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lagilmanLast night I abandoned earlier plans in order to attend the vigil for Dr. Tiller (the doctor murdered for performing medical abortions) down in Union Square, unofficial home of all such things.
There were actually two vigils -- the 'official' one sponsored by Planned Parenthood and other local organizations, and a 'solo' effort led by an impassioned but somewhat emotionally disorganized woman. The PP organizers asked her to join with them, but she seemed unwilling. She wrapped up her bit just before the PP one started, thankfully, so we didn't have conflicting speakers, and the crowd merged quietly. I'm not good at estimating from within a crowd, but we had a more than decent turnout for two hours notice, filling the entire south side of the square.
Some moving speeches from people who had known or worked with Dr. Tiller, some speeches from local politicos, including the woman who helped pass the free clinic access law here in NYC (that gave cops the right to arrest anyone who tried to block access to a clinic for any reason or by any means, a law that is sadly still needed here in the five boroughs), and several medical workers. Most telling moment: when one woman talked about hearing the news in the background and thinking it was a retrospective of past decades, because she couldn't believe "it was happening again, now."
I left before the vigil was over, because I was starting to get the "must get out of crowd" feeling that usually keeps me out of said crowds, and then something happened that I'm still processing, but figure talking about it might help.
As I was walking away from the crowd, I encountered a woman having a...discussion is too polite and too formal a word for what she was doing, with one of the men behind the information desk. He was doing his best, but there were people waiting who needed to get info from him, and so he was distracted -- and also, sometimes woman-to-woman is more effective: well-meaning guys can feel they don't actually have a right to voice an opinion, and get hamstrung even when talking to an anti-choice female. I saw an opening, and chimed in, distracting her away from him and onto me.
She was actually, on the surface, reasonable. She agreed that violence of any sort was wrong, and expressed sorrow that it had gone that far. Then she started in on the "life is sacred from conception" routine. Which I countered with "what about the living?" -- the women whose birth control failed and aren't ready for this, the eleven year old children who have been raped (there was a recent legal case in NYC that had been mentioned during the rally, so I wasn't just pulling emotional scorecard out of thin air), and the babies already in the system who needed homes before any more unwanted children were brought into the world.
After a few sentences, I was pretty sure she wanted to air her mind rather than hear mine, so I was willing to let it fade and move on, after we'd done the nominal exchange.
And I realized after a few seconds more that she was leaning in far closer than I felt comfortable with -- actively invading my personal space. It was enough that I asked her to step back. She refused. I put my hand up, palm out, to indicate that she was too close and repeated my request: please move back. She refused again.
"Fine," I said. "Then I'll step back." And I did so. And she accused me of being violent, and of using violence in my argument, and she couldn't talk to anyone who insisted on being violent.
WTF? Because I insisted on my right not to have her leaning within six inches of my face? Because I stepped backward away from her? We were both, I'd estimate, within the same decade [she was older], and about the same height, although I carry more muscle-weight, so it's not as though I had the physical drop on her, or anything. And I was dressed in casual, non-threatening attire (jeans and a blue shirt, no slogans or buttons or anything even remotely aggressive).
I told her that invading someone's personal space was the aggressive act, and walked away at that point, having her repeating over and over again that I was violent, that I was trying to win my argument with violence.
I've been going over the encounter in my mind since then, trying to think what it was that set her off -- was it that she ran out of arguments and had to fall back on that? But why that particular phrase? I've been called a baby-killer before, outside clinics, I know there are far more effective insults and conversation-stoppers that can be used. Was she hoping that one of the nearby cops was going to arrest me? The local cops were far more likely to give her shit for walking into a very calm, orderly crowd and trying to incite. Had my upraised hand triggered something in her brain? (I used the same body language I'd use with an unfamiliar dog: I kept my voice at the same volume but firmed it up, and didn't even come close to touching her).
It was a small thing, barely a blip, and yet left me with a deeply disturbed feeling about that woman -- and anti-choice protesters in general, even the ones who claim to be non-violent, because in the end all I can conclude is that one of us has a screwed-up sense of 'violence,' and I don't think it's me.
There were actually two vigils -- the 'official' one sponsored by Planned Parenthood and other local organizations, and a 'solo' effort led by an impassioned but somewhat emotionally disorganized woman. The PP organizers asked her to join with them, but she seemed unwilling. She wrapped up her bit just before the PP one started, thankfully, so we didn't have conflicting speakers, and the crowd merged quietly. I'm not good at estimating from within a crowd, but we had a more than decent turnout for two hours notice, filling the entire south side of the square.
Some moving speeches from people who had known or worked with Dr. Tiller, some speeches from local politicos, including the woman who helped pass the free clinic access law here in NYC (that gave cops the right to arrest anyone who tried to block access to a clinic for any reason or by any means, a law that is sadly still needed here in the five boroughs), and several medical workers. Most telling moment: when one woman talked about hearing the news in the background and thinking it was a retrospective of past decades, because she couldn't believe "it was happening again, now."
I left before the vigil was over, because I was starting to get the "must get out of crowd" feeling that usually keeps me out of said crowds, and then something happened that I'm still processing, but figure talking about it might help.
As I was walking away from the crowd, I encountered a woman having a...discussion is too polite and too formal a word for what she was doing, with one of the men behind the information desk. He was doing his best, but there were people waiting who needed to get info from him, and so he was distracted -- and also, sometimes woman-to-woman is more effective: well-meaning guys can feel they don't actually have a right to voice an opinion, and get hamstrung even when talking to an anti-choice female. I saw an opening, and chimed in, distracting her away from him and onto me.
She was actually, on the surface, reasonable. She agreed that violence of any sort was wrong, and expressed sorrow that it had gone that far. Then she started in on the "life is sacred from conception" routine. Which I countered with "what about the living?" -- the women whose birth control failed and aren't ready for this, the eleven year old children who have been raped (there was a recent legal case in NYC that had been mentioned during the rally, so I wasn't just pulling emotional scorecard out of thin air), and the babies already in the system who needed homes before any more unwanted children were brought into the world.
After a few sentences, I was pretty sure she wanted to air her mind rather than hear mine, so I was willing to let it fade and move on, after we'd done the nominal exchange.
And I realized after a few seconds more that she was leaning in far closer than I felt comfortable with -- actively invading my personal space. It was enough that I asked her to step back. She refused. I put my hand up, palm out, to indicate that she was too close and repeated my request: please move back. She refused again.
"Fine," I said. "Then I'll step back." And I did so. And she accused me of being violent, and of using violence in my argument, and she couldn't talk to anyone who insisted on being violent.
WTF? Because I insisted on my right not to have her leaning within six inches of my face? Because I stepped backward away from her? We were both, I'd estimate, within the same decade [she was older], and about the same height, although I carry more muscle-weight, so it's not as though I had the physical drop on her, or anything. And I was dressed in casual, non-threatening attire (jeans and a blue shirt, no slogans or buttons or anything even remotely aggressive).
I told her that invading someone's personal space was the aggressive act, and walked away at that point, having her repeating over and over again that I was violent, that I was trying to win my argument with violence.
I've been going over the encounter in my mind since then, trying to think what it was that set her off -- was it that she ran out of arguments and had to fall back on that? But why that particular phrase? I've been called a baby-killer before, outside clinics, I know there are far more effective insults and conversation-stoppers that can be used. Was she hoping that one of the nearby cops was going to arrest me? The local cops were far more likely to give her shit for walking into a very calm, orderly crowd and trying to incite. Had my upraised hand triggered something in her brain? (I used the same body language I'd use with an unfamiliar dog: I kept my voice at the same volume but firmed it up, and didn't even come close to touching her).
It was a small thing, barely a blip, and yet left me with a deeply disturbed feeling about that woman -- and anti-choice protesters in general, even the ones who claim to be non-violent, because in the end all I can conclude is that one of us has a screwed-up sense of 'violence,' and I don't think it's me.
