Tag : Protest

June 30, 2018 – Today was a hot one in Doylestown for the #FamiliesBelongTogether Rally at the Bucks County Courthouse in Doylestown, PA. But that didn’t stop hundreds of people from showing up and taking refuge under the nearby shade trees lining the streets of Doylestown Borough near the Courthouse at 11 am:

This was a protest near and dear to my heart, being from a family – like most families here in the US – that derives from immigration. On my mother’s side, Brits, French, Germans, and Irish. On my dad’s side, Irish. My grandmother on my dad’s side was an Irish nurse from Arvagh, in the Republic of Ireland, who came as an immigrant to Philadelphia along with her husband – my grandfather, who came from Ulster in Northern Ireland. My father was a dual national of Ireland and the US, as am I, as is one of my uncles who lives in Manhattan.

We are lucky.

In the past few years, some conservatives have labeled me as “not a real American,” due to my two passports. As if I could only be from one place in the world as an American, how narrow is that? Migration – and the seeking of ever-better things for oneself and one’s family – is one of the best qualities of the human condition, and it has gone on for all of time. It will continue, because free will never dies.

As one who treasures my heritage and the stories it tells, I would like to see all of us tell ours in the US of A. Because, like it or not, if we’re not Native American, we came here from somewhere else – whether we came here of our own volition or were brought here against our will. I propose a national holiday called Heritage Day. Because this is our history, all of it. And those who choose to forget it are doomed to repeat it.

In the US right now, shamefully, we ARE repeating it. A vote for Trump was a vote against all those who served fighting Hitler’s army. It was also a vote against everyone who works, as Trump never has. Those who were duped by Trump’s appeals to tribalism, which is nothing more than divide and rob, were duped by the oldest ploy in the book: Playing one working class person against another for votes that enable oligarchs to continue their grandiose jobless lifestyles at the expense of us all. And our environment. And, and, and.

I was glad to see so many people out and acknowledging this under the midday sun in D-town:

Many sought refuge under trees, but nevertheless I became a source of sunscreen for those of us with sensitive skin:

Doylestown’s mayor, Ron Strouse (D), spoke early on in the rally, and talked about current levels of distrust of the government not being this high “since 1968.” I could not agree more:

Representative Helen Tai, who was just elected to the PA state house for district 178 also spoke, just after Mayor Strouse:

Lots of people asked me what my sign was going to say, and I didn’t know until the morning of the rally. The slogans came in a flash, and yet another two-sided placemat sign was born at the local UPS store:

Lots and lots of people tapped me on the shoulder and wanted a picture of this slogan! How can one look at oneself in the mirror, knowing where you and your family came from, and not want to swear like the sailors who brought so many of us over here?

It is such hypocrisy – and it is the worst form of “I Got Mine” that I’ve ever seen. And, being a cancer survivor in America, have I ever seen a lot of those.

But, I realized that people care. A lot of people, including some who fucking care (great sign!)…

…and others who simply care…

…and as always, Jesus was there to try to balance things out (and say he REALLY cares):

Some signs drove the biggest points home, ones we have to look out for, like this one, which reminds us that “legal” does not necessarily mean “just”…

This one brought to mind a quip that I’ve heard over and over: “For my friends, the world. For my enemies, the law.”

Some signs were very colorful, and featured the overall themes for the nationwide protests going on today:

Some reminded us that this has all happened before, so what’r’we doin’?

Yep…

One sign quoted Simon & Garfunkel…and this has got to be the favorite line from one of my favorite songs of all time, that rang true today so well:

And yet others kept it short and simple (and spot on):

But my favorite signs are like this one…and they can be seen on lawns and porches all over Doylestown, and in so many other places across the country, they are just great!!

And in parting, please click the little circle with the “+” sign on it at the top right of this page and GET ON IT!!!

Now more than ever,
Alison

Saturday, April 15, 2017. A day that will live in infamy. In a big “fuck you” to the American public, the US president, who was not elected, elects not to share his tax returns. I – along with my boyfriend and several thousand others – decided to publicly make our demand for accountability known.

A crowd gathered at Thomas Paine Plaza at 14th and JFK in Center City on this not-too-cold day in anticipation of the 2017 Philly Tax March, which would take marchers around Philadelphia City Hall and down Market Street to Independence Hall. An enterprising group offering to recycle signs occupied one corner of the Plaza while great sign after great sign walked by…one that nailed white male privilege right on its head, another that offered a writerly theme…and even T-Rex showed up:

My sign was actually one of many that shared the same theme, “If You Show Me Yours, I’ll Show You Mine.” There were quite a few of these, but they always got a laugh.

That said, the fact that a sitting US president has refused to show his taxes to the public only says one thing – and that is everything. It tells me he has lots to hide. It also tells me that his followers – this is President Twit after all – accept him at his word, and are neither intellectually curious nor are they concerned with democratic principles that center on accountability and transparency, which the crux of the issue here.

The march ensued, taking us to Independence Hall, where we heard several speakers calling for accountability – and where I saw the best protest sign – or was it a protest salad bowl, complete with sugary-swampy gummy worms? – of the Tax March:

This was an instant classic!

As for those seeking public office who don’t want to show their financials, take a hike…and not at Camp David, aka Catoctin Mountain National Park in Maryland, where the state Senate has approved a bill to require presidential candidates to release their tax returns.

This is a silver lining of the erection of Donald J. Trump is that state legislative efforts have taken on critical importance, and have refocused our efforts on winning state and local elections. This will take time, money and effort, but we’re doing it. There simply is no other choice.

It amazes me that the United States – where presidents have held a tradition of releasing tax returns since Gerald Ford – would be willing to turn the other cheek for an obvious grifter like Trump. But I am glad to see states writing and passing strategic legislation such as this in an attempt at codifying democratic principles and common sense into law – and that also raise the bar for those running for president. After a reality TV actor with a shady financial past gets in, accountability and transparency are more essential than essential has ever been.

Resist on,

Alison

The 2017 Women’s March in Washington, DC, is billed by Wikipedia as the largest single-day protest in US history.

I’d say! Just check out my view of 14th Street, looking toward the Mall:

It was also the most feared – by potential marchers as well as others.

Countless friends and strangers told me I must be crazy to go to DC and march with Trump (illegitimately) taking over the Oval Office. “Be careful,” they admonished. Even some of the staff at the local UPS store looked at the sign I was printing up, and told me point blank, with fearful looks on their faces: “I would not want to be down there.”

I can only imagine how much bigger it would have been, if not for one thing: fear.

Fear of what, I wondered. Being arrested? Being bashed by counter-protesters? Being injured, or worse? Or – and this is my favorite in corporate-fascist-land Amerikkka: Being caught on facebook by employers for having gone and joined the “rabble-rousers” and “troublemakers?”

Apparently so – and which only made me want to go more. Because we had finally hit rock bottom.

Trump was erected US President by the Electoral College. I had nothing to do with it. The installation of a US President by 538 people, now THAT is something to fear – and something to change. I’d had an immediate conversion of that fear into anger and, even more importantly, action. Because the first woman president, who’d won three million more votes than do-nothing Don, was going home. And the most entitled white male I’d ever seen run for president – one who couldn’t even pull off the popular vote – was going to the White House.

It is no wonder so many people don’t want to work hard or try to win honestly. America is a bona fide rigged system. The scammers and cons and data scientists have figured it all out, right on up to the White House. Flawed democracy, yes we are. If all one needs to do to win the presidency is to “win here, here, and here” per the Electoral College’s welfare-like voting system, which awards more voting power per voter to those residing in less populous states – and not win the majority of our hearts and minds – that is reason enough to be angry as fuck.

The remedy for fear being deliberate, decisive action, I booked a bus ticket to DC, printed out some maps of the metro system, packed up my things, and rolled up my UPS store-made sign, which said, “RESIST” on one side, and “FORWARD” on the other. One word per side, each of which said it all.

I arranged a short stay through All Souls Church Unitarian in DC and landed on a comfy couch bed in Tenleytown. They next morning, I entered the metro station to the excited urgings of a metro worker reminding us – and to be fair, the entire station was full of women’s marchers – to “hurry up! 10 am, people!” A big smile stretched its way across my face. This was going to be a great day of batteries being recharged, of hopes being resurrected.

I rode a crowded red line train to Judiciary Square, and after spending a couple hours attempting to get to the March epicenter at 3rd and Independence, I encountered no cell phone service along with standing room only. I could just about see the large video monitor set up at that location when word came through the crowd that the march itself, at least along its planned, permitted route, had been cancelled. There were just too many people.

With all bets off and nearly a million marchers suddenly loose on the streets, we collectively headed toward the Ellipse and the White House on whatever streets or grassy sections of the Mall would take us there, permitting be damned. Along the way, DC Metro police officers showed up to partition the crowd. Yes, it was that big. I’ll never forget the look on the cop’s face as he put up barrier tape in front of my nearby crowd, which had just crossed the Mall on the way to Pennsylvania Avenue, and effectively sent half of us up Constitution and the other half up Pennsylvania Avenue.

It was fear.

Fear. There it was again, on the opposing side of a police barricade from where I was standing. He was not alone in being frightened by We the Pussy.

Fear of the vagina runs rampant among the American victim-entitlement class these days (largely white, and largely male…and completely insecure). It is the same fear behind all the taxpayer dollar-wasting abortion bans and restrictions, when we should be passing measures guaranteeing all-inclusive healthcare for every citizen. It is the same fear behind the bathroom safety arguments against passing the ERA, the same stupid argument being dusted off and currently used against transgenders having the individual liberty to use the facilities they feel most comfortable using. It is the same fear behind the lack of equal pay. It is the same fear behind the lack of transparency in so many things that keeps the large majority of us in some way screwed over.

I often imagine how great this country could be if there were true and full equality for everyone – and that means ridding ourselves of fear. It means women letting go of their inferiority complexes and the repeat-taught need to be taken care of, or spoken for, or installed into limited societal roles set aside for us. It means men letting go of their unearned superiority and entitlement – especially the attitude that women’s bodies are public property, and somehow theirs to do with or vote on or restrict as they please. Those who created the society where women must work twice as hard to get half as far now find they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and compete with women who answered that challenge, most often under the constant and rigorous scrutiny and second-guessing that always comes with a big helping of double standards.

And, it means we go to the root of where this bigotry came from – and that is none other than organized religion, or what I’ve come to call the men’s mythology clubs. You know, the ones where men design a god that looks just like them – and then relegate everyone else to second-class status using the concept of – and fear of – a supreme being to artificially inflate their value while minimizing that of all others.

But, like it or not, women have a LOT of power: Women create life. Women decide who gets born. With some exceptions, women raise the next generation. Everyone on this planet has a generous – some may say too generous – woman to thank for their existence. A lot of people live in fear of this reality, and, according to “god” – who I’ve finally figured out is “the little boy who lives in my mouth” from The Shining – they gottacontrolthosesluts. Sluts, of course, being women who enjoy their bodies, along with their nature-given – or god-given, depending on what or who you believe – capacity for multiple orgasm, and who can take care of themselves without needing a male hovering over their every move.

Currently in the US, there are far too many laws and attitudes which reflect fear of women rather than gratitude or respect. And, currently in the US, there are far too many women who fear and refuse to own their own power – and who turn around and vote against their own best interests. A lot of this has to do with what is falsely referred to as faith.

If one cannot view and experience the full menu of choices within a free society and adhere to one’s own faith without violating the freedoms, safety and well-being of other citizens, then that is not faith at all. It is something else. And once again, that something is fear.

Authentic faith has no fear. It does not dictate. It does not seek to control. It doesn’t need to.

I’ve never seen so many people lacking authentic faith as those who voted for Trump. And I’ve never seen as many people in Washington DC, as I saw on the day of the Women’s March, not ever. How appropriate on the day after Fear Itself took office.

For me, it was a reminder that when We the People put our boots on the ground and bodies on the line, we have real power. Imagine that same crowd going rogue. Imagine all of them armed, holding guns instead of signs. Then imagine this: The “scariest” thing I heard at the 2017 Women’s March on DC was “ooops, sorry” when someone inadvertently stepped on my foot, which happened quite a bit during the March, and on the way into and out of the Metro…and where Metro personnel were nothing but encouraging and helpful…and fearless, telling us all to get our butts in gear, and get to the March on time…and don’t forget your kids, your backpacks, your water, your maps…or your First Amendment rights:

In answer to the many concerned people who admonished me to “be safe” at the Women’s March and then asked me what it was like to be there, I told them this: Even with Trump taking office in our midst, I was among hundreds of thousands of my sisters and brothers in intent. I’ve never felt safer.

Nor have I ever felt more fearlessly charged up to go home and do even more – I made it my mission to make at least one call to a representative, senator, state legislator, mayor, council member, governor, etc, per day. And to go to as many protests as possible. And to contribute to causes with time, money and ideas. And…and…AND!!!

Please also see my video of the 2017 Women’s March on DC.

Resist On!

Be Well,

Alison