( - promoted by Fong)
My name is xxxxxxxx, I am an appallingly young 37 years old. Denver is my hometown, and I grew up empowered by punk fucking rock. I am heavily tattooed. I have a genius-level IQ. From a very young age I've felt different from other people, and have consumed my life with exploring this notion and molding my style. For the last 15 years I have made my own way in this world, as a business owner and entrepreneur. I live largely "off the grid". I am the boss of me- my life, my choice.
Looking back I'm not sure which component of the Occupy movement first seduced me. Seeing images and reading reports of people standing up for their rights and beliefs inspired me. This broken system is begging for revolution, and Occupy made something resembling that seem very real and tangible. There's an infectious energy in this type of possibility, we all felt it with Obama; this David v Goliath-style triumphing over all the world's collective ills, hero saves the daY for the little guy. Also the idea of solidarity is very romantic, and to be equal and collective parallels my own handmade ideals, but I was struggling a lot with what that all meant, for me, as an individual.
See it's no secret that I'm not a huge fan of people. I view my interactions with people as an ROI equation- my time in this earth is too valuable to me to waste. As a whole, people are a heartbreaking disappointment, and I've spent most of life doing a really good job of insulating myself from them, especially from the general public at large. My comfort zone is really comfy. It's also important to note here that while I see the obvious economic injustice and corporate greed prevalent in our once-great nation, it largely doesn't affect me. I don't care about my credit score, it is foolish to live off of credit, so it is irrelevant to me. I frequently barter for goods and services, shop locally, and pay cash for everything else, involving as little taxation as possible. I don't consider myself a victim of economic inequality, though I know its victims are many. |
Involving myself in occupy, something very far outside of my comfy zone and not necessarily
my cause to champion, became a very introspective moral battle. My family thought I was crazy- that I would suddenly evolve into an advocate and do-gooder profoundly opposes my nature. But I couldn't stop. I was excited by the idea that more people wanted to start living like me, simply, and prosper from their own ideas and hard work, both economically and philosophically; to view their role as citizens within a community as a reciprocal dynamic, and to be free from the oppression of the existing corporatocracy. Romantic indeed.
It became an exhilarating personal challenge to my id, emerging from my zone and confronting my judgments and beliefs about people- the 99%. I repeatedly offended my own sensibilities and violated many of my own personal mantras in engaging with people whom I would typically steer clear.
I sought out more and more uncomfortable situations with the hope that some amazing, immaculate human event would shatter my self-indoctrinated disdain. Alas, expecting a different result from a repeated action is still the definition of insanity.
I am very libertarian at my core. I am not a micromanager, and I don't need to be micromanaged. I know what to do. Unfortunately, most people do not. Interacting with this new foreign cast of characters served to underscore this. Instead of individuals focusing on their abilities and limitations, and how those might shape their contributions, most chose instead to focus on others' contributions, and how well (or poorly) their own measured up. People were constantly making excuses, childishly justifying their own apathy and bad behaviors, perpetuating stereotypes that had likely been their lifetime shadows. What was most horrifying to me was this groups' ability to marginalize itself. It required no oppressive assistance from the 1%, it was content with being victimized and mediocre.
They were a rough bunch; they lazed around like insolent teens and made horrendous messes. They
languished about while countless thoughtful carloads of donations sat disorganized and unused. They were obnoxious- they hit on me, they swore, they drank, and smoked dope socially like it was tobacco. Don't get me wrong, I use cannabis, however I tend to employ discretion. I began feeling that familiar difference between myself and other people. I would argue with myself, discrediting myself for being stuck-up. I felt like my contributions to the movement were unwanted, because they were manufactured in my world, my comfy zone- my warm apartment, my nice new laptop, my educated white-girl brain. And I wasn't the only one who felt this way. I've worked very hard throughout my life to be the best person I could be. Why was I feeling guilty for that?
OD's development was severely stunted by not having internet access on site, but the more insights I read from other occupations and their struggles led me to consider what occupying really meant- it transcended any physical location. Occupying is a state of mind- it is everywhere. Re-inspired, I embraced this notion and the limitless potential it had, 'the omnipresent occupation'. Then the rhetoric
from the ground kicked into high gear- "the people who sleep here are the real occupiers". A divisive battle of "organizers" v. "occupiers" began to emerge.
I maintain a deep respect for those willing to occupy full-time, but it is nothing I've ever even considered. Civic Center Park is not a spot I would have occasion to frequent, were my schedule to allow. But in those first eight weeks, before the grip of winter, I challenged my disdainful self to commit a considerable amount of my time to occupying. Unfortunately, the only things I took away from my time spent on the ground were frustration, annoyance, and sorrow. How others choose to comport themselves and live their lives is absolutely their right, as it is also my right, and my choice, to not associate with certain individuals, based on how they choose to comport themselves. I do not suffer
fools well. I am not a drinker. I don't like parties. Small talk gives me anxiety. By design this excluded me from the majority of activities offered at the occupation. Still I weathered on, challenging my personal judgments, thinking something real and pure must emerge from this. The mainstream media and many political figureheads began painting occupiers as "homeless", "dirty", and "lazy", and whilst
my involvement with occupying made these accusations inherently false, I strangely tended towards agreeing with them.
I marched and rallied, attended events and actions, shouted until hoarse, blocked streets,
and pushed the envelope with this strange group of people, many of whom I recognized from the
occupation, but they would not return my smile. I followed the OD social media outlets. I made efforts to attend every general assembly and collect contact information from people. Some of them would reply to emails. Some of them became an "us", people pared down to individuals within the folds who had their own wealth of motivations and backstories. We would meet at coffee shops, chat online, and share information and experiences. We started having organizational meetings and forming committees, outlining common goals and defining our roles and contributions within them. I was delighted to find these gems amongst the coal, and enjoyed interacting with them. These individuals, though very diverse, are all amazing. I'm comforted to know there are others in the world similar to me. It's these
individual lights that illuminate the 99%. But the battle rages on over claims to legitimacy over OD- is it this conglomerate of brain-power with an insatiable desire to change the world the collective voice of OD? Or the people who sleep at OD? Is it the lunatic fringe who manipulates the processes of direct democracy to their own ends? People will risk everything when they have nothing to lose. I will risk very little for people like that.
In the last two weeks it became clear to me that I have no place in OD- those who have termed
themselves "true occupiers" were calling into question the motives of the "organizers", and discounting their contributions based on a desire to do more with their time than exercise their right to participate in 24/7 civil disobedience. I felt ostracized because of my talent and intelligence, for being successful and having nice things. The "true occupiers" disdain for my character and perspective- my very principled edict of personal excellence, goal-achievement, and personal responsibility- rivaled my own
disdain for humanity in general (which, after having experienced all of this, remains largely unaltered).
A wise man once told me "you are only as good as the company you keep". The impetus of the occupy movement is predicated upon the 99% being equal. 99/100, being very nearly the broadest spectrum of a whole, represents a nearly infinite depth and breadth of the sum of all its parts. To supply
one common theme to these diverse aggregates is impossible. The 99% is a Catch-22; it is a meme which will soon vary and mutate in direct contradiction with its own analogy. Has the individual within the 99% become marginalized? Are my goals as an individual reflected within the 99%? They are in no way reflected within OD. Sadly, I fear the pranksters and gangsters and free riders will eventually devour the hearts of the individuals who strive to get shit done. As a student, I consistently tested in the 99th percentile, and was always told this "set me apart". Instead, I choose to believe it is my integrity that sets me apart. I always have, and always will refuse to align myself with people whom I consider disrespectful, obnoxious, contrary, foolish, ignorant, unmotivated, self-deprecating, devious, or dangerous. It goes against who I am. |
