What happened to us mothers? We allowed this holiday to get away from us. We allowed it to become commercialized, individualized, commodified, unpoliticized. We allowed it to be about superficial symbols of love—flowers and chocolates and store-bought cards. We allowed it be a time when we, as mothers, sit back and receive personal recognition, instead of a time when we, as mothers, stand up together to make collective demands.

Let’s be clear about what Mothers Day was supposed to be, before it fell out of our grip. It was the brainchild of a brilliant woman, Julia Ward Howe, who was horrified by the carnage and suffering during the Civil War and the economic devastation that followed. She was also heart-broken by the outbreak of war between France and Germany in 1870, with its ominous display of German military might and imperial designs. She used her poetic gift to pen a proclamation against war, a proclamation that birthed Mothers Day.

“Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause,” Julia wrote. “Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. ” Her solution? Women should gather together to “promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.”

So here we are, more than a century later, still in the throes of wars abroad and violence in our communities. But instead of coming together to say “Disarm, disarm,” we are content with trinkets and breakfast in bed. Isn’t it time to get out of bed, out of the kitchen, out of the house and into the streets? We should be demanding that our government stop pillaging our treasury by spending $2 billion a week on an unwinnable war in Afghanistan. We should be demanding good education and forgiveness of our children’s college loans, not more money for the bloated Pentagon. We should be demanding that the guns that kill over 30,000 of our sons and daughters every year here at home be banished from the store shelves. We should demand that our nation stop locking up our children for nonviolent crimes, just to feed a disgraceful private prison industry. We should demand that conflict resolution be mandatory in our schools to stop bullying and prejudice, and that diplomacy be mandatory in our foreign relations.

This is our day, moms. Let’s reclaim it and embrace its origins. Our day should not be solely about us, as individuals, but about us embodying the collective desires of mothers around the world—to stop our children from killing and being killed by others mother’s children. No one is going to bring that to us on a breakfast platter; it’s something that we women demand.

Happy Mothers Day.

There’s a good number of us who question holidays like Mother’s Day in which you spend more time feeding money into a system that exploits our love for our mothers than actually celebrating them.  It’s not unlike any other holiday in America in that its complete commercialization has stripped away so much of its genuine meaning, as well its history.  Mother’s Day is unique in its completely radical and totally feminist history, as much as it has been forgotten.

Mother’s Day began in America in 1870 when Julia Ward Howe wrote the Mother’s Day Proclamation. Written in response to the American Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War, her proclamation called on women to use their position as mothers to influence society in fighting for an end to all wars. She called for women to stand up against the unjust violence of war through their roles as wife and mother, to protest the futility of their sons killing other mothers’ sons.

Howe wrote:

Arise, then, women of this day!

Arise, all women who have hearts, Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”

[Read the remainder of Howe's quote here]

The holiday caught on years later when a West Virginia women’s group led by Anna Reeves Jarvis began promoting it as a way to reunite families after the Civil War.  After Jarvis’ death, her daughter began a campaign for the creation of an official Mother’s Day in honor of peace. Devoting much of her life to the cause, it wasn’t until 1914 when Woodrow Wilson signed it into national observance in 1914.

The holiday flourished, along with the flower industry.  The business journal, the Florists Review, actually admitted to its desire to exploit the holiday. Jarvis was strongly opposed to every aspect of the holiday’s commercialization, arrested for protesting the sale of flowers, and petitioning to stop the creation of a Mother’s Day postage stamp.

Today we are in multiple wars that continue to claim the lives of thousands of sons and daughters.  We are also experiencing a still-rising commercialization of nearly every aspect of life; the exploitation of every possible human event and emotion at the benefit of corporations.

Let’s take this Mother’s Day to excuse ourselves from the pressure to consume and remember its radical roots – that mothers, or rather all women, in fact, all people, have a stake in war and a responsibility as American citizens to protest the incredible violence that so many fellow citizens, here and abroad, must suffer through.

The thousands of civilian casualties in Afghanistan and Iraq as well as the devastating impact of post-traumatic stress disorder on our veterans are just the beginning of the terrible repercussion of war.  As we saw last week an announcement of an extension of the military occupation of Afghanistan, let this mother’s day be a day after Julia Ward Howe’s own heart as we stand up and say no to 12 more years of war.

Laura Kacere is a political activist and radical feminist who seeks to dismantle imperialist heterosexist cisgendered patriarchy and make repro rights available to all. She is currently living in DC.

“The deeds of occupier and occupied alike suggest that there come cruel times when to save a nation’s deepest values one must disobey the state.” ~ Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France

I devoted ten years to a novel about the Armenian community of Paris during the Nazi Occupation, which I only recently completed. I have spent eight years working against U.S.-funded wars and occupations as a part of the staff of CODEPINK Women for Peace. So in July 2011 when Adbusters put out the call to “Occupy Wall Street,” I was skeptical for two reasons. In the first place, it didn’t make sense that a magazine based in Western Canada should be setting the agenda for organizers in New York City. In the second place, the word “occupy”—associated with France during World War II, with Iraq and Afghanistan in the past decade, and with the West Bank and Gaza for over forty years—didn’t seem like the right “meme,” to use Adbusters’ own rhetoric, for the movement we needed.

But by early October, I realized that I was wrong. I went down to Zuccotti to help staff the CODEPINK table, and joined the two mass marches from Foley Square. I donated my novels and other books to the People’s Library. The encampment at Liberty Plaza and the hundreds and eventually thousands of people who flocked there brought new meaning to the word “Occupy.” All over the country, all over the world, people are going to their public squares to take possession of what has been stolen from them. As the writer and activist Grace Paley said, “The only recognizable feature of hope is action.” And the Occupy Movement is a beehive of activity, ideas, and hope. It’s about prioritizing human needs over corporate greed. It’s about creating new communities based on shared values. Occupy Wall Street, not Iraq. Occupy our public spaces, not Afghanistan. Occupy AIPAC, not Palestine.

By Nancy Mancias

U.S. drone warfare is the topic of an upcoming dark comedy for FX, focusing on drone pilots in Nevada who commute to war and “bomb the hell out of the Middle East”. Although the description doesn’t specifically name the air base, one can only assume the project is centered on Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs, Nevada where pilots commute from Las Vegas. With the series appropriately titled Drones, the producers will find there’s a lot of darkness to the issue than comedy.

Reports indicate drone pilots are suffering from alarming levels of combat related stress. Creech AFB has counselors and chaplains on hand to support the mental strain of pilots transitioning from video game combat to civilian life. LA Times reporter David Zucchino writes, “The psychological challenges are unique: Pilots say that despite the distance, the video feed gives them a more intimate feel for the ground than they would have from a speeding warplane. Some say they would prefer to be in Afghanistan or Iraq to avoid the daily adjustment from the soccer field to the battlefield.”

An extremely dark moment in piloting drones took place when the American military released a report confessing the deaths of 23 Afghan civilians killed by a U.S. drone strike operated by pilots based at Creech AFB. The strike took place the morning of Feb. 21, 2010 in southern Afghanistan. The drone operators tracked a number of civilian vehicles for three and a half hours, reportedly only seeing military-age men through the real time video feed, though analysts sent computer messages to the operators that children were present. The Air Force personnel responsible for the deadly drone strike were given a reprimand.

Standing along the highway while drone pilots are driving into Creech AFB are anti-drone demonstrators with signs and banners condemning the use of drones for assassination. Creech AFB at one point was the epicenter of drone warfare but with the ever moving industry the expansion of drone bases continues to grow. Alternet.org reports that there is an estimate of 60 bases across the globe engaging in U.S drone missions. In a U.S. Air Force report, there are close to a hundred current and future unmanned aerial sites.

As A.V. Club reporter Sean O’Neal writes about the dark comedy Drones, “it might garner only several thousand protests.” If so, let’s only hope the protests will change public and political opinion and halt the U.S. from waging a Terminator-type assassin war.

A lot has changed since we started occupying Wall Street 24 days ago.
Voices take much longer to echo through the masses of bodies in Liberty Plaza,
requiring two or three layers of repetition via the people’s microphone. The kitchen
staff, once limited largely to serving the now-famous “occu-pie” pizzas (99% cheese,
1% pepperoni) lovingly designed by Libretto’s, are now cooking full-balanced, vegan
meals, composting the scraps, and washing the dishes through an on-site grey-water
system. The once-quaint library that started out as a few rejects from someone’s
bookshelf is now a full-blown, catalogued institution with sections ranging from
anarchism to acupuncture. Celebrities are coming down for the second, third, and
fourth visit not to make speeches, but to see how things are evolving.

Story-sharing session with Eve Ensler at Occupy Wall Street

When Eve Ensler came down for a repeat visit on Saturday night she asked if I could
gather some people together to talk after the General Assembly. She and Naomi
Klein sat with us on the concrete for the entire General Assembly, patiently listening
to over two hours of working group report-backs, announcements, and general
housekeeping. When we finally gathered on the steps by the library, Eve asked for
ideas on how she could best support us. “Use your voice to say what you see,” said
one woman. “Tell people we’re not a bunch of patchouli-wearing hippies doing
hula hoops and dancing in a circle.” As everyone laughed, she quickly added, “there
is that, and it’s beautiful, but there’s also real process, there’s real community.” “I
have to say, more than I’ve seen anywhere” Eve said, nodding. Eve asked us to tell
her what brought us here. One woman said she had just wandered over to see what
was happening: “I’ve been trying to leave for the past four hours. Every step I take
there’s something amazing happening.” As other people shared their stories a plan
evolved to bring these “stories from the heart of the park” to a wider audience.

What Brought You Here?

When long-time activist and hip-hop/funk/reggae artist Michael Franti came to
Occupy Wall Street last week he told us “starting activism is easy – all you have to do
is show up. It’s coming back the second and third time that’s challenging.”

I showed up at one of the first General Assemblies back in August as skeptical
as anyone. Occupy Wall Street? Yeah, right. We all knew it was one of the most
militarized places in the city; we knew the plan for September 17th – made by
someone in another country who didn’t seem to know anyone here or have any
intention of actually participating in the demonstration – was all over the internet;
we knew the police would be ready for us. I sat on the concrete with over a hundred
students, workers, artists, teachers, organizers, passers-by, for what seemed like
an eternity grappling our way towards some kind of agreement, structure, process,
ANYTHING that would get us closer to preparing for September 17th.

There were debates about what should be on the agenda, who should take down the agenda points, when the agenda should be formed, and whether we should even HAVE an
agenda. It was painfully – even comically – slow. It was clumsy, frustrating, ad-hoc,
and incredibly exciting. Everything about that night felt different. The faces were
new. The energy was new. We were thinking out loud. We were stumbling. We were
feeding off each other. We were learning. When I went home around midnight there
were still plenty of people milling around, forming working groups, talking and
sharing food. We were beginning to build a community.

Every day of the first week of the encampment at Liberty Plaza was filled with
the excitement that this was really happening; every day in the space was lived
with the feeling that it could be our last. The Occupy Wall Street community
survived many tests that first week – torrential downpours, dwindling numbers,
people dropping out due to illness and fatigue, and of course, constant police
violence and intimidation. As @occupywallstreet tweeted:

Building community at #OccupyWallStreet is hard, esp. when facing constant eviction threats. Now we know how so many Americans feel.

On the one-week anniversary of Liberty Plaza I watched the heart of the park galvanize before me. After the police attacked and pepper-sprayed protesters at Union Square and followed us down to our home at Liberty Plaza, we all prepared for a showdown. Paddy-wagons lined the streets. Hundreds of police officers lined the perimeter of the park, their hands poised on guns, orange nets, and reams of zip-ties that hurt my wrists just to look at. We gathered for a General Assembly (GA), as we do every evening, in a unified, determined group under an intense cloud of imminent danger, and asserted that we were not afraid. We developed contingency plans for when the police swept the square.

People lined the park with candles, creating a buffer-zone between the police and our central organ, the GA. Drums and brass instruments filled the air with an upbeat yet unavoidably ominous tone I somehow imagined accompanying the Titanic’s final hours.

Messages on the projector screen read “Love is the New Fear.” “Feeling good.” “We shall not be moved.” “In it for the long haul.”

Older activists from CODEPINK and the anti-war community checked in or came by to see what was happening – asking, but not telling, what we were going to do. “We’re staying,” I told them. Some lingered on the outskirts like guardian angels, patiently, silently watching. “We’ve got your back.” The Occupy Wall Street bike bloc slowly circled the square in solidarity. “We are watching. We are with you.” I armed myself with a hot pink “Make Solidarity Not War” sign to go with the “Make Bikes Not War” signs adorning my bike and joined them to burn off nervous energy.

Melanie Butler on One Week Anniversary of Occupy Wall Street. Photo by Tom Martinez

Putting on a brave face, I told the bloc how a cashier at a nearby cafe refused to
charge me for my sandwich earlier that day when she found out I was part of the
demonstration. Other cyclists chimed in with similar stories. One guy struck up a
conversation about what we were doing while in line for the bathroom at McDonalds and when he came out, the stranger he had been speaking with gave him a burger and fries. Slowly, as the night progressed, something incredible happened. The police started to pack up and leave. The bike bloc continued to circle until we were sure our home was safe, and then did a final victory lap, bells ringing, lights flashing, flags waving. The community had survived. The heart of the park beat stronger than ever – and we were all part of it.

Eve Ensler’s first issue of curated stories from Occupy Wall Street was featured in
yesterday’s Huffington Post. Join us next Sunday at 5 pm at Liberty Plaza library
(NE corner of Zuccotti Park) to participate in this ongoing story-sharing experience.

Last weekend, I attended an organizing meeting of the New Priorities Network, which is working to build deep connections locally and nationally between labor, economic justice, racial justice, religious, and peace organizations. We know our work will last longer than any election cycle or war, and we are committed to breaking down the barriers between our movements for justice and peace. Right now, we’re focused on four core priorities: end the wars / cut the military budget, tax the rich & corporations, create jobs, and save social services (education, housing, the Women, Infant, Child (WIC) program that provides vital maternal health and food subsidies to low-income families, social security, Medicare, Medicaid, the Environmental Protection Agency and a host of other domestic programs that are the social safety net here in the U.S.). These four priorities are not our only concerns, and we know they can only be sustained by building a new economy based on renewable energy.

Earlier this week, I observed the Rebuild the Dream Conference. In the past, CODEPINK has disrupted this annual event hosted by the Campaign for America’s Future because of their refusal to acknowledge that ending the wars is a vital part of building a secure America. This year, the conference included ending the wars as part of their platform for change and provided space for Nelini Stamp, an organizer with the Working Families Party, who has participated in Occupy Wall Street since Sept 17, to address the plenary about the Occupy Together movement. Our Make Out Not War stickers were the most sought after and people were really receptive to receiving information about Occupy DC at Freedom Plaza, which began yesterday.

My week in DC culminated on the first day of Occupy DC. Preparing for the day, I met Ann Wright, one of the courageous foreign service officers who resigned when the U.S. declared war on Iraq. Ann’s story is particularly inspiring to me, as I left college with the goal of becoming a career diplomat. I am so grateful I never got off the list of eligible hires, since my true calling is to be a citizen diplomat.

First I helped give away over one thousand CODEPINK stickers, including the highly sought after Make Out Not War stickers. Then, a thousand of us created a human 99% which was photographed from the top of a nearby hotel with the Washington Monument in the background. (I’m in the lower left corner of the nine near the percent sign.) We marched in the streets of DC, stopping at the Chamber of Commerce to hand in resumes from the jobless and under-employed among us, since they claim to be job creators.

Our day was capped off with a concert and a Skype call with our brothers and sisters in the Afghan Youth Peace Movement in Afghanistan. While I listened from the side of Freedom Plaza, a gentleman approached and asked if I spoke Arabic. Unfortunately, I do not. Thankfully he is multi-lingual and we were able to chat in English.

Jamel Bettaieb is one of the leaders of the Tunisian uprising and is the head of the largest trade union in Tunisian. He is in DC to share the story of his people with our leaders – from the White House to Freedom Plaza. Jamel reminded me that we Arabs and Jews are cousins. For centuries, we have lived peacefully side-by-side in the Middle East with our Christian cousins. It is the political class that creates conflict, not our ethnic our religious differences. Regardless of country, there is something about the power of ruling that corrupts people. Some pundits say the American Autumn is nothing like the Arab Spring, since we have no dictator to overthrow. But when Jamel spoke about the high rate of unemployment among college-educated Tunisians, and the continuing lack of economic growth in his country, I knew I had made a friend fighting the same global system of injustice. Whether the 1% calls themselves democratic representatives, corporate overlords, or dictators the effect is the same on the 99%. Jamel is staying in DC for a two-month fellowship and he let me know that he’s got a real hankering for a good Kosher meal. Did you know that the Muslim and Jewish dietary laws are basically identical? Unfortunately, I’m on my way home to celebrate Yom Kippur with my fiancé, but I’m sure my sister CODEPINKers will find him a Kosher meal real soon.