Students for a Democratic Society

...for the most part smell gross. I don't know what it is about them, but for some reason, leftist anarchists believe that it is somehow virtuous not to shower, not to wash their clothes, and to generally not take pride in their physical (and olfactory) appearance.

And I wonder why they are bleeding collectivists.

Late night arguments on capitalism with anarchists keep turning out bad. They never once make me question (in full) my capitalist beliefs, but they constantly set up pitfalls that make me question my anarchism. It's strange that they succeed to sway me away from anarchism where fascists, liberal democrats, and communists/socialists always fail.

It's a difficult idea to stomach that maybe freedom isn't possible after all. I'm not too worried though. Whenever these issues present themselves (this time it was the notion of turf wars and gang warfare in relation to the drug trade and how that is the model for anarcho-capitalism. As they argued that, it was reinforced in my own head with how Somalia - cool of a case study as it is - has roughly the same problem), I usually come up with or discover (thank you, Wikipedia) a counterargument within a couple of days.

I wonder what Lew Rockwell Milton Friedman would say...

The first day (actually it was the second day) of the convergeance was pretty nifty. After we had breakfast and a panel discussion, our first speaker talked to us about starting a popular campaign (dubbed "Stop Complaining Start Campaigning"). He kept talking about 'winning'. He was awfully cute, and I think everyone in the room fell in love with him. Plus, he's a Philly boy going to Drew University.

After him, we had lunch and a chill out. We went to the dining hall (VCU's dining hall is so much better than Mary Wash's), and then to a soccer field/playground behind the community center library where we held the Virginia Anarchist Federation meeting. Swings and slides are the shit!

Speaking of shit, during the discussion at a playground, having been motivated by cute Philly boy's workshop, we came up with an idea for an action. Unfortunately, we didn't have a cause to match it with at the time: A shit-in. Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. All the activists organize, take laxatives, and shit in mass on some sort of property.

I know, I know. We're fucking geniuses. You don't have to tell me that.

After we finished recess, we headed back to campus for a lecture by a GMU professor. She was awesome. She talked about the notions of privilege and how that differed from guilt or burden. She was a former Black Panther, Dominican-Jamaican. She described herself as "smart as shit". I agreed thoroughly.

After she finished up (she said she loved what I had to contribute), we broke for dinner and I asked Jasper if I could play his guitar to accompany Cente's amazing drum playing. We funked it up, as I always do. Jasper reclaimed his guitar and played some anarcho-punk singalongs.

After that we had the pleasure of coming up with an organizing structure. It was just as fun as VAF, which is to say, not much fun at all.

After that, we had a little chill time and then we left for Phil's sister's house. We dropped him and Kara off and then headed to someone's house for a bonfire. Pot smoking and drinking was rampant, but I am above the influence. Actually, since I was with anarchists, I was more like a stand-aside. Thumbs-sideways.

Anyway, I got a text from and made a call to my love (much happy) who told me about her exploits at the Philly car show (much sad). Unfortunately, I had to cut off the conversation early because my group was leaving.

We went to our assigned housing location - the Food Not Bombs house.

Oh. Dear. Fuck.

That place reeked of anarchist! I had a small debate with some of the other crashers about capitalism. Eventually, I grew too tired to continue (it could have easily gone on for three days, as it usually does), and said that I had to go to bed. It ended with handshakes and me telling them that, despite our ideological differences, I look forward to standing next to them in a bloc. And I really do mean that.

I only brought a pillow with me because I had woken up 10 minutes before I was supposed to meet up with the anarchist folk that morning. I decided that my trenchie wasn't going to cut it, so I borrowed a blanket from the house. Why do anarchists not wash anything? That thing stunk an anarchist funk. Twas gross. I tried to keep it down around my waist, but eventually realized that if I were going to get any sleep, I would have to warm my entire body and deal with the odor of opposition.

The next day, I was kindly woken up by Leah, a transient anarchist vegan. She was absolutely the sweetest girl, especially for morning. I ate my first dumpstered meal. I didn't dive for it myself. Leah and her comradical, Goad, found it the night before. It was a bag of bagels, from which I picked a blueberry one.

We got to the convergence, and sat around for breakfast. Then, cute Philly boy gave us our second lecture (actually he had given one Friday, but UMW's group wasn't there for it as we arrived on the second day). This time, his lecture centered on tactics for organizing within the group and motivating members to become part of the core. This lecture (unlike the last which cited mostly the civil rights struggles in the 1960s South and in 1990s Yugoslavia) focused on the tactics of right wing groups (if you can call post-Reagan Republicans 'right wing' anymore). It wasn't nearly as inspirational as the previous day's lecture, but then again, I was also far more tired and smelly.

After that was quite possibly the highlight of the convergence in my eyes: the consent workshop. It started out with a game. Everyone partner up and assign a person A and person B. There was no obligation to play and we could bow out at any time. I partnered up with Cente and was person A.

The game started simple enough "Person B, put your hand on Person A's shoulder."

Alright.

"Person A put your hand on Person B's knee (and when we call out an action you can stop the previous action)."

As I did so, I commented that this seemed like bodypart twister.

"Person B, put your hand on Person A's thigh."

Sure, whatever.

"Person A, put your hand on Person B's thigh and rub it."

At this point, I decided that I wasn't comfortable doing it. I didn't even ask Cente his opinion on the matter, I just told him that I wasn't comfortable. He agreed. I'm sure if I had asked, he would have been cool with it, and I wouldn't have had that much of a problem, but I didn't want to engage in an action that I wasn't even fully comfortable with.

"Person B, kiss Person A on the cheek."

He asked me if I was down. I actually was. Oddly enough, I found the kiss on the cheek to be less intimate than rubbing the thigh. He did it. He's so adorable.

"Person A, kiss Person B on the neck."

I was hesitant, but I asked and he said sure. So I did.

"Person B, kiss Person A on the lips."

We both immediately decided against that. Again, I don't think either of us would have had a problem with it, but I just didn't feel comfortable with it, and I think he felt the same way.

We reflected on the game, and discussed the points at which we started asking for consent.

The entire discussion about what counts as consent, about being assertive with whether or not you want to give consent, and about knowing what you do or don't like was really awesome. I appreciated it most because, unlike most discussions about sexual assault I've sat through, it was surprisingly non-judgmental. The organizers thought that it was just as important for people to express their desires (and ask for consent, of course) as it was for people to be able to take 'no' for an answer. They never singled out men as the necessary aggressors or the womyn (I'll give them the feminist spelling in respect for their awesomeness) as necessary victims. They didn't focus hardly at all on the legal definitions so much as real, relevant issues within relationships (e.g., having open and honest communication about likes and dislikes, being able to reflect upon power dynamics within relationships, etc.)

The part that resonated with me most, however, was when one of the presenters shared a personal story about how she was at one point the aggressor in a relationship. She discussed how she would do the whole 'fake non-judgmental thing' and subsequently pressure the guy whom she was with into various things. It really hit home for me, because up until then, I had believed that that certain manipulative relationship I had could only have been perpetrated by me as a male. I admit, I still feel ashamed for how I treated her, and regardless of whether or not she dwells on it (she doesn't, or at least claims as much), I still feel awful.

I talked to that certain presenter afterwards, and we had a nice little discussion. I told her about the lingering guilt I felt and still feel every time I sit through a lecture about sexual assault. Perhaps the most difficult part is not that the girl won't accept my apology, but that she doesn't think it's necessary.

Apparently, VCU SDS is trying to get their Sexual Assault Resource Center back. I asked Hermalinda if there were anything that I could do. Actually, that's slightly inaccurate. I told Hermalinda what I could do: I explained how good of a relationship I have with the administration and UMW and think I could easily get Ray Tuttle (of Judicial Affairs) and thereby acting President Rick Hurley to voice their support for VCU reestablishing the resource center (which VCU said would be done or underway - I forget - in March). I'm hoping I can also get them to ask the VCU administration if there were anything that our university could do, just to rub the guilt of a potential broken promise in that much more.

Despite the craziness and exhaustion that usually comes with these kinds of events, I always end up really enjoying myself. I'm really glad I went, and I can't wait for the Virginia Anarchist Federation meeting.

crossposted at my LJ http://droptheleash622.livejournal.com