I got a call from Samantha at the CODEPINK office last week: “Can you disrupt Pelosi on Saturday?” she asked. Nancy Pelosi was going to be speaking at an event less than an hour from my house. Sam said she'd send me tickets and a banner if I would stand up on my chair during an opportune moment, unfurl the banner, and urge Pelosi to not buy Bush's war.
My heart started to pound. The idea thrilled me to no end, but I felt a rush of fear, too. I was a girl who always had something to say in class but was often too scared to raise my hand. I used to ask my sister to order for me at restaurants when we were young because I was too shy. I've come out of my shell a lot since then, but I still tend to feel more brave as a writer than I do out in the world. Now that I had a chance to speak truth to power off the page, I hoped I could summon the necessary chutzpah.
I remember seeing Medea Benjamin confront Donald Rumsfeld during a hearing on tv several years ago, shortly before CODEPINK was founded; it was my first glimpse of Medea, and I was utterly exhilarated by her courage. I continue to be deeply inspired when I witness CODEPINKers disrupting conventions and hearings and speeches, putting their bodies on the line to speak for peace. I work to promote peace as a writer, but writing from the safety of my home feels very different from standing directly in front of the powers that be and demanding change. Last week, watching footage of our own Midge in her hot pink IMPEACH BUSH shirt standing behind Valerie Plame, I felt such a swell of admiration and pride.
I tried to channel Midge's moxie as I put on my bright pink clothes and drove out to the Morongo Casino and Resort on Saturday. When I started to feel nervous about my mission, I remembered the seriousness of the situation: Pelosi is poised to funnel almost $100 billion into a war she says she doesn't support. A war the vast majority of Americans don't support. A war that grows more tragic by the day. Pelosi has the power to end this war—the power of the purse—but she is caving in to political pressure. CODEPINKers have been camping out at Pelosi's home in San Francisco and DC and staging teach-ins in her office to remind her that this is about people, not politics. If she doesn't use the power we've given her, she'll lose it. If she buys Bush's war, she'll own it. I found myself feeling more and more determined as I drove into the desert, more convinced that disrupting Pelosi was the most important thing I could do, shyness be damned.
At the casino, I walked past the ringing bells and flashing lights of slot machines; my heart started pounding again but my steps felt strong as I neared the convention center within the building. There was a bit of a hassle at registration since my name wasn't on the official list, but no one seemed suspicious or wary as I grabbed some veggies at the buffet and slipped into the hall where the luncheon was being held. I found a seat near the front of the room—better for disruptive visibility—and flipped through the program, trying to keep my breath steady. The event was the Native American Caucus' Second Annual Women's Forum. It was an impressive line up—a day full of workshops and panels on subjects such as domestic violence, health care, women in politics, even becoming an activist. Unfortunately, Nancy Pelosi's name was nowhere to be found. The keynote speaker instead was going to be Hilda Solis, a California Congresswoman. I was disappointed that I wouldn't have the opportunity to confront Pelosi directly, but knew there was still an opportunity to make a difference.
John Garamendi, the Lieutenant Governor of California, spoke about how women need to rise up and take the lead. He spoke of the current health care and education crises, and how these affect women and children most acutely. He talked about how the government needs to do a better job of caring for the people. He didn't once, however, say that if we didn't fund the war, we'd have plenty of money available for social programs. He didn't mention the war at all. I was tempted, despite my shy tendencies, to get up and say something, but I didn't want to get my message out too early—I wanted to save it for the person who needed to be impacted: a Congresswoman who was going to be voting on the supplemental appropriations in the coming week.
Jodie Evans arrived, looking like the goddess she is in all her pink glory, shortly after Hilda Solis started to speak. Jodie joined me at the table and we commiserated as Solis pimped No Child Left Behind, Bush's dubious education plan. Solis had some good and important things to say about global warming, about health care, but she didn't mention the war or funding at all until the end of her speech. She had been part of a women's delegation to Iraq recently, she said, and soldier after soldier asked her when they were going to come home. One told her he didn't have the light bulbs he needed to look for IEDs at night; one told her he didn't have scissors. When she asked why he needed scissors, he told her he wasn't able to bandage up his buddies without them. She bemoaned the horrible conditions and said she didn't support Bush's war, but then she also talked about how with the supplemental this week, she had a chance to give the troops the funding they needed. Jodie turned to me and said “I'm going to be sick.” We decided that as soon as Solis' speech was over, we'd carry the DON'T BUY BUSH'S WAR banner to the front of the room.
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