Nine months in the making and my ‘big day in court’, had finally arrived. I had been forced into spending these last crucial weeks without a working phone, and with no access to XR legal advice, the stress had begun to mount. As I counted down the hours until 'show time', I had an all important decision still to make. Would I chance self-representation in court, or accept the legal help from solicitors that I was entitled?
I knew that my novice legal skills were not up to running much of a S14 (Section 14) defence. But the reality was, that I had heard there was no successful defence against this charge. Part of me delighted at the thought of self-representation. Single handedly, bravely battling the system, standing alone in righteousness. I had earned this ticket to my day in court and like other XR defendants before me, this was my moment to finally be heard. Oh how I would put the courts to shame, throwing every moral and ethical argument out there in defence of my selfless actions. How the judge and officials would weep in realisation of the ills of society and throw down their hats in condemnation, to stand with me in solidarity. I would declare my position regarding environmental and ecological collapse, and in full glory, I would proclaim the innocence of my name! This was going to be the day that went down in history.
It can be a very dark and bumpy ride, questioning the many thoughts and ideas in the mind of Black Cat... and as I delved deeper into the inner workings of my fancies, I started to ponder the ethical arguments of accepting assistance from the very government establishments and institutions that I was opposed! But finally, after seeking some last minute common-sensical advice, I decided that I would afterall take up my lawyers on their offer of legal assistance. Maybe I would win on a technicality? Or If all else failed, at the end of the day, I could always sack my lawyer and give the courts a fine piece of my mind anyway.
That night I prepared my statement with vigour. Eco this and shame on you perpetrators that. But in the end, it didn’t end up quite the courtroom showdown that I had expected. The law came to judge me in a way that I never could have imagined.
I first met my lawyer on the morning of my trial. With no time to spare, we headed straight to a private room to catch a quick twenty minutes on how we were going to proceed. As I read to her my statement that I had prepared the night before, the enormity of the situation struck for the first time, causing an intense feeling of overwhelming sadness. The court house, despite appearing quite stark and unassuming, carried within it’s walls a foreboding and looming presence. This was a presence that had absorbed countless impressions and stories throughout the ages and it suddenly drew from me the incomprehensible frustration, that the law that I’d always believed in, to protect the great and the good, could instead take those very people and destroy their lives, holding them to criminal account forever. Then I started to cry (just a little bit), at the injustice of it all.
After a quick briefing to prepare for the witness box, we hastily made our way into court.
‘COURT RISE’. I was captivated…. who was my judge going to be? and then out came not one but three lay magistrates! I studied each of their faces closely. I could not have expected to see a crowd of more serious and stern looking expressions. Each of them bearing a tight-lipped frown with furrowed and knitted brows. They sure looked like they meant business and I was quite taken by them, captivated and fascinated in some way. I turned to my friend, “wow they look so serious”, I said. “I think they look a bit like me when I get upset”, “That’s how I’m going to look in ten years time,” I foolishly joked.
Throughout my trial, I was in complete awe of my Lawyer. What an incredible person she was. I had nothing but admiration and gratitude for her as she spoke for me with such strength and eloquence. Despite fearing I had messed up a bit in the witness box, I was quietly confident that I had made a good impression upon the magistrates. I had explained my motivations, my lifestyle, my passions and service to the community. Heck, we were even hopeful that we would win out on a technicality after all.
I actually felt quite uplifted during the deliberation. Because of my lifestyle choices, a conviction would not prove so impactful upon my life, and I felt comforted in the knowledge that of all the court testimonials I had read, they resonated to the same effect. Judges speaking highly of environmental activism and XR defendants merely acting out of necessity and in line with their conscience. I had also heard heart warming stories where activists had been told they were being found guilty with much regret, in the eyes of the law there being no way out, and ordered the most minimal of fines in full praise and goodwill.
I was excited when my three lay magistrates returned. I was fully expecting to hear the same praise for my actions, why wouldn’t I? An exemplary citizen to all outward respects. But to my surprise, I mercilessly began to hear…. Because you said this, and this, and this, ‘GUILTY’. I was ordered to pay full costs of £640 and given nine month unconditional discharge. I was speechless. I couldn’t even bring myself to read out my mega amazing, ‘I’m such a great person’ speech I had prepared.
I left the court room in disbelief, frustrated at not being fully heard, I was disappointed that no sympathies had been aroused in my judgement, nor any good seen in my deeds, none at all. I thought back to my three lay magistrates and how fearsome they looked. How they had failed to accept the reason and logic of the facts. The evidence the police had presented against me had been so unclear that a conviction should never have been possible. But in judgement of what they had wanted to understand, they had discounted it all, failing to see the person behind it.
In the days that followed, as I tried to understand and make sense of my experience, I happened across a text and in those words I found my answer, appearing in the ‘law of three’.
*“Ever mind the law of three, What You Send Out Comes Back to Thee.” and I started to see a part of myself though the eyes of those who sat in judgement and I too began to see a person guilty. Guilty of being quick to judge others, harsh in my words, unsympathetic, cutting and direct in my approach.
I have come to accept that this wasn’t the day I was going to be a hero. This was the day I was judged by my three lay magistrates in accordance with the “law of three”, judging me as I have judged others. My lawyer asked me to go for a retrial…but I feel that until I have learned this lesson there can be no salvation. It’s a hard road, and I know I am still learning from my mistakes. I am not there yet and for me this will probably be a life long practice, to cultivate compassion, forgiveness, and understanding in every moment and to all.
*The law of three states, everything you do comes back to you threefold! So please be wise and think about your actions and how they will effect others and even yourself.
There is no hope for humanity until the animals are free, because while we continue to accept the enslavement and exploitation of others, we are allowing the enslavement and exploitation of ourselves.
From deep inside my underground city cave, amidst the eerily empty streets and suffocating close confinement, months have passed by... Waiting with increasing unease, for the outcomes of the global Covid-19 pandemic to unfold.
In the weeks following the announcement of the UK state of emergency 'lock-up’, the Covid-19 survival guide arrived, Its contents, detailing an ‘all you need to know, in overting a mass contagion crisis’, which was in reality, little more than second rate garb, notably lacking in any key substance and generating nation wide confusion.
In full blanket blow to democracy, this document proceeded to shamelessly exploit the common rhetoric, ‘in the interest of public safety’, to further tighten legislations over arrest and surveillance, without review or repeal for years to come. Alarmingly, these attacks on civil rights and basic freedoms have increasingly become the status quo. Gaining ground by assimilating into our daily lives, further altering our boundaries of normality. Sending us to that place of quiet forgetting, a realm whence few dare return.
Five months into the crisis and the curtain is slowly rising. As the first signs in the unveiling of this new world start to emerge, we hold witness to untold damage, set to change the future of humanity forever. From enforced suppression of immune system response, threats of compulsory vaccinations and an entire generation of children bearing the psychological scars of social isolation. The direction the world has moved in such little time is astonishing, and this is only the beginning.
Throughout our lives we have been lead to believe that we live and rejoice in the great and glorious freedoms of our civilised lands. But far from this notion, it is those who have been born into the furthest reaches of the last remaining indigenous tribes, who have truly come close to the experience of inherent freedom. Because at that moment our parents unwittingly sign away our lives to the state, we begin a life of social programming. Throughout institution and establishment, affiliation and arrangement. The end result, to have moulded our minds into submission, making money for the man. Objective complete.
The human race is fast entering into an age of great captivity. As the grip of control continues to tighten, and the last of our remaining freedoms are lost to the state, I am horrified. I am horrified at the prospect that there is no escape. For how long in our history have we sang songs and shared stories, dreaming of the day we took the power back? We were calling for social change centuries ago, and we are still not winning. In fact, we are losing really badly. So now there is only one thing left to do. To live in truth.
For many years I have admired the thought of going vegan. Well aware of the suffering food animals endure, yet never finding the right time to remove the dairy dependence from my diet. But this goes beyond health and even far beyond compassion and kindness, this is the restoration of a fundamental sacred law that we have forgotton and are now paying the ultimate price. As a global community, we have ruthlessly exploited our power, over all other life forms on this planet. 100 billion sentient beings will end their lives in captivity every year. The vast majority of them food animals, reared in factory farms and forced to live under submission of their will, every right taken from them. But this is more than just a pitiful tale this is our collective story, the fate that humankind is facing today.
Because our outer world is only a manifestation of our inner thoughts and actions, so what we deem as acceptable for others, will in turn one day reflect back upon ourselves. I can not accept or allow the enslavement of myself, nor can I fight a force so great as our ruling government bodies. But I can join a force much greater than that. To live a life in the power of respect, and in honour of the freedom of all living beings. Because we live in the collective consciousness, where the experience of true freedom is to set all others free.
Do unto others as what you would have others do unto you. ~ Jesus Christ, Luke 6.31.
In loving memory of John Harris. May we succeed in his work, never forgotten.
“Society is collapsing because we are living in a system which is not designed to suit the human spirit” - Russell Brand 2019.
Whenever I think of India, I can’t help but marvel at it’s great freedom. From small shanty stalls selling everything from chai to souvenirs, to folk pitching up communities on barren waste lands: - people just seem to be able to get on with life, hassle and bureaucracy free… And in my opinion, there is no greater expression of this freedom, than that of the open road.
An example of road traffic chaos in
India
It’s not that road traffic rules don’t exist, but with little police enforcement they can easily be ignored. You can basically use a road here, whichever way you want. The attitude being, ‘if you see a space its yours’! But despite witnessing the chaos, and even while laughing out at the cars, cows, rickshaws and pedestrians in disbelief, never once was I interested in wearing my own seatbelt. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one. As I saw even the most dedicated of parents, simply stop worrying about their child car seat, and happily ride around in a calamity ridden rickshaw, with their beloved balanced on one knee. In India, it’s those who follow the road safety rules, who are viewed as the crazy bunch. To see someone wearing a motorcycle helmet in the sweltering heats of +20 degrees is such a rarity, you would probably criticise them for having paranoia.
A young western family, happily roaming around in an auto-rickshaw.
5000 miles away and back home in England, fading memories of colour and chaos have left deep impressions on my mind. In stark contrast, here lies a land of law and order, where there lurks a camera on each corner, helping keep our faithful allegiance to the book. But far from feelings of gratitude, safe in the knowledge of being kept out of harms way. These constraints, seem only to have added to the nuisance and mundainity to the everyday experiences of life... Just imagine the struggle, to buy a simple cup of hot coffee – for corporate fear of the customer injuring themselves, and it’s no joke. In England, ‘The Nanny State’; where common sense has been replaced by rule and regulation, it begs the question... How did control get so out of control.
The problem lies in exploitation for profit. An ongoing symptom of our capitalist consumerist society, that has been raging forwards for centuries. It is here, where the Health and Safety industry, vying for a claim in their share of the profits, long turned away from their once noble beginnings. Forging themselves a simple strategy with government, in securing the continual passing of legislation through the system, and down into the bank accounts of those forced to pay. But aside from the financial gains, the restriction of decision making and even the suppression of our instinctive and intuitive compass (an ultimate authority that once guided us through life), brings with it a hidden benefit. Born of twice the despair and priceless in nature: The tragic modern day culture of complacency and acceptance.
The security industry too, has operated a similarly symbiotic process; successfully assimilating one of the most powerful economic strategies of all time. The instillation of fear. Caught in the grip of this vice, this primeval emotion has taken control, paralysing reason, and rendering us powerless to argue. Whether it’s the next state of the art home security, or data theft prevention system, there is little choice but to consume our way out.
There has been no better form of control throughout history than the engagement of the fear reaction. Historically, leading figures and religious groups have successfully misused this powerful emotion in capturing and controlling their congregations. But in modern times, as people have fallen out of favour with the idea of God, governments have contrived yet another net to capture our compliance... By taking on role as our ultimate protector, we have been unwittingly rendered into a state of dependence, enslaved in the forgotten promise of safety, security and well-being, born of this ‘dangerous world’.
For many, this age of ‘mass cultivation of fear’, has become a way of life. Only increasing in strength and experience throughout our lives. And as love and tolerance slowly fade, there is a global contraction of consciousness, as we fail to recognise that fears never dies until we surrender in trust.
Returning from India, I have often wondered why life in the West has left me feeling incomplete and empty. Why cultures of warm and welcoming vs passivity and distrust, live on in time but continents apart.
As I zoomed through India in little more than a tin can on wheels, not once did I feel unsafe. Quite the opposite, it was incredible and I felt free. I did not see the parents of India loving their children any less for not investing in a child car seat and it is not that people were happily dicing with death every time they got into an unbelted vehicle. But in allowing people the freedom to live, is to allow them to live in love.
So
throw away the rule book and experience the freedom to trust, because
trust is our gateway to love and freedom, is trust is love.
Anybody who's ever been shopping down Oxford Street, will know there is a Hare Krishna temple in Soho. Because if you've ever popped down to the popularist shopping district of London, then no doubt you will have come across a very lively band of unusually dressed youths, singing and dancing through the streets. This is the 'Hari-Name' (ha-ree-naam), and what a spectacle it is. Think of a Bollywood style procession, with sarees and shaven headed youths dressed in orange and you will get an idea of what I am talking about.
I first saw the Hari Name many years ago and then like most people, I probably laughed with embarrassment and did all the things that happen when someone is in total disbelief. The Hari Krishna's were famous for it and my conclusions were.. Not cool, not acceptable and by no means normal; causing an ocean of difference to spread between us. However, this was something close to ten years ago and if I told you what I got up to last Saturday night you might never believe the change in me!
For the past year, I have been a student of the acceptance of self expression and it all began last summer in a little town called Glastonbury. Glastonbury as you may know, is the kind of magical place, where a simple stroll along the high street might lead to an encounter with all manner of the weird and wonderful. Perhaps you will meet a moon maiden in a velvet cloak and crown, or even a man from the forest, complete with bow and arrow. Fairy wings or musicians with jingle bell toes.. it's all 'normal' for Glastonbury. It is nothing short of impressive to see here that folk here can get out and do their thing, safe in the knowledge that you would have to work really really hard to be type cast as a loony or crazy person. And so it didn't take me long to join in. After all, this is what I would call civil disobedience at its finest!
Photo : Black Cat challenging views about stuffed bears in Glastonbury.
In this spirit of 'freedom', for fun I successfully played a tambourine down the high street, which was both well received and met with the acceptance of indifference. But despite having an audience of a liberal Glastonbury crowd, my efforts to normalise a stuffed bear still remained an area where more work was required!
While the most well known benefits of self expression are thought to be our emotional wellbeing. What I find of possible greater importance, is in the public statement that is makes. It is so important to challenge societal definitions of 'normal behaviour' in this way, because we are living in a time where our self expression is so severely restricted, the vast majority of us will spend our entire lives living through socially conditioned mental captivity. Never venturing beyond high street fashion, career path, or hair dye, under this fear of judgement which deprives us of the freedom to choose who we really are.
So guess where I'm going next weekend..... to lend my support to celebration, freedom, and joy. Come and join me? You know I would love to see you there...
Extinction Rebellion is a global movement which exercises civil disobedience to transform environmental policies in parliament. You can find out more here at https://rebellion.earth/
In April last month, 'Extinction Rebellion' held a successful 10 day long protest covering five major key sites in London. Amongst their daily accomplishments, they succeeded in gaining many more supporters, grabbing media attention world wide. On Wednesday the 24th of April, I was arrested at the Marble Arch road block and taken away to the Wandsworth cells, here is my story.
After an incredible ten days of protests, I awoke to find the last of the remaining road blocks at Marble Arch being dismantled. I had mixed feelings to see them go, but in a jubilant testament of celebration not surrender, a djembe band had arrived and were drumming their beats up and down the eerily empty roads. The energy was close to ecstatic and evoked in me emotions which intensified into tears of joy. Over the past ten days, a tiny but mighty force had gathered here in London. Fighting in the face of adversity, managing to make a stand against a legal authority who where lording it's power to blindly regain hold of it's financial goals. The police (law enforcers) were in notably larger number today, and I could sense a feeling of agitation from their ranks as they prepared for the imminent road opening. I followed the djembe band for a while, dancing along to the main stage where more numbers came to join us. But despite the joyous carnival of drums, a strange feeling kept pulling my thoughts back to the road blocks on Oxford Road. Reluctantly I left the party and wandered back over for one last look around. At the far end of the road towards Oxford Circus, I could see a group of people crowded around a small yellow tent. As I approached, I found two guys inside, their arms 'locked-on'* to each other, whilst the crowd where engaged in a debate.
In April last month, 'Extinction Rebellion' held a successful 10 day long protest covering five major key sites in London. Amongst their daily accomplishments, they succeeded in gaining many more supporters, grabbing media attention world wide. On Wednesday the 24th of April, I was arrested at the Marble Arch road block and taken away to the Wandsworth cells, here is my story.
After an incredible ten days of protests, I awoke to find the last of the remaining road blocks at Marble Arch being dismantled. I had mixed feelings to see them go, but in a jubilant testament of celebration not surrender, a djembe band had arrived and were drumming their beats up and down the eerily empty roads. The energy was close to ecstatic and evoked in me emotions which intensified into tears of joy. Over the past ten days, a tiny but mighty force had gathered here in London. Fighting in the face of adversity, managing to make a stand against a legal authority who where lording it's power to blindly regain hold of it's financial goals. The police (law enforcers) were in notably larger number today, and I could sense a feeling of agitation from their ranks as they prepared for the imminent road opening. I followed the djembe band for a while, dancing along to the main stage where more numbers came to join us. But despite the joyous carnival of drums, a strange feeling kept pulling my thoughts back to the road blocks on Oxford Road. Reluctantly I left the party and wandered back over for one last look around. At the far end of the road towards Oxford Circus, I could see a group of people crowded around a small yellow tent. As I approached, I found two guys inside, their arms 'locked-on'* to each other, whilst the crowd where engaged in a debate.
I listened for a while. Some where trying to convince the men to leave, others where unsure of a course of action, while the general feeling from the tent was to stay and defend their post! A feeling of unease reminiscent from the morning came over me. Weighing on my mind was a feeling of confusion in seeing the roadblocks being given up a day ahead of schedule, so I joined the discussion to offer my opinion. My question to the group was why where our last remaining roadblocks, our 'greatest power' under negotiation with Met police over the vague promises of lorries or closing ceremonies. Surely our roadblocks were here for a higher purpose: - for the advancement of environmental policies in parliament. So to de-man a station for anything less just didn't seem right. This opinion seemed to lift the spirits of the two protesters and again the decision making was thrown back in the air. The crowd asked for a vote, who would be in favour to stay and face arrest? But I was silent, I really, really didn't want to be arrested, and kept my hand firmly down. More time was requested but by then it was too late. The police began to move in and surround us. The 'kettling'* had begun.
My next actions came from nowhere, but only as an instinct which reflected my inner thoughts and beliefs. In a wave of solidarity for the last two 'lonely' guys, who were doing what they believed in, and in what I believed in too, I jumped straight in the tent, and squeezed myself in right alongside them.
The police were immediately on us, click - click, the long zoom lens of the 'liaison officers' camera had certainly just added me to their ever increasing list of 'domestic extremists'. In my mind, there was no going back, this was what it felt like to be the 'good guy', risking everything to make a stand for the rights of every living being on the planet. I tangled myself up in-between my two new friends Will and Alex and got on with my new task at hand. How I was going to remain in the tent for as long as it was going to take. I was particularly interested by the 'lock-on' device the guys were using. Each had an arm chained to each other inside a sturdy plastic tube and the only way out was to be cut out! I decided to stick my hand inside the edge of the tube which convincingly looked like I was somehow part of a mysterious three way device. So with nothing to lose, I decided to stay like that, unbeknown to the officers who would later come to extract us, that I could easily have been pulled out.
As I settled in for the long haul, Will one handedly, handed out some cards, "Lets read this out together" he suggested in an effort to raise our spirits. On the cards were written the verses of the 'Solemn Intention Statement', and we started to recited it together.
Let's take a moment, this moment, to
consider why we are here.
Let's remember our love , for this beautiful
planet that feeds, nourished and sustains us.
Lets remember our love for the whole
of humanity in all corners of the world.
Lets recollect our sincere desire to
protect all this, for ourselves, for all living
beings, and for generations to come.
As we act today, may we find the
courage to bring a sense of peace, love and
appreciation to everyone we encounter,
to every word we speak and to every
action we make. We are here for all of us.
We recited it again, and then again, and again. We recited the verses almost continuously over the next two hours, while we were arrested, while we were read our rights, and while we were being cut out and carried away.
As the power of this heartfelt message echoed off.. towards our arresting officers, towards the band of rebellion supporters and out onto the streets of oxford road, I forgot my fears of what was lying in wait as our futures hung in the balance. The unison of our voices, and the energy this invoked carried me far far away, and somehow it became the most incredible two hours of my life.
After a while, I started to tune into a chorus of excited and distressed voices behind us. We couldn't move much in our position, but Will managed to turn around just enough to see a large band of rebel supporters had gathered and were sitting behind our tent. I was filled with love, grateful for this support but the commotion had signalled the start of something. The police were picking them off one by one. The loading up of rebels had begun.
We three were arrested much earlier on the floor of the yellow tent, but of course we had to wait for the cutting team to arrive. We were asked all sorts of questions as they tried to gain an understanding of the mysterious three way device but I preferred to keep my focus on the verses, after all it was a protest, and I didn't want to make it too easy for them. The removal of the lock-on tube was a strange experience. There was some concern in having someone saw away so close to my hand, but we were parted soon enough and carried off to the waiting van. I made my body go limp like a rag doll so they had quite a bit of trouble loading me in to the back where the other protesters sat. After a few failed attempts they gave up and I ended up in the middle section alongside the arresting officers. As I buckled up for the ride, I was in disbelief to see that none of the police officers had bothered to wear their seatbelts as I had done. So, I decided to make a point of it and asked my arresting officer to turn on her body camera so I could make an 'on the record' statement. I questioned why Met police officers supposed upholders and indeed prosecutors of the law where knowingly engaging in a criminal activity. Surprisingly I was met with absolute unconcern. No one even batted an eyelid except my arresting officer who offered to put hers on to make me happy, never mind the law!?
Some time later my fellow arrestees pressed their heads to the glass which separated our compartments. As they peered around, our eyes made contact and I was filled with warmth as we exchanged comforting smiles. I was at that point feeling a bit sorry for myself, thinking it must be nice to be in the back, sharing laughs and jokes with the rest of them. But then, the most wonderful thing started to happen! Out of nowhere, being chanted upon high was a loud chorus of none other than "SEATBELT REBELLION"! Embarrassment was the appropriate term for the atmosphere in my compartment and I was filled with reassurance. I was glad to hear I wasn't they only one with concerns, and we rebels were all on the same wavelength here!
On arrival at the 'nick'*, I realised I was rather unprepared for the arrest. I hadn't gone to any Extinction Rebellion preparatory training sessions, and I had lost the list of solicitors given to me by the legal witness in the tent. I decided to play it safe and managed to keep up a 'no comment' default during the check-in, which was going nicely until out popped my drivers licence revealing my name (better luck next time). As my arresting officer continued to empty the contents of my handbag she came across a little plastic 'baggie'* with a rather suspicious looking lump inside. She turned to me,
"Is that hash" she said, her eyes wide!
"No" I replied, "it's a medicinal mushroom its called chaga".
"Eh is it magic mushroom"? (clearly she was not very used to dealing with the straight laced hippy type)
"No it's just makes a herbal medicinal tea.. honest"!
After confirming the chaga did have the faintest of mushroom smells, and because the next thing she pulled out of my handbag was a tiny tea strainer, she seemed happy enough to believe me. After check-in, I was taken into a separate room to have my face, finger prints and DNA recorded. And then I began to wonder... I knew the first two requests were pretty mandatory but I was doubtful about giving a DNA sampling. I recalled something about certain activities not being DNA recordable and surely suspicion of sitting in the road, was not of the variety to require a sample such as suspicion of rape or murder. As I have developed a healthy level of caution when it comes to dealing with Met police officers over the years, I thought it best to listen to the voice of reason instead of the continued demands of the officer in charge. On the principle of this argument, I refused to give consent to my details to be taken and was lead away to my cell until I could confirm things with my solicitor.
Three hours later, I was finally able to speak with a kind representative at Bindmans. Bless his soul, as he took the time to trawl through his law journals to find out where I stood on DNA recording. But alas, I didn't have a leg to stand on as the existing law is geared towards population of the national DNA database irrespective of human rights. Still, the principle of not cooperating for something I didn't believe in was firmly within my control and some time later I received another prison cell visit from the 'boys in blue'*. They tried again to persuaded me into cooperating to give my sample but I remained fixed on my position. In a final attempt, the officer proceeded to point out they could and would take my hair by force, and they were going to be needing a substantial amount! "Okay fine". I said in compete acceptance of my situation and away he went in frustration.
As the hours passed it was close to midnight when my solicitor finally arrived. Under his advice I gave a no comment interview. It seemed disappointing to all involved, especially as the questions seemed oh so very interesting, but I was ready to play it safe. I couldn't stand being 'banged-up'* for a moment longer. The continuous buzzing of the custody cell with all it's cctv and lighting circuit boards had taken it's toll. Bleary eyed from lack of sleep I was thoroughly fed up! I even opened my mouth to allow them to take a cheek swab in the end - what a softy I had become!
At 3.30 am, I was released from my cell and brought to the desk to learn my fate. They had decided not to make any immediate charges and I would be released under investigation, translating to 'keep your nose-clean* for the next 6 months', before being turfed out onto the mean streets of Wandsworth. A light drizzle had started, and I was without jacket, bus or a clue of how to get back. One would think there would be a common sense policy in regards to releasing alone women in the middle of the night, but of course one does not exist. I was lucky to be received into the loving arms of a beautiful extinction rebellion support worker who pointed me to his car boot filled with snacks and a blanket but for many arrested women in England this would be a different ending.
Afterthought
Here is one story out of many thousands, marking one day and night of resistance and rebellion. Perhaps you may read this and think of me as a stubborn or uncooperative person, but I hope that my reasons are clear. My approach comes from a belief that we are living in a time where we need to start to look for the truth in all aspects of our lives. It is never really a question of the state taking our power away, it is about us giving it away, time and time again. I would also like to touch upon an issue which I have heard spoken of quite often 'can we trust the police'? While I can say that I have met many personable police officers, each of them a caring human being like you and me. It is important to remember it is the collective institution to which they are bound that will always take precedence for their actions. While you might meet officers appearing sympathetic to you or your cause at the end of the day it is not they who are calling the shots they are simply following orders to carry out the 'dirty work' of the powers at the top.
Kettling A police tactic for surrounding and restricting protester movement
Lock-on / locked-on A method/device for temporarily keeping two or more protesters together
Baggie A small plastic bag used to sell and store illegal drugs
Nick Police station
Boys in blue Police
Banged up Locked up in a cell
Keep your nose clean Staying on the right side of the law
