Reflecting on Resistance and Burnout; From a Bed in Rehab
Last Saturday, a group named “Mothers For A Ceasefire” held a protest outside the home of Representative Earl Blumenauer’s home in Northeast Portland. The march was led by parents, teachers, and children. They met outside Grant High School and the focus was on the students who took part to to demand an end to genocide.
A short walk from Grant Park, the protesters proceeded to the property of our local representative. Large signs were printed beforehand, and were spread throughout the crowd. Some read such things as, “YOU CAN’T BOMB THE FUTURE. FREE PALESTINE”. Between the lines depicted a young child behind barbed wire.
The mothers held a rally. Speakers called our representative to sign the ceasefire declaration. His silence is shocking and sickening, considering how he considers himself a humanitarian, has visited Gaza, and called for a ceasefire during the Sheik Jarrah crisis in 2021.
The children held a vigil, with flowers and stuffed animals. Some drew their own cards, asking him to stop hurting other children in other parts of the world. Their hand-drawn pictures were touching, simple scratches depicting whatever they chose to represent this moment. One was a cutout of a young girl, holding a peace sign, with the word written in pink.
One sign, surrounded by stuffed animals and flowers, read: “PALESTINIAN CHILDREN DESERVE TO PLAY, BE CHILDREN, LIVE IN PEACE, GROW UP, HAVE PARENTS, GROW OLD. PALESTINIAN CHILDREN DESERVE FREEDOM”.
Another poster was reused from the Portland Teachers Strike, which had ended a couple weeks prior. Originally, the mass-printed signs bore “OUR CHILDREN CAN’T WAIT!”. With two kids holding hands with backpacks on. They inserted the word “Palestine” in green ink, between two words so it now read “OUR PALESTINIAN CHILDREN CAN’T WAIT!”.
While groups like Jewish Voice for Peace, Portland DSA, and Mothers for a Ceasefire, coordinated to hold this action; the children were truly the center of the call for a ceasefire. The videos and the photos were touching, as children’s voices cried through the streets for the killing to end.
Some of these same teachers joined the protest, with many of the same signs they picketed with, weeks on end. The teachers won their war against the district a week prior, and returned to the school year that week, with a few days added on and a two hour delay. But their success was historic, the first time the Portland Teachers Association had gone on strike. There is a lot to be said about the brilliance of the strategy of the Teachers Strike of 2023. I intend to write a long report on the matter, to be added into my ongoing compilation for a new book on strategy, tactics, and direct action.
I was unable to attend due to work, which I deeply regret. The way my friend described the march moved me to tears. Imagine young children, elementary students, with their voices chanting “Free, Free Palestine!” and “Ceasefire!”. It reminds me of the man I watched teach his daughter what that word meant and what the world had come to, as we marched by them downtown.
I imagine many of these parents had to sit their children down, and explain the ongoing genocide. It’s not an easy subject. But again, I am always inspired by the mothers and the fathers of the children, who teach the youth that their duty is to fight for others.
In essence, it seems that Portland has arrived at a pivotal point. This last month, many have read my writing, reflections on the movement for a Free Palestine. And while my work continues, I fear I must take a hiatus. It seems an opportune time, after my words have caused some to be held to account. It is not my words alone, and never would I claim such, but I know the part I play and the importance of my reporting.
We know, as we watch the anger grow, that 2024 will be a year of extremes. We face the possibility of a fascist presidency, with a plan laid out to turn America into the authoritarian state it has always been. The world will burn as we watch the climate catastrophe continues to increase. And always, we will need to fight for a Free Palestine.
All the while, the people are getting angrier and angrier at Biden, the president who told us he’d solve our problems. Instead he has wholly endorsed the onslaught and has done little, if anything, to alter the trajectory of our nation’s descent into fascism.
The reason for my sabbatical is something I have talked about openly in my book. In the case of the sheer police brutality we endured, the PTSD was tantamount. I lived two years in fear of the bullet from a fascist, or targeting by police. Unlike someone in the throes of paranoia, I had reason to be suspicious of my surroundings. As I discussed in the epilogue, I have been the target of direct threats against my life after having been doxed in Olympia by members of the Proud Boys.
I began to drink during the pandemic. I turned 21 during the lockdowns, and had little hope for the future. Then I joined the George Floyd Uprisings and found a role to play. However, due to my part in protest and fighting against police brutality and the attempted coup d'état by the right wing; my life fell into turmoil and so I turned to alcohol. It helped me deal with the daily direct actions, and the nights that ended in arrests.
For years after the Uprisings, I fell into a bottle. I’d sit in the dark corners of bars, drinking until I could take the short walk home and pass out. As I smoked, the visions of the fires and bombs flashed across my mind. I drank to drown out many things; the sounds of flashbangs and the taste of tear gas that made me wake in cold sweats. The anger at the police that inflicted sheer brutality on peaceful protesters. The apathy of the common American, who could watch these continued atrocities, and watch without compassion or concern.
More than anything, what triggered my recent descent is the crisis we are all watching in horror. From the moment, the bombs began to fall on Gaza, I drank and watched the news day by day. Then, at the end of October, I took a boys trip to Vegas. I gambled and drank, to distract myself from the disaster I felt powerless to stop but guilty for not being at home to stand against genocide.
Then, I returned home to join the protest movement, and found myself deeply disappointed. Despite the thousands that swelled the streets weekly, we marched in nothing more than circles. My writing correctly labeled controlled opposition, and so we saw the fallout, along with the threat of a lawsuit. I was stressed to say the least, as all I wanted was to suggest strategy that successfully calls for a ceasefire.
It’s also something I’ve discussed with my comrades over drinks. Many of us, because of our activism, have turned to alcohol or illicit substances. Especially after the George Floyd Uprisings and the fallout, we drank to cover our pain, from police brutality and the shootings we witnessed.
I remember during the Uprisings, the mothers in the community that took care of us. That came together and created a wall, worried about their children and the young adults facing violence every night from the Feds. The mentors that sought to help us heal.
There were support lines, therapists, and others who filled important roles in sustaining the activists on the front lines. Most importantly, the indigenous healing circles that were held by native elders. We discussed our shared PTSD and shared space to grieve those we lost.
These resources were a source of strength, to those of us continuing to take the streets every night, with the dream to demand change and the defunding of the police. Mutual aid is the cornerstone of good organizing and without it, continued action is unsustainable.
In order to prepare for 2024, we must all take care of our mind, body, and soul. As a part of that, we must rebuild those mutual aid networks that aided and abetted each other in fighting for Black Lives in 2020.
Like the attendants instruct on a flight, “put your oxygen mask on first, before helping others with theirs”. I have recognized that my addiction issues require rehab to learn new habits and to get professional help for my problems, before I continue to play my part in the protest movements in Portland. I wrote this from a bed in detox, as I wrestled with withdrawals and the weight of the world. I realize that in order to fully show up for freedom, I must be free myself.
So, it is always okay to ask for help. Especially, as activists, we have this deep need to be involved and participate in protest and uprisings. Burnout in any career is a real thing, let alone in activism and organizing, writing and insurgency. The fight for a Free Palestine is one of the causes I care the most about and thus I feel frustrated to be burnt-out, both from the real lack of action, and my reliance on alcohol.
To any fellow anti-fascists struggling, know that you are not alone. Reach out to your comrades, if you need support. Nor do I condemn indulgence, but in order to free others, we must ourselves be free.
“It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love each other and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains.” -Assata Shakur
