I recently discussed Occupy Wall Street and my experiences travelling across the United States visiting camps and activists with the Canadian radio show Public Eye. I spoke with political columnist Sean Holman, and our chat was broadcast on Victoria’s CFAX 1070. To listen to our conversation, click here.

Protester Rey Ramirez holds a sign at the Occupy ICE rally in Los Angeles. Thursday, December 15, 2011.

Note: I’m currently travelling across the United States and writing about activism in America. I’m only posting short pieces here; for more in-depth work, please visit Awinterofdiscontent.com.

“Aqui Estamos,

Y no, nos vamos,

Y si nos hechan,

Nos regresamos.”

“We’re here, we’re not leaving, and if we do, we’ll be back.” It was a phrase chanted constantly and passionately by the 2000 citizens who marched on the Los Angeles Federal Building this past Thursday as part of Occupy ICE. They gathered to protest U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, whose policies marchers say split up immigrant families and keep undocumented workers living in fear.

Outreach from the Occupy movement to the immigrant population was seen across the nation this past weekend. “Immigrants Occupy” marches took place yesterday in New York, and there have been rallies over the past few days in support of immigration reform in Orange County, San Francisco, San Diego and Portland, Oregon.

The Occupy ICE march reaches the Los Angeles Federal Buildings.

Undocumented workers are without a doubt a part of the 99 percent, and there are many individuals without legal status in the U.S. that refrain from actively participating in these marches and protests for fear of legal repercussions.

“I know for a fact there are undocumented workers that are not here today because they’re afraid of ICE and being deported,” said protester Rey Ramirez, who is also involved in Occupy Clairmont.   “These people are a part of the 99 percent and are even more taken advantage of than most: they are living in fear.”

Ruth, 29, is a member of the SCIU union and is a long-term care worker. Her brother-in-law was deported to Mexico two years ago, and she now takes care of her sister and niece. “We’re fighting for immigrant rights,” said Ruth. “I’m an American citizen, and we’re here to make a difference.”

Ruth, centre, with two friends.

As has been stated ad nauseam, this is a diverse movement with diverse goals, and, as winter wears on and public interest wanes, it is movement that could clearly benefit from a surge in numbers. Reaching out to the 12 to 20 million undocumented workers in the U.S. who likely strongly identify with many of Occupy’s goals could be a wise move.

Yet this march mirrors a larger trend within the movement: the cooption of smaller splinter groups with specific demands that orchestrate individual direct actions under the umbrella of Occupy. This march was far more organized than any I’ve seen so far, likely due to the support provided by those well practiced in direct action – trade unions like the SEIU United Services Workers West, and social justice organizations like ANSWER, an antiwar and racism coalition. The press release distributed at the march highlighting its agenda was on SEIU letterhead, and both organizations regularly champion the immigration reform issues being addressed.

A protester shouts in Spanish into a bullhorn at the Occupy ICE rally.

Occupy’s new focus on diverse direct actions was born of necessity. The camps, when they existed, provided a focal point and home base from which to grow and disseminate ideologies. They also provided a clearer structure, and were a novel way of challenging authority that eventually resulted in both political and public attention. They also provoked dramatic police action, a narrative of the movement that, for better or worse, has been followed more closely than anything else that has happened within Occupy so far.

Now those camps are mostly gone, and in their place these smaller groups are continuing to champion individual causes. But while people marching in the streets for immigration reform is a valid and important action, it is something the media and the public have seen before. And while those marching on Thursday drew a strong connection between Occupy’s stated goal of ending the greed and corruption of the 1% –  that ICE serves the desires of the corporate 1% by union busting, for example – it may be more difficult for the general public to make that connection.

Specific interest groups performing actions like the march this past Thursday likely aren’t hurting Occupy, but they’ll only contribute to the growth of the movement if they eventually find a way to come together and speak with one voice.

Eric Richardson, Zuccotti Park, November 16, 2011.

“This is my job: to make sure that when people come here, they achieve some form of clarity.”

Eric Richardson is a dedicated elocutionist for the Occupy Wall Street Movement. Standing in a dripping wet Zuccotti Park the day after the now famous Bloomberg eviction, Richardson keeps his stylish leather jacket dry beneath a thin layer of clear plastic. His voice is hoarse from overuse, but that doesn’t keep him from actively searching out media and visitors and delivering long answers to pointed questions, answers rich with abstract metaphors about Occupy Wall Street and its future.

“We still have our place,” says Richardson of the eviction. “It has not been diminished – it has only increased. They removed the tents, but in place of the tents, came the people.” He asks if I’ve seen a copy of that day’s New York Times, then describes the photo on the cover; an image of Zuccotti Park, filled front to back with people, or as Richardson describes it: “People standing from the very front row to the very back, the place being completely occupied, with bodies. Not tents or tarps – humans.”

Richardson has the air of preacher utterly assured of the existence of god. And like most preachers, his words are practiced: “This is a human struggle,” he says, raising his face to look at the brightly yellowing leaves overhead. “It’s more than a fiscal struggle or a political struggle, it is a human struggle against tyranny.”

Richardson was inspired to join the movement after following it in the newspapers. He was working two jobs at the time, primarily as a promotion coordinator for the Bronx landmark paradise theatre, a 5000-person concert venue. After visiting the park, Richardson noticed what he describes as a need for people “who communicate easily.” Richardson considers himself one of these people, and decided to put his skills to use by moving into the camp and spreading its gospel. He’d been living here for a month when he was evicted on November 15.

Serving as a voice of a leaderless movement lacking a concrete set of demands requires a certain amount of ambiguity, and Richardson is excellent at describing in generalities the sentiments of OWS:

“This place, it cannot be undone: it is now the classroom for liberty. You want to learn about liberty? You have to come see us. Because you don’t know what liberty is. You never had it. You might have achieved financial freedom, which means you can make certain purchases, or you have a certain amount of credit score, but that does not determine whether or not you are truly free.”

Or:

“This is a battle of beautiful chaos, of creative geniuses, of fools, of ludicrous demands. If you ask some of these people what their demands are, they’re going to say things no one will ever be able to provide, and that’s because there’s no compromise. Everyone must be made whole.”

Richardson maintains that it is too early to move beyond these generalizations; the movement is still in its infancy and needs time to develop and become organized before it can take on the established order of things in a cohesive and strategized way. His sentiment is echoed by former New York Times stringer and OWS supporter Natasha Lennard, who, in a Salon editorial about why she can no longer remain an objective reporter, expressed the overarching theme of OWS as “FUCK THIS SHIT,” a broad expression of discontent that a wide array of Americans can likely get on board with.

Richardson also fears strict demands will be used against the movement: “A stringent list of demands only gives them cannon fodder,” he says, a look of slight annoyance flashing across his face as I asked him what exactly OWS wants. “These are the most organized people in the world. Look at the latest bill you got in the mail – they don’t miss a thing. To approach this from the standpoint that you’re going to be more organized than them, or that you’re going to have more contingency plans than them, or provide more logistics than them, you’ve already lost that battle.”

Richardson – like most of the media-friendly OWS regulars – seems to ascribe to the theory that keeping things extremely general will make the movement attractive to the widest possible demographic. This air of inclusiveness will help build the public support needed to arm the movement for real beauracratic battles down the road.

In the meantime, Richardson expresses his presence thusly: “I’m here for the uplifting of humanity, aren’t you?”

Note: I’m currently travelling across the United States and writing about activism in America. I’m only posting short pieces here; for more in-depth work, please visit Awinterofdiscontent.com.

At lunchtime on a drizzly November 17, New York Police clashed violently with Occupy Wall Street protesters in Zuccotti Park. One protester suffered a bloody head wound in the confrontation; an officer was reportedly stabbed in the hand. In every street or square where police and protesters met that day, shouts of “You’re on the wrong side of history,” and “Shame!” could be heard.

Yet inside the warm, dry McDonalds just a half block west of the park on Broadway at that exact moment, protesters and police were getting along swimmingly. They stood in line together, respectfully waiting their turn to order Big Macs and McChicken sandwiches before saying “excuse me” as they made their way to chow down on their salty purchases side-by-side at plastic tables.

Perhaps this exhibition of tolerance reveals how tidily protesters and police slip into their expected roles once “the whole world is watching,” and then back out of them once the whole world is not. On the streets during a day of protest, the expectation of animosity breeds confrontation. But McDonalds is apparently no place for social unrest, unless it is the actual McDonalds being protested, and on this day, it was not (there are apparently more than a few OWS protesters who see no hypocrisy in decrying corporate power while at the same time patronizing McDonalds).

This behaviour also seems to reinforce the protesters’ constant chanted assertion that the police are just as much a part of the 99% as anyone else. As long as the police aren’t taking away their right to assemble, there’s no need for animosity.

Outside of McDonalds it’s a performance, and a necessary one, but one that ends when the players step off the stage and into the food court. This isn’t to say the performance isn’t real, but it’s fascinating to see how quickly the polarization can melt away with a simple change of venue and a growling stomach.

Note: I’m currently travelling across the United States and writing about activism in America. I’m only posting short pieces here; for more in-depth work, please visit Awinterofdiscontent.wordpress.com.

Wednesday November 16, 2011, noon.

It’s raining in Zuccotti Park. A hundred or so steadfast protesters and a fleet of officers in florescent green vests mill about the now spotless stone ground that two days ago was nearly invisible beneath a tarps, tents, and signs.

By now it’s old news that in the early hours of Tuesday morning, that police in riot gear moved in and cleared the Occupy Wall Street encampment two days before its two month anniversary.

The eviction has been relatively poorly documented by the media for a number of reasons, one likely being that reporters were allegedly restrained from accompanying the police as they moved to empty the square. Several reporters that did remain to observe the eviction were arrested.

A day and a half later, there are still people here, but not many. And compared to a busy Sunday a month ago, the crowd feels more fringy, more hardcore, perhaps a little less middle of the road.

People are visibly tired. A man occupying from Honolulu named Fredrick described being evicted from the park a day ago, at times losing his words, and then admitting he’d only had one or two hours of sleep a night for the past couple weeks. “I was being interviewed by CNN yesterday, and I really don’t know what I said, I’m so tired,” he said, a salvaged and taped together umbrella in one hand and a piece of cheese pizza – courtesy of OWS – in the other.

The movement, at least here in New York, is at a crossroads.  And New York is the obvious epicenter of this now global call to action.

Can a movement based on occupation sustain its momentum without a consistent space to occupy? Much of the power of Occupy has come not from clear demands, or even commanding numbers, but from the simple, constant, undeniable presence of those involved. In the absence of a physical occupation, a new focal point needs to emerge.

Tomorrow is a planned day of action, which has been outlined as follows on the OWS website: 7am, shut down Wall Street before trading starts, 3pm, occupy the subway, 5pm, occupy the Brooklyn Bridge.

While maintaining public awareness of the movement is imperative if it is to maintain its momentum, it also seems like disrupting the delicate flow of New York City on a weekday has the potential to win Occupy more enemies than followers among the 99%.

Tomorrow could be a big day: it may reveal whether the public is ready for this whole Occupy thing to just go away, or if – as the protesters are hoping – the 99% stands behind them.

I spoke with a lot of people about the matters outlined above at the now extremely clean Zuccotti Square today. Their thoughts and stories will be posted here on Friday.  In the meantime, here are their faces.

Occupy Toronto lands on Bay Street tomorrow. My thoughts about the protest are complicated, but my feeling around the conversation it’s provoking are not. I’ve heard people who’ll do anything to avoid talking about politics, economics or social justice spend hours expounding on the merits of this protest. I’ll be covering the Occupy Toronto for Metro on Monday, and will be in New York early next week to see what’s happening on Wall Street.

Boylesque gets cheeky (from my "Urban Compass" column)

Since wrapping up several in-depth medical articles (on Lyme disease and other medical controversies), I’ve turned my attention to the fabulousness that is Toronto in the sweaty months. My new column in Metro Toronto (“Urban Compass“) gets me out of the office and onto the street, where I’ve met and interrogated a T-shirt maker with a purpose, a professional conspiracy theorist, the author of 500 love letters, and a team of male burlesque dancers, among many other delightfully idiosyncratic characters. And thanks to a few assignments for the city section of the newly revamped The Grid, I’ve eaten fancy sausages, slurped oysters and watched a nun strip down to a naughty devil’s outfit. Now it’s back to medicine for the next couple of months, though I imagine I’ll make time for the occasional boozy trivia night (appearing in Metro Toronto on July 4th) and a dirty bingo game or two (appearing in the July 7th issue of The Grid).

Paradise lost (my meadowy backyard...but now)

I’ve been doing my best to pretend I don’t live in Toronto while the inclement weather passes through.  As a West Coast transplant, I have yet to acclimatize, so I figured back in October it might be best to skip the snow while the days are short and dark. I’ve been doing a lot of online work for Toronto Life and Chatelaine lately, which has made my office a little more mobile, so I decided November would be the perfect time to do a little travel writing in Mexico for the National Post (appearing February 12). Since then I’ve been mostly in Vancouver, working on a couple of pieces for Reader’s Digest. But now I’m back, and I’ll frolic in this white stuff until it mercifully melts. Which will be soon, I hope. Those lawn chairs are starting to look lonely.

They make me get up at 6:00 a.m.

I’ve taken on the task of writing the morning newsstand for the Torontoist twice a week. Every Monday and alternating Thursdays and Saturdays, I bring you the previous day’s headlines with attempted mirth and and just a dash of pith. It’s a nice way for me to stay on top of the news while also ensuring that I write 600 words before 7:30 a.m. twice a week. Also, they let me be cheeky. Here’s a sample from today.

My home office.

I’m a firm believer that each individual can complain about one season, and one season only. I’m tired of hearing, “Brrr, I’m freezing, it’s just so hard living in Toronto in the winter,” and then six months later witnessing a complete 180 to the tune of,  ”Aw man! Will this heat wave ever end? I am shvitzing out here! Life is just so hard…”

As those who share my abode can attest, I’ve chosen to adore summer over winter, heat over cold, and light over darkness. But let’s cut to the chase: this is all  just a longwinded explanation of why I haven’t updated my website since, uh, May 25. Look, my home office (see above) started sprouting and flowering around then, and the company of friends and a glass of Pinot Grigio was so overwhelmingly more enticing than the company of my laptop that I decided to spend as much time as I could in the hot real world, rather than in the tepid virtual one.

But better late than never, right? It’s been a sweltering one, and I’ve covered music festivals, musicians, and poet bloggers for the National Post; trailblazing lawyers and their beautiful homes for Precedent; exercise and motivation for Chatelaine, and a whole whack of other stuff that has yet to see the light of day.

I’m also currently working on a number of medical features for Reader’s Digest, due out in early 2011. Stay tuned!