Street Theatre

A group called Fossil Fuel Resistance Network organized a demonstration against oil trains: the people in black were the oil, spilling out of the trains, while those in red were the flames. Local TV news tells the story, if you have two minutes to watch it and see the damage real derailed oil trains can do.

What intrigued me was the bicycle police. The last time I encountered them, soon after the Occupy movement was forcibly shut down, they were frightening. They tackled people, slammed them against the ground, arrested and handcuffed them--for doing what the group was doing today: interfering with traffic, stepping off the sidewalk, marching in the streets with banners and signs. 

But today the police were polite, helpful, even gracious. They stopped traffic. They protected and served the little group of (by my count) forty-eight white people, three people of color, and one child. The police blocked what little traffic there was, with their bicycles and their bodies, while the drama of the oil and the flames was reenacted at several intersections. The only spectators were the TV news people and the print media photographers.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," as they passed us on the sidewalk. "Watch your step, sir," to the fellow tripping over his cape. Several had "Gang Enforcement" labels on their uniforms (see Extra). I wonder if this is a new era in policing, if our new police chief has shifted the culture of the department. Or if the protest was somehow unthreatening. Was the race and class of the protesters a factor? The protest took place in an industrial area, not the center of town, and on a Saturday morning. Was that a factor? I wonder.

Every time I'm in a crowd of people, I fall in love with their faces. So I'm also including three portraits taken in the crowd.