Inside the March in March

Having taken to riding the train sitting backwards now (see recent post on lighting the dark) as symbolic that I'm living in a country which is not moving forward, I had an interesting ride the other day. Found myself the only person on a nearly full carriage facing backwards. Could see everyone's face, and the only face the rest of them could see was mine. I watched them succumbing subconciously to the social norm of facing the way everyone else was when they entered and found their way to a seat. I wondered if they were subconciously annoyed at me for giving their mind an alternate choice or for ruining the symmetry. 

It was interesting when the automated message system went awry, playing every message in its system one after the other for five minutes. The 'Spitting is an offence' one elicited a few laughs and I laughed along with a few people who caught my eye and shared the joke. We shared the moment, but no one in that carriage made a human connection with anyone else but me – they were all looking at the back of someone elses head – how could they?

Obligatory picture of me in thought

Today's train ride seems less eventful bar the ever darkening skies outside and flashes of lightning which do not bode well for the purpose of our journey which is to meet up with friends and attend the 'March in March' protest. As we disembark to a thunderclap which reverberates through the station stopping people momentraily in their tracks I wonder whether I should just hop back on a train going the other way, return to my cozy abode for the afternoon.

But Biz leads the way to Belmore Park and we make our way through the throng with their protest signs and under a sea of umbrellas. With people packed tight and umbrellas touching - it's like there is an unbroken chain of colour connecting everyone present. I don't have an umbrella nor a sign but I am wearing my fan-boy Billy Bragg t-shirt. Billy is not first to take the stage, but I want to hear what the invited speakers have to say so that's fine, I can wait.

We are welcomed by a traditional owner of the land. She welcomes the presence of a diverse range of people there for just as diverse a range of reasons but united in solidarity against a government that does not welcome people or diversity. In saying who is welcome and who is not she carries herself with more authority than any elected official with sycophantic nodding heads standing behind him at a meeting with the press.

Kaveh Akbari The Unlikely Poet

A refugee and now contributing citizen addresses the crowd with a stirring address. His 'Dear Mr Not So Honourable Abbott Sir' address climaxes in him not asking for sympathy but asking why he and refugees like him are labelled a threat? The only threat he says he brings is a threat to Abbott's indecency. And the mass of people roar and shake their umbrellas, embracing him as he embraces his new life and his right to participate in his democracy.

The not cynical Billy Bragg

Each speaker is embraced by the crowd in turn but it is one of my heroes in Billy Bragg that challenges me the most. Always on form, he captures and engages the audience. He leads us in a sing a long including actions. It is his challenge however that it is not so much capitalism or conservatism that we are fighting. The fight is against cynicism. Sure, the right wing agenda breeds cynicism. But it is cynicism, and our own cynicism that endangers the future. He prompts me to ponder that being Generation X, cynicism is in my DNA.

Still in thought, we embark on the march as the rain and clouds begin to clear. A cacophony of drums, whistles and chants lead the way out of the park and into the streets. There are older folks, children, babies in prams, hippies, hipsters, punks, young people with political slogans painted onto shirts and someone in a shark suit. There is a common denominator and you can see it in that even the dogs on leads are smiling. The people we pass that show their support by clapping or tooting their horns are reciprocated with cheers and high fives.

The walk down broadway in the shadow of sheer steel and concrete highrises affords a perspective of the city that feels different. Maybe it is just the atmosphere that being among 10-20 thousand people brings, but walking down the middle of the road towards our destination feels very natural. People reclaiming the streets. We are sharing a moment, we are acknowledging eachother and eachothers causes that are written on the signs around us.

So on the train ride home I find myself lost in thought. How do I fight my cynicism? How do I connect with my fellow Australians who conciously or subconciously find themselves facing the other way? I retain doubt that today will have any influence on our Government. I have hope though that in today's rain and in its fiery passion a seed was nurtured and will grow. It will grow and bring new life and shade to all who seek such things.

Photos provided courtesy of the lovely Biz, follow the link to see more fantastic photos of the day like this one...Biz's March in March album on facebook