A-Marching We Did Go

I attended an anti-war protest on Saturday. It was a beautiful, if windy, day, and I went with Rebecca to Water Tower Place for a rally and a march against the invasion and occupation of Iraq, among other Bush policies. We ended up walking nearly two miles, down Chicago to Clark, and south from there, across the river and to Federal plaza.

I was decked out in my "Re-elect Roosevelt" t-shirt, a "No War" pin, and a "Congress for Peace.com" sticker. By the end of the march, I was carrying three signs: "Defend Our Courts--Stop Bush," "Defend Our Schools--Stop Bush," and "Defend Our Rights--Stop Bush." Rebecca had on one of her FeelTank Chicago t-shirts that read "Depressed? It Might Be Political," and she had a matching sign.

Police in full riot gear lined the route, looking like lacrosse goalies in search of a net to defend. I wanted to ask one of them if it was hot underneath all that gear, but frankly I was terrified of pissing them off. At times it seemed like there were more police than protestors, but that was because we were toward the back of the march, and the police closed ranks directly behind us. They seemed tense, but some of them looked like they were enjoying the march. One guy was tapping his shield merrily in time with the chanting and drumming. When I made eye contact with them, I smiled and showed one of the signs I was carrying. Some of the cops even smiled back.

I saw my first protest violence on the way. A short distance ahead of us, some anarchists got into a shoving match with some police. We didn't see how it started, but a cop fell with a crash to the ground (the plastice gear he wore sounding like a plastic bucket thrown down the stairs) and a protestor fell next to him. I think two people were arrested, but we were too busy trying to get the hell out of the way to notice. We ran toward the sidewalk, but a cop told us we had to rejoin the march. I said "We don't want to get beat up," and he sighed and said "You're not going to get beat up" and rolled his eyes. I considered mentioning the 1968 police riot, but I'm glad I was too frazzled to actually say anything. These were Chicago cops, after all. Their wooden batons looked well-worn.

Along the march route, I counted a total of four pro-Bush protestors. They looked really lonely, behind the wall of black and pale blue-clad cops. One guy followed us for most of the route, holding aloft a sign that said something like "Support Our Troops, Support Our President." The protestors chanted "Bush Lied" at him enthusiastically, but perhaps a better message would have been "Support our troops, bring them home." Toward the end of the march were three people from the Free Republicans, a happily conservative group that thinks Bush and company are too liberal. They had a few signs, from "Welcome Al Qaeda Groupies" to things like "Remember 9/11," apparently still oblivious to the fact that Iraq didn't have anything to do with 9/11.

At the end, there was a rally featuring Jesse Jackson. However, by this time we were both so tired and hungry that we simply had to leave to find somewhere to sit down and eat. I've been to two protest marches, and I still have not ever heard anything said at the actual rallies associated with them. At the first one, I was too far away to hear; that was the case at the short rally at the beginning of this march too.

I'm really glad I went. I don't think it is actually going to convince Bush to resign and stop being such a reactionary lunatic. I think people who look at rallies and say they're useless because they don't accomplish actual policy changes are missing the point. Rallies are to show solidarity with other people, to tell the world and each other that we aren't just a few malcontents who can be ignored. They're for networking, to figure out what other groups are doing (I collected dozens of fliers and websites that I have to look through). Finally, they're a way of exorcising the feelings of hopelessness and powerlessness that come from watching your country's leaders drag you merrily into hell. You come away feeling like maybe, just maybe, there's hope for the future. It's better than sitting at home in despair.