Friday, March 20th, 2003 - Peace So, yesterday I went to the protests. The owner of the place where I work had sent email earlier in the week telling us if we needed to go demonstrate when the war started, just let him or our manager know and they'd understand. The look our manager gave me when I told her I was leaving wasn't very understanding at all, actually, but they did let me go (I took a half day off, as I can't really afford to miss much work these days). I got off BART (which was the only public transportation not completely fucked by the protesting yesterday) at Powell, and stood around at 5th and Market, watching a group of protesters hold that intersection. I had promised myself I wasn't going to get arrested or pepper-gased or break any laws, actually. I wanted to be there to witness it, to shout if I felt like it, to support those braver than I was while they took the streets. One of the chants was: Whose streets? Our streets! I should note here that I actually didn't completely agree with those I was supporting. Oh, I'm against this war, and I wish it hadn't started. And, while I know that a peaceful protest somewhere where it wouldn't disrupt city commerce would not have garnered as much news coverage (such as Golden Gate Park), I couldn't help wishing people had chosen that route instead. I felt sorry for the policepeople (who, for the most part, where very gentle with the protesters), who, by the late afternoon all looked exhausted. We're not protesting the police, or the city of San Francisco. I don't like the fact that yesterday cost the city so much money. But, I don't really have a better option for being heard, so I went and stood on the sidewalk, witnessed and chanted a bit. Ultimately, I felt better. It was cathartic. I feel a wee bit guilty for using the protest to get out some of my frustration and anger about the war, but that's what it did for me. Anyway, at first I just stood on the sidewalk. I was surrounded by nervous shopkeepers, anti-protesters and various other bystanders. One old man chatted with me for awhile. He commented that most of those people have never been in a war. I said, yes, you're right. Lucky for them. He said that he'd fought in Korea, that out of the 89 men in his platoon, only 9 returned, and did those 80 men die for this? I said, well, yes (well, sort of, but anyway). We can still do this in this country (well, protest peacefully, not take over the streets, but anyway) and that's an important freedom. He left me in disgust. Oh well. There was a lot of "but anyway" for me yesterday. A lot of trying to make sense of things and not succeeding. But anyway. The loudest boob at the intersection was a beefy frat-boy type screaming "USA!" and "You commies SUCK!" over and over again. This was around 2pm. Later, he was gone, and the protesters were louder. I guess I can't give a good blow-by-blow, so I'm just going to highlight some other things I witnessed: An angry mother stopped an armored truck on Powell Street with her stroller full of toddlers. "I want money for their education, not for war!" she screamed. She sounded hysterical, and I found myself embarrassed for her. Still, she looked like an angry hen, fierce and determined to defend her children, even as she used them for a shield. She moved away after a minute and was applauded by the crowds on the sidewalk (the protesters had moved up the street awhile before this). I found the police tactics fascinating. They had full riot gear, and they moved in choreographed lines, gracefully taking back intersections by splitting off and defending the corners. The protesters I saw during this time had dispersed before anyone got arrested (to the jeers from the beefy frat boy and the shopkeepers around me). Later, after the cops had gone away, they flowed back and retook the corner. The police had riot gear but the protesters had numbers, and one by one they could stop traffic. After the police had ringed off an area by marching forward in a line and forcing the protesters back, there were several attempts to take back the area by the protesters, but the police were having none of it. This was later in the day -- around 4:30pm -- and the cops were looking very tired. Three protesters linked arms and broke through the police line. The police immediately tried to subdue them by separating them and pushing them to the asphalt. This proved to be difficult or perhaps the cops were simply tired, but one or two of them drew their batons and started beating on the three to lessen their grasp on one another. One of the batons was thrust harshly up the female protesters behind/ between her legs, and it looked extremely painful; she screamed (she could be heard above the crowd, which was impressive, as we were all screaming at the top of our lungs) and began crying. This all happened very fast, maybe a minute or two, and other cops quickly came by to stop the aggressive cops from using their batons any longer. The crowd, self included, roared, "Shame!" at first, then began chanting "The whole world is watching!" as the moment went on. Surprisingly, I didn't cry, though the woman I'd befriended who stood next to me was sobbing so hard I hugged her for a bit. Five minutes after this happened, the mother with the baby carriage full of toddlers (the same one I'd seen before) marched firmly through the ring of police, unimpeded as she went from one corner to the other, accompanied by cheers from the crowd. A protester from the group in the middle of the street walked along the line of policemen offering them a box of donuts. No one took him up on it. It seemed the homeless were making a good living that day. Every one of them who approached me assured me that they were with the protesters, "No business as usual, I'm with you." I bought a bumper sticker from a homeless woman. It said, "Impeach the son of a bush." It gave me something to hold up. Many people asked me where I got it, but the woman was long gone. I'd also bought a button ("No War in Iraq") from protest organizers when I'd stopped by the evening protests the day before. There was a group of women on carpets in front of the Gap store who were knitting. "Stitchy Bitches Knitting for Peace" their sign said. I smiled at them, but was too shy to talk to them. I wish I had; I read later that some of them had extra needles, and I've been meaning to re-learn how to knit lately. Ah well. Some of the things I read about this morning that I didn't see were just shameful. Pukers4Peace, the group that threw up on the steps of federal buildings to protest the war, just makes me mad. Yuck. This is not helping our cause. What does vomit have to do with peace? And there was a group of police near 7th and Mission who corralled even those on the sidewalks into another line of police and arrested everyone. I don't see what those on the sidewalks, who were following police orders when they walked right into the trap, were doing wrong. Upsetting. Here is some video footage from yesterday (not mine; I'd forgotten even a camera). I guess this shows some police violence, though it's hard to tell from the stills on the site. Here's some pictures from an event I wish I'd found: Yoga for Peace! The SF Chronicle says that the women got sexual comments from the crowd. Go figure. Sigh. My legs and feet were aching terribly by the time I headed home. I have to admit that I stopped by The Body Shop and treated myself to a bottle of peppermint foot lotion. I spent the evening mostly on the couch, rubbing my feet, reading, and watching the Ring with Tim. (Excellent movie.) The movie was so scary that I had nightmares -- the kind where I'm trying to scream and I can't, where I'm trying to wake up and it takes a very long time. I woke Tim up long enough to say, "I had a nightmare." and he put a warm hand on my hip and fell back asleep. It was comforting, just having him there beside me. I felt safe. Relieved. I felt better than I have for months. Speak your mind.

Exercise Log: Stretched and lifted weights Tuesday & Thursday morning. Marched for hours on Thursday. Believe me, it counts. Writing log: Editing, I've been editing . . . Current Publications: "Famishing" in Strange Horizons. My first pro sale! "Wetting the Bed" and a collab with Tim Pratt, "A Serious Case of Fairies" in Floodwater "How to Suck" reprinted in From Porn to Poetry: Clean Sheets Celebrates the Erotic Mind Currently Reading: Conjunctions 39 ed. by Peter Straub Donate money to my teeth, my grad school application fees, our writerly projects (Floodwater and Flytrap!). Every little bit helps!

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