There's city dust in my eyes, and my legs feel like blocks of wood as we take the final mile down Picadilly towards Hyde Park. A painted banner flaps against my body, proclaiming us Anti-Capitalist Feminists. And I'm still chanting. I'm an animal, a tiny, burning ball of rage and justice, I've got all my sisters with me, it's been four hours since my last latte and I'm running on adrenaline and outrage. Me and thirty-five thousand others.Anti-Capitalist Feminists? That must be quite a niche group. The sort of group that has about three members on your standard university campus. And each of those three members is the sort of ranting bore you would cross the street to avoid.
But for me the best line is the one about “my last latte”. Fucking hell, there is nothing more communist or feminist then quaffing lattes before going on a protest march. Lenin used to do that, you know. Just before he seized power in Russia, he was in Starbucks having a latte. Those miners in the miner’s strike of the mid-80’s, they were quaffing latte’s too. It really is the drink of the working class revolutionaries.
Monday, 30 March 2009
G20 protests nicely skewered