How I Became a Revolutionary

The trouble with observational reporting arises when one has no frame of reference with which to fit in the new experiences; no means by which to quantify and fully understand the things one sees. It’s been four weeks since I left my middle-class life in Texas behind and became a 24-hour Occupier in Denver, and only now can I say that I’m beginning to wrap my head around all the new experiences thrown my way. It’s been more than a climate change, from the balmy southern Texas coast to a Rocky Mountain winter. It’s been more than a culture shock, from the land of Tejano and rural ranches and carne guisada to Tebow and the 16th St Mall. It’s been a sea change.

Some of the newness is trifling amusement in the grand scheme. I’ve added two words to my vocabulary: spange and groundscore. I’ve learned how to roll my own cigarettes, and feel no shame whatsoever in airing my bedding on the sidewalk. I still fret over how hard it is to keep my fingernails clean, but we all have our silly hang-ups.

Part was, however difficult I found it, nothing more than peeling away some of the softness that is American life. People asked what the Occupy Diet was after I mentioned it in a previous item. It’s simple. Sleep in freezing temperatures, walk several miles each day, and do all this on one meal a day plus all the coffee you can drink. For preference, you should have that viral hacking cough known as Occulung or the Occupy Plague.  Pants that used to be snug enough to give me a muffintop, I can now pull off without unbuttoning. Eh, I needed to lose a few pounds anyhow.

Mostly it’s been profound. I’ve had trouble finding the words to describe the relationship between 24-hour Occupiers. There’s a bit of polar Woodstock going on, it’s true; some air of “The world is love, and love is the world, because family is all of humanity… peace and flowers, my brother”. Honestly, not as much as one would think. It’s much more a ‘band of brothers’. These people are the ones who slept beside me when it was three below. We ate our first hot meal in two days together, stood dawn watch patrol together, built bedrolls and tarpitectures together, waited for a brother to get out of jail together. When it all goes sour, I know who will stand the line with me – the same people who have been beside me all along. This sort of esprit de corps is rarely found in civilians, and yet that’s exactly what we’ve forged.

One thing I hope to carry with me is my new standard of happiness. The change to my perspective has been intense. Happiness is being warm enough to take off all but one jacket, or a baked potato with butter and salt*. A hot shower is such bliss it gives me the shivers. Twenty dollars is wealth, and a friend is not merely someone on your Facebook but a person who would pay your bail (and probably already has). Few people in America know what real happiness is, and I gained my knowledge through hard work in harsh conditions. It was worth it.

The journey’s not yet done, not even close. I don’t foresee a time in the near future when I’ll be leaving Occupy – the Occupation has yet to throw something at me I couldn’t handle. Before, I was just a middle-class woman in way over her head, who probably had no business sleeping on the street. Now, I’ve got my big-girl panties on and I’m looking for a chance to give the revolution some of what it’s given to me.

Cheers from downtown Denver,

Locke in Socks

 

*Makes the best handwarmer for hours, and when it cools you’ve still got a warm meal.

Meet Your Occupation

It’s been pointed out often in recent days that while Occupy Denver is inspirational, the message is coherent* and our work is coming together, the movement is still faceless. Lacking narrative.

This is easily solved. We Occupiers are all things, and none. We are artists, thinkers, pirates. We are homeless, we are middle-class. Occupiers are conservative, socialist, hippie and redneck, transgendered and straight and gay and polyamorous and not really sure but give us a drink and we’ll give it a try, but just this once. We are American, and we are fed up, and we will not be ignored.  Allow me to introduce you to your Occupation.

Since I get the most questions about them, let’s start with the Family of Love. Family of Love (FOL, or just plain Family) is a simple unit, really. They are a communistic group bound together in mutual adoration and shared resources, thereby improving the lot of all members. It’s an idea as uncomplicated as the young people who make up FOL. The devil, as always, is in the details.

Family is a group of nearly twenty people ranging in ages from 18 to 28, most of whom are full-time Occupiers and many of whom make up the bulk of Occupy Denver’s 24/7 committee. They were the driving force behind Occupy Denver’s original Fort Love, current tenants of Ft Love 2 and continue to be some of the hardest workers on the ground.

The Family patriarch and unspoken leader of the 24/7 committee is Ben, a lithe black man known both for his habit of pacing and jumping to keep warm as he talks, and for his gruff, seemingly sour demeanor.  If you can manage to earn your way past the prickly veneer, though, you’ll find this man to be all about love; even, as he puts it, occasionally when that means tough love. While he looks as shabby as we all do after days of urban camping, it’s impossible to listen to Ben speak and not get the impression that here is an educated man – or at the very least an intelligent and well-read man. He uses that eloquence and discipline to shepherd both his Family and his Occupation, using no authority other than the respect he has earned.

If Ben is the patriarch then the responsible eldest daughter would be Katherine. Kat has been described as, “If 24/7 [committee] were the Ghostbusters, she’d be Jeanine.” She even looks like a slightly hippie-ish secretary, with her dark hair, neat movements and ever-present notebook full of the day’s plans. With an apparently endless supply of patience and good humor, she manages to translate the occasional goofiness of committee meetings into the straight legal-style announcements necessary for clarity. Kat is pretty and young, quiet and capable, and while she doesn’t discuss her personal politics often one concedes that she would probably not be living a blithe consumer lifestyle even in less interesting times. It wouldn’t be in her nature.

The fire and passion of Family stems from a mere boy, albeit one with a beautiful soul. Julian lays no claims to vast knowledge, but what he does know he argues for with spirit, and he soaks up new facts with the thirst of a parched man at a desert oasis. Julian can be found everywhere around camp, including up a tree, positively vibrating with sheer joy at being alive. With his broad grin, outlandish apparel and colorful scarf – so tacky that he goes out the other side into fantastic – he has become a memorable figure at Occupy Denver, whether he was patiently listening to Tea Party followers or shouting his views next to a police squad car. Julian is the first of the Occupy Denver “tarpitects”, turning his keen intellect and ingenuity towards building warm shelters for the camp out of the only materials we are allowed – cardboard, duct tape and tarps.

Benjamin is the poet laureate of Civic Center Park (and occasionally the jail). A slight young man with a crop of fluffy curls, he is one of the quiet type of artist, the sort to sit in silence and watch the activity while his brain files away and sorts to find the art in what is going on around him. In his tailored felt trench coat and beret, smoking or reading the paper or just smiling gently at the antics of more boisterous FOL members, Benjamin can usually be found on the fringes of whatever Family is doing. When they need for someone to step forward and speak from the Family’s heart, however, it is Benjamin that steps to the forefront. As so often seems to be the case with enigmatic writers, Benjamin appears to know Family better than they know him, and love them all the better for it.

There are many more members of the Family of Love – Jason, the diplomat with a baby face under the solidarity chops; Thor, the cross-dressing alpha male; Taylor, aka George, the pretty flower child with sprigs of rosemary in her hair, and more than a dozen others. Each of them, in a world full of corporate sameness, vividly individual and full of character. To watch Family of Love in action is akin to seeing a Dickens’ novel sprung to modern life, with just as much message for our times as anything Dickens tried to make his characters portray. These people work hard, love hard, and live passionately. They are the 99%, and your Occupiers.

Contributed by on the ground correspondent, Jo Newton

Notes: This is the first in a series of articles featuring various 24-hour Occupiers. Next up: Grumpy Old Man, also known as Mike.

*To our followers, anyway. People who refuse to listen to us and then complain that they don’t know what we want have only themselves to blame.