Cops make me nervous on the best of days. After too many stories of them picking on Indians and blacks because they can, or my dad because of his long hair and beard back in his Coos Bay days, I know that they can do whatever they want to you. As sick as it makes me to say it, cops are above the law. But I was especially nervous heading in to occupy Times Square on October 15th. I’d seen videos on YouTube that morning of cops running over peaceful protesters and clocking a girl in the face on Wall Street on Friday morning. And when I saw all the blue and white and their metal barricades assembled around Times Square , I felt afraid. Welcome to the America
I have to give the men and women in blue and white their due, though. They were respectful and acted like civilized human beings during the first part of the protest. When the marchers from Washington Square Park arrived, Times Square filled up with signs and chants for a chance in our American economy. Where my friend and I stood, under the Stars and Stripes between 46th and 47th, a brass band played, and dancers in formal wear and stilts danced. It was a beautiful feeling to be there. While they danced, organizers came around and passed out sparklers and candles. When dusk came, we lit them and sang “This Little Light of Mine.” I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I’m including a link to my video of it. Please excuse my monotone: I don’t really know that song.
If you watch the second video, I don't sing as loud, so it sounds nicer. Then we did a speech using what I think is called the “human microphone.” The speaker shouts out a phrase, then the group nearest her or him shouts it behind them, then the next group shouts it behind them, and so on and so forth. This is to facilitate a more democratic style of public speaking: where one or a few people have a microphone or a bullhorn, they can monopolize the discourse. After the speech, about 6:30, Amy and I left to grab dinner: we were hungry, and she had to grade. Darn grades, they get in the way of everything.
After dinner, about 7:30, we headed back to the Square, me to check it out some more, and Amy to catch the subway. The cops had it locked down. Here’s a video of some of the bad parts that were thankfully away from where Amy and I were standing:
I couldn’t get through the Square, so I cut out to 6th Ave. The cops were there in force, too. And there were some protesters, but not for long. The boys and girls in blue moved us on out. I heard a rumor that they were authorized to use tear gas. Whatever it takes to protect the rich, I suppose. On the train ride home, I saw on Twitter that there was a standoff happening at Washington Square Park
What do I want this morning in regards to the events of yesterday afternoon and evening? Well, first, I want the cops to stop acting like little piggies protecting the big fat hogs, but I always want that. What I want that’s probably a more realizable goal is to see a bigger Indian presence! I saw on Facebook that my Mohawk colleague Maxton Scott was representing in LA, and I was out yesterday with my Karuk sign. But nobody there seems to know what to make of Indian activism in the Occupy Movement, let alone what “Karuk” means. In The Occupied Wall Street Journal, the writers compare OWS to other activist movements, but the Indian activism of the ‘60s, 70s, and early 80s is notably absent. There is a lone quote by the New York City General Assembly’s People of Color that has a lone reference to “indigenous people” buried somewhere between black and “diversity.”
If anybody needs this Movement, or one like it, it’s us Indians!
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