Why I Was Maced at the Wall Street Protests

FourScore

(1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore

Tue Sep-27-11 06:13 PM
Original message

Why I Was Maced at the Wall Street Protests

Edited on Tue Sep-27-11 06:14 PM by FourScore

Why I Was Maced at the Wall Street Protests
By Jeanne Mansfield, Boston Review

My boyfriend Frank and I are heading toward Liberty Square to check out what's going on at the Occupy Wall Street protest, when we stumble upon the afternoon march toward Union Square. So we join up and walk along behind. The crowd looks like maybe 300 people, mostly punk-styled kids and folks carrying their computers (for live streaming, we found out later) and some aging-hippie types. People are beating drums, blowing whistles, carrying signs, and chanting: "Banks got bailed out, you got sold out!" and "We are the 99 percent!" and "All day, all week, occupy Wall Street!" and of course the classic "This is what democracy looks like!"

All in all, it starts out as a pretty good time. There are police, but for the most part they are walking behind the group casually, just beat cops bantering and laughing, keeping an eye on things. There are around 30 of them. We reach Union Square, circle it a couple times, and join the human microphone. The human microphone consists of one person speaking or shouting, and then everyone within earshot repeating, thus, a human amplifier, albeit with some delay. After about fifteen minutes, we are on the move again, the crowd spurred toward the United Nations by the messages transmitted from the human microphone.

As we circle Union Square, about twenty NYPD officers haul out orange plastic nets (the kind used to fence off construction sites) and close off the road, diverting the crowd. But the detour, too, is closed, leaving us only one option: straight down Broadway. The lighthearted carnival air begins to get very heavy as it becomes clear that we are being corralled. The main group, about 150 protesters, keeps on down the street, but the police are running behind with the orange nets, siphoning off groups of fifteen to twenty people at a time, classic crowd control.

A new group of police officers arrives in white shirts, as opposed to dark blue. These guys are completely undiscerning in their aggression. If someone gets in their way, they shove them headfirst into the nearest parked car, at which point the officers are immediately surrounded by camera phones and shouts of "Shame! Shame!"...

SNIP

...Just for the record, I love cops. I do, my mother worked in the justice system for 30 years, and I've known a lot of really good cops, really good honorable people just doing their jobs. I've never agreed with the sentiment, "Fuck the Po-lice," and I still don't. But these guys are fucked up. There was an anger in those white-shirt's eyes that said, "You don't matter." And whether they were just scared or irrational or looking for a target for their rage, there was no excuse for their abuse of authority. I had always thought that people who complained about police brutality must have done something to provoke it, that surely cops wouldn't hurt people without a really good reason. But they do. We were on the curb, we were contained, we were unarmed. Pepper spray hurts like hell, and the experience only makes me wish I'd done something more to deserve it.

http://readersupportednews.org/opinion2/275-42/7610-focus-why-i-was-maced-at-the-wall-street-protests