You know, in 2017, as we were running the campaign, there was a remarkable energy of coalition-building, community organizing, using the platform of political organizing to create a new vision around the abolition—you know, what other ways can we respond to harm in our communities? So in that moment I think there was definitely a feeling of something grand happening, but not necessarily imagining what’s happening now in 2020.
I mean, 2020 is so unique. The COVID-19 global health pandemic, the crisis, has exasperated an economic struggle that we knew already existed because of the way racial capitalism works. And then you combine that with the continuation of racial injustice and the very clear inequities within the health care system, and I think we’re having an intersection—the last time we saw this was 1968 with the Poor People’s Campaign. So I couldn’t ever imagine this in 2017. But now that we’re in it, I think there are actually other historical examples. We’ve seen similar uprisings.
In Seattle there is the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, local residents providing heavy security, medical stations on call. Given those, how is change playing out differently compared to other areas in the country?
You know, I’ll be transparent. I don’t know how it’s playing out differently compared to other areas, but what I can say is what I am in awe of. You know, protesters maintained a sort of occupation at the East Precinct. So essentially, the police left. The people have now actively started building an autonomous safe zone that has art, has music, has food, has community care, and all of that started during the barricade when medics were bringing supplies and community members were dropping off support, when people were donating money and building bail funds, when lawyers were volunteering their time, when people started to develop tactics like umbrellas and bringing gas masks, just a sense of mutual aid and care for each other.
When I look at the rallies happening across the city, there is also this incredible bike brigade that’s started. I think generally people think of cyclists in our city as irritating [laughs], unless you are a cyclist. And to see this bike brigade come up, I think for some folks, has really transformed the way we even think about cycling. They helped marshal the march; they’ve kept people safe. Honestly, today a car tried to run into a group of high school students protesting. And one of the bike brigade folks literally threw their bike under the car to slow it up. There is a real sense of care and support and love for people.
There is a medic squad that rotates and is around at every protest, every march in the autonomous safe zone. There are people providing food. There are stores in places in the autonomous safe zone that are letting people come in and use the restroom, wash their hands, and store things. It really is incredible to see the care and compassion people have for each other, even in the face of this very oppressive force. Governor Inslee sent the National Guard here. There are some very terrifying things happening here, and yet there is a lot of care and compassion for each other, which I think is going to be the marker of how we do or don’t come out of this well.
Why do you think people are angry now and poised to protest?
It is not just Black and indigenous and people of color experiencing the oppression of the system. I think you have middle-class and poor white people who are realizing that they were never safe under capitalism either. It’s creating this convergence, and in the midst of that, people saw the—all of the murders are horrific, but you saw the murder of George Floyd happen, where a police officer knew he was being filmed, could hear the man crying out for his mom, saying he could not breathe. Which then brings us back to Eric Garner, and we’re seeing these things come up over and over again. Tony McDade, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and you’re seeing all these things repeat themselves. I think people are awakening to the fact that the system has actually been set up to work for almost none of us.