When I told some people why we were going to Seattle, they thought it was cool but couldn't understand why a guy would want to go, too. To me it is surprising and appalling that more guys are not interested in the issues of domestic violence and women's self defense, especially when men are, for the most part, the main perpetrators. Violence against anyone is abhorrible and while this is definitely a women's issue, to say it is not a men's issues, or for that matter a human issue, is idiotic. We are all affected by violence in so many aspects of our lives. Whether we saw our mom getting beat up by our dad, had a friend that would come to school with bruises and explain them away with a swing set accident when everyone knew it was the parents. Or maybe a friend or relative was raped. Maybe you were raped, man or woman. All of it is relevant. Violence is a scary thing that far too many people have to live with. And whether we want to think of it or not, it affects everyone of us. To write it off as something that doesn't concern you is to say you live in a cave on mars by yourself and meditate for 23 hours and sleep the other. Even in my personal life I have seen violence pushed on my friends and family for too long. The effects of it last forever and the more people hear that hear this message, the less chance they will be victimized. There are about a million reasons why this topic is important to me and why I felt like I had to go. Not to mention that the people in Home Alive that I have talked to or corresponded with in the past were all so nice and helpful that I wanted to meet them and be a part of what they were doing.
The fact that Seattle isn't exactly a hop, skip, and jump away was, to say the least, an obstacle to us going. The other obstacle was money. We're all pretty poor and couldn't afford plane tickets. What's a kid to do? Actually we already knew: We were going to have to take a bus. When we called up and found out it was a three day trip I think our hearts collectively sunk. Geez, three days on the Greyhound. Not exactly the love boat. But we wanted to go so, what can you do? Luckily Shari still had some friends over in Sea-town that said it's be cool for us to sleep on their floor We all did some last minute scrambling for money, asked all our friends who might have had a few bucks to lend, called our moms, and sold a lot of CD's. But, finally, we got enough money to go. The trip was on.

Right before I left, I dropped by my friend Paul's bookstore (which isn't Bones and Marble), and traded a bunch of books for some new stuff to read on the trip. I settled on Albert Camus' The Stranger and George Jackson's prison letters Soledad Brother. Two fun reads. Once the reading aspect of the trip was taken care of, I made a few mixed tapes, got together some food for the trip at the dollar store and got my taste buds ready for three days of nothing but crackers. I was ready.
Seattle, Here we come!

3 DAYS ON THE GREYHOUND

The trip up to Seattle wasn't as bad as I was anticipating. This definitely was the longest I had ever ridden on a bus, but I found out that the longer you are on a bus, the more the days merge. We'd pull over every couple of hours at some fast food joint or convenience store to get something to eat and go to the potty. That made the trip more bearable. The only thing I really dreaded on the trip was when I had a seat to myself and we'd pull into some new town. That meant my leg room was in jeopardy. As the bus slowly filled up, I'd see my leg room rapidly grow in danger. Then it happened: My first neighbor.

My first was this old guy we picked up in Alabama. For the whole ride, he kept complaining about how "this bus isn't made for butts like ours." I wasn't sure what to make of that comment, but he was right. I guess the guy who designed the seat was 95 pounds and had his other 95 pound friend sit nest to him to see if they would fit. But for two hefty boys like me and my new friend, comfort was only a distant dream that wouldn't be realized until one of us left. So I just went to sleep. I found that if I could find a comfortable way to fall asleep, then all my other problems would fall into perspective. What the hell, it was only three days. One of the best parts of the trip was the scenery. I had driven across the country once before when I was younger, but this was a different route so it was neat seeing all the different little towns across the good ol' US of A that I missed last time. We went from Pensacola straight to Los Angeles and then up the coast. The closer we got, the more anxious I'd get and finally, after day 3, Amanda saw the Space Needle. I yelled Land Ho! from the Crow's Nest and we were there. Finally.

SEATTLE

I have always had this fascination with the Pacific Northwest. On the bus, you could see just how much greener it was than anywhere around here. Pine trees for as far as the eye could see. Mountains, too. It was too cloudy to see some of the big ones like Mt. Renier, but you could still see some of her sisters off in the distance. It was amazing.
If you can believe it, Seattle is a little bigger than Pensacola. So once we got there, it seemed like there was endless things that we all wanted to do. First things first, though: I think we all needed some coffee and we were definitely in the place for that. In Seattle, coffee isn't the scoop of Maxwell House that it is here. Coffee is a culture. Starbucks is based out of Seattle and it seemed every block was a different store. I personally hate Starbucks Coffee and think it tastes like burned up radiator fluid. Not to mention the notion of a chain coffee shop just turns my stomach so that wasn't even an option. Plus, ever since I went vegan, I noticed that not many places carried soy milk. That meant I had to give up the cream and sometimes sugar and just drink the stuff black. My grandpa told me that's how real men drink it anyway so I should stop complaining, but I'm not a real man so I wanted to pollute it. Shari knew of this place called Sit and Spin, which was a laundry mat that had shows and was a coffee shop, too. Among their many talents, they could also make vegan cappuccinos. We were all excited.

Once we put our bags down, Shari told us the deal about ordering coffee in Seattle. "You can't just say, 'I want a cup of coffee,' or a vegan cappuccino." She told us. "You have to tell them 'I want a single shot tall soy cappuccino." I memorized it and went to the guy behind the counter and told him exactly what Shari told me to say. And it worked! I got my soy cappuccino and was really proud of myself for getting the order right. Once I got mine, Amanda went up to the counter and told the barrista that she wanted a soy cappuccino, too. Then the guy, who was really hip in a big city way, just rolled his eyes said, "Do you know how hard it is to make soy milk foam?" Amanda just looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I heard it was." He looked at her for a few seconds and then made her drink. I love snotty people.
They're so funny.

After this, we went over to her friend Jen's house. That's whose floor we'd be sleeping on. Jen just got home from work and seemed excited to see us. On the way to her apartment we found this giant picture of an African lady in someone's trash. Shari picked it up out of the garbage and gave it Jen as a gift. When I saw how excited Jen got about the picture I knew that she'd be fun to stay with. The next day was Friday and the conference wouldn't be starting until 6 p.m. That meant we had a lot of time before hand to check out the city. Shari was pretty well versed in where to go in town and I think she got tired of asking us what we wanted to do. I felt stupid asking if this was where Kurt Cobain lived so I just decided that maybe a bookstore would be fun. We were near the Public Market, which is this huge open air market that I guess was a big tourist attraction. It was really overpriced, but still kind of neat. Left Bank Books was around the corner so Shari took us there first.

Left Bank is an Anarchist bookstore that also distributes books around the country. We were all pretty broke so we really couldn't really buy anything outside of a few pamphlets and a post card. But it was still neat. They had a little library upstairs of revolutionary pamphlets that they let Shari borrow so she could copy and bring back to Pensacola. The people there were really nice, and seeing Left Bank was great since I have heard so much about it over the years. The Anarchist community is a lot different from just about any other group of people, too. Left Bank was one of the only bookstore in town that wasn't snotty or rude and actually had a really good literature section. It was also the only store that didn't keep it's Bukowski and Beat Generation stuff behind the counter. Sometimes if you trust people and don't assume everyone's a criminal, then they will prove you right. Like I said, they were really nice people.

After we left Left Bank, we walked over to the other side of town called Capitol Hill. That seemed to be the "cool side" of Seattle. The community college was there and a ton of little shops and restaurants, and of course, coffee shops and espresso stands. Shari took us to this little place called The Globe, which is the only all-vegan menu restaurant I have ever seen. It was a really neat environment. They did poetry readings, had a huge library that you could take to your table and read, Internet computers, and really awesome food. I got this big plate of vegan biscuits and gravy and some toast and some coffee. That was also the only place that didn't charge extra for a shot of soy milk for your Joe. I could have sat there all day. The people there were really nice, too. They had a policy that during the cold months, if someone just asked for a bowl of soup then they would give it to them for free. I thought that was so cool. Not many places will do something like that. Here at least. And that made me think. Money is always such issue in our society and it often prevents people from participating in social situations. There should be ways around that. If you have the money to pay for your soup or whatever, then you should because for now we still live in a capitalist society and people still need to pay rent. But if you don't have the dough, then you shouldn't be disqualified from participating in what's going on around you. In places where ideas are shared, like certain restaurants, small bookstores, coffee shops, etc. there should be ways around that. Whether it be the barter system or just simple charity. In those small places, the possibility for that to happen exists. And it does everyday. That is precisely the reason that you should support those places instead of the corporate crap that ruins our life. Anyway, that's enough of my rant. It was just that in that one restaurant that that revelation hit me as I watched this homeless guy get a bowl of soup and sit at the table next to us and read a book.

As we were sitting in The Globe, Shari looked at the clock and we realized that we had to go. The conference would be starting in a little while and we better prepare to be enlightened. We got another cup of coffee for the road and headed out. Home Alive, here we come!

Home Alive

We walked several blocks to the Swedish Hospital where Home Alive was having their conference. I think we were early, so after we registered we talked to the women putting the conference on. They all seemed really happy that we traveled all the way from Florida for this. We talked for a little while about the stuff we had planned to do with the information we took back from the conference, the usual kind of stuff that activists talk about and we found a seat inside the auditorium and waited for the speakers to start. The key speaker was this woman who I had never heard of named Connie who not only had done a lot of work with survivors of same sex violence, but was also was a survivor herself. Her speech was amazing and she was a great speaker, very funny at times, but also very prolific. The part I remember most was her talking about the police and the judicial system, not as the solution, but a big part of the problem. I had started to come to that point of view over time through various reading I had done and talking to victims themselves. People in this society tend to think that if a rapist or violent partner are handed over to the police then the problem is solved, when this is far from case. What people tend to forget is that sooner or later society will have to deal with the perpetrator. Having them imprisoned without any counseling or corrective therapy of any kind, not to mention the brutality they will experience in jail (or participate in which is most often the case) does little to stop the person from committing the crime again. All this does is create monsters that will become more dangerous as time goes on. I always thought that the solution is to work harder to change society, while learning how to defend yourself in the meantime. Start leaning away from the having the police be the answer to all our problems (because often when you're poor they only create more problems) and start working towards helping your friends. I liked that Connie addressed all this and after hearing her speech I knew the conference would be awesome.

After the conference we went back to Jen's apartment and got some sleep. I think this was the first night that I actually slept in about four days. I was just dead.

The Conference

We woke up late so we didn't have time to eat at the Globe this morning. That really sucked because I was looking forward to vegan biscuits and gravy. I heard that they would have food there so I knew I'd survive, but you don't run across that many vegan restaurants so I wanted to use it while we had it. Tragedy. We arrived just in time for the sign up phase. It wasn't really a sign up, but they had two classes going on at the same time teaching different things. It was hard to decide, but since there were three of us we could go to all of the classes and just take notes for the one or two that had to miss a certain class so it would work out for all of us. From the first class I noticed what I kind of assumed would be the case: That I was the only man in the class. I wasn't surprised, but it is a little disheartening. To often men think that they have nothing to learn from these kind of classes and that is really sad. Especially in a conference like this.

Of course, women are the intended audience for these kind of classes, but in many domestic violence and rape cases, men are obviously involved. Either as the perpetrator of sometimes even the victim. But guys don't get that sometimes. I'm not going to lie and say that there wasn't an uncomfortable moment during that whole weekend, but it was only my own insecurities that made me uncomfortable, not any of the people there. Everyone, instructor and student were more than friendly. We were all there to help solve a problem and everyone took what they did seriously. They also knew how important this issue was to all of us, judging from the "oohs" and "ahhs" and "Oh my gods!" we received when we told them we rode the bus for three days to get to there specifically for these classes. I was just excited to finally be here and be a part of this group. During the conference, we had several classes that lasted all day for both days. The classes I took ranged from human rights issues, self defense and non-violence, a psychological look at violence, activist fund raising, community organizing, race issues, basic self defense, and a lot more. Every class was great and the whole conference was well organized. It's hard to do it justice in this article, but the whole thing was truly amazing to me. As I'm sure it was to everyone who attended.

Take Back The Night

After the Saturday classes were over, we were all going to the annual Take Back The Night march through the Capitol Hill area of Seattle. From what I understand, this was going to be Home Alive's first attempt at organizing this event. Seattle Rape Crisis Center were the ones who usually handled the event, but they had closed the previous year and Home Alive picked up the torch. We rode with Christen, one of the Home Alive founders and MC for the rally, to the Community College where everyone was meeting for the speeches before hand and where the march would start off from.

It was kind of cold outside, but not too bad. The event started off with a bunch of speakers and a few bands. Most of the speakers at the beginning we giving back ground of the history of the march and Home Alive itself. Then, after a little waiting, we all picked up signs and started marching. It was really powerful to be with a group of people who were marching to change society and end violence to our friends, family, or just anyone. At the time I had never been a part of that large a march.
We walked all through the Capitol Hill area and parts of downtown Seattle. We were all yelling and screaming, but mostly singing. People were hanging out windows cheering everyone on. On the side of the marchers were people handing out leaflets to passersby. Hopefully these kind of events will eventually raise awareness enough so no one in society will have to put up with violence, but that day's a long time off. For that night though, it was an incredible thing to be a part of. Hundreds of men and women marching together to end violence against women.
Truly incredible.

After the march was over with, we took it back to the Community College and listened to testimony of victims. I saw several of the women that I was in class with earlier in the day step up to the microphone and give heart wrenching tales about being raped, molested, battered (emotionally and physically). There were even a few men who came forward and told about being victims themselves. I couldn't believe how powerful that part of the evening was. I don't think that I could ever go up in front of hundreds of people and talk about things that personal. I guess that's why I write it down. Those kind of testimonials are important though, because they let people know that they aren't alone. Too often, when someone is the victim of violence, shame and fear are some of the first reactions. When people stop being silent about issues like rape and domestic violence then things start to change. Which is what all of this was weekend was about, change. Not just changing a few laws, or making a few more hotlines, but working towards a real change. A change in society all the way to its foundations. To a society where rape crisis centers won't even need to be around anymore. This march was all of us coming one step closer to that day and I was proud to be a part of it. The whole night was beautiful.

Last Day of the Conference

The last day of the conference was filled with classes and a lot more practical self defense techniques taught by some of the instructors there. All of it was terrific, if not better than the first days classes. We wrapped the whole the thing up with the general topic of where we would take it from there. These are always the hardest parts of activist conferences but also the most important. It's great to have all of that knowledge, but what we do with it should be the point of focus. We all talked about building links between our different groups like us, the Girl Army who came up from Oakland, Home Alive, and all the different individuals who came up for the conference. We talked about different things we wanted to do in our communities and also about realistic goals for organizing and networking with the different collectives there. Connie was there for the last day and she spoke to us all in an informal setting, along with Christen and a lot of the other Home Alive instructors. We all exchanged numbers and found out that there was an upcoming co-ed class that would start right before I was going to leave. Shari and Amanda had decided to stay a little while longer to work and earn some money for the trip back so they had time to take several of the classes. My bus was leaving in a few days though, but I still had time to take at least one of the classes. After that, the conference was over. We'd be back to Home Alive in a few days for class.

Class at Home Alive

After a day of exploring the town and eating at the Globe, we went to class. Home Alive was in Capitol Hill right next to the Seattle Communist Party Headquarters. I wanted to check that out, but they were closed so we just went to class a little early. Our class started a few minutes later. Our instructors were these two women who had joined Home Alive a few years after it was formed. I had met one of them at the conference and found her to be very friendly. I didn't recognize the other one, but I also found her to be very nice as well.

Our class had about 8 people in it. The three of us, a guy who had helped Home Alive with their web page, Shari's friend Lenore (who they were going to stay with after I left), a lady who had just moved to the area, and the two instructors. We all introduced ourselves and got to down to business. The class was a basic self defense one so it started with a few moves that didn't take much knowledge in fighting to master, but were still very crucial to getting out of a sticky situation. Wrist moves, breakaways, things like that. Then there was the punching part of the class. That was fun, but I have to admit it felt a little strange to hit a woman with a hand held punching pad as hard as I could after all those classes the day before. But it was all part of the lesson. Then came the most important part, the assertiveness training. Basically for that, we all just walked around in a circle "stalking" a partner or being "stalked" ourselves. When we felt they were too close to us, our job was to make it known to that person by confronting them. It doesn't sound hard, but it really was. Once I got over the initial embarrassment of telling (or yelling at) someone that they were too close to me, it all got easier and I started to see the importance of that. It's an easy exercise that you can show anyone, too. Just follow someone around the room and when you get too close have them tell you back off. Then reverse the role.

The class lasted about two hours I think. Afterwards we exchanged addresses again and thanked Home Alive for everything. They really are some amazing people and I was so glad I was able to attend these workshops and classes. After we left the Home Alive building, we walked back with Lenore and went over to her apartment and had some soup with her roommate, who incidentally, was the nicest guy in the world. Then we went back to Jen's where I packed for the bus ride home the next day and hit the hay.

Going Home

This whole trip was awesome, but I guess it was time to go home (mainly because I was out of money). I did some scrambling for cash right before I left. I sold some books and got 9 dollars to pay the fee on my bus ticket since I had to change the date around. That left me with $4 for three days on the bus. Not impossible since Jen gave me this big tub of peanut butter to eat on the way home, but it's definitely a lot easier if you have enough to eat a few snacks on the way and get a cup of coffee here and there. They had this place in Seattle that bought clothes so I tried to sell my jacket. It was cold when I left, but it wouldn't be when I hit the road. It didn't matter though because they my jacket was missing a button and they couldn't take it unless it was perfect so no dice. Then I remembered this Western Union I sent out to a friend a few months back that he had never been able to pick up. It was like a month old, and every time I checked on it it was there ready to be picked up. But as it turns out, the people who sent it got the receiver and sender mixed up and that's why he never picked it up. Once I found that out I realized that I could pick it up myself. What luck! So I went to the Greyhound station, changed my ticket to leave that afternoon, cashed in the Western Union, and decided to get something to eat. I went from broke to $40.
I felt like a king.

I went back to the Public Market and got some Lo Mein at this Chinese place and went to Left Bank again to fill up on reading material. I picked up a few zines, Doris and PTBH (with my next door neighbor on the cover, no less). I got a pamphlet on the General Strike of 1919 and the one that was going to take place in a few months, and another one on the Japanese Anarchists from the early 20th century. I already had a ton of books to read, but I picked up a used Muriel Sparks anyway and headed back to bus station. On the way over there I head someone yell out my name. It was Shari. Her and Amanda were going around town looking for work and I happened to bust in on an interview Amanda was giving at some coffee shop. I don't know if it helps having some smelly bearded crusty- looking backpack carrying kid walk up to you while you're talking to a manager trying to get a job. If it does then I'm sure Amanda appreciated my company. I talked to her for a second, then said goodbye to her and Shari, who was sitting somewhere on the sidelines, and I headed out.

I stopped off for a cup of coffee and ordered it right this time with all of the big city café lingo and felt like a native now that I was leaving. After my cup o' Joe, I crossed the street and headed over to the Greyhound station and waited about a half hour and caught my bus. I felt like I wanted more time to spend in Seattle, but I really couldn't do it any longer. I was out of money and had no where to stay. I had made up my mind that I was coming back for the WTO protest on November 30th, so I knew I'd be back. I knew I'd be poor then too, so I knew I'd be riding the "Hell Hound" that time too, but that was OK. I liked Seattle and this was a great trip. I got to hang out with some good friends, I met some nice people, I participated in a Take Back The Night march and got to be a part of something that an organization I respected very much, Home Alive, put on. I also got to
see a city that has always kind of fascinated me in some weird way, and, most importantly, I found a restaurant that had vegan biscuits and gravy. This was a good trip.

As I was leaving town, that Nirvana song Fraces Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle was going through my head. "Our favorite patient, display of patience, diseased covered Puget Sound." I was reading a book, but decided to put it down so I could get one last look at the city before I put a tape in the walkman and tried to get some sleep. I looked out the window and smiled to myself. This really is a nice town. I fumbled around my back pack and pulled out some Chet Baker tape I made before I left, found it and put it in my walkman. "Summertime" was playing. I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

3 more days and I'd be home.

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