OREGON'S LGBTO NEWSMAGAZINE
voices
Intensity In The Tent City
3 a.m. Tuesday morning, and the man in the
NOVEMBER 11, 2011
43
JS
tens, Kerry and I sit on the bench to finish our
dirty gray coat shouts that something has gone
remember to breathe
apple. We are surrounded by confusing noise
terribly wrong. “I got stuck with a fucking nee
BY N ICK MATTOS
and barely controlled chaos, the sounds o f
dle!” he bellows to no one in particular, throngs
lighters flicking and drunk people laughing,
o f people shutfling past him with duct tape
coat get diffused by a calm, tired group o f vol
“W hat will the revolution come down to?” he
cars driving down Fourth Avenue, tarps flap
armbands stuck to their jackets. “I’m here try
unteer safety patrollers. The Occupy Portland
snarls at no one in particular before merging
ping in the wind.
ing to save this goddamned country and I get
camp exists in a time and space triangulated
back into the sea o f people. I sigh as his unan
stuck with some junkie’s fucking dirty needle!”
between ancient Athens, a 1960s political
swered question hangs in the air.
A woman with a medic’s red armband stops
demonstration and a post-apocalyptic refugee
Kerry walks over to me, sits down next to a
courthouse. It flutters languidly in the clear
camp. Earlier that evening at the consensus-
cardboard sign reading, “W hat country can
night, poignantly lit up against the dark sky. It
based administrative meeting called General
preserve its liberties if their rulers are not
strikes me that this fascinating, exciting, often
Assembly, a discussion o f the tens o f thou
warned from time to time that their people
scary camp struggles under the weight o f apa
“Ha!” a skinny man with glasses says im
sands in dollars o f damages the city estimates
preserve the spirit o f resistance?’—Thomas
thy, crime and disorder— often to the extent
petuously. “W e’re Occupy Portland! There’s no
the protest to have already done to Chapman
Jefferson.”
that the movement’s larger aims (as I under
shutting us down!”
and Lonsdale Parks led a girl next to me to
“How was your dishwashing shift?” I ask.
stand them) are lost in the day-to-day effort
snort in laughter. “W hat would they expect?”
“O ther than getting a little soaked and hav
to keep this strange little city-within-a-city
beside us. “Are you okay?” she asks him.
“No!” he shouts. “I’m going to get this damn
thing shut down!”
W hen I first heard that protesters fed up with
Above us, between the tree branches, I see
the immense American flag over the federal
corporate money and interests influencing poli
she asked, pulling her black hoodie close
ing to scrape dried hummus oft the plates,
functioning. This is a microcosm o f America
tics had set up camp on Wall Street, I was in
around her face. “There are over 500 people
went pretty good. G etting tired at all?”
at large: W e’re a nation o f idealists with altru
trigued. As someone who sees far too many o f
here! W hat else could we do?”
“Yes. I t ’s definitely bed time.” I yawn, the
istic, forward-thinking, even
revolutionary
my peers suffering under the current economy,
I watch the kitchen volunteers hurriedly set
trying in vain to get by despite our best efforts, I
ting out trays of donated vegetables, rice, beans.
Kerry takes a bite out o f a crisp apple, read
with urgent social problems, forced to focus so
resonated with the message that we are the 99
As soon as they hit the tables, hungry workers
ing the sign beside us thoughtfully. “Jefferson
much on putting out the proverbial fires that
percent struggling beneath the financial control
and passersby lunge for them, scoop piles onto
was absolutely right,” she says between bites.
the “American Dream” loses its coherence.
o f the country’s most powerful 1 percent. So
donated plates and eat voraciously. A rough-
“He asserted that the nation would only suc
when this occupation expanded nationally, even
hewn order, borne on the strength o f countless
ceed if a revolution occurred every 20 years.” me. “Up there. The American flag,” I reply,
to the staid parks around Portland’s courthouses,
hours o f volunteer service, keeps the occupation
She hands the apple to me. “W e’re just hun
smiling. “You know what? I think here, in the
I dragged out my tent and sleeping bag to sup
functioning with a thrilling energy o f controlled
dreds o f years overdue.”
camp, is probably the best view o f it we’ll
port the movement for a night.
chaos. Groups o f young men stride purposefiilly
We walk into Beta Camp, straight into A n
Now, I am sitting on a bench in Chapman
beneath the tarps. A homeless man walks past
archy Alley. Street kids smoke hand-rolled
Square, watching the man in the dirty gray
me with a hardened stare, spits on the ground.
cigarettes, teenage girls play with skinny kit
buzz o f activity around us notwithstanding.
y O K T L ROD'
ll.B E .ll
goals, bogged down by the necessity of dealing
“W hat are you laughing about?” Kerry askS
ever get.” J K
Reach
N ick M attos
at nickm attos@ justout.com .
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