Hey, fuck you, Rick Perry! Fuck you.
Saturday I attended the monthly Philadelphia Writers Group meetup, which is always a terrific experience. If you’re a writer and you aren’t finding some opportunity to discuss your craft and your work with peers, you simply must remedy that – meetup.com is a good place to start looking.
A few of us went for drinks after the meeting, and the conversation turned to Occupy Philly. At the time of our November meeting the encampment on Dilworth Plaza outside City Hall was thousands strong. On Saturday it was gone, cleared away by police so construction crews can start tearing up Dilworth for a major renovation project. In that same month, everyone at the table agreed, Occupy managed to squander considerable popular support and goodwill and alienate most of Philadelphia.
In October I wrote a post about my participation in the Occupy movement. Others at our table had taken to the streets, and voiced their prior support. Yet by December we were all fed up, and everyone agreed on the reasons: Occupy Philly stopped being about a message we supported [my attempt at summary: to counter the Corporate power-grab in America and fix the system that privatizes profit and socializes loss] and became a petty squabble over Dilworth Plaza. Continue Reading
This is not about analysis of the 99 Percent Movement. You can get that elsewhere. This is about my own experiences with the movement in Philadelphia – how I wandered into the #OccupyPhilly camp outside City Hall as an outsider and critic, and by the end of the day considered myself a full-fledged member of the movement. This is an effort to show you what the protest is really like, and why you should lend your own support – or at least see it for yourself before you make judgements. You can (probably) find the #Occupy protest nearest your home at OccupyTogether.org.
I was slow in coming to join the 99 Percenters. In the first weeks of the Wall Street occupation, I – like most people – wrote it off as the latest exercise from the hippies and the anarchists. Protests are the raves of the twenty-first century, I told friends. These people just need attention, and damned if I can figure out what they are protesting. As the weeks went on, despite the pepper spray and the batons, the movement seemed to grow stronger, the message grew clearer, and like many others I began to pay attention. By the time the movement spread to Philadelphia (and hundreds, if not thousands, of other cities, towns, and localities around the country) I was intrigued enough to stop by and see for myself.
The Philly occupation began at 9 am on Thursday, October 6. I was there at 9:10, and the crowd was already impressive. Approaching as an outsider, my attention first went to the dreadlocked hippies in their uniforms of brown vegan-friendly cloth, and the anarchists, faces hidden behind bandanas. Working for ACLU, you encounter a lot of protests, and you come to recognize the “protest culture,” the folks who are just angry at the world and take any chance to yell at mainstream Americans for being “sheeple” and whatnot. They’re the folks the TV cameras focus on, and that lead many of us to look the other way. What struck me Thursday morning was how the protest culture really was the minority. Most of the people there were clean-cut. They were students, and retired folks, and people on their way to work. Most had hand-written signs, but unsure of exactly how to begin, they milled about with nervous energy, searching for familiar faces.
At that stage, there still wasn’t a coherent message. Surveying the signs and shirts, one could find almost any cause represented, from the anarchists and the socialists who sought to end American capitalism altogether, to the Paulites with their “END THE FED” signs, animal rights people, anti-war people, tax reform people, anti-tax people, homeless advocacy people, civil rights people, and many others. The one common thread that united everyone – that continues to unite everyone, whether they are participating in a drum circle or discussing monetary policy in a working group – is a populist spirit and a sense that our system in America has become fundamentally unfair to the vast majority of the people. Though any two people may disagree fiercely on policy, everyone can join together in the most frequent chant: “We are the ninety-nine percent.”
There were also droves of media, out early to get the footage they needed now that #occupy had reached their city. I did two interviews myself, not quite sure of my talking points, but explaining that I am not anti-capitalist, but I think capitalism only works when the people in charge have a basic sense of fairness and decency. I didn’t get quoted, that I’m aware of.
The thing that really won me over was the level of organization. By 9 AM on the first day, facilitators had already set up stations for medical care, food distribution and collection, communications, waste removal, and more. By the time I returned that evening, all of Dilworth Plaza around City Hall had been divided into stations and sections, and a miniature government had been established, based around direct democracy and a consensus system. This, I learned, was why things like messaging took so long to emerge from this movement – because every decision that affected the group was put before the entire group, in a shockingly organized and respectful meeting known as the general assembly.
If you are one who writes off this group as radical or disorganized, I can’t stress enough how much you need to attend a general assembly meeting. There are two a day in Philadelphia, and every single person is invited – whether you’ve been encamped since Thursday or you walked in two minutes ago, your voice is equal to everyone else’s. The assembled group sits quietly, volunteer facilitators lead the discussion, and every person is given an opportunity to speak. When they do speak, they are amplified by “the people’s mic.” Speakers deliver their message in three-to-five word sentence fragments, and each time they pause the crowd at large repeats what was said. The end result is that everyone is heard, and everyone is respected. When a discussion requires a decision, it’s not simply about majority rule – consensus requires that any significant objections be respected, and no decision made until the objectors represent a significant minority of the gathering.
The general assembly has no leaders, because the camp has no leaders. It has facilitators, who help to organize, and to spread information, but whose authority exceeds no one else’s. They help to make the camp aware of goings on, and to spread messages about “housekeeping” – for instance, reminders to please respect the rights of the homeless who called Dilworth Plaza home long before the #occupation arrived, to avoid blocking traffic, and to respect the Philadelphia Police who have so far been so exceptionally professional in their working relationship with the 99 Percent. One of the most important aspects of this protest is that it is not about disrupting the lives of the people of Philadelphia – they are, after all, fellow members of the 99 Percent. The protest is about sending a message to the American ruling elite, to counteract the billions of dollars in lobbying money that protect the interests of the few by raising the voices of the many. As the protestors have been respectful of the City and its population, the Police and the office of Mayor Nutter have been incredibly cooperative, and even helpful, to the movement. There is no sense of danger at City Hall, no sense of tension or impending conflict with the police. If anything, there is a sense of partnership – the police are, after all, fellow members of the 99 Percent.
The overall effect of a few hours at the occupation is a sense of energy, of hope, of urgency. Talking to the people around you, you begin to realize how much American policy has harmed the lives of your friends and neighbors – and you realize that some people aren’t thinking of themselves. I’ve met many others like myself, who are fully employed and making a secure living, but see the problems around them and want something done. I’ve met others who are desperate, who are one paycheck away from homelessness, who seem to find relief in the camaraderie around camp.
What the camp, and the entire protest, really need is greater participation. We need more middle-class people, more of the folks the media don’t expect to find. We need union folks and teachers, religious leaders and housewives. We need working people. We need racial and ethnic minorities, especially in Philadelphia. We need soldiers and enlisted men and women. We need Tea Party folks and liberals and independents and everyone else. This movement is, after all, about America. It’s about 99 percent of the population – which means there’s a pretty good chance it’s about you.
To those who criticize, I will say that many criticisms are valid. The message is indeed muddled. The hippies with their drum circles and the anarchists with their masks do damage the appeal to middle America – but they are equal members of the group, and though they may not be a PR asset, their opinions and perspectives are just as valid and important as anyone else’s. The solution is not to silence them, but to come and add your voice. As a coworker told me early in the movement, when I complained that the message was unclear, “talk to them and help them do better.” If you think the protests are directionless, or you’d like to see concrete policy suggestions, then come and speak up. I promise you will be heard, and I promise there will be people who agree with you – possibly enough to shape the future of this movement.
What I would suggest – nay, urge – is, if you live within a traversable distance of a protest – and the odds are very good you do – that you stop by. Don’t look from a distance, walk in. Talk to some people. Carry a sign – it doesn’t really matter what it says, as long as it’s important to you. Hold your sign out to the street, and hear how many cars blare their horns in support as they pass. Find a facilitator and ask when the next general assembly will be held, and stick around for that. Speak, and be heard. Your voice is as important as anyone’s voice, and your opinion as important as anyone’s. I realize that’s an unfamiliar concept in the United States, and it may seem foreign, but try it on. As soon as you step into that camp, you own it as much as anyone, and you can shape its message. Go and see what it’s like to not only complain about the problem, but to demand a solution.
If you’re like me, you’ll enter as an outsider. Once you’re in camp, though, you’ll quickly realize that this isn’t their movement, it’s your movement. It’s about all of us – or, well, almost all. We are, after all, the Ninety-Nine Percent.
I’m a fan in general – the Savage Lovecast is one of four podcasts to which I subscribe. In the video below he makes three or four really important, salient points, in very simple and clear language, about the gay rights movement, the nature of its opposition, and the role of the anti-gay movement in American politics. Great stuff.
I’ve cued the video up to the beginning of the really good stuff – the earlier portion is an entertaining and lengthy discussion of The Book of Mormon.
I had the good fortune to be in NYC visiting Elizabeth this past weekend – pretty much the best time in the past 100 years or so to be in New York. We stayed up Friday night watching the State Senate debate (and tweeting – I tend to do a lot of that when I watch parliamentary process) and waiting for the historic vote. As you all know now, we were not disappointed. I won’t go on about it, except to say that I’m delighted, awestruck, and incredibly proud of the state of my birth. I only wish my current home state could buy a clue.
Saturday morning Liz and I ran the NY Front Runners Pride Run, my first official Central Park race. As expected after the vote on Friday, the mood was upbeat and celebratory, though there were far fewer costumes than I expected – and not a single man running in a wedding dress! The fellow at the top of this post was one of the exceptions. As I ran past I got to hear his advice for anyone considering such a costume, “Lots and lots of Body Glide.”
I learned several things in this race. I learned that many runners don’t respect corrals. I also learned that speed walkers, and some regular walkers, feel similarly toward corrals. Lastly, I learned that when I am slowed down by people who started two or three corrals in front of their designated corral, I get super bitchy.
Not that I was the only one. As the race kicked off, with eight thousand runners jockeying for position, a bicyclist came riding at high speed from behind us, nearly plowed into the crowd, all while shouting “oh yeah, like there’s nobody else here!” Would that I could have conversed with the man, I would have pointed out that there were eight thousand of us and one of him, and which one of us was acting self-important? Alas, my attention was occupied with trying to get around the speed walkers and the groups of ladies who were forming human walls so they could converse while running slowly, something that wouldn’t have been problematic had they started in the right corral (have I communicated my annoyance about this whole corral thing?)
Despite feeling slow and stiff before the race, Liz set a PR, coming in 9th among all women and 4th among women in her age bracket. I finished about two and a half minutes behind my best 5-mile time, thanks in part to the hilly terrain in Central Park but mostly to the stupid corral jumpers.
Here’s some video of Liz just after her surprisingly strong race. You’ll also get a good sampling of my attitude after my own finish. I manage to slander an entire city on the basis of a few slow runners. Behold the bitchiness.
By the way, it sounds like I don’t like the popsicle, but actually I thought the popsicle was awesome.
Liz and I also marched in the NY Pride Parade on Sunday with the contingent from the New York Civil Liberties Union. More on that soon.
Months ago, an ad came up on my Facebook page: “Congress wants to impose higher fees on your debit card,” or some such language. I’m pretty sensitive about debit card fees, ever since 1997 when a single bounced check wound up costing me about $400 in fees, thanks to manipulative bank practices. The Facebook ad invited me to join a group called “Don’t Make Us Pay,” a grassroots coalition working to protect consumers against higher banking fees. You can see their web site above (with one slight tweak from me.)
In the time since I subscribed I received several e-mail action alerts, and a couple of times sent form letters to my elected officials. But I’d been duped. Turns out, Don’t Make Us Pay is a fraud, tricking people like me into opposing the very legislation that would protect us. Last week an email from Don’t Make Us Pay made me a little suspicious, so I started poking around and learned that it is in fact run by the Electronic Payments Coalition, an astroturf front group that lobbies on behalf of a bunch of big predatory banks, including Wells Fargo, Bank of America, Citi, and JP Morgan.
After the jump there’s a pretty okay video from YouTube user thewah that exposes the fraud.
I do not post this video to mock Rita, or to praise Michelangelo Signorile, or even to trash Sarah Palin. I post it to call attention to the desperate need in the United States for sound civics education.
Rita sounds perfectly reasonable, and fairly articulate, but she is wrong. I’m not saying I disagree with her opinions, I’m saying she is factually incorrect. With these incorrect facts as premises, she has constructed a (presumably) logical view of the world and of American politics that is entirely warped, and that is sad. Continue Reading
This was a banner year for Christmas cards at the ACLU of Pennsylvania. We didn’t keep an exact count, but the total was somewhere over 500 cards. Of those 500, perhaps twenty were kind thoughts from people who like us. The other 480 or so were angry, angry, angry.
In case you’ve missed it, there is an annual campaign to bury the ACLU under Christmas cards. A chain email that’s been circulating for a decade or more insists that if we get enough Christmas cards, we’ll have to spend all of our time and resources opening them (just in case they contain money!) and won’t be able to do anything else with our time. Shades of “Miracle on 34th Street,” I suppose.
This is all under the mistaken impression that the ACLU is fighting a War on Christmas, that we’ve told Macy’s and other department stores that we’ll sue if they wish shoppers a Merry Christmas, and that we’re somehow campaigning to have the Christmas Tree re-branded the “Holiday Tree.” It’s all a bunch of nonsense, of course. None of those claims are true, and we think people should be free to celebrate whatever holiday celebration appeals to them – just that the government shouldn’t be in the business of dictating what holiday that is.
So I present for you a gallery of a few favorite Christmas cards we received this year. As a nerd who has recently been studying a lot of ancient and Classical societies, I have to say that I especially enjoy the frequent theme that “it’s ALWAYS been a CHRISTMAS tree.” Perhaps a brief course in Western Civilization would be beneficial… Continue Reading
[Credit to David Byrne for the post title]
Way back in November of 2007 I posted about the sordid saga of Ethan Reynolds, formerly of the model blog / community Brat Boy School (since shut down; internet wayback machine link here – caution, it loads slowly). I’m seeing echoes of that experience in the recent downfall of “Hockey Kid Mikey,” an alleged gay high school hockey player promoted by gay web site OutSports who, after building a small empire on the web, turned out to probably be a 40-year-old gay hockey fan.
Both appear to be cases where some blogger used the magical power of the internet to pretend to be someone else. In both cases the bloggers built an enormous base of enamored fans, and in both cases their success began to open doors outside the internet shortly before their fictitious persona fell apart. In neither case were any actual crimes (apparently) committed, and yet in both cases the fans, once betrayed, called for blood.
As I was in 2007, I am fascinated by the response from fans. It’s not as if this technique is old. I’ve compared Ethan to nudie centerfolds, who always seem to find titillating answers to the same questionnaire, but the creation of a fictional persona is not limited to the vaguely pornographic. Think of Dear Abby, or Poor Richard, or for that matter any talk-show host. None of these people is really the person they present to the world. Granted, that fact is disclosed to varying degrees, but I’d imagine there are many Letterman fans who would be outraged to discover the real person behind the television character he portrays. This is, I would hazard to say, at least partly to blame for the outrage behind the most recent “Late Night Wars,” and why Jay Leno emerged as the villain while Conan’s popularity grew: cutthroat businessman is pretty far removed from the brand Jay has been selling his viewers, while Conan’s brand is apparently not as far from his actual personality. Continue Reading
Paul Scholes and Gary Neville play soccer, professionally apparently, in a country called–wait, let me look this up–England. Except there it’s called “football,” which I assume explains the unexplained popularity of soccer. The British have apparently spent decades sitting around very large stadiums watching a bunch of men stand around an enormous field, wondering when the Steelers were to arrive.
Anyway, so on Saturday Scholes scored a very important goal to win a very important game, and Neville gave him a kiss, and people’s minds were BLOWN. Bunches of newspapers in the UK ran kiss-related headlines. Most were favorable, but still. Someone should remind the UK that they are European, which in the US is a word that means “gayer than gay.”
But I digress. The whole reason I took to this blog is because I love, love, LOVE the response from Guardian sports blogger Barry Glendenning, whose response is that these two guys are not nearly hot enough for a PDA. Via Outsports (emphasis mine):
That kiss was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And before you scuttle off down to the comments section to level accusations of homophobia at us, don’t bother. If it was two ripped and dashing footballers – some Matt Taylor-on-Jason Roberts action, for example – we’d have no problem with such ostentatious public displays of man-love and possibly be even a little turned on. Hell, even if Gary Neville had just planted one hand on either side of Paul Scholes’s head and laid a shock-and-awe black-and-white movie style smacker on his lips, that would have been fine too. But it was the tenderness of the moment, the cupping of the face, the tilting of the heads, the eyes closed expectantly, the blur of ginger hair and wispy not-quite-beardness in yesterday’s sport sections that put us off our lunch. Down with this sort of thing. Careful now.
Purely in the interest of journalism, I did the research, and it appears these are the two eye-pleasing gentlemen Glendenning would rather see locking lips on the turf: