2004-07-10 - 2:57 p.m.
"Bad Luck, Bad Luck, Came to me without warning…" –Royal City
I should have more carefully heeded the dream I had several nights previous which was basically about the cops (or the feds?) coming to "get me," to try to arrest me for some kind of activism I had done (it was not clear what in the dream, but it was clear that "they" were going to do everything they could to stop it). I woke up feeling jumpy and strange, and chocked the dream up to a conversation I had had about activism, privilege and the coming fall of the United States Empire right before bed. During all of that day I walked around with a snippet of a Clash song in my head, "When they kick out your front door, how will you come? With your hands on your head or the trigger of your gun?" I took this to mean not so much about shooting ‘em up, but rather, when things get difficult, where will I (or you, or all of us) stand? Will we give in to what power wants us to or keep struggling for what is in our hearts and minds?
However, a day later I was not thinking about the cops or the feds when I paused and then flew through a four way stop in the sparsely populated industrial district under the freeway at the bottom of the Mississippi hill (a stop sign, which, I might add, everyone I know blatantly disregards). Instead I was thinking how lucky I was to be on my bike while motorists sat in stalled traffic above me. Until a motorcycle cop pulled me over and gave me a ticket for running a stop sign for an amount of money that is almost double what my rent here is. I went into Reading Frenzy, stunned, where I was counseled to "Not pay those assholes anything," a sentiment that I wholeheartedly believe in. But, I mean… fuck.
Encounters with cops, or authority of any kind, leave me really stunned and anxious. I feel like a lot of this has to do with the position of privilege my white skin and middle class background give me- I have not had to deal face to face with "authority" or bureaucracy to get my basic needs met on a regular basis. I am not made to feel unworthy or like less of a citizen simply to claim what is rightfully mine. I don’t have to worry about the cops shooting at me when I reach into my pocket to pull out my wallet and ID. What really bothered me about this encounter (besides the stupid, expensive ticket) was that the cop acted like she was protecting me from myself. It’s very Foucaultian in a way, those in authority claim we have to be protected from our own acts and desires until we start policing ourselves to not think or feel or do those things.
Thinking about the police made me think about all the systems that control our lives and our basic needs- especially housing and landlords. We pay so much in money, sweat and toil just to "earn" a roof over our heads, a right that everyone should have met. Even though I was feeling petty and grumpy and sorry for myself in a lot of ways this encounter really reinforced why I believe so much in visions in and ideas for a more just world where everyone can play a role in the future of their communities.
However, feeling fragile, when I got home there was a huge packet of mail from my Dad, full of articles cut from the Wall Street Journal and American Spectator on various topics like how it’s the women in media’s fault for the unhealthy image of women that the media peddles to a defense of globalization. On any other day I could have laughed in off and appreciated my Dad’s efforts to find stuff he thinks I’d be interested in reading, even if it could not make more mad or sick. However, I just could not take it and sat on the couch quivering in anger and then started bawling. I felt so strongly reminded that a lot of the things I find absolutely abhorrent in this world (capitalism, militarism and patriotism being some of the biggest) are so directly supported by the people who support and care for me the most, the contradiction just felt too overwhelming.
Thankfully, my housemates were there to listen and Jonny and I ate burritos and watched Errol Morris’ documentary "Fast, Cheap and Out of Control," which made me feel a little better. Plus, today I found a note and some cookies Jackie sent over via Noah. The note read, "Eleanor, I hope today is a good one."
