The Table Of Brotherhood Or Race—Can We Talk About It?

I recently read an article written by a dear friend, Christopher "Flood the Drummer" Norris, on race relations that moved me deeply.[1] I had such a poignant mixture of emotions to what he wrote that initially I honestly didn't how to respond. However, I'd like to. I'd really like to engage with this conversation in the public forum and I think that was the point of his article so I have decided to write, but before I begin I want to take his advice and check my privilege at the door. I recognize that my having a voice in this forum on this issue on this Internet with these words takes place in a context and there are many experiences within that context that I cannot speak to, understand, judge, or for which I have the ability to empathize. However, I write this with a hope—perhaps naïve—that I can add something constructive to the conversation. With that said I sincerely hope what I have written here will be taken in the spirit that I have intended it—love.

I am a white male who grew up in neighborhoods that were occupied predominately by people of color. As such I have had a unique experience that I find difficult to talk about these days with white folks and people of color given the systematic structures of oppression that exist that keep me and people who look like me on top by default. However, in Atlanta (where my growing up happened) I found myself in many conversations with people of color about their experiences with oppression. They were never held in forums, town halls, or meetings on community relations; we were just kids talking about life.

In elementary school I remember we talked alot about Dr. King's dream of "sitting down together at the table of brotherhood" and what that meant.[2] We were told the histories of what happened to black folks throughout American history (albeit the condensed, watered down, barely recognizable versions of history that are easier on the privileged stomach), but also that we were to treat each other equally without bias. Therefore, as I grew up I tried to engage folks on these issues. It was never a problem for me to talk about race with people of color or other white folks. I knew shit was fucked up. I saw it. My friends went through it every day and told me about it. It was an open secret that the world treated some people different. My job—it seemed to me—was not to act like the world, but to do my best to sit at that table of brotherhood and talk with the folks sitting there with me about what to do about it.     

Later, I moved to Lookout Mountain, GA/Chattanoooga, TN where I attended a Christian college (that in and of itself being a privilege seeing as how LOTS of people from where I am from where not given the same opportunity [I went to school on scholarships]). I will spare you a lot of details but suffice it to say that I spent a lot of my time there in Churches devoted to racial harmony because they were convinced that—as it is written—"there is neither Jew nor Gentile because [Jesus] broke down the dividing wall of hostility in his flesh." (Ephesians 2:13-18) Now, I know that there is a lot of historical context to explore in that passage and I will gladly do that with anyone who would like, but for our purposes here we took it as a command to be a new people; a new race; a holy race… if not in the world, at least in the Church. We didn't do it perfectly, but we tried. We tried really hard by attempting to be upfront and honest and about our fears, inclinations, assumptions, hopes, and dreams. Now, when I moved to Philly and got involved in the activist scene everything changed...

One poignant example was one of the electrified general assemblies that I facilitated early on at Occupy Philly. A few people of color came to the front of the assembly and demanded the microphone to address a couple of pressing issues they had with our camp. I gave it to them. They accused the Occupy movement of purposefully practicing racism and berated our lack of attention to the causes of the traditionally marginalized. As you might imagine this caused an uproar. When I was given the mic back I attempted to calm the crowd by saying "We aren't racist here!" Two women—one of which who I have worked very closely with since—yelled back "yes, we are!" I didn't know how to respond. I was flabbergasted. "Why?” I thought to myself. I was operating under the assumption that we were there to act and be the change we wanted to see in the world. I couldn't imagine anyone there saying that they wanted to be racist so I couldn't understand their reasoning.

Since, I have come to understand their point. They were telling me and the crowd that racism is inherent and systematic. It is—as a close friend of mine likes to put it—a poison that we can't help but breathe. Like the folks who brought their concerns to the general assembly they were trying to instill in me and us the fact that there are systematic structures that inhibit certain people groups from achieving X, Y, and Z in America and those structures mold our actions and who we are. What I still don't understand is why we are content to let this poison kill us.

The Apostle Paul likened the Holy Spirit to a down payment of things to come in the new world (Ephesians 1:13-14). In other words the very Spirit of God would come upon believers to empower them to be able to live a resurrected life that was a reflection of the world to come which would be characterized by love, righteousness, peace, and joy (Romans 14:17). In other words: (through the Spirit) be the change you want to see in the world. My naive belief was that we, at Occupy Philly's Dilworth Plaza encampment, were trying to model the world we wanted to see. I facilitated as many, if not more, general assemblies than anyone there and I, nor my fellow facilitators, ever—to my knowledge—purposefully prioritized a white male voice over traditionally marginalized and/or oppressed peoples. On the contrary, we tried our best to act (and structure general assemblies) in such a way to empower those voices. Did it work perfectly? No. Hell, no. But was it a step in the right direction?

Here is my issue: I think that purposeful practice of the world we want to see and open dialogue about that world is progress. I think that babies taking their first steps to walk are something to be celebrated not lamented because they cannot run marathons right away. However, so many of my activist friends are so compelled to call out racism that it is all they can see. They are so overwhelmingly convinced of the presence of the poison that they can't smell the fresh air, even when they are temporarily immersed in it. There have been times in activist circles when I have been lambasted for parading my privilege like I don't know I have it when I have been thinking about these issues my whole life and living and loving among many loved ones suffering from it, but I am reprimanded in the moment. By merely expressing an unpopular question (such as "Can we talk about this? Can you help me understand?") I have been told that I am exercising my privilege and not taking into accounts the feelings and experiences of the oppressed. More times than I can count I have been told by activist people of color: "It's not my job to help you understand your privilege— talk to other white people about it." Then how am I (and we, for the matter) to understand? Can the blind lead the blind?

I was taught in Church and in school to love people. It is a spiritual issue for me. But how am I supposed to interact with the issue of systematic racist institutions and attempt to dismantle them over time when every time I attempt it I am put in a box? (The irony of the question does not go over my head) How am I to be an ally when I ask a question and the only answer I get is "that's not my job to figure that out for you—talk to other white people”? What if none of us know? How are the privileged supposed to dismantle racism in a way that reflects the community of the oppressed if the oppressed don't give us guidance? Even if I developed the perfect response to the racist regime it would still be the workings of a white male who has been given a voice on the issue without asking for it.

All of this is why I loved Chris' article. I think that anyone who would call him out with negative titles should look at themselves in a mirror before they pass judgment. I am not a perfect man, far from it. Neither is Chris. But I call that man "brother" because I have the naive belief that we, as people, can make a choice to not be held captive by our pasts but can run to the future together as one because we have purposefully broken down the dividing wall of hostility with our love. If the institutions that America has built are racist then I choose revolution, but I can't do it alone. And I will never know who my comrades are if I cannot talk to them about these issues. Fear is a powerful tool. I believe "the Man" knows that well which is why he keeps the well intentioned divided. But only love will save us; only love can break down the dividing wall of race; only love will bring us together. Whether we choose to practice love is a daily decision and not an easy one because history HAS been unfair; it has enslaved; it has oppressed. But can we do better? I hope so. If not on an institutional level (yet) then at least on a personal level. I'll be waiting at the table of brotherhood for anyone who would join me. I believe this is what Chris is trying to say: let's talk about it openly and honestly until we dismantle the ubiquitous foundations of racism together. Can we?

I submit this to you with the utmost humility. Honestly, I'm scared. I'm afraid this will be taken in a negative way; will be seen as just another expression of privilege; and will be an inhibition to progress. But I don't have a choice. I am so tired. I am so tired of being alienated from my brothers and sisters because of a world that was built without my permission. I submit this to you in the hope that in the spirit of love we will overcome.

---

[1] http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/kt-race-relations-conversations-shit-needs-stop/

[2] http://www.archives.gov/press/exhibits/dream-speech.pdf

Modern Kids

Sitting in cars pondering how much crosses cost to build
Shifting gears and shifting lanes through our generational pains
Victims and collateral damage of political pimps
Mind ablaze with green tea and jazz
Whoring and hoarding our souls
With gods and gadgets
Too lazy to rebel and too scared to sleep
Masturbating home alone
online and hands free
Acid tv trippin on channel 9
Blurring lines in my mind in primetime
Watching dragons burn houses
Preaching poison sermons of peace and security
In a wartime cabaret

#NATGAT: A Debrief

The sun beat down. It was hot. Sweat beaded off of our heads and bodies as physical proof of the hard work we were all putting in. We gave ourselves over to it. We didnʼt sleep. We didnʼt eat. We traded in our well-being for the good of the group. It worked. The National Gathering (NATGAT) was a time of peace, love, and democracy for everyone gathered in Philadelphia on the week of the 4th of July.

From Seattle to Quebec, Arizona to Kalamazoo, and New York to Madrid, Occupiers came together from the four corners of the country and farther to spend 5 days in the supposed “cradle of liberty”. We came together to discuss the future of our lives, our movement, and our world. These days were organized and divided up into what could be referred to as an Un-Conference model. Blocks of time were structured and purposefully left open for anyone or any group to bring their passion, experience, and ideas to the wider movement. Meet-ups and workshops were on display from subjects ranging from police repression to urban farming to money out of politics. As I meandered through the camp throughout the week I heard such sentiments as: “I never thought of that” or “I canʼt wait to take this back home.” Put simply: we created a space – a public space – for dialogue to happen. And it did. 

Complimenting this open model, the Education/Speakers sub-committee of the National Gathering Working Group (NGWG) reached out and invited renowned speakers such as Matt Taibbi, Madea Benjamin, Chris Hedges, and local Occupy hero Captain Ray Lewis to compliment speakers from around the movement such as Brandi Williams of Colorado, Amalia Montoya of (un)Occupy Albuquerque, and Dani Alvarez-Gavela of the 15M movement in Madrid. These heroines and heroes braved long distances and heat to come share their thoughts, dreams, and criticisms of the movement in a peaceful and open context. I think we all left a little more enlightened by their words and their passion.

Secondly, in a world where we are told to eat the dog that stands in the way of your dinner, people who come from varying and divergent tribes, cultures, and tongues sat down at the table of sister-and-brotherhood together. All of us broke bread together. The power and significance of this cannot be understated. It is a sign of an evolution of human consciousness to share in spite of our traditional, or taught, divisions. For five days, three meals a day were cooked and served by a humbly self-sacrificing food team dedicated to providing nutritious – and oftʼ times vegan – food for all. Given that our number one vision was “Clean Water, Food, and Air” it should not go unnoticed that we were indeed exhibiting the change we want to see in the world.

Not everything was learning, teaching, and eating. One of the hallmarks of our movement is our annex of the streets. When reality is virtual and the vast majority of people in America get their worldview inserted into their bloodstream through the IV of TV, it becomes necessary to remind them of the decaying organic matter of the real world around them. NATGAT would not let this moment pass un-marched. So we hit the streets. Several demonstrations were organized from large group marches for corporate and bank accountability – against such criminals as Wells Fargo, Verizon, Comcast, Fox News, Fannie Mae, and the US Mint – to smaller more targeted actions against UBS bank, the student debt crisis, jail solidarity, and the prison-industrial complex. Some of which were coordinated in solidarity with local community unions and organizations such as the Poor Peopleʼs Economic & Human Rights Campaign, ACT UP!, and local CWA union 132. While we did not bring out a drove of 35,000 like our sisters and brethren in New York, we did execute the majority of these actions responsibly and effectively with safety, legal, and logistical support: sometimes with numbers upward of 800+. The lessons we have learned over the past 10 months were put on display for the people of Philadelphia and the country. And they heard us loud and clear.

Speaking of the lessons learned, I think it would be prudent to speak to the organization and logistical support of the NGWG. In the interest of transparency to those reading this little essay, I want to be perfectly clear that I was a part of the NGWG and involved in most of the planning and execution of the Gathering so my opinion will be biased towards the group. However, that does not preclude my assessment from being honest, intimate and useful for future endeavors. Logistics planning for the NATGAT began around mid-April. It was whispered by many that planning and pulling off a national convergence of the Occupy movement could not be done in two-and-a-half months. Had we not had the benefit of a 15K grant from the Movement Resource Group1, they may have been right. Nevertheless, folks from all over the country – 50ish assemblies at that point – decided that they wanted to gather in Philadelphia, so the NGWG jumped on that desire and rode it all the way to July.

A full description of my involvement in this particular group deserves an essay all its own (forthcoming) but suffice it to say that people all over the country – and in Philly specifically – put their souls into making sure that we could create a safe space for all of the aforementioned events and activities to take place. We divided into sub-committees, worked autonomously in a trustworthy and accountable manner, and – with a good deal of stress I must admit – executed our plans. When safety issues came up: they were dealt with. When the aggression of the Federal Parks Service was inordinate and excessive: we re-grouped and were given refuge by the Quakers at the Friendʼs Meeting House at 4th and Arch. When we pushed ourselves to the breaking point, we overcame. Through sheer force of will and the support of a loving community we lifted each other up and empowered each other to create and implement solutions. Problems are only problems when no one has the will to create solutions together. When the NGWG encountered stumbling blocks we stopped, centered ourselves, reached out the hand of friendship for support, and leaped over them together.

Another lesson learned that is worth considering – is the response and cooperation of the Philadelphia police department (PPD). It is worth noting that Occupiers attended the NATGAT from cities that have suffered from true police repression. Folks from Oakland could probably still smell the tear gas that is forever burned into their nostrils, some New Yorkers are so used to being harassed that they expect it, and tears still stream from the eyes of those burned with pepper spray. NATGAT did not have to deal with any of it. Though we had to take an arrest at the hands of the Punchy Parkʼs Service , which admittedly was backed up by the PPD Strike Force, most of the Gathering was calm and agreeable. When I asked Captain Steve Glenn, the head of Philadelphiaʼs “Civil Affairs Unit – a unit dedicated to “protecting the rights of protestors” – to move a rank of Strike Force bike police away from our camp to keep the tension down he acquiesced. When “Cowboy” Moen – the lead Park Service Ranger and aggressor from the 2nd Bank Repression – threatened the safety of the Veteranʼs for Peace tent at Independence Mall, I asked Capt. Glenn to get “Cowboy” under the express supervision of his superior due to his erratic behavior. What was his response? He did it and “Cowboy” stood down.

Lastly, there was the incident on our July 4th nighttime march to Love Park. There were two shootings – unrelated to Occupyʼs march and activities – that happened in the middle of our route at 15th and 16th streets. The streets and Love Park were blocked off with PPD Strike Force, motorcycles, and horses. So here we had 700+ people marching directly into a crime scene with a line of armed officers directly in their wake. (Now keep in mind the Occupiers from Oakland, New York, and Chicago get really apprehensive about marching into a police line.) But the PPD did a responsible thing. They came and informed me of the situation – since I was a marshal on the march and said “[X happened] so we canʼt go to Love Park. Weʼll block off the streets so you can go wherever you want to go but we canʼt go to the park.” While this caused a great deal of confusion and anxiety (the former for the marchers and the latter for me) we centered ourselves, gathered our heads, and marched to Thomas Paine plaza – a municipal services building across the street from Love Park – and had a community assembly to decide what to do next. The march ended with the people of Philadelphia rallying around our message and our passion at the fountain of Logan Sq. Those same people then marched back to camp with in solidarity. Community, healthy skepticism, respect, and cooperation led to order out of chaos. We proved we could handle ourselves. I think the NYPD, OPD, CPD, Federal Parkʼs Service and countless other irrationally aggressive police forces could learn a lesson from our NATGAT.

Lastly, it is paramount to discuss the July 4th visioning process. The idea behind putting energy into creating a collective vision at the NATGAT was twofold: 1) to create a process in which every voice could be equally heard in an efficient and effective way while at the same time providing the space for common visions to be coalesced into themes that can be replicated anywhere and 2) to create a vision from all those who participated, providing an example of our version of the future to an anxious world grasping for hope. To that end the Visioning sub-committee spent hours, days, and weeks trying to troubleshoot the process so that a) it would work and b) it would provide an example that could be taken up as a mantle in the wider world.

Around 200+ people chose to rally around this idea. So after an introduction from some wonderful people which included a moment of silence for the Lenape people (the native occupiers of the Pennsylvania area), an exploration of what “Independence” and “freedom” mean to marginalized communities in the context of the 4th, and a history of the NATGAT, we dove headfirst into the waters of democracy. It took alot longer than we anticipated but thatʼs because it worked. It takes a good deal of time for people to express their hopes and dreams and then see, out of the context of argument and debate, where they have common ground with others. In a country that praises and lauds itself (and I have even used the language in this essay) as the “cradle of liberty,” we are critically ill in this regard. Folks engaged in the visioning process because they believe that democracy – real true direct participatory democracy – is not only possible but also the better way. Some may call it naïve or “pie in the sky” but to those people I ask you: what is your vision? And why have you not shared it with us? It is no coincidence that No. 5 on our list of visions was “a culture of direct democracy.” People want to engage each other. It is in our D.N.A.

It seems to me that people came to NATGAT because they want to work together on a national scale but we realized that the only way to achieve such goals is to have a strategy. The only way to develop a strategy is to develop goals. The only way to develop goals is to have a vision. In this movement we value community so we in keeping with our principles we value community vision. Through the NATGAT visioning process we now have a way to organically develop our visions so we can organically develop our goals and strategies. I encourage everyone: try it. See what democracy looks like.

 Finally, I think we should zoom out and take a view of the NATGAT from 10,000 feet. What was it? What did we accomplish? Where could we have improved? A lot of these questions will be answered in time by the attendees, the media, and you. But from my perspective the NATGAT was a tremendous success. We, in the NGWG, sought out to create a space where Occupiers from all over the country and the world could come and feel safe to discuss a better future and explore goals, strategies, and campaigns to achieve it. And, again, it cannot be understated that we broke bread together. People from a myriad of cultures and backgrounds were able to come under one roof (the sky is the roof) and explore working together. Our vision and our gathering is proof that we can... and we did.

Larry Swetman
Occupy Philly
National Gathering Working Group
InterOccupy

On Writing and Love

Writing is a very difficult process. Choosing ideas, taking angles, and gathering facts are but milk for the butter. The arduous process of churning those facts into an enjoyable piece is both time consuming and exhausting. A writer cannot sound like he is reciting a data set. He must turn statistics into poetry, numbers into pictures, and opinions into revolutions. He cannot waste a word. Stories must flow off a page like a river stream in times of peace and come down with a raging torrent during unrest.

Occasionally, he must create dissension. Freedom of speech is the right to disagree. The written word can alter the course of human history given the right pen. We writers then have a responsibility to treat every word as if it would change the world. Countries and kings have risen and fallen on this premise: I disagree. The written word is often the flint and the fire. Words can spark imagination, ignite passion, and burn a man alive, if left unchecked. If you are reading this, you believe in the power of the word. You are submitting your time to my opinions on writing. You have two options: agree or disagree – It is your choice. All I can do is offer my view of the world: it is a very cold place with one window and a locked door. You can see the sunshine from the sill but you are scared of the heat on your skin. You are afraid it will burn. You will never know until you take the lock of the door and go outside. This entry is the key. Open your mind to a world of possibility.

Writing is the language of truth. C.S. Lewis once said that the praise of something is not complete until it is expressed to another. By writing down my ideas I have submitted them to everyone for all time. My name becomes attached to my thoughts and I, therefore, become my ideas. I see the world and am displeased. I have a better way and here it is: love. Here, in one word, is my entire message. Love is the rhythm to the music of life but if we become deaf with indifference, we will forget where we are. The only way forward is together.

I have lived. I have written. I have submitted to your opinion. You must decide whether the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.