BAPTIZED IN THE HUMAN SPIRIT: Solidarity & Self Empowerment

There is something that happens to an individual when they spend time on a picket line or marching or any other action born out of concerted activity by ordinary people. Whether it be workers organizing, or any sort of community cause activism. There is a spirit that infects you like a crazed fever. It is more potent then any drug, or religion. A spirit that baptizes anyone that dares to act... to be… to do…to engage… to show up. The spirit is called self-empowerment. It finds everyday ordinary people when they stand together in solidarity. It can only be attained through action. It isn’t something you can just observe or theorize or read in a book. Empowerment requires action just as solidarity requires that you show up.

I first experienced this in 2005 as a brand new Casual Longshoreman, when thousands of people filled the streets of downtown Seattle marching against the North American Free Trade Agreement. I was 21 years old and got on a charter bus to Seattle with a belligerent pack of old Longshoremen, none of whom I knew at this time. I remember the energy and tension coursing through my veins walking by Niketown surrounded by mounted police on horseback, hearing someone on a bullhorn yell “Power” and hearing the booming roar of thousands of people respond with “POWER” and feeling the ground shake as it echoed off the buildings and sky bridges. “Power to the workers” “POWER TO THE WORKERS” came the singing refrain.

Last year when Occupy Wall Street started I followed it on the news and social media intently from the get go. I remember my buddy Zack had just moved back a week or so before. He was also a casual longshoreman who had been studying in Denver and upon returning immediately fell in with the Occupy Seattle camp. I would get regular first hand updates about the crazy marches and police resistance they were experiencing. A touring band was in town that I had booked at a local venue the night before and they were staying at my house. We were having a discussion about Occupy and I remembered that Tacoma of all places had formed an Occupy Movement and was having a big march in downtown that day. The band and I had a few hours to kill so we parked up in hilltop and just followed the sound until we met up with the march. You could hear it from a mile away. Just this ambiguous, indiscriminate wall of noise coming from everywhere. We rounded the corner onto Pacific Avenue somewhere around 11^th street and this swarming mass of energetic people had surrounded a downtown bank. A Veteran soldier in full army uniform waving an American flag, had climbed to the top of a wall as five or 600 voices consumed the plaza. Banners, flags, chanting filled the air. The march continued through downtown and rallied at various points near the museums and University of Washington campus. Ending in a large plaza where the more radical nucleus of the bunch declared, that following the rally they would begin the occupation of an unnamed downtown park as home base for Occupy Tacoma and hoped to see people down there. About a week went by before I borrowed a tent and went and joined that strange society.

Something happened there that can never be taken away from any of the participants. People who had never had a voice were empowered. People whose position was never considered were suddenly participants in the shaping of provisional codes of respect and tolerance. True, Direct Democracy existed, somewhat tediously as the camp grew, but all participants found their voice. More importantly, a really cool tactic called the human microphone was used where the group repeats the speaker’s words in unison, completely eliminating the power dynamic of somebody on a podium speaking through an amplified device. “who ever speaks the loudest gets heard” didn’t apply here. Every bodies voice was heard with equal and deliberate power and clarity.

Today, I went to a solidarity action in Federal Way for Walmart “associates” who have walked off the job. They are trying to organize within a union advocacy group called Our Walmart. Over the last month, workers all over the country have walked out of Walmart warehouses and stores. Including a large mobilization of “associates” to the Walmart Headquarters in Arkansas just weeks ago. In California, warehouse workers marched for 6 days straight with signs bearing their grievances. They marched from the Inland Empire to Los Angeles. Workers at stores all over the country have walked off the job, went on strike, sought union representation and have been met with retaliation, firings, cut backs and the usual corporate bullshit that has been suppressing worker organization in this country since the civil war.

Our Walmart has called for a nationwide strike next week on Thanksgiving and Black Friday in response to the firings and retaliations against workers over the last few weeks. What was really inspiring about this solidarity rally was that the workers themselves, voted and called for this solidarity action a week before the planned action. It wasn’t a parent organization guiding the workers. It was empowered workers calling for the community to support them in a solidarity action they orchestrated themselves. There was a really powerful moment, in the middle of this street that the rally had blocked off in front of a Walmart store, where all the striking workers came forward and said their name and what store they were from. From the sideline I saw a Walmart worker who was hesitant to join her fellow workers, probably out of fear of reprisal, and another worker held her hand and they went up together. The workers called for us to march on the Walmart to provide information and leaflets to customers. We surrounded the entrance, easily 100 of us with flyers and leaflets about the Black Friday action. I saw customers turn away from the store after the picket was explained to them with expressions of solidarity. I saw ordinary Walmart workers leading the march. Leading chants. Energizing the crowd. I saw the striking Walmart workers enter their own store and chant in the front lobby while being repressed by security and management. They later shared on a microphone that they were forbidden to enter their own store unless they had their worker badges. So all the customers have worker badges too? All of this energy came with a soundtrack… The Anti Fascist Marching Band comprised of a Dixieland style ensemble with trombone, clarinet, a booming bass drum and various other percussion. They just added to the absurdity and fun energy of the day.

A worker named Mary got up to speak and said she had worked there for 13 years. She hit the nail right on the head when she said, “this is about human rights. It’s about dignity and respect.” I don’t know how conscious she is of the broader context that her and her comrade’s struggle is framed in… but when worker’s rights are uplifted, especially through their own empowerment and demand to be recognized… human rights are proportionately uplifted. Say it out loud with me… “WORKER’S RIGHTS… ARE…HUMAN RIGHTS.” Feels good doesn’t it? So if we believe this… when we see these kinds of struggles and movements, we should support them, even if it’s as simple as spreading the word not to shop at a place that is being picketed. This doesn’t just have to be framed in the union context. Workers are workers the world over, whether they are union or not. It should be the fundamental core mission of all workers to empower one another…monetarily, through fighting together for good, living wages and benefits or the right to organize or seek union representation (one of the few rights the NLRA actually grants us, even though the rest of that bullshit legislation is weighted against us.) When ordinary people become empowered they do big things. Even after all the news cameras packed up and left and all the different supporters and organizations had dissipated, the actual striking workers carpooled and marched to a second Federal Way store down the street. An action they decided on right then and there in the moment. When ordinary people become empowered… they do big things.

The Boeing Machinists presented a check for $2000 today to the Our Walmart Strike Fund. Walmart workers are just like you and me. They have families and houses and they are taking a huge brave step in the midst of corporate retaliation to inspire their fellow workers to act and to organize. All of us that belong to unions, credit unions or community organizations should enquire about generating funds for these folks. You can donate money to their strike fund here to provide monetary support for food and necessities while these workers are off the job.

https://www.wepay.com/donations/108462

You can tell everyone you know and spread the word with social media using these links about Direct Actions taking place at Walmart stores around the country on Thanksgiving and Black Friday.

http://forrespect.org/

http://money.cnn.com/2012/11/15/news/companies/walmart-black-friday/

You can and should choose other places besides Walmart to INVEST your money. Or, you can show up and be empowered by the raw human energy of a picket line. Real working people are putting it on the line right now so that next Thursday evening starting at 8pm and all day Black Friday, the corporate robber barons will hear their voices loud and clear. Friday morning I urge you to bring a thermos, wear a coat, drive to Walmart with your friends, co workers or family and get baptized in the human spirit.

Solidarity.

Workers of the world unite!

From the Left to the Right.

There was a time in this country that to receive the love, blessings and saving grace of Jesus Christ it had to be through a clergy member. People were hung in the town square after repeatedly being ostracized from society for refuting this claim, and preaching that ALL people are vessel's to receive Christ and teach Christ's word. "Progressive" Quaker women and men died for teaching this, and eventually people's views and interpretation of biblical canon changed and this is commonplace now in Christian practice and thought. There are pastors and clergy members of all different genders, nationalities, ages and in some instances even sexual preferences.

I am only mentioning this because recently, I have read so many arguments where people that are proponents of Marriage Equality and Ref 74 use examples like the civil rights movement and women's right to vote, as epochs in this countries history, where milestones for equality were laid down, and go on to use Marriage Equality as the next fight in the battle for equality and justice. People completely opposed to same sex marriage keep saying the same thing over and over… "this isn't about equality… this is about the sanctity of the word marriage as an institution of the church."

I am not going to cite examples of polytheistic writings that predate Christ's time on this earth or the myriad of human histories, folklores & mythologies passed down from Indigenous peoples, ancient civilizations and pagan societies that all speak explicitly of marriage. I would just like to juxtapose the Christian institution of clergy being historically dominated by misogynistic anglo saxon males as they interpreted the scriptures, and the subsequent transition to a "no clergy required" interpretation of the bible WITH… the institution of marriage being governed by the church and it's inevitable erosion to a secular institution that joins partners together with equal treatment and protection under the law. The only word that will describe this will be marriage. 

The only morality is equality. It is not Sodom and Gomorrah hell on earth because come Wednesday morning same sex marriages will continue to be protected under the law. If this were the case, we should see a study of divorce rates of "Marriage = Man + Woman" marriages whose vows were declared in churches before God and their congregations. We should look at infidelity and incest that take place in married families. Because I am sure the grounds for fire bombing whole communities already exist.

The same freedom's that protect you and your family. Your right to worship, to marry who you choose, to believe what you want are only strengthened when this country becomes more equal for everybody. 

How many people were beaten, slain, kicked out, disowned, excommunicated, shamed, stoned, burned, ostracized, beheaded or tortured in our human history, for Referendum 74 to be on a Ballot in the United States of America, where we can vote our conscious on the issue of Marriage Equality? I don't care if you vote for all fictitious write-ins on your ballot, if nothing else, Approving referendum 74 not only strengthens the rights and freedoms we all take for granted, but it honors the people who have been sacrificed in the struggle for equality and justice.

That's all.

The Rebirth of a Friend

                                                                                                                                                                                        (photo circa 2003)

                  Trent was killed. People that ran to the scene of the accident were with him in his last moments on the side of the road by the upended truck and the bloody bike tire that the news story displayed. The dust and the chaos of his random and violent death has only begun to settle, giving way to the raw, gritty feelings that come with losing an old friend. I can’t pretend that we were really close at the time of his death. But there were many people that were, and this really became evident as the days moved on. Seeing his mother on the internet begging Trent to call home and let her know that he was ok, because she had seen a news story about a bicyclist wrenches the very seat of my soul. I could not imagine that feeling. I am not attempting to dig this back up, because many have found peace through this whole experience, but my purpose in writing this is to find peace myself and reflect on some humorous unimportant moments in Trent and I’s life. Many people that have not seen each other for years sat down together and broke bread, shared a pint, made plans to hang out because Trent, even in passing, brought us back together. That is beautiful.

                  Trent joined the band awhile after me. I had been driving up by myself to band practices in Seattle and when it came time for a new bass player, it just made sense to ask Trent. He lived at the 1227 house. Our band and a number of others were part of a little scene of bands and friends that had spawned out of that house. Trent had been friends with many of those folks for years before that, but that house brought many different groups of people together and we all revolved around it. I used to drive an 87' Volkswagen Fox. This would have been close to nine years ago now. Trent and I used to drive this tiny little car to band practice in Seattle every week. Trent would always make a mix cd for the ride up. For all of us that played music with Trent or knew him through the band… we all might have thought we were into some extreme stuff, like really obscure underground out there music, but Trent just lived to go beyond that and we were constantly being reminded of this. He would make these mix cds of the most cerebral, mathematical, psychedelic music you could find. It was always interesting driving to practice. He would talk these bands up so intensely and just wait to see my reaction to some crazy part of the music and laugh out loud when my brain exploded.

                  I remember we were coming out of the practice space one time and him being like "dude, somebody broke into your car." Sure enough. They had smashed out the front window so we had to clean it up and tape the window closed to get home. The worst part is we had been on this big Rush kick. All my Rush cd's had been in the front seat and they all got stolen. Bust!

                  Our band did one tour. We went all through California and Nevada. I remember driving through Death Valley in this miserable July summer heat. Our guitar player Chris was a complete freak and was driving like a mad man through the canyons of tumbleweed and sand. For some reason he was naked and decided to inform us all that he was going to masturbate right then and there. Our tour van wasn't a passenger van. It was a large conversion van with a tall roof and we had removed the seats so you could walk around and stand up straight. Timm and I were trying to vibe him out since he was naked and masturbating in front of us. So naturally, we got naked and started dancing for him and squirting sun screen on his crotch from behind saying "yeah daddy you like that". This would be quite the spectacle to anyone driving by our van. Trent… the entire time was sitting in the passenger seat reading Get In The Van by Henry Rollins and I swear to you he did not even flinch or acknowledge that any of this was going on.

                  On that tour the band was getting in some heated post apocalyptic discussion about some future world after society crumbles or whatever we usually argued about and Trent got so worked up and intense that mid sentence he just laid down in the door well of the van and pooped his pants. It was the funniest and weirdest thing. If I recall he just wiped up and threw his underwear out on the freeway during rush hour traffic.

                  Our band had a song that to this day is referred to as "Trent's song". He composed and constructed it himself and it was very perplexing to learn. It is probably the best song our band ever created. Trent defied convention in everything he did. He was drawn to people, places, musicians, substances, and perspectives that did the same. What we perceive to be reality, he refused to believe that it was the only perception of it. His music exemplified this. What he played and wrote on his bass made no sense to any of us. It defied the constructs of cords and scales. Trent had to challenge himself and everybody else to play, see or do something different. This is what I will take from Trent. I don't know if his mind was initially set free by his obsession with fantasy novels and this led to everything else he put his time and energy into, but Trent wouldn't look for face value. He would turn face value upside down and see it completely different. He was off somewhere else in his imagination. Also I really have to make mention, that for all the mind bending intelligent music he listened to and created, he really and completely, enjoyed the emotive pop punk band Saves The Day. There was no appropriate way to work this in but I needed to mention it because it serves to only confuse my memories of Trent further.

                  Trent went at everything deliberately and intently, well the things he wanted to do anyways :) Trent made beer for my band's album release party. He bottled it and we sold it out of the van. It was made with coca leaves as in COCAINE LEAVES! It tasted like a porter made out of lavender and gun powder! But the fact that he would invest weeks into creating and preparing something to support his friends really shows how driven he was when he found his motivation. I still have a few bottles somewhere. Trent won awards in Tacoma for his beers. I would have loved to see him take this further.

                  It was foreign to hear some of his new friends and co-workers talk at the memorial service about how he had impacted their lives because when he left Tacoma he had hit a dead end. Trent left hard feelings and hard times in Tacoma. Bad break ups and friendships turned to resentment. A lot of people have to live with this; that they weren't able to mend these kinds of things in the months after he moved to Everett. And while that is a hard thing to swallow I want to offer some perspectives I have on Trent's life after leaving Tacoma.

                  I only got to watch Trent's life from a distance during his last ten months. Through the things he typed on the internet and the pictures he posted. The life he was living in those ten months was a part of Trent I had only caught glimpses of in the 11 or 12 years I knew him. He was visibly full of creativity and joy. Seeing him post about his job; about riding his bike; about his experiences at Burning Man, about his art and his constant energy to produce it. What amazed me attending his memorial service was how many people got to experience Trent in these months and moments where he had completely let go and became all the pieces of Trent all at once. His co-workers, friends and his family who got to experience the radiant, passionate, unbridled creative side of Trent. During this time Trent had made an effort in many people's lives to patch things up and I know it would have been his next order of business to let his transformation and rebirth be a part of his Tacoma friend's lives.

                  The last time I saw Trent was in Tacoma right before he moved back to Everett. It was a nice day out and we went for a bike ride around Tacoma. I want to close with Trent's own words because they move me and give me the sense that Trent was not only happy but at peace. These words were Trent’s and they resound deep inside of me.

"Getting a chance to display my art to thousands of people. Though I wasn't entirely satisfied with how it turned out other folks seemed to enjoy it, and that's what it's about."

"FINALLY LETTING GO of my hang-ups about my personal appearance. "

"Getting dressed up by my camp-mates and dancing (for the first time in all of my life)..."

"Developing this incredibly powerful wanderlust that now consumes my every waking moment."

"Leaving baggage from previous relationships in poem form on the temple, was a tear inducing catharsis that I've needed for the past couple of years."

R.I.P. Trentalicious