protest. There were few speakers and many revelers reveling in the revelry. The first thing we heard when we biked up to the protest were drums and the first thing we saw was a fuck-all big banner.
Yep. Directly across two of the biggest thoroughfares in Downtown Oaktown: 14th and Broadway.
In the center of the, otherwise, busiest intersection in Oakland was a huge drum circle. With each beat and step toward the smiling, satisfied crowd my smile became bigger and bigger.
- Drumming for the 99%
Finally, we were able to walk around the encampment. Of course there was the fair share of what you would expect but there was beauty that made my heart sing.
- Messages of support
- City Hall looms
A shrine to the veteran that was hurt (smashed skull) by the raid (tear gas canisters and flash grenades) by the OPD on the encampment.
Buddhist Meditation and "Peace-In"
Oscar Grant and anti-violence shrine
Hopes and dreams on strings
Occupiers
It was really amazing and inspiring to be walking with so many people that just want something better. People were supportive, helpful and empowered, something that you don’t usually see. Of everything that I saw downtown on November 2, two of the most moving were these:
Día de los Muertos Altar
I always find Day of the Dead altars moving but the thing that made fireworks go off in my head was the Alameda Firefighters making ****FREE**** food for the Occupiers and Teamsters walking around and answering questions and being ad hoc “security”. Fucking awesome.
FREE FOOD!!!!
I couldn’t help feeling the warmth, the fellowship, the commonality of it all. This is how its supposed to be. Working together. No fear. No bullying. No barriers. Just people being good people. I will never forget this.
Earlier on in the night, Occupy Oakland shut down the Port of Oakland. At first this may not seem like much. But when you consider that nearly everything that comes to the United States from Asia (China, Japan, Vietnam, India, etc.) on a container ship (which is a majority of everything you want and own) either goes to Long Beach, CA or Oakland, you realize just how BIG it is! The International Longshoreman and Warehouse Union that operates the docks stated on Tuesday, November 1, that they supported the Occupy Oakland movement but could not legally participate in the strike. They did give the movement a hail Mary pass: they could not and would not cross a picket line. With this knowledge, the general strikers (by some accounts: 5,000 plus) made that picket line and the docks shut down because the workers could not get to work.
When we got home I found out that there were zero arrests and very little property damage. I guess the police were too busy protecting their police station, as the picture I snapped as we were riding by them in full riot gear indicates.
Just a few of the cops we saw. I would have taken more but police in full riot gear, with truncheons in hand and sneers on their faces make me VERRRRRY nervous!
That night, I slept so well. With a renewed motivation of social justice and educating tomorrow’s protestors, I laid my head down on my pillow, content with a renewed sense of humanity and well-being, and thought “yes, there is a power in a union.”
