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The Funk the War Parade
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My first war protest! Man, what can I say? It was exciting, it was colorful, it was a little surreal. Overall, it was pretty freaking cool.
As I rode my bike to Union Station for the start of the Tent State “Funk the War” rally, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. While I pedaled towards downtown my head became filled with many more nightmare scenarios – mostly involving tear gas, riot gear clad cops, and chaos - than peaceful, “kumbaya” dance party moments.
Luckily for everyone involved, the afternoon was distinctively the latter.
Union Station was the starting point. When I arrived at the front lot of the historic building, it was filled with about 500 protesters, a couple hundred onlookers, about 50 people taking pictures and holding video cameras, and about 100-200 cops. Yes, the cops were definitely out in full force. .
As soon as I locked my bike up I began snapping photos of the throngs of people. (I'll post them here as soon as I can figure out the best way) It was just so unbelievable that Union Station, usually a pretty desolate place, was being overrun by so many people. Everyone that gathered was pretty much cooperating, and bascally reveling in each other’s company. Excitement filled the air. Colorful signs that read “Drop Beats, Not Bombs,” “Funk the War,” and “Jesus Says Peace, I’m With Him,” were bouncing up and down. Music was blaring. It was idyllic.
No main person was barking out orders to the crowd so a little confusion arose from the lack of coordination, but things eventually came together.
The coolest moment of the day occurred amidst this confusion. As the majority of protesters were gathered at Union Station, The Iraq Veterans Against the War were marching right past them, one block to the west. They were corralled by Tent State organizer Jojo, or as I joked, “given marching orders from Gen. Jojo,” and they soon turned around and began walking down Wynkoop St., into the throng of people awaiting them at Union Station.
As the IVAW guys, some wearing military-issued fatigues, walked down the sidewalk people spontaneously lined up on both sides of the walkway to let the soldiers through. Then everyone, protester or not, started clapping as the soldiers marched by. Soon everyone was clapping, shouting, and cheering. It was like the troops had just come from battle. Only they were actually being applauded not for their patriotic decision to fight and kill the enemy, but for their even more patriotic decision to march against the war, and save the lives of their potential befallen soldiers and innocent Iraqi civilians.
At this time, I remember thinking to myself, “If Iraq is the mini-version, the 21st century version, of Vietnam, then this is the new protest. It may not be as large of a movement as the 60's, but it is a movement.”
After this fanfare, multiple organizations, all with different focal points, different causes, different demographic make ups, began marching down the 16th St. mall.
I saw a lot of the color pink. I saw a lot of pseudo hippies, young and old. I saw a lot of dancing. At one point, I even jumped behind a rolling, wooden stereo system, and helped a few O.P.’s (original protesters) push the wagon down the mall for awhile. Being at the center of a protest dance party was never one of my life’s goals, but I know my mom would be proud.
The parade marched on. It definitely felt more like a parade, with all the spectators cheering, laughing, admiring the signs and costumes, and snapping pictures the entire time.
And just like a parade there were cops everywhere. They were more like our escorts than anything else though. Carefully keeping out of the way, but letting it be known that no one had better get out of line. There was no hint of alcohol or marijuana being consumed at this party. Sorry O.P.’s, we can't get away with that stuff anymore.
The cops presence was felt all day. Everywhere you turned there was cops. There were Cops on mountain bikes, cops on motorcycles, cops on horses, cops on foot dressed like navy blue G.I. Joes, cops on off-road dirt bikes. There was even a scary looking group of about ten cops hanging off the side of a white SUV riding aruond. All roamed the streets pretending to keep the peace, but they were really just roaming. Their biggest concern seemed to be keeping people out of the way of the free mall shuttle, of which there were hardly any going.
Towards the end of the march, when people began dispersing and heading back to Cuernavaca Park, the tension levels did begin to rise. The black masked, drum beating, anarchist group, Unconventioal Denver, splintered off from the route and began marching down the side streets, and up and down 15th St.
They were basically telling everyone that they weren’t finished yet, they weren’t going home. The public streets were theirs, not the cities. But the group of about 50 people were no match for the cops. The SUV riding, G.I. Joe-looking. police unit followed them around the entire time. The group did manage to claim victory on their web site though, after fending off several demands from the cops to disperse.
Overall it was a very cool experience. It’s something I won’t soon forget, and much more importantly, it’s something this country, this city, and this movement, needed to happen.
Rush Limbaugh can calm down. There won’t be any riots in Denver.
Oh wait, the convention hasn’t even started yet? I almost forgot. There’s still something called a “freedom cage,” in the parking lot of the Pepsi Center, and there’s still a Rage Against the Machine concert. Barack still has to give his speech to 80,000 people!
The ride’s not over yet. The fun has just begun. Stay tuned.
