March 8, 2005
International Women's Day:
Chaos. Snow. Coalition skittering together through the flurries. Umbrellas. Signs. Big banner weaving through the Upper East Side. Cold. Wet. Police escort. Pink blur. Soaking boots. Limp flyers. Chattering lips. Women power. Kids and grannies. Plaza, penned in. Megaphone drops. Can't hear the speaker. Huddled close. Too cold. Try to break out of barricade, mindless of group. Must get hot chocolate. Must take off wet socks. Must get inside UN for health, not protest. Police resistance. Dive under barricade. Run to UN. Dry off soggy skin with hand dryer in the basement bathroom. Regroup. Effective? Coalition? Powerful? Snow storm. Cabs. Getting to Caravan of Dreams. Warm food. Table bursting with activist friends. Real change is at the table sometimes, not on the streets.
Later, Wangari Maathai--Nobel Peace Prize winner--speaking, podium, colorful clothes, real inspiration, grounded, tree planting, scrambling for tshirt sales, pseudo-ushering, camera for zoom photos.
Out for drinks with the gang, or half of it, while the others go to the party. Margaritas: bittersweet celebration. Over.
Remaining days in NYC recouping, analyzing, getting ready to leave again, drafting event planning sheets, Young Democrat Socialists conference at high school, flight home with Sam. Leaving. Arriving in Oakland and getting picked up by parents. Homecoming? Springtime.
Chaos. Snow. Coalition skittering together through the flurries. Umbrellas. Signs. Big banner weaving through the Upper East Side. Cold. Wet. Police escort. Pink blur. Soaking boots. Limp flyers. Chattering lips. Women power. Kids and grannies. Plaza, penned in. Megaphone drops. Can't hear the speaker. Huddled close. Too cold. Try to break out of barricade, mindless of group. Must get hot chocolate. Must take off wet socks. Must get inside UN for health, not protest. Police resistance. Dive under barricade. Run to UN. Dry off soggy skin with hand dryer in the basement bathroom. Regroup. Effective? Coalition? Powerful? Snow storm. Cabs. Getting to Caravan of Dreams. Warm food. Table bursting with activist friends. Real change is at the table sometimes, not on the streets.
Later, Wangari Maathai--Nobel Peace Prize winner--speaking, podium, colorful clothes, real inspiration, grounded, tree planting, scrambling for tshirt sales, pseudo-ushering, camera for zoom photos.
Out for drinks with the gang, or half of it, while the others go to the party. Margaritas: bittersweet celebration. Over.
Remaining days in NYC recouping, analyzing, getting ready to leave again, drafting event planning sheets, Young Democrat Socialists conference at high school, flight home with Sam. Leaving. Arriving in Oakland and getting picked up by parents. Homecoming? Springtime.
posted by rae @ 12:03 AM
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