I’m going to be inflammatory for once, but I’m going to be myself: free-written thoughts and questions about the Occupy encampment

I say this with the utmost humility, admitting that I have not yet camped out a full night at the Occupation. I wavered at first on my feelings regarding the movement, and though I’ve fully resolved to stand/sit in support, I still have my criticisms and skepticism (as I tend to with most things). Yet even though I’ve been involved with the movement in other ways (and even if I were involved in that way), I have not heard every story. Not to mention, I wrote this in one sitting, propelled by emotions and questions more than a well thought-out, methodical examination. Take what I say (take what everyone says) with a grain of salt.

That all said, I want to remind you: We’re a baby movement.

This whole shabang has only been going on for two months. And maybe the dramatic eviction in NYC (as well as the continual eviction attempts in other cities) should be taken as a hint to move into the next step.

In other words, do we need to camp? Maybe it’s time to focus on listening, direct actions, and everything else that’s a part of the movement, instead of making the camp our image. Don’t get caught up in the two-month solution: keep looking at the 40(plus)-year problem and listen for the best response.

I also write this as an invitation to thoughtful explanations for the necessity of the camp. I’ll present my skepticism, but I’m thoroughly willing to hear you out about why the camp matters.

Is it symbolic? Yes. It’s the public reclaiming public space, and it models an alternative society developed around people and by people off of independent community resources.

But it doesn’t have to be the center of our speech. The movement is about much more than the space.

If it were about creating a safe space and a listening community and supportive solidarity for the people who’ve been sleeping outside much longer than two months, it would make more sense to me, but from what I’ve observed, this isn’t always/often the case. If it were about keeping vigil and showing our faces to banks and corporations and lawmakers, or if it were about creating a visual presence that would call the attention of those in the 99% who are less inclined to rabblerouse, I might dig that, but in that case I’m not sure if it’s that successful anymore, especially now that many occupations are moving away from financial centers in order to be safe.

Right now, unfortunately, I see the camp creating more distance, more distrust, more drama within the movement. People see the camp on the TV news and think it’s just a bunch of rabblerousers and distance themselves from it; the reality is, there are people in the 99% who watch TV or read the local paper, who claim opposition to the movement because it seems so extreme and exclusive. It doesn’t have to seem that way. It’s not necessarily our fault the media sucks, but the media’s a reality, and it makes us look bad. People want their parks back, people want the money that the government’s been spending on police forces back, and camp drama detracts from organizing. It’s important to have solidarity and conviction, but I’m afraid we might be misplacing our tenacity.

I kind of want to believe in the camp, honestly, but I think we can do better.

What also holds a great deal of weight for me, though, is this: Much ruckus has already been raised around the choice of the name “Occupy.” Anyone with colonial baggage, anyone who has seen the bitter end of war should be stung by this word choice. Seattle’s General Assembly among others cities’ (Austin, Vancouver) voted to rename the movement Decolonize/Occupy Seattle—not that most of us actually consistently use the term.

But the truth is, when I look at this morning’s Zuccotti Park eviction, I am chilled thinking of our colonial history. First of all, I see few in the movement paying sufficient attention to whose land this really was in the first place. That aside, even, the police violence is a reminder of the brusque brutality that wiped out indigenous peoples, but the stubbornness of people who descended on those parks two months ago almost echoes the same colonial mentality. I hate to say it, I honestly do, but it is preventing other members of the public from using public space.

Does that justify banning the press, dumpstering books, shooing away the public from watching, cutting down trees(???), and bringing in a hose and bulldozer to clear Zuccotti Park? Hell no. If we want to talk about colonialism and dystopia, I’m pretty sure silencing the media and taking away books is early on the checklist for Classic Ways to Dumb Down a “Free” Society. Read any of the terrifying sci-fi novels you were assigned in high school English classes.

I want to see an alternative society in action, but the reality is we’ve reached a turning point and conflict: the movement got big. Thank God the movement got big. If I may introduce an ecclesiological (churchy) analogy that I’m obsessed with, it’s like this: the early followers of Jesus practiced in house churches where they could all sit around the table of communion in a circle, look at each others’ faces, hear each others’ voices from all over the room, share a meal together. Then the Good News spread and things got too big for a living room, which was cool, but which also led to big church buildings. Unfortunately these big church buildings made it a little harder to hear who was speaking, thus we had to put the speaker (turned bishop) in the front next to the table and create a divide between leaders and congregation which led to a hierarchical system which led to an institutionalized church…all because things got too big.

Not to mention, if everyone’s in one building and the building crumbles, then what?

The movement is now too large for our living rooms. Decolonize. Don’t give into the temptation of cramming into our own isolated, institutionalized space; remember what’s at the root and get creative.

So what am I suggesting? I don’t know. I’ll keep pulling out of my bum and start here: If you want your symbolic action (and I know I do) and your martyr-esque arrest (my mom’s reading this), then we can use more prophetic imagination than this. Let’s have more Break Up With Your Bank Days. Link your arms outside of Chase Bank like Seattle protestors did on November 2 if that’s what you’re feeling. Keep running the library and the teach-ins. Sit in on foreclosure auctions. CAUSE SOME RUCKUS PLEASE. But choose your battles wisely.

If we’re not trying to make this accessible and visible to the rest of the 99% who aren’t camping and who aren’t already active, then it’s not solidarity. We need more voices, and we need to challenge our own system.

I have existential crises on about a daily basis.

It’s twenty-something, you know?

Who met you today?

That’s a question my boss (a gentleman I admire dearly) brings up a lot. Either that or he brought it up once and I just associate it with him a lot.

I’ve noticed I have this tendency to have fairly intense conversations and encounters with strangers. Sometimes, these strangers become my friends. Other times, they remain friendly thoughts. I’ve gotten to the point where I feel like I have to acknowledge this pattern as something Purposeful. I heard someone say once in a church sermon-or-something-like-it, “If somebody ever says to you ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this,’ it’s ’cause God’s laid something on you.”

Well it’s thick like peanut butter.

And if other people know why they’re telling me these things, I sure don’t.

These are my favorite stories to have and to tell and they’re probably the most important ones. They’re also the hardest stories to bring up, because I never feel confident about the listener’s willingness to share their time and because they don’t quite fit right with “How’s it going?”

And are there cups of water, too?

It is best, in my opinion, to always begin and end with questions.

On an application for a retreat some time ago I was asked:
Where do you see yourself in five years?

I responded:
Sitting at a table across from someone, preferably by a window.