Attending My First Rally

About a month ago, the state of Queensland where I live, voted in a right wing leaning government.

The Liberal National Party (or LNP) argued and bullied their way into the minds of Queenslanders, preaching to crack down on youth crime(adult crime adult time they call it), despite ignoring direct advise about adolescent rehabilitation.

They also teased the idea that they would criminalise abortion once more, back peddling when there was moral outcry, but never confirming their intentions either way.

It was in 2018 that abortion was decriminalised in Queensland, and now after a rise in right wing extremist ideology, the subject is back on the table.

It truly came out of no where from my perspective, but I should not have been surprised, not after the despicable No campaign last year. I guess hate is the new Aussie.

I found out in a pretty unpleasant way.

I came home from a late night art exhibition the night of the election, passed out with the tv on.

I awoke later, tv blaring light at me on the YouTube home page, and in my attempt to turn down the brightness I saw the news.

“David Cristifulli celebrates LNP victory.”

I was still drunk, very much disorientated, and my blood run cold.

I actually tried not to look at it, and turned the tv off.

With dedication, I went back to sleep.

The next day I hesitantly checked the news, hoping it was just a nightmare, or a false report, a hallucination?

Nope.

Devastation.

My visit to Instagram showed me I wasn’t alone with my feelings, so many of the people I had met at the art exhibition who I made connections with flooded their Instagram Stories with grief and rage over the verdict.

It was in those stories that someone shared a link to a post about a Brisbane protest to keep our abortion rights safe.

Protesting for the First Time

I am disabled, it is difficult to walk and keep my balance, and pain can strike me at any moment, if its bad enough I can collapse or hurt myself.

It is this, the heat, and difficulty accessing transport that has held me back from seeking out protesting in the past.

I try to protest in my own way, artistically.

But we just lost our state to a bigoted greedy government, with absolutely no respect for indigenous women and children, with no respect for women’s health, and a lust for control to amplify their egos.

I was enraged, and I felt hopeless, and I thought that maybe I would not feel that way if I went to this protest.

I was nervous, I had fears about what I would do if the protest got out of hand, if there were riotors or aggravators or hostile police how would I manage?

So I only took my phone and wore a one-piece to try and protect my body.

I was scared of my health getting away from me, but I tried to keep my confidence.

Fury would power me onwards.

Community 

The night of the protest I was feeling nauseated and tired, I considered not going, but instead, I chose to be late and wait until I felt a little better.

I arrived about 15 minutes late so I did not see everyone’s presentations or speeches, but I saw and heard enough to know I was at a rally I fully supported.

The speakers exchanged information over megaphone with the crowd, expressing rage at recent incidents of injustice that had to be fought by unions, and the despicable words members of government had uttered about the subject of abortion and women’s health care.

It was a very young crowd, with a mix of women and men with some older participants. Roughly 500 people were thought to have attended.

As the speeches went on, the crowd would cheer at times, and cry “Shame!” when the presenters outlined injustices.

It was all so new to me, but soon enough I found myself chanting back with the crowd.

Views were expressed that only I and close friends have acknowledged, and that many others have challenged me on, without really understanding anything they argue.

To be here with people who knew the same experiences as me, saw the same bullshit as me, and could identify the same hypocorisms, made me feel so validated.

I could calm myself on the feeling that I lived in a state that was against me, because at least I know that for the most part, Brisbane hates this result.

Voice

Suddenly they were wrapping it up, they asked for volunteers to hold their banner as they walked but I was way to shy for that.

I took my spot in the middle left side of the group, and chatted with a friend I recognized who appeared next to me, while we started to walk.

For a while I had no idea what we were chanting, I had a minor sinus infection recently and my hearing still had not come all the way back, so I mostly walked silently for the first couple of minutes. But as one of the protest members moved with a microphone to the center of the crowd, the chants became clearer.

They were liberating.

Phrases like Stand Up Fight Back, which I know to be a long standing one, resonated with me significantly.

“When our abortion rights are under attack what do we do?”

“When women’s health is under attack what do we do?”

“What do we do?”

Stand up, fight back.

I finally felt like it wasn’t hopeless, that I wasn’t hopeless.

That life and the human spirit is not hopeless.

Its rare that I get to express verbally just how enraged and distraught I am about women’s rights.

While I have talks about it with my friends, I am usually the most angry and the most upset, and after the conversation is done, I feel even more despair than before.

This situation was something entirely different.

This was not a discussion, this was a call to action from every single member of the city and public who saw our march.

This was a direct request, from a huge group of people, stopping traffic and interfering with people’s excessively expensive experiences to say “we will not tolerate losing our rights, and you shouldn’t either.”

I wanted to participate in the next rallies, but that’s the problem with disability, its unreliable and expensive.

Getting myself into the city is expensive.

Withstanding the walk, the elements, and being on my feet can be impossible.

And I managed to get sick again before the weekend rally that I would have been able to make.

Sometimes I feel like a traitor, or like I’m less representative of my values for being unable to attend some of these rallies.

And at the same time, I try to be kind to myself.

Its not my damn fault I got dealt a terrible hand early in life, but it is my responsibility to stand by my values.

I try to do this in my own way, and I try to live according to my values.

I make it quite clear to others where I stand on issues as big as abortion care and women’s health and rights. I’m never going to put up with people who don’t believe in those particular beliefs.

Those who would prefer a world where anyone’s bodily autonomy is being threatened is not welcome in my home or in my life.

Though I can embrace my values on my own, its undeniable the power of group activism.

There is such power in gathered indignation, and I cannot forget the feeling of being seen and being heard that radiated through me in that march.

The next rally I can make, I will be there.

And if you can, you should join me.