Barack Obama often talks about teaching moments. But there are learning moments too – times when events require skillful adaptation and serious thought for the future. The G20 was one such moment.
That’s why, three weeks after the event, an organization calling itself CAPP (Canadians Advocating Political Participation) has organized rally at Queens Park over the weekend.
You couldn’t ask for a better day for a protest. It’s hot but not too humid and the air doesn’t stink. We’re on the north lawn of Queens Park. It’s not the shadiest place in the world but the gathering, lolling on the grass on either side of the pathway seems far from heat exhaustion at the moment. Behind the pretty little stage set up at the top of the pathway there are still numerous metal barricades surrounding the legislature. Just to the West of the building in a shady area 10 or 15 police mill about, separated from the action by a good 50 yards. No riot gear. No horses.
Yet, the crowd of 400 or so protesters gathered to keep alive the memory and the insult to the Toronto populace of the G20 is neither more nor less violent or threatening than they were two weeks ago when many of them were accosted by fully armed riot police, handcuffed and incarcerated.
Rebecca Harrison-White, founder of the Facebook page Canadians Demanding a Public Inquiry into Toronto G20 speaks quite passionately about this when she takes the stage. Her life has clearly taken on a new direction beginning with the moment when she found herself in flight from fully armed riot police while peacefully protesting. The crowd cheers passionately.
I’m stoked at the prospect of performing some new material. In particular I have a new marching song which I dedicate with love to the police watching from the distance. I keep a steady left right marching rhythm with my feet as I say stuff like: “rights left, rights left, we still have some rights left, right?” The crowd loves it and they love my new song too so I am pretty gratified really.
The G20 is working for me. Afterwards I talk with singer/activist Taborah Johnson who has come to sing a version of O Canada with new lyrics. She tells me that today is the 40th anniversary of her appearance in the Toronto version of the musical Hair. She remembers there being a warrant out on the cast labeling them dangerous subversives. She honestly has no grudge though. She even spends a little of her time while waiting, being chatty with the police.
On stage, she extemporizes, riffing passionately on the various themes which hook into this protest. She recalls having her apartment invaded once by police who it turns out where in search of 60s radical Angela Davis. “I guess one black woman with an Afro looked pretty much like another, in those days,” she says. An easterly wind strikes up as she speaks, buffeting her silver curls dramatically as her discourse leaps thematically to one of my own favorite pet peeves-language-the language of protest. She gives a little lecture on the necessity to keep refreshing the protest lexicon because of how quickly it gets co-opted and made meaningless by the frequency of its repetition in the media. She’s funny, articulate and on a roll as she introduces her version of our national anthem. This she finally delivers in rich tones, a cappella. It’s not quite Jimi Hendrix playing the Star-Spangled Banner at Woodstock but she effectively addresses many of the issues arising from the outrages of the G20 Summit. It should be noted that her impassioned riffs though critical of authorities are never disrespectful to the police in attendance. She’s projecting just the right kind of vibe for a nonviolent protest. The crowd and I take her in with joy and applause.
I take care to keep a reasonable distance from our folks in blue as I pack up my trusty bike and guitar and prepare to leave. But not the bighearted Taborah. I see her make her way over to the group of police she had been charming recently. Her charms must have worn off though. “They literally shunned me,” she tells me a few moments later when she returns.
“They said ‘Was that you singing that version of O Canada?’
‘Yes.’
‘That was disgusting,’ one of them told me, and then they all literally turned their backs on me,” she concludes with a look of genuine hurt.
I give her a big hug and then as I walk my bike by the cops, I take care to add a few distinct march-style steps to my departure. Rights left, rights left, we still have some rights left, right?[rssbreak]
