Magical
Activism
on the Line
Green
Witches in Washington, DC
By
Barbara Walker Graham
|
|
|
|
|
I am a scholar and a Green Witch. I clean the
waterways of my county. I am a mother with a
sweet child at home. So why did I go to
Washington, D.C. on April 16, 2000 to protest
the economic policies of the World Bank? Why did
I place my body on the line and stand arm in
interlocked arm, staring down riot police?
When
your sacred values are threatened there comes a
time when you must stand up and assert yourself.
The sheer madness of big dollars seeking bigger
gains, while discounting environmental and
cultural devastation, is boggling. As Starhawk
puts it "We are at a nexus of incredible
converging forces politically, economically and
magically". To me the magical line has been
crossed, my rallying point reached. I will work
as a midwife for transformation -- helping birth
renewed awareness about the urgent need for a
healthy biosphere.
Saturday
-- Taking Each Other's Measure
There
are large crowds of protestors everywhere. It is
unclear why they are on the streets rather than
at the Convergence Center. As we round a corner
we are confronted with squads of motorcycle
police. We learn that the police raided the
Center, citing fire code violations. They seized
personal belongings as well as medical supplies
and puppets. We are concerned that if the Center
was closed down, then the church will be the
next target.
We are
all determined to continue, and so the lessons
begin: magical activism, nonviolence training,
and legal ramifications of our actions. In
magical activism we learn to deal with our
emotions and the emotions of those around us
during a direct action, while remaining calmly
grounded. During nonviolence training, I am
struck by how discussions about the empowered
self, consensus process, and nonviolent direct
action, sound so much like Starhawk's books
Truth or Dare and Dreaming the Dark. Starhawk
probably did not create these concepts, rather
she has synthesized and vocalized experiences
from Civil Rights, Anti-Nuclear, and Redwoods
protests.
I walk
down a busy city street to a nearby grocery
store to buy lunch. The church is located in a
bustling, ethnically Hispano-Black neighborhood.
A cool drizzle mists street vendors. I am
bemused by the city, and pick out fellow
protestors on sauntering errands. "Seen all the
protestors?" the check-out clerk asks me, with
an amused shake of his head. He has mistaken me
for a tourist -- little does he know what
fomenting thoughts whirl through my head.
Sunday
- We Blockade the World Bank
The
April 16 action is based on autonomous action of
small groups functioning through consensus
process. There are several World Bank buildings,
and the logistical plan is to blockade
intersections preventing delegates and employees
from entering, thus disrupting the meetings. The
overall plan is to make a statement to the world
media.
We
rendezvous at 7th and Independence at 5:30 a.m.
The gas masks which Froglett and I purchased are
left in the car; just the action of buying them
reinforces the militarist mindset of those
opposing us. We will depend on vinegar soaked
rags to filter any tear gas.
It
becomes ominous as we make our way up hill --
there are police helicopters hovering at roof
level and police observers on the roofs. Many
streets are blocked by metal police barricades.
Chelidon pauses and calls the Pagan Cluster on
his cell phone -- we are techno-pagans of the
21st century. We are talked in to our site --
and are consumed by the color and movement all
around us: drumming dredlocked youth, dancing
New Age hippie chicks, the Lorax wandering
around, crying "Who speaks for the trees? The
Lorax speaks for the trees"! A big head
representing the global corporate entity bobs
about the streets.
The
Pagan Cluster is at 19th and F. We have formed a
Super Cluster with teamsters and civil
disobedience veterans. A human chain of
blockaders cuts diagonally across the
intersection. Some WB delegates try to get
through the lines, but we turn them back. The
Pagan Cluster sends away two nervous restaurant
workers concerned they will have their pay
docked. One delegate takes a swing at Sycamore;
another breaches our line pushing down several
blockaders. The police rush forward, sharply
banging on their barricade making a frightening
sound and pull the delegate through. We "Ohm,"
and chant "The entire world is watching."
|
|
|
The
yarn webbing served as
psychological deterrent to the
police, as well as symbolizing
the interconnections of the web
of life.
|
There is
much debate over what to do about the dumpster
barricade which Anarchist-types built in front
off our webbing. Our webbing reflects our
purpose of sustaining the web of life. As
witches dealing in psychological transformation,
we are concerned that the makeshift barricade
and pivoted cars, would force the police to
attack us. David shouts that the webbing we have
woven around the intersection is enough, our
webbing will turn back the police.
Turning
back the police is foremost in our minds, as we
see reinforcements forming up in squads down the
hill. They march in close order drill, quite
paramilitary in their greaves, neck protectors,
helmets, knuckle and toe armor. We hear rumors
that intersections have been attacked by the
police with tear gas or with pepper spray; that
mass arrests are being made. We smell no tear
gas, we hear no sounds of confrontation, but
still they come, rumors.
|
An
Egyptian delegate wandered up and asked
me what was going on. "Today is not a
good day to go to work. Protestors are
blockading the WB," I said. But why? he
wondered. "We feel that global
corporate economic restructuring is
causing environmental degradation," I
explained. By this time a small group
of thoughtful protestors had gathered
around us.
"There
is a lack of accountability to any
elected body; it's
very strange how
|
|
|
our
government acquiesces to a non
governmental body calling the shots.
|
World
Bank delegate Wafeed Grais in friendly
discussion with
protesters.
|
We are
supposed to be able to elect those who are
making decisions about us. I did not elect these
people!" one protestor said.
I
discretely move over to Starhawk and request
that she join the dialogue. "Monolithic top down
establishments do not work," Starhawk said. The
delegate, Wafeed Grais, recommends that Starhawk
read Blinder's Soft Hearts Hard Heads. Starhawk
recommends that Grais read Jane Jacobs' The
Nature of Economies which explains why export
driven economics have undermined sustainable
economics and environment.
I have
watched my affinity group all day, calmly
blockading the intersection, and I experience a
shift in my fears about being arrested. They are
upholding sacred values by placing their bodies
at risk. Their courage is enormous. I take off
my Press tags, and take my place in the line.
I
instruct nearby blockaders how to extend their
auras giving them strength and protection as yet
another rumor filters our way -- the police are
massing for an attack, prepare for gas.
Fumbling, we put on vinegar soaked cloths. The
vinegar smell is so sharp and pungent it burns
my nose and eyes. There is a ripple of fear when
a delivery of boxes is made to the police. With
relief we realize the boxes are full of bottled
water, and the word is passed, "Its water, its
just water."
Attrition
in the blockade lines begins. The spokes council
says we should declare a victory and disperse,
perhaps joining the legal parade starting out
from the Ellipse. The Pagan Cluster decides to
filter out and make our way to the Ellipse and
regroup.
We hear
a roar from down the street and see the Mounted
U.S. Park Police deployed. The tail end of the
legal march has taken a street below the
Ellipse. We hurriedly make our way toward the
commotion, following Starhawk, who was making a
bee-line toward it. The crowd is huge and mixing
rapidly -- it is chaos and far more frightening
then the blockade. Chelidon and I thread our way
into the heaving mass and see the Mounted Police
pressing on the crowd. We roar "The whole world
is watching! Shame on you, shame on you!"
Starhawk
was shouting to "Sit down, sit down! The horses
won't step on you if you sit down!" and so the
crowd sits, grateful for some kind of
instruction. It is a standoff; we have
surrounded the Mounted Police and the horses
become nervous. A flying squad of motorcycle
police try to force a passage for the horses to
retreat. The path created by the motorcycles is
quickly refilled by the crowd. The Riot Police
move into action -- quickly and brutally they
beat back the crowd. We tumble over each other
to escape.
Monday
- Prayer in the Rain
Today's
strategy is to use what we are most skilled at
-- magical activism. We do not aim to man the
blockade lines today. We learn that the National
Guard has been called out in support of the Riot
Police. Chelidon gets a cell call from Starhawk
who says they are on the line and surrounded by
gas masked Riot Police at 20th and Pennsylvania.
A frisson of fear runs through me and my stomach
clutches up . Magical activism teaches us to
walk through fear and remain grounded -- but it
has been a long trip and I cannot find that
place of calm.
I have
to lie down, I have to cry. Turtle and Froglett
depart, mistakenly taking my car keys with them.
Recovering a little, I ponder what to do. I can
take a cab to the metro station, but I feel
quite nervous -- I don't know my way through the
metro or the streets of DC. I would be alone in
a city prepared for a battle.
We hear
via cell phone that the Pagan Cluster drew
magical chalk webs on Federal Buildings and wove
yarn webs through intersections, but then
rejoined the blockade lines. Seems like the
change in strategy isn't quite evolving. The
Pagan Cluster is facing three ranks of DC Riot
Police, the National Guard, the Mounted Park
Police, then armored personal carriers. Behind
them are the Secret Service, and Alcohol Tobacco
and Firearms bomb squads. All this military
might arrayed against peaceful singing
protestors, shivering in the rain. Thankfully,
the police at this intersection stayed their
might and did not gas or arrest the protestors.
I opt
out from attempting to link up with the Cluster.
The time is past, besides my asthma, fatigue and
the constant cold rain deter me. I know that if
I put myself in this situation I will become
ill. I come up with a plan -- with yarn in hand,
I go out to the back yard in the cold pelting
rain.
I follow
the path to a flooded Labyrinth set behind a
blooming azalea hedge. I pause and wonder what
to do. I try to string a star from the
directional points, but the soggy yard deters
me, plus the yarn slips off my anchor points. It
dawns on me that this plan is strikingly similar
to a binding spell -- I stop myself and pull the
yarn up. I decide to weave a spider's web in
some low hanging branches.
As I
wove, I murmured, "I weave a web of
responsibility, of accountability, of
sustainability, of biodiversity, of continued
dialogue." I invoked recognition that we need
others to survive. The purple thread stood for
compassion, the red thread for forceful intent,
and the orange thread for communication. The
Earth was represented by the rain soaked trees,
the mud, and the stones of the
Labyrinth.
I stood
in the rain, water dripping off my glasses,
concentrating on my web. Stepping back I was
caught in the three-dimensional structure and
was surprised for a moment -- then with a start
I saw the web as a living being, with electrical
sparks coursing along the threads. Tiny highways
of the mind running here and there, a complex of
interrelations forming a unified whole. Leaning
forward, I laid my fingers on the threads and
sensed a vibration, a humming. I strained my
senses reaching for understanding. Then I got
it: we are the web, all our intentions and
thoughts woven into the cloth of
life.
The
metaphor of the Labyrinth carries through to
mundane life -- we enter with a prayer for a
vision, and at each turning we seek
transformation. As we stand in-between the
worlds at the Center of the Labyrinth, we
transcend polarity and become one with the
immanence of the Life Force. This protest action
has been a walk within the Labyrinth -- the
labyrinthine paths of global corporate
investments and intrigue, the trails that led us
here.
We must
change our way of relating with each other and
with the Earth if vast human misery is to be
avoided. We must cease to inflict damage on one
another and to the Earth's natural systems that
sustain us. Our thoughts and actions really do
matter. There is no separate existence, nothing
stands alone. Our work has only just begun.
Barbara Walker Graham is a Reclaiming
Tradition Witch. She is co-founder of the South
East Friends of Reclaiming and the Friends of
Gaia. She lives in Gainesville, Florida with her
son and dog.
Photos
by Barbara Walker.
Contents
Next
Back
