Part II:
There were a few positive encounters of arguments that turned into conversations and people who looked to be revelers whispering, “I like your sign,” as they passed us by. One woman in a fur coat even stopped to take our picture, and then pointed to her coat and explained, “It’s not real.” Some southern high school girls even posed with us for pictures, explaining, “We’ve never seen protesters before!” Our signs attracted so much attention, that all we had to do is stand there and throngs of people would come to us. We were interviewed by the Los Angeles Times, the Pittsburgh-Post Gazette, CNN.com, NBC TV, as well as by several college film projects and student newspapers from across the country. All of them were trying to fit us in a box and were surprised to learn that we weren’t with any group and had decided to mingle with the masses rather than report to the designated protest cage. They were shocked to learn all of our facts about homelessness and poverty in DC and could not believe that our city decided to shut down three shelters this winter. At the end of the day, we even met Congressman Payne from New Jersey who thanked us for being there.
Still, it was unbelievable to me to see the deep hostility, rage, and cruelty stirring beneath those bundled bodies. “Put on your soul armor,” Gina would whisper through her smile. “This group is pissed and they’re headed our way.” We tried not to laugh to underscore the seriousness of our message. We both dressed up a notch from the traditional protest crowd, and we never hurled back insults. But if they are spewing this level of hostility at two yuppie-looking white girls, imagine if we were black, gay, poor, you name it. Before my friends arrived today, I was totally alone in the hostile crowd, searching for another sign as I squeezed down the sidewalk, with verbal eggs being hurled at me in all directions. I felt much more afraid and alone than I do in the dangerous neighborhoods of our city. I noticed a black photographer taking a picture of my sign and I scurried to catch up to him. “My friends better get here soon, that’s all I gotta say,” I muttered. “I hear you,” he said as we walked quickly through the packed crowd in silence.
Our “Kill ‘em with kindness!” policy definitely seemed to confuse and diffuse our attackers. Gina smiled as she called out “Take care!” to the man who called us “pisspots” and I followed with a chirpy “Have a nice evening!” As dusk settled and we shivered in the cold clutching our signs, I looked up at the gorgeous gray capitol building with its little lights warming the darkening sky.
“You know, I’ve never been called a pisspot before,” I mused, and we burst out laughing.
Jamila Larson is a social worker at an elementary school in southeast Washington, DC. She has been an advocate for homeless children in the District for nine years and runs a volunteer play program at CCNV, the nation's largest homeless shelter. A veteran of countless peace demonstrations, she is proud to count hippies and Marines among her friends.She can be reached at
jamilalarson@yahoo.com.