For a while now, I have stopped being too interested in American politics. There is hardly any space here beyond this Republican-Democratic conflicts. Almost all of the independent political spaces get reduced to identity politics which, while paying lip service to a criticism of American empire, does not know how to move beyond a lifestyle that is funded, supported and reified by the empire itself. On the other hand, the leftists who claim to be against narrow identity politics, have no complicated analysis of race, gender, or even capital and empire. So, after a few abortive attempts to try to understand American political scenario more through getting involved in activist scenarios, I now stay aloof. So, when the Wendy Davis filibuster posts began to show up on my facebook news feed, I didn't pay much attention to them.
Even yesterday, when I got up and checked on the news, I wasn't too moved. Yes, I am pro-choice. Yes, i did not want the bill to be passed. But, there was a political cynicism in my outlook. And the reason for that is, during my decade-long stay in this country, I have become thoroughly exhausted of online and fb activism. Besides, this is not *my* country after all.
Then, something strange happened. As the day began to progress, I also began to see more and more news of the protests going on at Capitol. a lot of my grad school colleagues, who i would not consider "activisty" or "political" in any real sense, began to post updates on facebook about their presence at Texas Capitol Building. And I myself began to follow the livestream of Davis' filibustering. And I have to say, it needs lots of political conviction to just put oneself through the sheer physical stress of Davis' action. I couldn't do it. I would have needed coffee, restroom breaks, even if I could do without food.
By the time it was 10, I had gathered some friends and headed over to the Capitol. Initially, I wasn't too interested in getting inside. We lounged outside in the grounds, watching people (mostly women) line up to get inside the building, listening to the conversations, absorbing the warmth of the environment of solidarity that had emerged amongst the protestors. At one point, there were two young men with paper bags. They began to distribute little to-go boxes of fried rice and water to anyone who needed them.
At around 11.45 pm we decided to go in. Inside around the rotunda, in three levels were at least 1000 people, if not more. There were noisy jubilations, chants, and a general air of determination. I won't go into the exact details of the parliamentary procedures and the nasty games Republicans were playing, since they are easily available online. As a writer, I was once again taken up by the instant linguistic creativity of people when they attend something like a real protest. I don't know how many of these folks would call themselves "poets" in their regular lives, but who can ignore the sheer poetic possibilities that chants or people doing innovative dance rhythms to go along with those chants that people can get into without any prior scripting? Of the chants I heard there, the one that stood out, "Whose House? Our House!" There's so much to unpack in there! But isn't that the foundation of one of the most profound desires of a fundamental political change? When legislative assemblies and parliaments and law/policy making bodies would cease to be the reserve of a few political elites?
Now, I have zero patience with the Democratic attempt to get this all into the vote box, which, too, was in plenty. As the blogger selucha has aptly put it:
But there was also something else yesterday. The voices of the people, mostly women, loud and clear. Several men, in alliance with women. And I have to say, in my decade long stay in this country, I have rarely seen this kind of mobilization, and active political participation.
Even for a political cynic like me, I am impressed. And inspired.
Golly, the world is angry. Is there a single country in this world where people are not pissed?
Even yesterday, when I got up and checked on the news, I wasn't too moved. Yes, I am pro-choice. Yes, i did not want the bill to be passed. But, there was a political cynicism in my outlook. And the reason for that is, during my decade-long stay in this country, I have become thoroughly exhausted of online and fb activism. Besides, this is not *my* country after all.
Then, something strange happened. As the day began to progress, I also began to see more and more news of the protests going on at Capitol. a lot of my grad school colleagues, who i would not consider "activisty" or "political" in any real sense, began to post updates on facebook about their presence at Texas Capitol Building. And I myself began to follow the livestream of Davis' filibustering. And I have to say, it needs lots of political conviction to just put oneself through the sheer physical stress of Davis' action. I couldn't do it. I would have needed coffee, restroom breaks, even if I could do without food.
By the time it was 10, I had gathered some friends and headed over to the Capitol. Initially, I wasn't too interested in getting inside. We lounged outside in the grounds, watching people (mostly women) line up to get inside the building, listening to the conversations, absorbing the warmth of the environment of solidarity that had emerged amongst the protestors. At one point, there were two young men with paper bags. They began to distribute little to-go boxes of fried rice and water to anyone who needed them.
At around 11.45 pm we decided to go in. Inside around the rotunda, in three levels were at least 1000 people, if not more. There were noisy jubilations, chants, and a general air of determination. I won't go into the exact details of the parliamentary procedures and the nasty games Republicans were playing, since they are easily available online. As a writer, I was once again taken up by the instant linguistic creativity of people when they attend something like a real protest. I don't know how many of these folks would call themselves "poets" in their regular lives, but who can ignore the sheer poetic possibilities that chants or people doing innovative dance rhythms to go along with those chants that people can get into without any prior scripting? Of the chants I heard there, the one that stood out, "Whose House? Our House!" There's so much to unpack in there! But isn't that the foundation of one of the most profound desires of a fundamental political change? When legislative assemblies and parliaments and law/policy making bodies would cease to be the reserve of a few political elites?
Now, I have zero patience with the Democratic attempt to get this all into the vote box, which, too, was in plenty. As the blogger selucha has aptly put it:
Let’s all be real with each other for a moment: the abortion filibuster in texas yesterday led by wendy davis was exactly what the democratic party needed right now. after months of full-frontal assault against the people in the form of severe budget cuts, continued war, and the egregious violation of privacy, they now get to declare themselves once again the proud defenders of human rights and the progressive cause, and we’re all too busy celebrating to realize that their foot is currently pressing down on our necks.
But there was also something else yesterday. The voices of the people, mostly women, loud and clear. Several men, in alliance with women. And I have to say, in my decade long stay in this country, I have rarely seen this kind of mobilization, and active political participation.
Even for a political cynic like me, I am impressed. And inspired.
Golly, the world is angry. Is there a single country in this world where people are not pissed?
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