Brown Power

This afternoon, I was sitting in my office, quietly rewriting a story, when suddenly through my open window floated the sound of a crowd chanting. Curious, I stepped out to the street. What I saw was one of the most astonishing and beautiful things I've encountered in a long, long time.

Thousands and thousands of people clogged Grant Street in downtown Denver, marching in protest of the bills currently making their way through the U.S. Senate that would crack down on illegal immigrants by making it a felony to be in this country without the proper documentation. From CNN:
"An immigration bill that passed the House of Representatives in December makes entering the country illegally a felony and calls for construction of 700 miles of security fence along the U.S.-Mexico border.
The House bill would also require employers to verify the immigration status of workers before hiring them, with increased fines for employers who fail to comply. The proposals have angered many Latinos."

Damn right it has. It takes a good amount of bullshit to get this many people motivated to march and make protest signs. Thousands of people don't just say, "hey, what are we doing on Saturday? Let's get some flags and stop traffic downtown! Yeah! Now, what can we protest? Hmmm..."

Most of the crowd in Denver was Hispanic, but dotted throughout the sea of bodies was an occasional black or white or Asian face. I'm still not sure how long the whole rally and march lasted, and the wire news stories won't be in for another hour at least, but it was fantastic just to witness it. Similar protests have been taking place all over the country since yesterday.

There was an entire community, out in the streets, giving the finger to the unjust bullshit bigotry of people like Colorado's U.S. Rep. Tom Tancredo, a Republican wackjob whose ONLY PLATFORM ISSUE is tightening borders and kicking out illegal immigrants. It was fantastic.

And all I could do was stand there and grin like a shmuck, making eye contact here and there. Towards the end of the march, though, one Latino in the middle of the throng saw me up on the steps of my building and yelled, "Viva Mexico!" I raised two hands, both with clenched fists, and screamed back at him. Then the entire crowd took up the yell, and soon the whole street was filled with screams. But they weren't screams of anger and despair, and that was what made the whole scene so beautiful. The noise they made, the one that I threw back to them, was one of pride and power.

The way we screamed this afternoon was one of defiance and uncaring identity, a shriek that said Fuck you, Congress. Fuck you, Tom Tancredo. Fuck you, every single one of you greedy motherfucking gringos, this is our country. You don't own us, you don't own our lives, and we are not alone.

And after it died down, several of the crowd waved for me to join them. I yelled, "Necesito trabajar," (I need to work) but they shook their heads and just yelled some more. And I loved it.

Viva Mexico.