For once, we were winning…

I was in Seattle for the WTO protests back in December ’99. That whole week I saw things that I never thought I’d see, but this was maybe the most amazing hour of the whole experience.

It was the second day of the protests. Technically what we were doing was illegal since the mayor had outlawed any protests within the downtown area. Even though this was being challenged by the ACLU, for now we could all go to jail for just being there. We were disrupting the busiest shopping days of the year and giving the government and a lot of big corporations a black eye by making them look in the mirror and see all the suffering they were causing. Maybe what was more frightening was that they now had to answer for what was going on in the world they were destroying.

Most everyone who defied the no-protest zone had been involved in the previous days battles with police, been shot at with rubber bullets, tear gassed, had pepper spray fired at us with fire extinguishers, or just been beaten by a scared police force. By the second day, we had seen what the police would do and we weren’t leaving. I think most of us felt that we didn’t have freedom of expression because it said so on a document that they could take away in a moments notice, but because these were basic human rights. We didn’t have freedom of speech because of the first amendment. We had freedom of speech because we had vocal chords and a mouth to use them.

The city wide curfew was imposed for 7pm. The Army had already been called in and were patrolling the streets all day along with the same storm troopers that had shot at us the day before. The police were using stronger tear gas this day and were using it with less warning now, but it didn’t stop us.

I was with this one march, that kind of organized on the spot after seeing this old man pushed to the ground by a King County Sheriff in riot gear. A crowd saw what happened and started yelling at the cop. "You Fascist!" someone cried. "This man fought for this country, you Nazi!" His companion shouted at the cop. The cop turned back at all of us as a few more cops were running to his side. I guess we all thought we were getting ready to be tear gassed because people started to duck. But the cops talked into each others ear and then started running up the street away from us. We cheered. Then someone yelled "Let’s take to the streets!" We cheered some more and started marching.

No one was really in charge. This kind of organized on the spot. People were doing this all over now. I guess they felt the strength of the moment. I know it sounds stupid, but we really felt like we could do anything. The day before we stopped the World Trade Organization from meeting. If we did that, what couldn’t we do?

As we started marching, we got bigger. And bigger. And bigger. Until finally, we were a real force of our own. "This is what Democracy looks like" we’d chant. We were singing the old labor song "Solidarity Forever" as we’d round the corner and see a platoon of soldiers or riot police. We’d turn another corner and see the same thing. We kept moving though. The more we marched, the more people joined in and the louder we got. Then, finally, we found ourselves boxed in.

The police had radioed ahead and were watching us from helicopters above. I found out later that the whole thing was being filmed live on the news. It was around quarter after six now.

We turned our last corner near 4th and Pine and saw police facing us on three sides. Police on horses, police in riot gear, and everyone was wearing gas masks. I expected the worse. Then someone from the crowd yelled, "Sit Down! Sit Down!" So we did.

Not everyone was sitting, but a lot of us were. We’d lock arms and keep singing. We were singing this one song that we learned in the first days of the protest. It went, "We have come to far. We won’t turn around. We’ll flood the streets with justice. We are freedom bound."

As we were sitting there, the police started closing in. Fearing a tear gas attack, a lot of us unlocked arms for a minute to tie something over our face to protect us from the gas. Then we’d lock arms again and continue singing.

The police gave their standard warning. "This is officer so and so from the Seattle Police Department. You are in violation of the no-protest zone. If you don’t leave the area immediately, we will disperse with chemical agents and then have you arrested." They’d repeat this once or twice. Then came the finally warning. "If you don’t leave immediately, we will begin dispersing chemical agents in two minutes."

That was when we knew they were serious and we were about to be hit. We all checked our masks (mine was an old black T-shirt that I wrapped around my face). Then, in all the confusion, somebody started to "Ohm."

A bunch of us looked around, and more and more people started "Ohming." It was really powerful. People had been practicing this individually the whole time, but to see, hear, and feel it coming from a group this size was amazing. It was like we just built a Buddhist temple smack dab in the middle of 4th and Pine. I started to Ohm, too.

We were doing this for several minutes, eyes closed, expecting the tear gas to come at any minute. It was a very anxious time, but I was also very much at peace. We were here for a purpose and if the police and the army wanted us to leave, they’d have to do it by force.

We kept this up for what seemed like a year, but was actually more like 10 minutes. Then someone who was standing around us opened his eyes and yelled, "HEY LOOK, EVERYBODY! THEY’RE GONE!"

We opened our eyes and he was right. All the police left. We had cops and soldiers on three sides of us and they all were gone. WE WON!

Everybody started cheering. Hundreds of us. Standing up. Jumping up and down. Hugging each other. It was the most beautiful thing. Then someone in the crowd asked for everyone’s attention and we started to sit down again. Everyone became really quiet and he started speaking.

"There has been a proposal," he started. "It’s now 6:35 and the curfew starts at 7 o’clock. We can continue to stay here and occupy this intersection like we’re doing now. But the police are going to sweep the area at 7 and I can only imagine that they’re going to be more violent towards us this time. I propose we stay here, keep doing what we’re doing. Chanting and singing until 6:43. Then we’ll start "Ohming" again for two minutes. Then we’ll all leave at 6:45. We know that they’ll use force next time and they

will be back if we stay. But if we leave fifteen minutes before the curfew, then we leave on our own accord without the police telling us what to do. Does anyone have any objections?"

A few people spoke individually and threw in a few suggestions, but for the most part we were all agreed. Someone yelled out "Let’s all hug after this done. This is beautiful." Everyone laughed and we started singing.

We kept singing until 6:43. "We have come to far. We won’t turn around. We’ll flood the streets with justice. We are freedom bound." Then we started to ohm. This time I think everyone was doing it. Even people who thought it was stupid before joined in. I really felt it this time. The low bass humming in your spine and through your skin.

Then we all stopped. It was 6:45.

Everyone just got up. We cheered, smiled and hugged the person next to us. "I love you guys!" someone yelled to everyone. Honestly, I have never felt anything as awesome or as powerful as I did that moment.

As we all went our separate ways, we felt empowered by the moment. I went back to Christina’s place on 1st Ave. Some of the people didn’t have anywhere else to go after the curfew, so they got a group together and kept marching. They joined a march for Mumia Abu-Jamal in Capitol Hill that night that I didn’t know about and were all attacked by the police, shot with rubber bullets, and tear-gassed. Several people were arrested. I remember feeling really sad about that.

As I walked home that night, I saw some graffiti on the side of this bank that said it best: "WE ARE WINNING-DON’T FORGET!" I thought about that as I walked back on those dark, cold, damp streets. That for once, for one instant in time, for one brief moment in our lives…we won.

That, I’ll never forget.

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