It was quick, it was ephemeral, it was — what was it exactly?
The "Black Block Party", thirty black-clad folk, gathered at King and Bay Friday at 5, to “mourn the loss of civil liberties" and remember the G20 debacle. The group aimed, as their press release said, "to commemorate the weekend that power came to town, and remind residents of Toronto of the tenuous nature of our democracy."
Organizers called it an “act of passive confrontation’’, but it was really just a kind of friendly hanging-out affair set against a rush-hour of pedestrians anxious to start their weekends.
No bandanas or police in sight — and activists freely offered up their motivations and intentions. Claudia Wittmann, a performance artist, told me “anarchists have been badly portrayed’’ and that she was happy to be here "symbolically putting my body in this place of power."
Onen musician there said she was wearing black not just to represent the black bloc tactic, but to signify, as well, the black- suited corporate uniform common in the business district. This corner, she pointed out, "holds special meaning because a police car was burned here a year ago." But I couldn’t exactly make out what her vantage point on this was.
One participant said he thought folks at Car-Free Kensington on Sunday might build a giant paper mache kettle — and another suggested it might be taken later that eve to Queen and Spadina. I got a little excited by this, but then again, no one was certain it would actually happen.
Then, poof, the little clutch of black vanished into thin air, leaving the corner to the rushing masses.
Origin
Source: Now
The "Black Block Party", thirty black-clad folk, gathered at King and Bay Friday at 5, to “mourn the loss of civil liberties" and remember the G20 debacle. The group aimed, as their press release said, "to commemorate the weekend that power came to town, and remind residents of Toronto of the tenuous nature of our democracy."
Organizers called it an “act of passive confrontation’’, but it was really just a kind of friendly hanging-out affair set against a rush-hour of pedestrians anxious to start their weekends.
No bandanas or police in sight — and activists freely offered up their motivations and intentions. Claudia Wittmann, a performance artist, told me “anarchists have been badly portrayed’’ and that she was happy to be here "symbolically putting my body in this place of power."
Onen musician there said she was wearing black not just to represent the black bloc tactic, but to signify, as well, the black- suited corporate uniform common in the business district. This corner, she pointed out, "holds special meaning because a police car was burned here a year ago." But I couldn’t exactly make out what her vantage point on this was.
One participant said he thought folks at Car-Free Kensington on Sunday might build a giant paper mache kettle — and another suggested it might be taken later that eve to Queen and Spadina. I got a little excited by this, but then again, no one was certain it would actually happen.
Then, poof, the little clutch of black vanished into thin air, leaving the corner to the rushing masses.
Origin
Source: Now
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