The tip of the ICEberg #3 and post-script. We're still here.

The tip of the ICEberg #3. They stole our neighbors, they rained gas down on our blocks, they detained us, they beat us, they killed us. We're still fucking here.

For full context and caveats for this series, see post #1.

This time is blurry. The surge has quieted... mostly... in the urban core. But further out things continue. Everyone is tired, so very tired. I think most of us are behind on our day jobs - yea, we still have those. Honestly, those of us who do are the lucky ones. March was eerily quieter though there was still so much going on. These weeks bring this question that you can hear ringing out across the city: what now?

It's not a bad question as questions go. We built this whole big thing, we did something unimaginable. The fight isn't over. And also, we're tired. There's the come down, the time to reflect. The clarity of urgency melts away. We're not all on the same page, we just knew one thing together and that had been enough.

The trauma sits there now. Violent abductions, so much tear gas and pepper spray; so many beatings, detentions. They killed some of us. It all blurs together a bit in time. But a few things stand out. I remember the days they took people out of my neighborhood, smashed their cars, wrenched them into custody. I remember the day Renee was murdered. I remember the day that Alex was murdered. I remember how nothing stopped. It was a commitment to continue through the horrors; holding them, feeling them, but not being stopped by them. If anything, the opposite. I hear the nurses after Alex died, "We'll take it from here."

I don't know what comes next. People are planning to grow food together, the systems built now watch cops and sheriffs, too. Neighborhood gatherings are being planed - parties, assemblies. Rest. Grief. Sharing.

The cameras and out of town journalists have mostly left just in time for the weather to warm. The response cannot end and also, if anything is to come next, to answer that question of "what now?", it will have to be a move towards building. Building is harder than responding, reacting. Political differences get laid bare. What we want is harder to coalesce on than what we don't.

The sense of urgency is hard to remove from the body. Capturing the energy is hard to balance with the knowledge that we need patience, rest, regrouping. We shifted the terrain but now, where are we standing? I imagine I'll spend a good amount of time on this even as I wrap up this mini-series.

But here is what I do know. We did something so big and badass, it's actually hard to put into words. We felt in our bodies that they would rue the day they thought coming here was a good idea. We didn't win but we didn't lose either. It's been a long time since we didn't lose. So, let's not ignore that. That can change a course; it can open up new possibilities. We showed a glimpse of what real community and real care and real struggle can look like. Each and every day in the street, in small acts and large, but mostly unseen, momentary, often painful. But we kept going. We keep going. We're not done. We're still here. We're still fucking here.

The tip of the ICEberg Postscript

There's a lot I didn't cover - the data collection, the block-level organizing, the communication structures, and biggest of all, perhaps, the mutual aid work. There was just too much; no one could've touched it all and I was wary of those who tried. This was only meant to be short reflections, streams of consciousness, to share out some of what things were like here. It wasn't reporting to show a full picture, no one could accomplish that. But I encourage you to ask each of us what we can share because we hold a new world in our hearts and we want to show it to you.

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