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It has been a very long four days. What began on Friday at the Occupy general assembly in this little elite conclave i live in, came to its expected end this evening. The Assembly gathered for the first time since Friday, when those who remained to talk about an action taken by an Anonymous revolutionary decided to work in some mediation. That was ignored by those who left on that infamous friday, and a proposal hit the floor on this fine Tuesday evening calling for the protestor to be 'severed' from Occupy, and that I, be censured.
I sat in the back of the meeting and never said a word. I intended to be as silent as this conclave wanted me to be. I wanted to stop fighting to be heard. I wanted to know if there was one person in this gathering who could deconstruct... anything at all, fashion an understanding .. of any kind. They can't. Near the end of the meeting one person, who has attacked me with regularity spoke and noted that 'she' has been sitting in the back very respectfully, very quiet, and I think we have to acknowledge that she is in the room. She has shown respect. I'm paraphrasing of course. He was very pleased with my behavior.
These people who one walks into battle with, who one swears a silent oath with to uphold all the bonds of revolution with, these people who did not recognize the vision of a young man who was making a statement on the nature of their oppressive policies an procedures week after week, presented a proposal to 'severe' him. They sent the police to this young anonymous man's house. They bypassed him and his poetic message of their 'control'. This group of grown people violated the very rights they say they are fighting for.... and they did it in the name of Occupy.
I don't understand the dynamic, this group of isolated and privileged people exercise. I don't understand how they can misread a symbolic sacrifice of a persona, say they care when this persona says "you put me in my grave", call the police as a sign of that concern, out him, and then on the very next day.... 'severe' him. What game do they play at. As I sat there in the back listening to these people talk about 'Community Accountability Circles', I felt as if I was eavesdropping on the strategy meeting of the 1%. My skin was crawling. To ease the discomfort I pulled out a notepad and I began to commit small phrases use by these people to the paper.
The college girl who claimed credentials as a professional, working with the Abused, stood at the front and described the value of these accountability circles. She said that there are those who have suffered abuse and use that same example in their own lives. She spoke of how aggressive behavior must be addressed. That this 'community' doesn't haven't to accept this kind of inappropriateness. Or, some such @!$%# like that. She counts herself an anarchist. She might find it interesting to know that I've been a single woman all of my life. That only a year and a half ago did I find love in my life. She might find it equally interesting to know that given that, I have never been physically assaulted by an intimate partner. In fact, I have gathered my anger naturally.... ever since Ronald Reagan called me a welfare queen and consigned me to a labeled life of compliance. I thought Anarchists knew this kind of stuff.
They are going to hold this young man accountable if it kills him.
The most illuminating moment for me was when a man, whom I had spoken with on that Friday, recognized me and walked toward me. He is a Human Being. He has the kind of smile that exudes respect, not for himself, but for who he smiles at. You know that he first, accepts you as an equal, and second, that you don't have to stroke his ego. You just know it. He put his arm around me, and all of the energy that i was desperately trying to gather to come here, arrived. I was going to be all right. I could do this. My own little action against these cruel and selfish people. I could sit in the back and be as silent as their desires communicated in every way but the words from their mouths.Well, even those mouths made it clear the two of us should shut up.... be gone.
The gravest mistake they made, one which may well be the final blow for me, was simple really. I thought the little abuse counselor would know what she was doing, as she reminds many, an often, that one needs to know what they are doing to participate. As the agenda closed on the 'accountability circle' the facilitator named the next item on the agenda, and at the same time noted the time. A council meeting was about to begin. There would likely be very little time to take up anything serious, and finish it. This gave them away in my eyes, my heart felt their intentions. As the room began to become populated with citizens arriving for the council meeting, they opened the agenda item in which they proposed to severe this young man, and censure me. In this very public place, with non occupy people around, given their total adherence to their reputation (and knowing they were censuring me because of my words in a public forum), they opened the floor and had their way.
This is where the story ends, my friends. As the time clock ticked, an people began to walk around them, they suggested they take it to the atrium. You know the kind. When you open your mouth to speak, it reverberates for 5 or 6 seconds, and anyone up and down the hallways can hear. I knew I was not going to stay for this part. I knew that every time I had come to a general assembly to waylay some procedural policy that I knew would become a filter, I had made a mistake. So, I stood, turned, and left. As I walked to my car I was thinking about the other young man I had met. The young homeless man who told me he was 14 days sober. I think his name was.... wait... I don't want that to follow him. He gets to keep the things he wants private, to stay that way. I hoped he would not come back.. it just wouldn't be safe for him.
I recall now the many times in the last couple of days I've said, "I am what my life has made me"... here is the rest of that statement, "you can not shame me".
As this experience ends it becomes important to me to share my understanding. No amount of politeness has ever been a useful strategy in overcoming the violence of living in poverty. Listening and watching this group of elite gatekeepers visit violence on this young man, and myself, all the while accusing us of 'potential' violence and abusive language... leads me to believe that when they get here, to my neighborhood, they got a rude awakening comin. There is a significant difference between fighting for your life, and being mean. Their meanness just won't work here. I already know they don't know a damn thing about fighting for one's life.
