Taking back democracy

I ambled down 15th Street today as a trickle of people turned into a flood. The freaks were out, of course, but most of the protestors could be mistaken for "normal" by even the staunchest wingnut. (Normal? What is normal? Isn't it normal to value life over death?) I had decided to wear an Army t-shirt to "support the troops but not the President." (-Tom DeLay, 1998) I think the shirt confused a few people, as I saw a look of alarm followed by a visible sense of relief as people came closer and saw the buttons I was wearing: "Wanted for Terror and Murder: Osama Bush Laden" and "No blood for oil." It was strange (no it wasn't), but I received no "baby killer" comments or dirty looks for wearing the Army shirt, although wingnuts are always spouting off about how lefties want our troops to die.

As I approached the White House under the gloom of a foreboding sky, I entered the realm of the police state, as sirened cars lined the streets where weekday workers would normally park their cars, and uniformed officers with leering eyes looked ready to pounce on anyone who committed the smallest infraction of our fledgling fascist-nanny state law. I boldly crossed the street on a don't walk light, leading a trail of others, and I was happy to see no handcuffs or tickets.

I rode the flow down to Pennsylvania, staring at the White House in awe as I have done countless times since I've moved to DC. We were all heading to the rally point, and I snapped photos of worthy signs and people, forever capturing the images of strangers I will never meet but with whom I could very well be friends. The streets were swirling with dancing colors, mocking the ominous gray of the rain wrapped sky.

A sample of the signs:

"I served in Vietnam, my son served in the Persian Gulf, and Bush serves for oil."
"Send the twins!"
"Osama bin Forgotten"
"Make levees, not war!"

There was a slate of speakers, all scheduled, that the organizers were trying to force upon people. There was some delay with starting the march having to do with too many people in the street and the police just being a pain. The organizers could have moved people to Constitution rather than making them sit through a bunch of hippy poets we've never heard of, which was causing confusion, a sense of disorganization, and a loss of interest, albeit briefly. What ever happened to spontaneous passion? (Was it killed by the death of our First Amendment right to peaceably assemble without infringement? Were there this many police at the Vietnam rally? It was difficult to leave the crowd once you were there.) The pre-march rally was as scripted as reality television, and some of the speakers strayed off message to condemn random tragedies. For the most part, however, they stuck to Iraq. I grew bored with these speakers at the Ellipse and decide to wander the Mall.

The irony of walking through the mall in the midst of another antiwar protest is striking. The new granite of the World War II Memorial retains its shine from a May opening as we add names daily to the ever growing list of victims of senseless conflicts. We will never learn as long as there are profits to make from War, will we? As I turned away from the site with thoughts of tragic deaths on my mind, I caught a view of Jefferson's memorial, its majestic dome sheltering him from the drops now falling out of the gloom. Were they his tears?

A mother who spoke described a trip to DC that she took with her son before he deployed to Bush's Blunder. As they were reading the names at the Vietnam Wall, he turned to her and said, "Mom, I wonder how many names will be on our memorial." Goddamnit. Enough memorials! Haven't enough men died throughout history to brutal and pointless violence? What is it that makes man think he should continue to slaughter others? Killing people to show that killing is wrong is absurd, yet that is what this "War on Terror(TM)" precisely does.

I didn't march. I was interested in the music, so after I had spent a significant amount of time and film among the marchers, I headed over to the stage. I was particularly excited to see Steve Earle, and he did not disappoint. It was nice to be close enough to the stage to see his face, and I didn't even have to strain my neck to watch.

Bush wasn't IN the White House, of course. He took off so he didn't have to see 300,000 people telling him to fuck off. I felt like we-the-people for the first time in a long while, and I felt a sense of faith in the system. We do have the power, we just need to get off our asses and do something about it. As Steve says (forget the damn Chevy crap):

I was walkin' down the street
In the town where I was born
I was movin' to a beat
That I'’d never felt before
So I opened up my eyes
And I took a look around
I saw it written '‘cross the sky
The revolution starts now
Yeah, the revolution starts now

The revolution starts now
When you rise above your fear
And tear the walls around you down
The revolution starts here
Where you work and where you play
Where you lay your money down
What you do and what you say
The revolution starts now
Yeah the revolution starts now

Yeah the revolution starts now
In your own backyard
In your own hometown
So what you doin' standin' around?
Just follow your heart
The revolution starts now

Last night I had a dream
That the world had turned around
And all our hopes had come to be
And the people gathered '‘round
They all brought what they could bring
And nobody went without
And I learned a song to sing

The revolution starts now


Tags: DC protest, Operation Ceasefire, Steve Earle