Personal Voices: Wheelchairs Against War

I got arrested at the March 19 Los Angeles demo near the Westwood Federal Building. It was not planned. There were several hundred of us who gathered at noon before the military dropped Bush's "Shock and Awe" bombs onto the people of Iraq.

With drums, banners, spirit and energy the marchers headed for Senator Feinstein's office. Short of there we were blocked off by the LAPD, who were standing several feet apart; a blue barrier of armed uniforms across six lanes of traffic.

Some protestors dropped to the ground in a die-in at the cops' feet. I wanted to get in the street too, but a cop was blocking the wheelchair access ramp. "You can go the way you came but you cannot pass here," he told me several times. I told him that I needed the ramp -- I could not get down from the curb in a power chair -- but he demanded that I stay in front of him.

Soon another cop came up and asked me if I wanted to use the ramp. The "you can only go the way you came" talk disappeared into thin air.

With their eyes focused on me now I darted right back between and betwixt them into the moving crowd now on its feet and heading back toward the Federal Building. If I got behind the police line then what? Was I going to assault them? Hardly! Were they were going to beat me up? Maybe. A wheelchair user was beat up by a San Francisco cop that very day. We are not immune just because we sit in a wheelchair.

The next day a large number of police in full riot gear, looking like an army of Darth Vaders, confronted Pastors for Peace who were kneeling in the street. But this fresh first day of the protests, it seemed, held a promise for something else. At least the cops had not covered their faces with shields. One could still make eye contact.

Our demonstrators headed back toward the Federal Building in the street shouting "Whose streets? Our streets!" Police motorcycles came up behind a wave of us, passed us, then blocked our path of travel. They got off their cycles and confronted us making another line of blue that stretched across the three lanes of the boulevard and then down the yellow traffic divider.

Finding myself surrounded, I was pinned in. The people in the front sat down and chanted "Peaceful protest" over and over and eventually the mood cooled. By now the corporate media were present: CBS, NBC, ABC. Some of the protestors backed down and decided to move onto the sidewalk.

I could have wheeled out of the blockaded area but decided against it. Several things made me stay. For one, young people had come out strong at this demo and I wanted to back them up. It would not have been right to just leave them all out there after we had traveled a couple of hours together on the streets. Besides they had showed respect for my needs. Where there was no curb cut they assisted me so that I might stay in the march.

It was also the case that my presence had an effect on the officers. They clearly were uncomfortable with the thought of arresting me and I hoped that would translate into nonviolent arrests for everyone committed to civil disobedience that day. Several officers asked me if I wanted to leave the area. They asked about my medical condition. Was there anything special that I required? I told them they would need an accessible van to haul me out of there.

It made an impression on those who were facing arrest to see me do that. Don't get me wrong, these protestors would have done fine without me but there was an affinity that had evolved during this demo. Most importantly, I wanted them to know that disabled people supported them, and to encourage them to keep it up.

Keeping Peace Accessible

Crips Against War, based in Chicago, issued a statement. This administration's agenda, the group said, promises to "to rob us of the self-determination for which we have fought for so long."