Then, on Monday, I made a second attempt to salvage some of what was seized by the police in the raid. Having already wasted an entire afternoon trekking uptown to the NYC Department of Sanitation garage only to be turned away at the door, and having received plenty of warning about the difficulties of of the process from those who had actually made it inside, I set out early in the morning armed with an mp3 player and prepared to get my zen on.

Five police officers were gathered at the entrance. One searched my bag, confiscating a plastic take-out knife and a fistful of markers (lest I try to claim someone else’s property by writing my name on it, he explained) while another examined my identification. Watching him record my personal information, I couldn’t help but think of the chant I had recited so jubilantly with my fellow “day-oners” – people who had been with OWS since Sept 17^th –on our one-month anniversary: “Show me what a no-fly list looks like! This is what a no-fly list looks like!” So much for not getting arrested – I was now officially on record as part of the 99%.

As I finally entered the space my attempted detachment gave way to sinking, sickening despair. I stood paralyzed, not wanting to believe that I was in the right place. Over thousands of square feet stretched a dismal landscape of rolling tarp hills, sleeping bag valleys, and jagged, broken-tent crevices. A lone figure waded through the rubble in the distance as police stood, arms crossed, lining the perimeter. Seemingly sensing my shock, an officer barked at me from behind a long table covered in paperwork, checked my ID again and told me I could start looking for my stuff. “Start looking,” I repeated, dazed.

I hesitated for a while longer on the periphery before cautiously approaching the wasteland of our former home. I was surrounded by flies and unpleasant smells. Personal items popped up among the ruins; an open suitcase with meticulously packed contents still intact – hard cover novel, toiletry bag, neatly rolled t-shirts; pairs of underwear; someone’s bra; a wheelchair; a demolished bike; devastatingly empty bins from the People’s library with labels like “History and Revolution” and “Class War.”

I caught my breath as I reached dozens of shoes laid out in rows, thinking immediately of CODEPINK’s “walk in their shoes” project. Where we had used the ghostly shoes to draw attention to the human cost of war, labeling each with the name and age of someone killed in Iraq, here they testified to a war on the American people. I started to wonder how much of the rubble littering my own neighborhood in Brooklyn was a result of evictions and home foreclosures. Recognizing stray pieces of my friends’ lives – a sweater I had seen someone wearing, a teddy bear blanket that once saw me through a cold night – I started to think about how, in war-torn countries, every piece of debris represents a wound inflicted on someone’s friend or family.

The more I searched, the less hope I had of ever finding what I was looking for. As I bent over to sort through a pile of deflated air mattresses, a police officer warned me “there’s vomit in there.” Just as I was about to give up, the stranger that had been silently pursuing her separate mission from afar appeared before me. We stood looking at each other for a second and then, to my surprise, she outstretched her arms. Knowing I was about to lose any shred of composure I might have had left, I hugged her. Surrounded by the dismal remains of our community, we stood embracing, bodies shaking to the unmistakable rhythm of sobbing.

When we finally collected ourselves, I started to explain: “I feel like we’re experiencing… a glimpse of what it might be like…living in…” “A war zone” – she said, finishing my sentence. “I don’t know what’s worse, how dehumanizing this whole experience is, or knowing that this kind of thing happens all the time” she added, shaking her head. “People are going to need a lot of help dealing with trauma experienced over the past week.”

Another woman arrived shortly after, looking about as stunned as I felt when I first walked in, and said to no-one in particular “I feel like I’m in a massacred graveyard.” Then my friend Embi arrived, in significantly higher spirits. She had clearly been here before and wasted no time in getting down to business – making sure everyone had gloves, explaining what went where. It was then I realized that it was only because of people like her that anyone was able to find what few things they could – she had been up there every day, bravely, patiently, sifting and sorting through the vast mess. “Oh good, someone got their beanbag” she said approvingly, referring to what looked like a random heap but was apparently a designated spot for “soft things like pillows – but not sleeping bags.”

When I eventually left, the other women were still hard at work sorting. I asked if there was anything they needed so I could tell other people who were heading up there. “Band-aids… and snacks!” Embi replied, with a huge smile.

I hugged her goodbye and felt the level tip once more — back to hope.

Statement from WOW*

At last Friday’s Spokes Council, the Women Occupying Wall Street (WOW) Spoke stepped up to the mic to present our application to the Spokes Council inclusion. Almost immediately, our Spoke was interrupted by a male member of the community who physically seized the microphone. Derailing process, he argued that the facilitation team’s decision to go forward with the meeting violated the principle of “transparent participatory democracy” enshrined in our Principles of Solidarity.

Regardless of the contested validity of Friday’s Spokes Council, WOW’s right to speak was egregiously disrespected, violating an equally important Principle of solidarity: “mutual respect.”

Without mutual respect, our movement will be held hostage by those who violate process. Yielding to those that push the hardest and shout the loudest is the culture of the Wall Street trading floors we are purportedly united in fighting. It is the culture that justifies the use of violence, fear and coercion to wield power over the 99%.

The silencing of WOW reflects a broader failure in our movement to recognize and meaningfully address privilege. Thus far, Spokes Council has failed utterly in “empowering one another against oppression.” It is imperative that we take “individual and collective responsibility” to devise concrete actions that address this failure. The Spokes Council was not a safe space on Friday night, and without safe space, we cannot fully and fairly participate in direct democratic process.

To ensure that marginalized voices can be heard, we must uphold the principles of solidarity that this community has agreed upon.

WOW calls on the OWS community to commit to one foundational practice: listening with mutual respect and without interruption to those who have been empowered by the community to speak.

Through active listening and respect for each other and our mutually agreed upon process of communication, we must work together to create a community in which all voices are truly equal.

*This is a living document that is currently being reviewed and collaboratively edited by the members of WOW.

The Divine Feminine at OWS

The evolutionary advantages of bonobo lifestyle, well-known among primatologists, served as an introduction to our first Divine Feminine discussion at Occupy Wall Street. Tired of male-dominated spaces and conversations, female occupiers were insisting on the importance of coming together simply for the sake of, well, coming together. Unlike WOW (Women Occupying Wall Street), there was no agenda, no actions being planned. The purpose was solely to meet and share what was on our minds without men present.

To be perfectly honest, I entered my first Divine Feminine discussion out of duty rather than desire. I had more than enough commitments, caucuses and events competing for my time – meeting for meeting’s sake was not a priority. I was also a bit put off by the group’s name, with its whiff of gender essentialism. I was more interested in dismantling gender binaries than discussing estrogen with a bunch of earth mothers.

But I have also experienced my share of sexism at Occupy Wall Street. I have watched too many women shrink from sharing their ideas, too many temperate voices shouted out of conversations, and too many important issues squeezed off of the agenda. I have heard too many terrible stories testifying to the very real violence and dangers plaguing female occupiers as night falls. And after over a month of pushing aside the things that are most important to me – family, friends, physical health – in the name of building a better world, the idea of taking time to nurture human relationships, bonding, and conversation, hit a nerve. So I figured I would make a show of solidarity, get in touch with my Divine Femininity for a few minutes, and then get back to work.

It turned out I was not alone. Perching just outside the circle to signify their non-commitment, several attendees announced at the outset that they could only stay ten minutes, just came to check things out, “what is Divine Feminine anyway?” That’s when my friend Ketchup shared the story about the bonobos, explaining that when women spend time together, all of society benefits; when we isolate ourselves, society suffers. By the time she reached this simple conclusion, everyone had drawn in closer.

Ten minutes came and went and nobody left, except to run to a bathroom or grab a hot chocolate from the nearby falafel cart. One woman returned triumphantly wielding a large pizza and proudly announced that she had used her “Divine Feminine powers” to procure it from the OWS kitchen team. Over the course of the night it became clear to me that the value of the group, what set it apart from the 60-odd other groups operating at Occupy Wall Street, had nothing to do with biology. Rather, what kept us there was a testament to how, as one woman put it, “the feminine act of listening is beautiful and radical.”

Wendelin shares her story during our "Ambiguous Upsparkles" story session with Eve Ensler

In the past weeks I’ve experienced numerous bonobo-style communities emerge from the radical, beautiful, and sometimes challenging, act of listening at OWS. Last week after a Safer Spaces sleep-out, as we drank our coffee and rolled up our sleeping bags, the person I slept next to suggested everyone play a game. I was about to skip it when, realizing I hadn’t even learned my fellow safe-spacer’s name, I checked myself and decided to stick around. After five minutes of the silly exercise – depicting our hairstyle evolution on pieces of cardboard – it was clear that we would no longer need a pink flag to demarcate the safe space we had created among one another. Just the day before the sleepout, two people I had never met separately, mysteriously, showed up to lend support as I was facilitating a meeting that threatened to be disrupted. I later learned they were friends of someone with whom I had locked tear-filled eyes during a particularly moving moment of the story-sharing session I help coordinate. After the session we had bonded over the experience, and when I briefly mentioned the meeting, she silently enlisted everyone she knew to attend. Like bonobos, they showed up to protect the group’s ideas against violence and possible “infanticide.”

Haircut evolution: post sleep-out games with Safer Spaces

Which brings me back to evolution. In the early days of Occupy Wall Street, before Divine Feminine and WOW were formed, I found my home in the Speak-Easy Caucus. Like WOW, Speak-Easy originated as a safe space for voices and ideas that were being pushed out of the larger conversation of the General Assembly. Originally open to anyone who did not identify as 100% male, Speak-Easy later evolved to include a spectrum of individuals, from female-bodied people identifying as women to male-bodied people who did not identify as traditionally masculine. Although it made sense for Speak-Easy to include a diversity of people, including men, who had difficulty having their voices heard, many women felt it was also important to maintain a safe space exclusively for women and non-males – and thus, WOW was born. Speak-Easy itself would later disband as many of its members became active in the Queer Caucus.

This week the entire structure of the General Assembly and Occupy Wall Street will evolve to adopt the spokes council model passed by the General Assembly on Friday. The spokes council model is meant to improve coordination, accessibility and transparency at Occupy Wall Street and to better empower marginalized voices in groups such as WOW, the Queer Caucus and the People of Color Working Group to communicate their needs and be involved in decision-making. The model is not without its critics – it has undergone countless revisions, been the subject of daily teach-ins, and was presented to the General Assembly on four occasions before finally achieving approval by a 9/10 consensus on Friday. The adopted proposal is itself a living document, and was accepted with the understanding that it would continue to evolve in response to the many concerns raised by members of the OWS community.

It’s no surprise that Occupy Wall Street is far from perfect. But what I have witnessed in the evolution of Occupy Wall Street, what differentiates us from dominant society and makes this movement worth fighting for, is a genuine willingness to confront our problems and create a community where all voices can be truly equal. We have a lot working against us, not the least of which is centuries of practice doing things the other way – building hierarchies based on race, class and gender, protecting systems of privilege and rewarding the loudest and most dominant voices. But slowly, together, we are learning how to listen.

I’ve heard people poke fun at the emphasis we put on “Process” at Occupy Wall Street. To me, the beautiful and radical act of listening is not about feminine or masculine, but simply about respect – respect for each other and, yes, for our agreed-upon (and ever-evolving) processes of communicating and interacting. When process breaks down – when groups operate without consensus, people and ideas are attacked, voices are silenced – there is no criteria of inclusion that can enforce a “safe space.”

Without respect for each other, we are nothing but chimpanzees. In order to survive, we must learn to live like bonobos. And the more we continue to evolve together, the better the chances that evolution will one day lead to revolution.

The general assembly convenes for Day 5 of Occupy Wall Street

I arrive and it’s beautiful. Everything is cleaner, more organized and more vibrant than I left it. Spirits are high in the General Assembly (GA) and even nature is cooperating, lending us a little sunlight. Since Justin was arrested yesterday for using a megaphone the GA has adopted a system of self-amplification referred to as the “people’s microphone.” A new speaker begins by testing the volume – “MIKE CHECK!” and everyone within hearing distance echoes in unison: “MIKE CHECK!” People are becoming accustomed to speaking in brief, clear, beats and hearing their words reflected back to them by their peers – a democratic improvement on the megaphone. As one cardboard sign says, REVOLUTION IS EVOLUTION.

A riveting message from the finger-painting station

The GA welcomes back one of yesterday’s arrestees, who reports that she was hospitalized after the NYPD denied her access to prescription medication and told her she was suicidal when she demanded information about her brother, who was also arrested. A member of the medical team tells me another arestee has deep wounds where his wrists were bound with zip-ties so tight that police officers had to use needle-nosed pliers to sever them, further mauling his wrists in the process. Everyone who has been arrested during our peaceful protest has returned to Liberty Plaza upon being released.

A GA facilitator asks for a “vibes check:” we signal good vibes all around. People are naturally and intuitively adopting the many hand gestures we’ve developed to communicate: “I agree/I feel good about that”, “I disagree/I feel bad about that”, “I have a direct response,” “I block

One of the many services available in Liberty Square

that idea,” “point of process,” “point of information,” “shorten your sentences,” and “I’d like to be put on the speakers’ stack.” The young woman taking stack informs us that most of the speakers thus far have been men, and asks if any non-male identifying participants would like to speak. Grateful for the invitation, I take the opportunity to wish everyone a happy International Peace Day and announce a rally to support Bradley Manning organized by CODEPINK and other peace groups for this Friday. People take fliers and signal their support by wiggling their fingers towards the sky. In Liberty Plaza, we are all Bradley Manning.

CODEPINK and the Granny Peace Brigade: partners in peace

As people are leaving work we march on Wall Street, led by the bombastic musical stylings of the Rude Mechanical Orchestra. I march with Eva-Lee, a seasoned CODEPINKer and member of the Granny Peace Brigade. She is in awe of what young people are doing and says it’s unlike any other demonstration she’s experienced:

“it’s the process even more than the issues. I’m just blown away by how people are treating each other!”

Quiet hours in Liberty Plaza: Make Out Not War

During the evening GA the Principles Committee passes around copies of a framework they’ve prepared for discussion: “Principles of Solidarity [Working Draft of Consolidated points for Discussion].” Someone voices a concern: the media is so desperate for any kind

of statement from us that they will take this and use it to represent us. The point resonates with the GA. I share the concern that the document

will be misinterpreted as a set of demands, which continue to be the focal point for most interviewers asking me about the demonstration, and decide not to post my photo of the document online.

A member of the committee, who tells us he stayed up until 3 am drafting the document, responds to the questions ermerging from the GA. His words resound through the plaza, as the people’s microphone brings us back together:

I know this is challenging // “I know this is challenging”
But I love you all // “but I love you all”
And we can do this. // “and we can do this.”
You can reject the draft // “You can reject the draft”
You can reject the committee // “you can reject the committee”
What’s important// “what’s important”
Is to stick this through.// “is to stick this through.”
We’ll make 100 drafts// “We’ll make 100 drafts”
If you think this is worth a try// “If you think this is worth a try”
A step in the right direction// “A step in the right direction”
We can try it.// “We can try it.”
We can always try again// “We can always try again”
Start anew// “Start anew”
But it’s too important// “But it’s too important”
To not try.// “To not try.”
We will not sleep// “We will not sleep”
Until we can give you something // “Until we can give you something”
That proudly identifies// “That proudly identifies”
What you’re doing // “what you’re doing”
Which is fucking amazing. // “Which is fucking amazing.”

The GA break into small groups to discuss the document. At 9:50 pm someone interrupts with an emergency announcement: Jerry of Ben and Jerry’s has donated 4 cases of ice cream to the demonstration.

We are all Troy Davis

As we continue to hash out the principles, people bring around tray after tray of small bowls of rum raisin, chocolate, and cookie dough. Throughout the GA people have been circulating to distribute apples and collect trash

. I continue to be amazed at how this rag-tag collection of unemployed, underemployed,

debt-ridden souls manages to feed thousands of people and accomplish what our government does not: caring for each other’s basic needs and engaging in true democracy. The twitter hashtag #needsoftheoccupiers solicits everything from independent journalists to extension cords to birthday cake:

“@OccupyWallStNYC: Member of legal team’s wife’s birthday. He spent it here defending us. Can somebody send a cake here tomorrow? #needsoftheoccupiers”

At 10:33 pm we receive another emergency announcement: someone has just learned via text message that Troy Davis will be executed in 20 minutes. The announcement chills the square, as his last words resonate through our bodies and voices:

The struggle for justice// “The struggle for justice”
Doesn’t end with me. // “Doesn’t end with me.”
This struggle // “This struggle”
Is for all the Troy Davises who came before me // “Is for all the Troy Davises who came before me”
And all the ones who will come after me. //“And all the ones who will come after me.”
Keep working // “Keep working”
Keep the faith. // “Keep the faith.”

We have a moment of silence. I take the hands of the once-strangers sitting on either side of me. I hear people crying. Rain starts to fall. The peoples’ microphone speaks:

We are the 99% // “We are the 99%”
We are all Troy Davis// “We are all Troy Davis”
May his soul fly high // “May his soul fly high”
And may his spirit be with each one of us // “And may his spirit be with each one of us.”

Some decide to march to the courthouse. We make sure they are accompanied by a camera and a member of the legal team and send them on their way.

Be Safe // “Be safe”
Be careful // “Be careful”
Go with our love // “Go with our love”

It’s well after midnight. We have not made it through the Principles of Solidarity – at least not on paper. More food arrives: delicious-looking salads, snacks, fruit and vegetable smoothies. The friendly people in our new-and-improved kitchen station promote their offerings, ask what else we need (nothing – we have more than enough!) and encourage everyone to eat. No-one will go hungry in Liberty Plaza. I see the bike bloc leaving for their nightly run and signal with my bell I’d like to join them. They wait patiently as the marchers return and people light candles. I hear the people’s mic propose changing the name of Liberty Plaza to Troy Davis Square.

Police look on as the 99% try to get some rest

We ride past the line of police guarding the metal barricades still blocking Wall Street: me in my pink, Joe at my side in rainbow knee-high stockings. The scene reminds me of an iconic image of a CODEPINKer piercing through a line of riot police with a smile and a pink feather boa — an inspiring symbol of our power to disarm the military industrial complex with humor and positive energy. I sail through the financial district with renewed faith in our mission to bring our war dollars home where they belong and resist the endless funding of death and destruction.

The police may have succeeded in occupying Wall Street with fear and violence, but we have succeeded in exposing their commitment to protecting corporate greed over human need. Together with our friends in Liberty Plaza, we are creating an alternative, peaceful, vision based on beauty, joy, and hope.

We are the 99%, and we are winning.

CODEPINK NYC and the Granny Peace Brigade partnered for peace at The East Harlem Youth Fair, sponsored by Councilwomen Melissa Mark-Viverito, Tuesday August 30th. We engaged the community with information about the cost of war, truth in military recruitment, and non-military options for youth after high school.  Ms Gizmo provided an opportunity for local taxpayers to determine how they would distribute their tax dollars for community needs – providing reflective moments of decision. A review of the government tax allocation pie chart, which show the actual allocation of taxes for 2012, leads to discussions about the dismal distribution of tax $$s to social and community programs and the whopping amount allocation to past and present war costs.  Comments include: Cuts, cuts, cuts to local services, can’t get an affordable apartment in East Harlem, a high school student can’t get a job and needs to work, a young boy wants art in his school.  Youth, parents, neighbors stop at the “Truth or Myth” poster display to consider the issues of military enlistment.  Participating in the interactive Q & A experience, many are not sure about the effects of post traumatic stress disorder, or treatment of girls in the military, or what kind of skill training they might get.  The fact that an enlistee signs a contract for 8 years is a big surprise to most.  “No way. I just want to get a job or some money for college.” The handout, Options for Life After High School, offers non-military alternatives to review as well as financial aid, scholarships and community service.  Lots to consider and so much to learn.

All those who stopped by the table were encouraged to fill in a sign – Make ? Not War. This activity was well received, and signs indicated such choices as: Make – friends, peace, cakes, love, and happiness.  Now wouldn’t that be just wonderful?

NEW YORK CITY — AIG is selling its Manhattan offices here — and local taxpayers want their fair share of the deal!

Members of CODEPINK Women for Peace, Picture the Homeless, Green Party mayor candidate Rev. Billy and the Church of Life After Shopping, and others will march at 12 p.m. April 15 to the on-the-market AIG offices to claim their rightful 80 percent stake in the company, granted to them through the government’s $170 billion bailout with taxpayer money. Since the building is selling for $100 million, they say, the American people deserve their $80 million now.

“AIG can’t be trusted to manage what are now public assets, including its building at 70 Pine Street,” said Mark Read, a carpenter from Brooklyn and event organizer. “For all we know, they’ll use the proceeds from the sale of the building to pay for more bonuses and perks for the guys who drove the economy into a ditch.  We ought to have a say in how AIG’s money gets spent, and we think it ought to go to the people that are suffering as a result of AIG’s recklessness and greed:  the foreclosed upon and the homeless.”

The crowd, with 1040 forms as proof of purchase in hand, will call for their $80 million to be used as restitution for Americans left homeless through foreclosures and job loss due to the economic meltdown. One in every 440 homes received a foreclosure filing in February 2009, according to RealtyTrac’s 2009 U.S. Foreclosure Market Report,and foreclosures jumped 30 percent between February 2008 and 2009.  According to the Department of Labor, 4.6 million jobs have been lost in 2008 and 2009.

For more information, please call Dana Balicki, CODEPINK campaign coordinator, at 202-422-8624 and Mark Read, event co-organizer, at 917-776-8847