Finding space

Sue left for her family gathering and I met an activist friend this morning for brunch and a walk through an industrial area peppered with surveillance cameras and concertina-wire fences. It was the perfect setting for talk of toxic capitalism and legally-sanctioned injustice: how to disrupt that? 

“I don’t believe in paying the police not to beat us up, which is what those stupid ‘permits to protest’ amount to,” she said, “and yet I can’t be on the front lines with the anarchists. So where is my space?”