Editor’s note: This post originally appeared at Occupy LA.

New York, NY–I ran like a fleeting shadow up a dark New York City street. All about me was the occupation.  Not the “take a plane to NY and lounge around Zuccotti Park for the afternoon on the One Year Anniversary of OWS” crowd.  This was the night-time Birthday March to Times Square on the night of September 16^th, 2012–a hardcore crowd.  It was unlike any other occupation experience that I’ve ever had.  What is the occupation?  Who are you people?  Tonight those questions would be answered to me in a more profound way.  We’re the glue that holds American society together.  The playful spirits who appear, not with violence nor its threat, but with a vision of how the world could be—and act on it.  But all around us on this march were dozens and dozens of NYPD cops on foot, in cars, in vans, on motorcycles, etc., to keep, in a sense, Queen Hippolyta’s order.  But as Bottom’s head was transformed into an ass—magic was soon to be squeezed into the cops’ and the world’s eyes.

At the head of our column was Puck.  That’s not his real name, of course, but still apropos.  His delight in playing pranks on these foolish mortals no less than the enchanting sprite.  We took off from Zuccotti Park on a trek to Times Square—many, many blocks away—to be there when the figurative ball would drop on our one-year-old world.  Night time, long urban march, lines of riot cops, the press nowhere in sight—this is where things get violent quickly.  But you wouldn’t know it from observing Puck.  It was as if, literally, he was from a different world.  He’d wander this way, that way, ahead of the group, behind the group, but he was leading us.  Not like the NYPD Commander leading his troops a few feet away.  It wasn’t just that the local occupiers would defer to him at key points—an undercover cop could pick up on that—if they could get this close to us.

No, this was different.  We weren’t being sucked up a river like in Apocalypse Now.  We were being compelled forward, by an unseen energy as if from the shadows, much like what compelled us all to show up in the tents last year.  A sense that the order of the world was against the common man and something must be done to change how the people around us see the world.  What would Puck squeeze into their eyes?  We were about to find out.  We were hippies and trouble-makers to many of the cops on this march.  Would we make asses of them?  We are America.  Just as the Tea Party is also, but we’re very proud of our inclusiveness.  The Tea Party panders to peoples’ dark side, their fears, intolerance, selfishness, etc.  Preaching loudly to their flocks, but then shying away when the mainstream media arrives.  At the end, in the glow of Times Square, celebrating the fact that we’re still going strong, even the cops seemed uncomfortable, out of place.

The march came to a pause by Macy’s.  “We have to keep moving!”  It was Puck’s voice.  Suddenly, very much in this world.  Our “escort” of motorcycle cops slowed also, sheepishly staring at us from their bikes.  BEEP, CRACKLE, WAIL.  The strangest sounds will pop out of some of these police vehicles.  Occupation marches are like snakes.  They coil and contract.  Punkish girls with red, white and blue spiked hair, teens with backpacks pockmarked with political and social buttons, glistening young eyes above bandit-strewn bandanas.  But NY is very different from LA.  Where are the U-Streamers?  I could swear that I’m one of the only people taking photos while the group’s moving—still and video.  The group “coiled” forward.  A chant began: “We are unstoppable!  Another world is possible!”  Over and over, echoing throughout the Manhattan canyons.  And then–and then–there it was.  Glowing in the distance.  Times Square.  The pace of the march picked up.  The cycles dropped off and lines of cops on foot would take over.  STOMP, STOMP, STOMP.  Puck would be here, then there, then disappear.  Closer.  Wow!  Talk about lights.  Story after story of commercial ads packed with models up into the dark sky.  It was then that the real symbolism of this march became clear to me.  Yes, be where the ball drops at our midnight, but also be at the center of the over-commercialization of American society.  We flooded into the center of the square as if from another world, and we are, aren’t we?  We speak the truth when your normal world of TV channels and news rags seem morally empty.

A cake appeared, as if by magic.  Occupiers delighted in taking a bite, though there were no forks.  The police formed rings around us.  We ignored them.  Our eyes were on the figurative ball in the sky Puck had brought us here to imagine.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, Puck sat down.  Others joined him.  5, 4, 3, 2, and then Puck spoke.  It wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard from an occupier before.  Why we were still here after a year…  What we’d accomplished…  But in my mind’s eye I heard: Why the potion had worked that we’d all squeezed into society’s eyes.  How people stopped focusing on distractions such as whether or not to raise the debt-ceiling limit, but on the reality of the plight of our very real fellow Americans whom we care about deeply—who have been deceived by the serpent’s tongue of the ultra-rich.  After Puck’s speech, the crowd dissipated and even the cops fell away—as if the occupation had been a dream.  Puck from NYC, Nowhere Man from Hollywood, all of us “meddling fairies” vanished back into the semi-darkness of Manhattan like shadows who’d overstayed their welcome in the mortal world of driven, but dishonest men.  But all of us, Puck included, had one phrase on our minds.  “We’ll be back.”  We are the pressure in society to make amends.

I’ll let Shakespeare’s Puck (a.k.a. Robin Goodfellow) have the last word:

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding, but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck,
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Occupy!

-Nowhere Man-

New York, NY–Recently someone asked me if it was true that most people that joined Occupy did so for “selfish” reasons, meaning their lost home, lack of steady employment or underutilized college degree. I told her I thought for some it might have started that way, but Occupy was a place where those people had encountered others like them, where they had built a community, and where they had come to understand that their personal grievances were tied to a larger structural failure.

These words now echo in my mind as I sit in the freezing darkness of the Rockaways, after less than a week of relief work with the communities here that were devastated by superstorm Sandy.

I’m sitting in the dark under the light of a tiny flashlight writing from the second floor of my beloved friend Heather’s house. I hear the buzzing of an infinite line of ambulances brought from all over the country by FEMA as they burn precious gas outside waiting in line to evacuate seniors from a nursing home in preparation for a new storm coming our way tomorrow.

I still remember all the work we put into fixing up this house when my friend decided to move out here last summer. I took the long train ride out here a couple of times to help her rip off carpeting, tweeze out staples from the floor, stop by the beach for a quick swim and then back to painting walls and building a library. So much work went into making this house a home.

Today I walked in surrounded by total darkness, to find myself in an emptied out living room. Around the corner, a hub of kindness and solidarity has been built in the last few days as Occupy Sandy Relief set up shop in order to put words into action and show what mutual aid really looks like.

It almost sounds unnecessary to recount the myriad encounters of the last few days, and the stories that accompany the flood of strangers that have become brothers and sisters in this enormous effort. I don’t want to fetishize their need or glorify our instinctive desire to lend a hand.

I just came out here to help my friend clean her house after the strong winds and high waters battered it, my friends from Occupy just happened to be around the corner.

Perhaps it’s just that the personal is political. Always. Blah, blah, blah.

I could hardly care less who my overlords are by tomorrow.

All I know is, there’s a storm coming tomorrow, and I need to make sure everyone is safe and warm.

-Sofia Gallisa Muriente-

New York, NY–After trying and failing to volunteer with a bunch of established organizations, I finally found Occupy Sandy — and more specifically, Astoria Recovers. Within hours of adding my name to a Google Doc on their site, I was offered a ride out to the Rockaways with a neighbor I’d never met. Five of us drove out to the firehouse on Beach 58th St. on Sunday morning with supplies that made sense, thanks to Occupy Sandy’s list of what was really needed (batteries, flashlights, toiletries, cleaning materials, and the like).

The folks at the firehouse directed us to St. Gertrude’s on Beach 38th St. Even though the church had itself suffered major damage, they were running quite an efficient operation, marshaling dozens of volunteers to get food, clothing, and supplies to people in the hard-hit neighborhood. In fact, things were run so well that we felt a little superfluous. So when a local woman grabbed one of us on the sidewalk and asked for help cleaning up her little storefront church around the corner, we took her up on it.

The five of us spent a couple of hours ripping up the church’s ruined carpet in semi-darkness, with only a Leatherman for a tool. We hauled the carpet scraps to the sidewalk to await the sanitation trucks. As we left, a group of church members shook our hands and thanked us profusely. They still have a long way to go toward recovery, but we were glad we could help in some small way.

The damage in the Rockaways was so staggering that I can’t stop thinking about it — or trying to help. Today I brought some mops and work gloves to a drop-off site in Astoria, then spent a few hours sorting donated clothes at a local gym. Tomorrow I’ll be part of a group making hot meals for delivery from northwest Queens to our neighbors in the southeast. It’s not enough — it couldn’t possibly be enough — but it certainly feels more helpful than sitting on my couch and watching horrific images on TV.

Thank you, Occupy Sandy. I am proud to be a part of this group.

-Susan-

Read more #OccupySandy Stories >>

New York, NY–My friend and I desperately wanted to get out and help in the Rockaways or Staten Island, but no one we knew had a car with gas. We decided to rent a car in Manhattan, drive to the Occupy Sandy hub and pick up more volunteers, and continue on to help. We picked up 3 extra volunteers and headed to what we thought was the Rockaways. A bad input on GPS sent us over the Verrazzano, so we quickly searched for opportunities on Staten Island. An occupy posting led us to a distribution center, who gave us a new address on Cuba Avenue. Here, several savvy 20-somethings were working like crazy in someone’s front yard to organize dozens of volunteers that were arriving, looking to help. I don’t know how they organized, or where the volunteers were coming from. But they were working frantically to help the community and keep everyone busy: sign in, get gloves, have a muffin, get your address, and get to work. And we were briefed in true Staten Island fashion: “Some people may say no at first. But they need your fucking help. They’ve got to clean up their shit, and you’re here to help them. So don’t fucking take no for an answer. (pause) But say it nicely.”

From there, our team helped a few families clean out their basements–families that days later were still clearly in shock with what had happened. They took our help immediately and gratefully. People were heartbroken but strong.

At the end of the tasks, they realized how much work got done with 10 pairs of hands instead of their own, and they couldn’t believe it. “How do you all know each other?” “We don’t.” I think that was one of the most surprising things to those we helped–that 10 strangers with a common goal of just helping people could work seamlessly to get a job done.

By the early afternoon, there were so many people in Staten Island that there wasn’t much to be done. The team on Cuba Avenue had organized the cleaning of over 50 homes in their neighborhood that morning. It wasn’t a lot, but collectively, hundreds of people helped a neighborhood clean up. Kudos to the team on Cuba Avenue who brought everyone together to make it happen.

-Anonymous-

Read more #OccupySandy Stories >>

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared at Occupy.net.

Occupy Wall Street participants have been pitching in all around the city. The below updates have been collected from coordination emails and Facebook status posts on Occupy Sandy’s facebook page. Shoot your relief stories to submissions@occupywallstreet.net and we will publish them as they roll in…..

Michael Premo: Rockaways

‘The air was thick with water spray and smoke…. a line for food at the community hub just opened tonight at B113th Street and Rockaway Blvd. We had the generator up and running with lights and served 60+ people warm food and distributed clothing, blankets (It’s cold tonight!) and supplies. We also met some really great new friends from the neighborhood. The FDNY continued to battle a fire throughout the evening behind us.’

Jackie Sheeler: Harlem

‘I made 60 sandwiches at home & gave them out to residents at Baruch Houses. NYCHA workers suggested a fire hydrant as a good place for food distribution, & they were right….people (were) carrying their  buckets & bottles of water up many flights of pitch-black stairs in the projects. Many of them are doing it for elderly or disabled neighbors as well as their own families. The few open bodegas can’t take food stamps (the card readers are out) and some of them are price-gouging. $8 for a half gallon of milk. Sickening.’

Timothy Wheldon: Chinatown

‘…many of us spent the entire day in Chinatown at the CAAAV office talking to residents; manning our portable generator/cell phone charging station; handing out food, water, flashlights, and batteries; and going door to door in buildings to make sure people are okay and have what they need.

At one point, almost ten cops came with their lights flashing to tell us we had to stop, because all the people on the sidewalk were creating a “safety hazard,” and they were worried about “rioting” and “theft of iPhones.” They said this was all in the name of “helping the community.”

They made several announcements to the crowd of residents to disperse, at no point letting us interpret what they were saying so that the crowd of mostly Chinese Mandarin/Cantonese/Fujianese speakers could understand what the cops were telling them.

We were able to negotiate with them to keep our adhoc relief center open, but it was a stark reminder of who actually keeps our communities strong and resilient–our residents and our neighborhood organizations who actually give a damn.

At no point did we see anyone else from a city agency, or any relief agency (Red Cross, where you and your billions at?), or any elected official’s office.

SO MUCH LOVE to CAAAV members, staff, volunteers, and supporters who came out today to help. I’m feeling very tender-hearted today towards the city that I love and its people who keep it going.’
Danette Chavis: Chinatown (Smith towers)

‘…Please inbox me as soon as you hear “electricity” has been restored in the area! I couldn’t get any information about it and went there personally this morning… (There are elderly tenants in those high rise building, in the dark, with no heat and the elevators are not working) The manager of La Guardia apartments told me they had just got the “cold water” turned on today, and the information they’re receiving about the “electricity” being restored in the buildings “keep changing”.’

Stephanie Johnstone: Chinatown

‘There is definitely still a great need for…especially humans to go door to door – there are so many people stranded (especially in the projects at Cherry St.) who are without food and water.  And those who could get down all the stairs often didn’t have clear information about what is going on or when power would be back on, etc….

…one woman, who barely spoke English said to/about us “This is why America is Number One.  Because it is built on love. People loving each other.”  I felt great warmth towards this woman, and also the statement is so layered, I don’t even know where to begin!’

Maria Gianas: Chinatown

‘We were there yesterday and although building doormen are saying they are knocking on doors, we contacted and gave bags of food and water to elderly residents who had not been contacted by anyone….especially on upper floors. Just show up with water and food and knock on doors. Give them time to get to the door!!!’

“Trick or Aid”: Greenpoint

‘North Brooklyn was hit hard in places too, but since many of us retained power and stayed dry, we may have a lot of resources direly needed by others…let’s go “trick or treating” for direly needed supplies. Wear your costumes–or don’t worry about it–but make sure to dress warm, it’s getting chilly out there!’

Daniel Florio: Central Jersey

‘Call for assistance: I’ve had no power since Mon night. We’ve been using a generator for my respirator and the boiler.

Will run out of fuel tomorrow and there doesn’t seem to be any in the area. My brother has tried many gas stations today! If anyone in N or Central Jersey can get cans of gas please do so! I live in Maplewood, but someone in my family could pick it up from you if necessary. I don’t have Internet or phone access.

UPDATE: I’m literally overwhelmed by the generous response from friends, acquaintances, and strangers to my posting asking for gas. I’m just now in a place a few towns away from home with internet access, so I literally haven’t started reading all of your posts. I’ll respond and thank you all individually when I’m better able, but I’m very grateful for your thoughts and concrete steps to help alike.

I now have enough gas for a couple more days, and there are some solid leads on getting more…. Thanks to my Aunt Elaine for the acting as Coordinator. This role was sprung upon her, and we had no idea how daunting the magnitude of the response would make this task. Thanks again, and hope you’re all safe.’

Udi Pladott: Rockaway

‘I would (send) some pictures of what I saw at Far Rockaway, but since the entire place is smothered in utter darkness, there’s little to see. You couldn’t really fully grasp it from the pictures, without breathing in the smell of recently burnt down city blocks. The scene is post-apocalyptic: entire streets blocked with huge pieces of the boardwalk thrown around like you would cast a bunch of tooth picks on your dinner table; some streets are just not passable with a conventional car because there is no remnant of the pavement; countless cars lying on the street at odd angles, some perched on top of other cars; more than anything – entire city blocks completely lifeless, without even the flicker of candle lights in the windows. But then, in the midst of all that, there are small groups of people huddled together, either around a bonfire, or around a generator. They need food. They need blankets. They need flashlights and batteries, and so much more. Some of them just really appreciate knowing that they’re not forgotten. They thanked us for simply being there.’

Point Breeze Volunteer Fire Department: Rockaways

‘PBFD firehouse has severe damage we lost most of our equipment, our 2 engines are still operational but on borrowed time, we lost a Chevy Tahoe, everything was under 4 feet of salt water. If any departments have spare supplies we could really use it, flashlights, radios, turnout gear, 4×4 apparatus, office equipment, mobile trailer, etc. We rescued many people and saved a lot of houses under some extreme conditions. FEMA and OEM have been useless. Please spread the word and repost and share. Thank you’

Agnes Johnson: Rockaways

NADLER SHOULD BE CALLED ” The National Guard and FEMA were to distribute meals at 3:00 pm in Coffee Park, where over 200 people stood in line since noon to receive food. At 3:00 pm the supplies and foods were not at the site. I asked one of the lead Guards/Organizers at what time was the food expected, only to get a pathetic “I don’t know” look.

This is yet another example how the people cannot rely on the government to fulfill the needs of our people. When this system has never been able to serve the basic need of our people, we must take a step back and evaluate the work that we do and who we are working for. Only People Power can ensure the survival of our neighborhood no matter how many lies Bloomberg, the President and the Ruling class wants to feed us.’

Sofia Gallisa Muriente: 4 a.m. 11/2/12, Far Rockaway

Homeland Security personnel in military gear, bulletproof vests and holding long rifles pull over three young black men in the middle of blacked-out Far Rockaway as they walk down the street for a glorified Stop and Frisk justified as crackdown on looting. Meanwhile, the streets are full of people in desperate need for help, food, water, electricity, support and other resources.

Kelli Daley: Brighton Beach

The Warbasse houses are still without power making it difficult for the many elderly immigrant residents on the upper floors to get adequate food and water. On Friday there was amazing outreach as several unconnected groups teamed up to make sandwiches, donate groceries and bring those supplies to those in need. That could only be done by navigating the dark stairways, up to 23 floors,  with headlamps and flashlights. Everyone was pitching in to share their lights and translation skills.

Editor’s note: This piece originally appeared at Occupy.net.

New York, NY–Today, Thursday, was my second day of volunteering for relief efforts in Red Hook. Overall it was a successful day of intaking donations, coordinating volunteers, and moving supplies out to the community through the Red Hook Initiative. Our organization was better today than yesterday, but the need was also greater.  People in the community are still learning about the work we are doing so more are turning up as the hours and days go by. We continue to be a lifeline to a huge number of residents in public housing who lack power and water. The larger infrastructural pieces are coming together and will hopefully be in place to sustain this work through the weekend and into next week as residents continue to wait for power and water to be restored to their buildings and businesses to open their doors. The following is my personal account of the work that I did today and saw others do. Please bear in mind that a lot of things are happening that I don’t see, so this is by no means a complete account.

This morning I debated whether to drive or bike down to Red Hook, and in the end chose my warm comfortable car. I regretted that decision when I saw the dense traffic on the highway and decided to take side streets south to Red Hook. I doubly regretted it when I later learned that there is no gas to be had in NYC for love or money (luckily I had a full tank thanks to my saintly husband who wanted on line for 2 hours last night). All the gas stations are cordoned off – the rumor was that only taxis and government vehicles can get it, though it’s totally possible even they lack access.  In the absence of public transport, people are relying heavily on cars.  Starting today the rule is you must have three people in a car in order to cross any of the bridges over the east river (necessary to deal with massive traffic).  As the fuel runs out (go here for a great review of the fuel situation), people will be totally cut off from their jobs in the city and key services like grocery stores.

Upon arrival at about 10:30am I took on the role of volunteer intake, information gatherer, and team lead coordinator, meaning I spent my morning circling around Red Hook Initiative checking in with everyone to see what they needed and attempting to give it to them while gathering information to share with others. The scene was fairly chaotic though we all managed to get our jobs done in the midst of dozens of incoming volunteers, a constant stream of donations bags, many people from the community moving about the facility through tight hallways and narrow spaces between work tables and walls, and all while managing communication with the staff of the Red Hook Initiative (who have been Amazing and deserve massive credit for opening their doors to this operation. RHI is absolutely a worthy recipient of any donations you care to give).

Several very talented and hard working folks were managing operations today, processing a huge amount of donations, volunteers, and questions from the community and preparing hot meals at 12pm and 6pm.  Our leads included Rachel in the supplies intake zone, where she, assisted by 7-10 volunteers at a time, received bags, unpacked them, and sorted them into piles for repackaging and sending out to the community; Paulie Anne in the kitchen, who coordinated the preparation of two large hot meals today, including dinner for several hundred people (with a line stretching around the corner for over an hour); Lisa overseeing kitchen and supplies infrastructure and distribution; another Rachel in the batteries and lights room (closely guarded as these are the most prized supplies); Kirby up front overseeing volunteer groups going out into the community doing needs assessment and fulfillment for individuals and businesses; an incredible nurse from NYU who oversaw distribution of basic medical supplies as well as walk in care and on site care in peoples’ homes where necessary; a lovely woman who stepped up to process the needs assessment forms into a huge spreadsheet; Zoltan providing admin and organizational support as well as helping to lead the needs assessment and fulfillment volunteer groups; and several more key people who worked tirelessly to organize the efforts of the dozens of volunteers from outside and inside the community and to ensure that the dinner line moved smoothly, the batteries got bagged up and sent to where they needed to be, information and forms were properly handed out to people with questions, and much more.  The talented staff of RHI were on hand working hard to move out the supplies and helping to coordinate work and facilitate our interface with the community.

I’d like to say a bit more about the needs assessment and fulfillment as it was a really impressive piece of work.  Starting at 10am, volunteers fanned out to all the public housing buildings without power (and water!) with forms for people to fill out with their names and addresses and specific needs. Notes were made about home-bound people who could not come down to get supplies from us. Volunteers brought back those forms, which were catalogued and organized. Bags of supplies were prepared in the distribution room, carried to the front desk, and sent back out with volunteers who delivered them to people who had made requests.  Hot food was also delivered.  I think that we sent out at least 200 bags today, and have specific information on more needs that need to be filled in the coming days (we will continue to deliver to the home-bound each day).  Additional supply bags were made to be handed out with the hot meal at 6pm.

At around 4:30pm, I walked with a staff member from the city council member for Park Slope (who has been trying to assist Red Hook even though it’s not his district) to a nearby park, where we had heard that FEMA and the national guard would be distributing at least 1000 meals to people at 1pm.  When we arrived, we found a line of several hundred people waiting in the cold (for over three hours) for a truck that was reportedly still struck in gridlock.  We spoke to the one FEMA person on hand, who said he had nothing to do with food distribution and was only passing out flyers with information for people about reporting damage to their homes and cars.  The man in charge turned out to be a 7 foot tall major from the Salvation Army, who was extremely pleasant but short on information about the delivery as he had no direct line to the truck, which was being brought by the national guard.  When we left there was still no sign of the truck, though we later heard that it did arrive and successfully distribute a ton of MRE’s (meals ready to eat), which are military food packets that have to be mixed together in a certain way to prepare the food. My understanding is that the MREs are complicated for those unfamiliar with them and not that tasty. Certainly better than no food, but still problematic. RHI continues to be the effective lifeline for this community providing hot food and supplies in a friendly personalized and humane manner. As a side note, I have not heard of any Red Cross sightings in the city yet.  They may be present or about to be present, but they are invisible to us on the ground.

On our way back to RHI after the Salvation Army field trip, we passed by some guys from NYCHA (housing authority) manning pumps that are still getting water out of the building basements, which is a predicate to restoring power.  The guy said that they would be on site around the clock until the water was gone.  He said he had three pumps going and would like to have a fourth but did not have enough fuel for the generator to make that happen.

Late in the day, we learned that the great people from Trinity Church had coordinated with NYCHA to open the Miccio community center down the block to receive, process and distribute donations starting tomorrow. Miccio has a lot more capacity than RHI and will be a great step up for our infrastructure. There will be a large pallet of supplies coming from the Trinity truck that will augment the stream of donations that we have coming in. RHI will continue to coordinate and process volunteers and hot food distribution.

Now that you have a sense of what we were doing, I want to emphasize how crucial the Occupy network has been in providing organizational backbone to this operation. All of the team leads as far as I know came through the occupy network, as well as many of the volunteers. The Interoccupy site (http://interoccupy.net/occupysandy/) has been updating information about service points throughout the city and resource needs on their main website, and has been responding to our tweets regarding specific needs at our site.  We were able to send car loads of donations that we didn’t need to the occupy distribution hub which could then send them on to the Rockaways and other hard hit areas not receiving the same resources as we are.  Throughout the day I was able to push out messages via twitter and email requesting specific supplies such as flashlights, batteries and water, and those messages reached people who brought us those things.  I was also able to learn what was going on at other sites and share that information where I was.  As one person put it on twitter, Occupy was born last year but has come of age during this crisis. It is incredibly heartening to see this network spring to life and be put to work.

A few more thoughts before I close.  I have seen many commenters online saying that residents of Red Hook housing have only themselves to blame for their woes, as they were told to evacuate. However, people were justifiably wary of the shelters. I heard one report that the shelters available in Manhattan for example had no food and no blankets and felt unsafe, so people who went there just came back to their apartments because a dark home was preferable to an underresourced, scary shelter.  Furthermore, I do not think that thousands of residents should be expected to pick up and move in the face of a storm that no one thought was going to cause this type of damage.

Second, the residents who we served today were, all things considered (days without power and water, where people are living on the 14th floor of a building that has pitch black stairwells), incredibly good tempered and thankful for our efforts.  Notwithstanding changed distribution times (we cancelled a noon distribution and moved another from 4 to 6pm), everyone was very patient with us.  They can see that we are working as hard and as fast as we can to do what we can do for them.  I did hear a lot of frustration voiced at various city agencies and utilities, who do not have a relationship of trust with this community.

Friday will be my last day on the site as I am going upstate to take a break from the intensity of this storm aftermath. Next week I may be back on site. The situation is constantly evolving and we don’t know yet what type of non-immediate infrastructure we are prepared to help coordinate and implement.  The coming days are going to test our limits.  If you have not yet volunteered or donated and would like to figure out how to do it, please let me know.

-Chloe Cockburn-

New York, NY–Here in the Windsor Terrace area of Brooklyn things are pretty normal, except the children have been out of school for a week and most people aren’t going to work. The neighborhood feels terribly vital, if only because more of us are around and outside–cleaning up the streets and sidewalks, sweeping the stoops. In Prospect Park, just a few blocks from here, there are hundreds of trees down, mostly beloved old ones, and it’s hard to say goodbye; they’ve been here so much longer than we have. Down the road toward the beach things are far more grim. Coney Island and Red Hook got hit hard, the Rockaways is in shambles, Staten Island is battered… you’ve seen the pictures.

There is an amazing gift economy at work all over the place. You can have free ramen on 8th street in the East Village, fancy caramels down in TriBeCa, spaghetti in Alphabet City. People are on the street giving it away and it’s a joy to watch. And there is incredible anger too, some of it focused, some of it more of an atmospheric spray–the inevitable frustration of life without electricity and elevators and working toilets and food anxiety turning into outright hunger. There are all kinds of lessons for us here, though I’m afraid most people don’t seem to recognize the lines at the gas station as anything but inconvenient, so maybe it’s just too soon for a deeper reckoning.

Our immediate community is sheltered and safe, many of us have friends and family with lost homes and property. No doubt about, it the storm HIT. We have it in our bodies now. We are grateful for all your support and good wishes. Lets not be sentimental, let’s be strong and clear, let’s get down to some serious revolutionary skill-sharing, pitch in where we can and keep our Love on the Prize–EARTHALUJAH!

-Savitri D, Director of the Church of Stop Shopping-

Editor’s note: this story originally appeared at the author’s blog.

New York, NY–We were far from Wall Street.

The sidewalks were strewn with rotted furniture, tattered clothes and assorted debri. Families and friends huddled around doorsteps, doors swung open in the hopes that fresh air would drive out the stench of the sitting flood waters.

The Mayor said New York City was back to business as he rang the opening bell.

Jose Luiz said “Fuck Bloomberg” as he lifted an axe to the long, thick tree trunk that had lied down flat on his block. Its roots tickled the metal fence on one side of the street while its branches poked at the stoops on the other side. He stood atop the tree, conquering it with his feet, while his pals tied a rope around it and then to the bumper of a worn-out old 4-door.

“Who you wit’, the city?” they asked suspiciously as we approached. If so, we would have been the first to take notice of what was happening on that block off Neptune Ave. Besides those imposing police vans with their glaring lights at night, lights that reflect off the walls of darkened, powerless buildings. Lights that say “Keep calm. Don’t riot.” The police surely wanted to help, but their orders were clear. “We were told to [go up and down this street with our lights on],” one told me. The National Guard had 4 tanks on the next block, and three Guards stood eyeing passerbys on the next street. Stand your guard. Marching orders.

We weren’t with the city, we explained. And we didn’t much care for Mayor Bloomberg either, considering that he evicted us from Zuccotti Park and threw away all our books and tents. We had something deeply in common with these young men, living on the periphery of the 1%’s city, under the heartless dominion of Bloomberg’s Army.

They looked worn out but persistent in the face of 3 days without power, hot water or gas. If they wanted to fill up their car tanks, the closest station had 300 other Brooklynites snaking in a line around it, gas cannister in hand, to fill up from a single pump. A line of cars a mile long paralleled them.

This is disaster-zone Brooklyn.

This is climate changed.

Welcome to New York City. Brighton Beach. November 1st, 2012.

-Justin Wedes-

On the weekend of the Occupy Wall Street anniversary I attended a meeting of the Strike Debt assembly in New York. The meeting was a book release for The Debt Resistors’ Operations Manual, but also a working meeting to get input from all that attended. At the onset of the meeting a couple of people shared their personal stories of debt with the group. This sharing of stories was intended to address the shame, frustration and fear that many feel in connection with their debt. I could understand the logic here, but I found myself having a very strong reaction to the idea of shame being a common reference point for our discussion of debt. I wanted to share my story, but I didn’t think it fit within this construct. I’m in debt, but it is not shame that I feel, it is outrage. I don’t buy into the common American debt narrative: you are in debt because you bought something you couldn’t afford, because you were living beyond your means, because you are lacking in personal responsibility, because you are lazy, etc. The underlying idea here is that debt is a product of choice. But debt is about much more than choice, it is a deliberate and coercive means of control.

After several people involved with Strike Debt had spoken about different aspects of the project, a facilitator asked us come up with a question concerning debt to be posed to the group. I wasn’t really sure how to frame my question, but I was eager to offer my input and get some feedback. So when the mic came around to me I asked, “How does debt relate to theft of resources by 1% corporations?” When corporations go into countries and steal resources to sell them on the global market, often back to those they originally stole them from, how does this relate to debt? The facilitators wrote down the questions people had posed, inviting us to break out into smaller groups and choose one of the questions to discuss. The group I was part of was interested in discussing several of the questions, one participant even adding a question of her own to the list. A few people in the group were particularly interested in the question I had posed and asked me to elaborate on it. I appreciated their interest and enthusiasm, but at the time I felt reluctant to do so. I was much more interested in engaging in dialogue and listening, than in elaborating on my question. Deference to leadership is common within our culture, a show of respect for those who appear knowledgeable and capable (or, in seeming contradiction to the origin of this nation, are divinely appointed). When this is coupled with individual ownership of ideas, another root tenet of our culture, it can be difficult to contribute to a conversation without appearing attached to the ideas one contributes. But if we are truly looking to evolve “our” ideas, and not simply own the soap box, perhaps we should be seeking to free them from ownership, to let them exist independent of individual ego and belief, to invite and encourage modification of the ideas through alternative perspectives.

When it comes to movement building I have always been a big proponent of broadening our focus to include allies internationally, to more objectively understand and address the obstacles we face, as well as to learn and share successful strategies for moving forward. While focusing on a single issue may seem like good strategy for mobilizing a specific group of people affected by and passionate about that particular issue, it can also create a kind of tunnel-vision, blinding us to the broader interconnectedness of multiple issues affecting our larger community. Similarly, we can become trapped inside our own cultural identities, unable to recognize that many of the obstacles we face are a function of these identities. Inclusion of alternative perspectives, free of this cultural bias, can often allow us to see past these obstacles.

International debt relief has been a focus of the global justice movement for many years, but that concept of debt appears quite different from the American (USA) model. It occurs to me that the major difference here is this American illusion of “choice.” When a Bolivian farmer is made to choose between paying for water or feeding his family – is this really a “choice”? When our seniors are made to choose between heating their homes or medicine to keep them alive – is this really a “choice”? When our youth are made to choose between getting an education or supporting their families – is this really a “choice”? All of these “choices” have something in common: resources that have been privatized and then sold off to make a profit. The corporations and financial entities (and governments that empower them) that have privatized (stolen) these resources have no intrinsic right to them and may have even received public subsidies to extract and/or refine them. We  are so indoctrinated into a system of individual ownership in the US, the very concept of “property” enshrined in our Constitution, that we can scarcely conceive of the commons belonging to us. When we provide our labor, why do we not conceive of it as a resource? When we speak of success, why is it not as a function of the combined labor (physical and intellectual) of those who have come before us? When the air, water and land we need to live is jeopardized by corporate abuse, why do we not simply take it away from them? Even our genetic information, the very mystery of life itself, is but another resource to privatize and commodify. Key here is that, once the resources have been extracted, the people will require assistance to make up for the loss to their economies, their livelihoods, their ability to provide for their people’s basic needs. And, as if on cue, in swoops the benevolent benefactor (you know – the same one that stole all your stuff moments ago) to generously provide that needed assistance – at a price…

So how can we recast this American debt narrative of “choice” to be more in line with the one that is known throughout the world? One person in our break out group suggested that we might come up with a sort of overarching metaphor, something to cut through all the complicated financial bs that insulates debt from critique. I mentioned something about native cultures’ conception of land as communal, a gift from the creator, rather than as some thing to be owned. It got me thinking that a deeper look at the concept of ownership itself might be helpful when examining debt. As the break out groups were called on to report back to the larger meeting, I quickly jotted this down in my notebook:

I take your stuff, then I make you pay for it. I take the lion’s share then I make you fight for the crumbs. Then I offer you a “loan” to make up for your loss. Then I sell your debt/use it to make even more money.

I’m not an expert in finance or debt. I have a BFA, not an MBA. But swimming in this financial cesspool of intentional obfuscation, perhaps more expert testimony is not what we need. Perhaps a bit of intuitive common sense instead. When the banking/brokerage kings of finance are allowed to sell 30-40 times more debt (most of it in bundled home mortgages) than they can back up with actual cash money (liquid assets), turning profit on every sale along the way, knowing full well that our taxes will bail their asses out when the junk debt they’re selling goes belly up; maybe we need to be looking beyond the paltry sums that we “owe” them – to the massive amounts of profit they make dealing “our” debt. Whatever we decide to focus on, we should keep in mind: it is only through our common consent to their hoarding of our resources, that we remain indebted to them.

-Thomas-

New York–I was in NYC from September 14-18 to support the one year anniversary of Occupy Wall Street. I met so many great people, learned so much and even marched into the Financial District to protest the horrible income inequality in our country. But this story is about what took place after the action. This story is about my participation in Jail Support. Occupy Wall Street took amazing care of all the people involved in the three-day gathering, but if by chance you were arrested while serving your country with OWS, you were provided with loving, focused attention. They call their working group Mutant Legal and they take their work very seriously.

As soon as you were arrested lawyers from the Lawyers Guild of New York got your name and immediately provided legal service. I can’t say enough about The Lawyers Guild. They were present everywhere during the three days of gatherings, with their bright green hats, and they provided legal counsel for each person who was arrested.

My job with Occupy was to make sure that people coming out of jail were well taken care of. This involved making sure that they had a good snack or meal if they needed it. Or even a cigarette if they needed one. It involved staying close by for a hug or a suggestion about what to do next. Here is my jail support story.

During one of the Jail Support trainings the day before the actions in the Financial District one of the trainers mentioned that the police often take away a person’s shoelaces and then don’t return them. On Monday afternoon I went down to the courthouse, where some of the people that were arrested on Monday morning were being let out of jail. I sat down on the sidewalk in front of a man and woman who had just been released. They seemed rather shaken and talked about their experience getting arrested. Mostly they were happy to be out of jail and they were happy to have cigarettes and food.

As we talked, I looked down and noticed that they didn’t have any shoe laces so I asked, “Would like me to go and get you some shoe laces?”

“Yes!” was their amazed and appreciative response.

So I walked up to a store on Broadway and found them some shoelaces. After we laced them up together they got up and danced joyously in front of the court house.

Later in the afternoon I moved to another location, One Police Plaza, where people were getting out of jail. A group of Occupy Wall Street Jail Support people had set up shop in a small park close to this spot. I walked there with a small brass band who were also on the way. It seems that one of their friends had been arrested. They welcomed their friend with a rousing brass number.

The mood became more serious and intense when a priest and a nun who had just gotten out of jail appeared among us. I was concerned about the sister because she was shaking all over. She said that she had not been able to eat any of the jail food and she was starving. Fortunately, with a little food and some hugs her shaking stopped and she felt much better. The priest was extremely concerned because he had left his drivers’ license in jail. Later, a police officer came out and returned the drivers’ license. I even heard a report from a friend who said that when the sister was talking to the whole group in jail he saw tears in the eyes of a female police officer.

On Tuesday morning I was back in front of the courthouse. It was a rainy, windy day and one of the Jail Support people had asked me to bring some ponchos. This time I went right into the courthouse with one of the Lawyers Guild lawyers. As people came out of the courtroom I took some basic information from them. These folks were just getting out and they were kind of disoriented. I really wanted them to get outside and get some fresh air, and some food and human contact.

After lunch I went back outside the courthouse. Lots of folks who had gotten out of jail plus other Occupy people were there. Suddenly a woman came up to a young guy who was standing beside me. She was sobbing and saying something like, “They have destroyed my son’s life, they have destroyed my family’s life.” A young man, who was also doing Jail Support, whom I will call Billy hugged her and consoled her. She told us that her son, a 27- year- old Algerian, had been entrapped by the NYPD. He had emotional problems and they used this to their advantage to get him into trouble. She gave us some leaflets with information on how to help her son and left.

Billy started handing out the leaflets to people passing by. A man and woman walked by him and the woman snarled at Billy,“Get a job!” Billy got upset and started talking to the man and woman, explaining that he had tried to enrol in college but he couldn’t afford the tuition. Suddenly the man opened up his coat revealing an NYPD badge. At that point I walked toward the woman and said, “I am a retired school teacher. I have taught for over twenty-five years!” When she saw me walking toward her she shouted at me, “Move back!” It frightened me, and I moved quickly away from her. Billy kept on talking to them.

In the middle of all this I recalled the Jail Support training we had received earlier. One thing the trainers stressed, “It is a really bad thing if jail support people get arrested. Do everything you can to avoid arrest when you are doing jail support!”

So I said to Billy, “Remember, we don’t want to get arrested. Why don’t you move away?” My advice was not well taken. Billy said to me, “I have a right to talk to them!” At that point I just sat down on the steps and hoped for the best. Before too long the police walked away and a bad situation was averted.

I feel so fortunate to have been able to assist, even in a small way, those people who were arrested near Wall Street on September 17. Many of the people arrested chose to participate in non-violent civil disobedience. I remember the saying from the civil rights movement, “Keep your eyes on the prize!” I think that the people with the courage to accept arrest placed their entire beings in danger for all of us. They knew why they had taken the trip to the financial district. A remarkable cross-section of people came to New York on this first anniversary of Occupy Wall Street. I think that what the people had in common was their powerful level of commitment and their deep understanding of the injustices in our country.

They took the risk of being arrested, and in spite of the extreme difficulties they faced all around them, they experienced so much love and support from their Occupy friends. I can’t help feeling that for those who were arrested their work will continue with an even greater sense of urgency and commitment.

-David Smith-