A first-hand account of being jailed for protesting (even though she wasn’t really protesting, and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time) in New York during the RNC:
On Tuesday the 31st my friend Sarah and I were on our way home from vacation. We were driving right through New York City and were listening to news on the radio about the protesters at the Republican National Convention. We wanted to stop and bear witness to the protests. We wanted to add two to their numbers, if only for a few moments, as we each had to be at work on Wednesday. We drove to town, parked the car in a garage and rode the subway downtown. We had heard that there was to be a rally in Union Square Park from 5-7pm. It was published information and it never occurred to us that we would be participating in anything illegal.
[…]
Soon a line of police closed off the other intersection at Irving and 16th, trapping us on 16th St. We didn’t get on the street, we didn’t climb onto anything to see what was happening, we didn’t yell, we didn’t attempt to run, we didn’t appear violent in any way. There were probably 100 of us together there on the south side of 16th St, I think that the police had trapped other bubbles of people on the north side and farther up and down the sidewalk. We saw the police roll out a yellow net, a mesh bolt of fabric that they unrolled and used to push us into a tight group.
[…]
Eventually the police pressed us tightly together into a group. And then they kept pressing…. People were shouting to the police: “Tell us what to do and we’ll do it” and instructing us to hold onto the individuals the police were grabbing: “Don’t let them take them away.” I was on the perimeter of the group and I was scared that they would grab me next…. I was carrying a bag and yelled at Sarah to get her ID out and gave her some money, and someone else passed around a Sharpie and we wrote the number for the National Lawyers Guild on our arms. This was when I really knew that we were in trouble, even though it had never occurred to me that I had done anything illegal.
[…]
The police were instructed to lie to us, to pacify us, to tell us that they would move us soon, “It will only be a little longer.” Some police were honest and said they didn’t know what was going on, while others took out their hostility on us, blaming us for “clogging the system” and lecturing us about how we deserved what we got. There were instances of sexism and verbal abuse. We were held in numerous cells and we were often reshuffled with people from other cells, a tactic I believe was purposeful to help discourage solidarity.
[…]
I was held for 14 hours in Pier 57, also called “Guantanamo on the Hudson,” a warehouse previously used by the MTA as an automobile garage. The conditions were appalling. There were numerous cages built out of wire fence and razor wire. The concrete floor was filthy, covered with oil residue, soot and chemicals, there were in fact still signs posted around the facility warning of the chemicals. People experienced rashes, chemical burns, asthma attacks and head to toe filth. Some chose to stand or sit against the fence all night, but I was so exhausted I lay right on the ground and was caked and covered in filth.
[…]
Arriving at Central Booking we were again searched and I spent time in three cells before I was fingerprinted around 8pm. I was held in two cells and in hallways finally arriving where I would spend the night around 11pm. It was here that we were able to use the phone, or at least some of us were able to use the phone before the guards grew tired and refused to respond to any more phone requests. There were about 27 of us in this cell. Here we were given soap and toilet paper for the first time, and those women who were on their periods were given appropriate products.
[…]
Mug shots and waiting in various halls took two hours and then a new group of us were taken to another cell. This time I waited over three hours before my name was called and I was transported to a new cell, this time to see an attorney. From there it took another two hours until I stood in front of the judge and was released. It was 8:30pm Thursday night, I had been put in handcuffs on the sidewalk of 16th St. at 7:30pm Tuesday night.
[…]
I believe that that the mass arrests were a tactic to discourage any protesting. There are people who are full-time direct action activists, but when the level of commitment is raised from one afternoon of protesting to three days of work lost, people are likely to be scared away. I know that I personally am unlikely to attend any protest that is not legally permitted and well organized. At the same time I feel that my arrest and subsequent detaining have encouraged me to become even more aware of politics, my rights and any possible influence I might have over issues that concern me. I plan to monitor non-mainstream news sources daily to stay alert and aware.
There’s much, much more to the full article than what I’ve excerpted here — go check it out.
Welcome to George Bush’s America, 2004.
When November rolls around — vote.
(via Mike)
[![iTunes]] “God is a DJ” by Faithless from the album Sunday 8 PM (1999, 8:01).
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