Month: October 2013

I Was Incredibly Naive.

I didn’t know what “stack” was. Or how to get on it.

And I damn sure didn’t know what “the process” was. Or how to “respect it”.

But maybe I am getting ahead of myself…

 

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On the day that I went to my first Occupy Atlanta general assembly, I zoomed on my bike through Atlanta from Ponce De Leon in Midtown to Hurt Park next to GSU. I had about five friends meeting me there and I was a little late.

I found a spot to let my bike stand and join the group.

I’d say that there were a little over thirty people there.

I couldn’t tell how many people were new like me and how many people knew what to expect.

I sat and listened to people talk about “getting on stack” for something and “respecting the process”.

I had never done any sort of protesting before.

The closest I’d come had been during the BP Deepwater Horizon Blowout and oil spill in the Gulf and I cut my hair off to send to Matter of Trust. I even went around and collected hair from some local salons. 

 

So, I figured out that “getting on stack” meant getting on the list in order to speak.

I raised my hand and was added to the stack.

By the time that it came around to me, the discussion had evolved into something entirely different and what I had to say became irrelevant. I made a great speech about how we should all decide what we have to offer in our skills, trades, services, and qualities and split up to go about using those talents and resources in the best ways possible to benefit the group and the movement. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I felt pretty great about it. I remember everyone kind of looking at me like I was lost or something, though. Apparently, this “stack” was just for announcements only. I was told this by someone as-a-matter-of-factly and everything I’d said blew right out of a window and out of existence. I decided right then and there that from now on, I would only take part in General Assemblies by listening intently from the outer edges, encouraging others that seem to have something they needed to say, and keeping my distance and thoughts to myself unless it was absolutely necessary for the benefit of the group. I can’t honestly say that I never made another mistake in a general assembly again, but I will tell you about the one that I regret when my story brings you there.

 

Over the years, I’ve seen many general assemblies, or G.A.’s for short. I’ve seen them in various states and settings and it is very interesting to me to see the same opinions about them all over the United States. Some people avoided them like the plague. For good reasons and bad reasons. Some people flocked to them for the wrong reasons and the best reasons. Some people thought they were the most important part of Occupy and some thought that they were absolutely pointless and sometimes even more damaging than useful. What you have to realize, though, is that when you are working with various individuals, strangers, friends, or just anyone with similar or vastly differing opinions… the general assembly really is the best way to have some form of democratic order in the chaos. Not “Democratic” like the political party, mind you. Democratic like, “The common people, considered as the primary source of political power.” or “The principles of social equality and respect for the individual within a community.” 

 I wanted to make this distinction because I believe that it is very important for everyone to know that Occupy Wall Street or Occupy in it’s entirety is not and was never for the Democratic Political Party. OWS/Occupy came together with the realization and agreement that neither side of any political party was truly there for the people, the citizens, the majority… you know… the 99 percent. Many people liked to get technical and dispute whether the figures were 99 or 98 percent or whatever, but the point was that 99 percent of the American population was getting screwed in many ludicrous ways by the tiny 1 percent at the top. The CEOs of banks, Multinational Corporations, and the majority of our politicians. (Mitt Romney is a shining example, with his offshore bank accounts.) All in all, I want you to know that Occupy was never and is not the opposite group of the Tea Party.

I must mention that I find it completely befitting for this day and age we are in, that the tea party is named after the Boston Tea Party where citizens were so pissed off about the East India Trading Company (the first MNC, or Multinational Corporation…) that they threw the shipments of tea into the sea… yet, the tea party of this age is actually a Republican funded group protesting with money from politicians backed by MNCs of today. What a twisted world we live in! xD

 

Ah… I have gotten so off track from explaining things.

 

Also, I’m really sorry if my grammar or punctuation bothers you. I’m just trying the best that I can to get all of this information out of my head. I need all of this to be said and understood completely. If you would like to edit my blog and it keeps you from sleeping at night, go ahead and email me at kimleenguyen@live.com. ^_^! I wouldn’t mind.

 

So, to get back to the G.A. in Hurt Park…

 

Everything wrapped up with everyone splitting into different working groups.

Medics, a Media Team, Facilitation, Tactical Unity, etc.

The Media Team was designed to bring our messages across distinctly and clearly to the public in various forms.

Facilitation and Facilitators were there to not control or be a leader of the General Assemblies, but to guide them with as much ease and patience as possible. I’d say that some of these people were much more brave, patient and had more endurance than I did for sure.

I went to join the Media Team initially, but there were so many volunteers there and when I heard a call out for people to join Tactical Unity, I asked someone what that was. It began as a group of people to disperse among the crowds, marches and encampments in order to mediate any time a dispute broke out. Peacekeepers. I joined them immediately and we discussed wearing blue bandanas tied around our arms in order for others to know us quickly so that they could spot us and let us know where tensions were brewing and where to go. We would keep people from abusing each other, causing chaos, fighting, or keep the peace with officer interactions by using only our words and conversation skills. Our slogan became “P.L.U.R”, for Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect. One of the girls in the group made big, round, blue buttons for each of us. (No, I had no idea that PLUR was a raver term. I did, however, find this out very quickly and it made for the best interactions and first encounters. Haha! ^_^!)

 

I met my friends before leaving Hurt Park and we discussed everything that went on there and how we each felt about it all.

Some felt that it was a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit and that it was a pipe dream that would never go anywhere.

I left with good feelings and felt lighter. Like, a balloon of hope had been tied around my waist.

 

There is no way that I could have known at the time

that on the way back to their home,

my best friends would be robbed at gunpoint. . .

 

{To be Continued…}

 

~Kimlee

 

 

 

Let Me Tell You Something…

I’m going to be completely honest.

And I don’t plan to leave anything out.

 

It’s time for me to start writing about my Occupy Wall Street stories.

 

I have successfully abandoned Facebook and committed myself to a few months of solitude while I get on my feet in the world again.

…I was really good at this. This society thing. I had a nice serving job for three years. I was paying for my 99 Mitsubishi Galant.

Then, within one month…

Four years and two days ago…

Everything changed drastically for me.

 

I was quarantined for two weeks from work because I got shingles.

I used to work seven days a week, so with all this new time on my hands, I went through a handful of books and movies.

I read “Ishmael” by Daniel Quinn.

I read “the Little Earth Book” by James Bruges.

I read “Radical Simplicity” by Dan Price.

I watched “An Inconvenient Truth”.

I fell madly in love with one of my best friends.

I became a vegetarian.

And my brother was killed by local police.

 

I was out of work for three weeks and when I returned, I wasn’t the same person anymore.

I was beginning to question everything I’d come to know.

Society, the state of the world, the environment, the government, corporations, animals, my job and my own impact.

I felt useless.

 

Like, I was just existing until that moment and I had no direction with a purpose.

I was just at twenty-four.

An insignificant female working every day at a serving job making enough to pay off my car, gas, insurance, food, and a few nights out with friends. I’d realized that I’d stopped doing music completely and would sing karaoke a few nights a month to get the taste of music in some form going through me.

I had no plans beyond any of this because I knew that I was at the horizon with unlimited potential in all directions.

I’d been reveling in my own freedom since splitting up with my ex-fiancee in 2008 and I never made plans for my future.

It was at my brother’s funeral where I had a few life-changing conversations with my cousins.

They were always asking me my plans about going to college when we talked.

I never really thought that someone like me, coming from my family and my past could ever get into college so I always threw the idea out of a window. This time, it was different. They talked with me about grants and payment options and my best friend/boyfriend made me really feel like it was possible.

So, I made up my mind.

If I was going to go to college, I wouldn’t settle for less than my first choice.

I’d always wanted to go to Georgia State University since we took a tour of it in eighth grade.

I began the process and my beau and I decided to move to Atlanta so I could be closer.

 

My boss didn’t like the new me and told me not to “get too involved” in that stuff. “That stuff” being critical thinking and questioning the world around me. He started to treat me differently to the point where he had me crying each night at work.

We were really good friends before, so it hurt that I had to leave and stop putting up with his change in attitude towards me.

I quit my job.

 

A month after finally paying off my car and getting the price of my insurance dropped, it was totalled out by an impatient driver pulling out into the road from a gas station.

I used the settlement money to buy a good commuter bike to get around Atlanta with.

 

Within a year, I got into GSU, we moved to Midtown in Atlanta, I went from car to bicycle and I decided to declare a double major of Art and Anthropology.

 

The only negative thing that I can say about this entire transition and experience is that my beau had to work two jobs and be away from our home way too much. He was a firefighter and paramedic so he was usually gone twenty-four hours at a time.

I was very much intimidated by the big city and kept to myself for the most part when I wasn’t zooming to and from school on my bike. I just stayed in our apartment with our lovely kitties, Pepper and PookyLips. Most of the time, I was reading, doing art, studying, journaling, or doing schoolwork.

 

When I look back, I can see so many things I could have changed then and there about myself that would have been a major improvement, but none of that matters now. Only the lessons I shall keep with me always.

 

For Summer, I took my first Drawing class and Scientific Perspective on Global Issues.

I was just entering my second semester in Fall when I saw the video that set me on fire.

 

 

I don’t even know where or how I saw it.

I just remember tears streaming down my face and being appalled at what I was seeing.

I could literally feel the vulnerability of each individual that was being abused by the police.

I was arrested on false charges and harassed by police on my birthday only three months before and all of the feelings of being violated, humiliated, vulnerable, and helpless came rushing back to me.

I could feel it for each individual in the video like it was happening to me and I felt even more helpless as the onlookers and citizens could do nothing to help their friends and fellow neighbors.

I thought about how defenseless everyone is against the police and how their word is always above your own no matter what happens. It made me feel so angry, so helpless, so useless, so sad! I wanted to go straight up to New York City and stand alongside the protestors. I wasn’t even entirely sure what they were protesting. I was just so enraged and pissed off that the police would, could, and do treat people this way. All the time.

 

I started looking things up to find out more about Occupy Wall Street and wondering how I could get up there.

I slapped myself in the face, though. I’d JUST started Fall semester at the school I’d been dreaming about for years.

I was in the school I never thought I could get into.

With the man of my dreams and the most wonderful life.

I couldn’t just go up to New York on a whim and what the hell was I going to do there anyways?

I didn’t know, but I had this urgency in me to be a part of it somehow.

I felt needed and like my heart was being pulled by some incredible force beyond me.

 

I found out that there was a local occupy group in Atlanta starting up and their next meeting was at Hurt Park right next to GSU.

This made me feel better about not being able to go up to New York, so I invited a few conscious friends to come check it out with me.

 

This is how it all began for me.

{To be Continued…}

~Kimlee