apostrophenow

On February 29th, an anti-Arpaio/anti-287(g) march was staged in central Phoenix.

Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio (aka "the Toughest Sheriff in America") has drawn comparisons to "Bull" Connor, the lawman/segregationist who brutalized Civil Rights era demonstrators in Alabama. Local academics have expressed the opinion that Arizona is "on the cutting edge of hate". Sorry, SGAZ - you guys are out of touch with the streets.

I've never been a bleeding heart; I'm not exactly an anarchist type, either. I've spent a little time in Arpaio's jails, and most of the people who work for him are assholes of the highest caliber. A lot of folks are claiming the Sheriff's policies towards immigrants are racist. I'm inclined to believe it.






The march began with a rally at Steele Indian School Park. There was no small amount of ranting and raving. The atmosphere was rather jovial, overall. I don't really know what I was expecting; I didn't expect it to be fun. There was some light entertainment to psych up the crowd; some acoustic acts and a guy who rapped in Spanish. The undercover cops who roamed the crowd were mellow. Later, I read about a marcher who was arrested for carrying a sign that was interpreted as a death-threat to Sheriff Arpaio.

There were people representing the Tohono O'odham Nation there; Native Americans with close ties to the Hispanic community. They performed a ritual prayer and dance ceremony. This took me by surprise. The Native Americans I've seen express their opinions online generally don't give a shit about Mexicans. The vast majority of Mexicans have aboriginal ancestry. This pisses off some "Indians" on this side of the border for some reason.










The gray-hair-pony-tailed gentleman is a well-known immigration rights activist and could probably be considered one of Sheriff Arpaio's Arch-enemies. The guy in the orange shirt is one of the leaders of Arizona State University's MEChA chapter.



That's Zack de la Rocha, who lent his name in the promotion of the proceedings to drum up support as well as garner more media coverage. He's actually a pretty low-key kind of guy and apparently didn't address the crowd 'til the march was done. I missed that part, I'm told it wasn't that profound.









At one point, my cousin, who'd talked me into coming to the march, nudged me and motioned his elbow at a dude walking a pit bull past the column of marchers - a slight distance apart from us. He didn't stand out because he was white, there were a considerable amount of white people participating in the march. The dude stood out because he bared white power tattoos up and down his arms. He seemed to look straight ahead, and at the same time he seemed to want to see the crowd close up. He walked along silently, and no one said a word to him. The dog was well-behaved.






The following day's newspapers claimed there were about 4,000 marchers and about 150 counter demonstrators. 150 is a gross exaggeration. I estimated between 30 and 40. Maybe the reporters counted the would-be hecklers behind tinted glass riding the light rail trains that meandered past; some giving us the thumbs-down sign. We were warned by the organizers not to engage the counter demonstrators, but there was a contingent of young people determined to take them on: a mix of activists, hip hop kids and skate-punks who missed out on the WTO riots. I say let the Fraggles play.












After the march, my cousin and I stood in the shade of a building across the street from the courtyard where the marchers had congregated, eating Mexican popsicles sold by an opportunistic street vendor who, coincidentally or not, spoke no English. "Official" speeches were being given to close out the event, but we couldn't tell what was being said or by whom. There was a chili-eating festival going on nearby, and for a moment the masses awkwardly intersected; all precept of ethnicity and political inclination briefly screwed up. We were weary. We retreated to Lo-Lo's for some soul food.








When we seated ourselves inside Lo-Lo's, we took notice of a white couple at the table next to us. The dude sort of smirked at us. Their similarity to the demographic of the counter demonstrators who opposed the march was not lost on me, and for a moment I wondered and tried not to stare back. While we ordered and waited for our food, the white couple finished up their meal, quietly conversed amongst themselves, got up and left. My cousin was like, "D'you think they recognized us from the march?" I said "No. Why would rednecks come here?" In that instance, we were no different than the jack-booted thugs guilty of racial-profiling brown people somewhere else on the other side of town.