come on down to the river of sight and you can really understand

[morbane]

I work next to New Zealand's Parliamentary Precinct. On Tuesday, February 8th, the protest arrived: a "convoy" in the vein of Canada's protest convoy, supposedly in response to similar government actions: in our case, mandates that make vaccines compulsory in certain professions.

It wasn't much of a convoy. It straggled in by lunchtime; some of its streams had got lost or snarled in traffic. However, they planted their vehicles like they planted their upside-down flags. Several bus routes had to be diverted around campervans and cars parked in the middle of Molesworth Street and other public transport arteries.

In my work team, on certain weeks, 3 people always work 2-10pm. Leaving our building that night - on a pretty quiet street, not facing the protest - my team members were heckled for wearing masks. I don't know what sorts of people think it's fair game to team up with your friends to yell and jeer at the nearest available office workers going home late at night (who was watching to be impressed?) but I do know they're all currently squatting on Parliament's ruined lawn.

Protests that march to Parliament are common. Here's a 2019 march I took part in. It's rare for protesters to attempt an occupation - and the precinct's many, many open gates and restrained security reflect that. Here, there is no petition, no underlying message - or the underlying concept is "freedom", and it encompasses just as many fantasies and fair grievances as you'd expect. The police tried to round them up in following days and retreated. "Hang em high" was written on the forecourt with smiley faces. The Speaker of the House turned on the sprinklers and played annoying music, expressing somewhat juvenilely the incredulity and indignation that "mainstream NZ" felt; neither this nor the serious lashing of ex-Tropical Cyclone Dovi over the following weekend dislodged the village of tents. They just spread hay and stole rubber mats from Ian Galloway Park.

Food tents and portaloos, a "Blues Lounge", and various other amenities were organized within the protest compound. Herb beds were laid over the ruined lawn; lettuces planted among the roses. The local schools hired security because children walking to school were heckled and menaced; those schools have now closed. Local cafes closed and the local huge supermarket reduced its hours because of staff having to deal with aggressive customers refusing to shop with masks. Meanwhile the police said they couldn't do anything, essentially, because they did not want to set off a serious conflict. Most of NZ's reaction: well, yeah, don't break out the rubber bullets, but even so, REALLY?

The back of Parliament, which my work windows overlook, has been relatively clear - thanks to Police patrolling it. Relatively. But this has been a siege: at one point I saw a group of people standing in the carpark near one of the clear doors, and my heart started racing, until my colleague at the window with me pointed out they were wearing masks. It turned out that this was a group of people from Save the Children who'd booked that day to deliver a petition to Parliament, and as is customary, Members of Parliament had come out to meet them and formally receive it (this, of course, normally happens on the forecourt) - except this ceremony was gatecrashed by an aggressive protester who yelled and filmed.

I feel like I can't quite express how open Parliament usually is, and how up close the protest compound is. You couldn't just throw a stone from the lawn and hit a window of Parliament - you could probably get there with a really well made paper dart.


I let it all get to my head a bit last Sunday.

On Friday 18th after work, just as on previous days, I went down to the bus stop (to see if it was a bus stop today rather than a row of campervans blocking off the buses) and was serenaded with the usual smooth tones of Kelvyn Alp and Counterspin Media, telling me that we were all guinea pigs for an unsafe medicine and our children were dying because we wouldn't stand up to the overt control of a government seeking to brainwash us. And I went home feeling sick and furious at the feeling of watching lies pump into the air like smoke. On Saturday Stuff posted a picture of a woman holding up a Go Home sign by herself on Bowen Street.

So on Saturday, I dragged out of under-house storage the projector screen scavenged from a work furniture clearout, and I got really into it with fabric tape. On Sunday it rained. "Surely I don't need to counterprotest the protesters when it's already bucketing down on them," I muttered, but then the rain cleared.

So I charged down to Bowen St with my awful heavy projector sign, dragged along with the jury-rigged aid of a shopping bag on wheels, and set up shop on the intersection of Whitmore and Lambton where all the cars could see me and all the protestors could see me.



It was an interesting time.

I got a lot of reactions. People came over to talk to me pretty much immediately. The first group was headed by a young woman who was very fierce and very clear and who kept reiterating the point that no, I was not wearing a mask for her (she clearly found this offensive) because she could look after herself with her own behaviour, including her diet and taking vitamins. She absolutely did not accept the idea that she might get sick and that other people's behaviour might affect whether she got sick. This woman had such a large, fascinated following that another protester came up on a bicycle and said "look, you've had your say, this is just one lady, leave her alone."

"It's okay, we're still just having a conversation," I said. The woman on the bicycle gave me the kind of hard look I associate with teachers and nurses and lawyers, very much I will see my responsibility through up to a certain point but I am not responsible for your own bad decisions, and cycled off. But, after the second or so time I said "No, we've covered that, and I don't think we're going to agree," the very fierce protester gave me up as a lost cause and the crowd dispersed.

What I really feel bad about is that early in that conversation, another pedestrian came up to say, you have the right message, I'm on your side, and when the very fierce protester challenged me, she shouted over the top: actually masks do work, this lady is right! "I didn't come here to talk to you," Fierce Protester said. My ally huffed. "We can all continue this conversation," I said, but I think I said something before that that wasn't as tactful, and my ally marched off. I think I could have handled that better.

Then there was a guy who gave me an uneasy feeling. I don't remember entirely what we talked about. "The stuff I've seen the police do here - if I did that stuff - I'd be put in jail," he said. I believe that the institute of policing, despite its stated aims and benefits, inherently rewards the abuse of power and the covering-up of such abuse, and that is a problem. But this protest has been a very well-documented protest in real time and all I could think that he meant was plucking protesters from the crowd early in the protest, handcuffing them, and marching them away. "I've been chalking up some pretty controversial messages," he said, grinning.

"Well, as long as it wasn't 'Hang em high'."

He smiled, and didn't answer.

Many more anti-mask messages flooded in through the morning. One passing group warned me about the dangers of breathing in my own bacteria. "I give you a month tops." I thanked them for that month. Many asserted that masks are useless because you can be infected with COVID-19 through your eyes. Many protesters simply looked at my sign and snorted performatively, or said, "No thanks!" One said to her friend, "Well at least she's wearing an N95." I could relate to that. I too appreciate logical consistency in my opponents, however it manifests.

A pair of women came by and stood to the side while I was talking to a protester, a palliative care nurse, who told me about losing her job because of her vaccine refusal. After that group had gone, they introduced themselves: a new university student and her mother. The university student had been due to start at the campus that had been shut down by the protest - they'd come by only to look at it wistfully. Pipitea Campus, Victoria University's law and business campus, was due to start classes on Feb 28 and now may not open until April. They were kind and encouraging and I gave them my best wishes in turn.

I'd arrived at my site at about 11:30am. At about 12:30pm, Joel arrived. I'd caught him a bit off guard by charging out of the house. We swapped out his cloth mask for a surgical mask and he gave me some much needed help holding the sign up. Yes, it has a lovely tripod, but it's Wellington and that thing was a sail. I had spent an hour keeping it from blowing over. My hands were shaking.

A guy came by on a scooter, encouraging me to go check out the protest. "No one's going to hassle you for wearing a mask, that's freedom of choice. Well. Most people won't, I can't speak for everyone." [rough approximation of quote, I can't remember any more.] I thanked him for his honesty. I liked that guy.

At 12:45pm, Alex arrived, and I carefully rolled up my sign: today was her birthday lunch at a restaurant a few blocks over. She was ruffled: she'd spent her bus ride arguing with a woman who'd insisted on riding maskless, coming to join the protest with her children.

I left my wheeled bag and the packed-down projector screen outside the restaurant (Leuven), within an area of their outside tables: it was a rainy day so I figured no one would be using the area, and the bundle was so horribly awkward I didn't want to manhandle it into the restaurant and get in everyone's way.

Except, halfway through a lovely lunch, catching up with people, meeting a ten-week-old for the first time, Joel said, "Hey!" and alerted my group to his view out the window - someone attempting to pick up my bag and its contents.

I sprinted for the door. "That's mine!" / "I was just trying to bring it inside," / "It's mine," and the thief retreated. The restaurant staff helped me bring my very awkward baggage inside and up some stairs. "She was NOT trying to bring it inside," our waiter agreed sympathetically. In seriousness, that is not normal for Wellington; the most innocent explanation I can think of was that the woman saw the wheeled shopping bag and thought she could use it, but...

Lunch went long. A birthday friend gave Alex and Joel a ride home, and I got back to my corner just before 3:30pm.

There was such a kind moment, then. I set up my horribly unwieldy sign and unrolled it carefully. The fabric tape on cloth projector screen worked, but the edges of the tape letters kept rolling up; I'd been having to smooth down the edges all morning, and I had to smooth it all over now. As I was doing that, a young man (late teens, early 20s? not white) stepped up beside me, and pressed the edges of the letters down with me. "It's a bit of a dumb sign," I said apologetically. "It's a beautiful sign," he said.

A man came over with his young son. "Are you open to dialogue?" he said, stopping thoughtfully ~two metres away. "Sure." He listed numerous health qualifications that he and his partner held. "You're wearing a N95 mask. Have you been trained to fit it?" I admitted I had not. He proceeded to explain how much rigor goes into mask fitting in surgical situations; sniff tests; how short a time each medical mask is considered effective. I felt very much on the defensive and very aware this man could run rhetorical rings around me, and could only stick to my tenet: of course we shouldn't consider masks 100% protection and we should be more careful the less formal they are, but a mask is better than no mask.

During that conversation, a woman walked past with her daughter. She looked at me with a look I recognized instantly, as if in a mirror: incredulity, anger, exercised irony, How is it I even have to do this. She snarled at me something like "You can get it through your eyes!" the purest distillation of her outrage that I would advocate for masks. I nodded to her in acknowledgement, and then nodded apologetically to the well-spoken mask guy, whose train of conversation I'd lost.

We started to pick up that conversation again, and then the incredulous protester circled back and joined it. From her contributions I learned that she believed in Agenda 30, and I never quite managed to make eye contact with the mask guy to ask - so this is who is on your side, you're apparently for science, what stuff like this are you okay with?

In fact I significally missed a step with him. After he'd spoken for a while, I respectfully asked what he thought we should do protect from COVID-19. He launched into diet and exercise and I said "but what should the Government do," and he shut me down, and I wished I'd asked from the start: what should we do to protect each other from COVID-19? Because that's the crux, to me, and why a government response has relevance.

He did eventually leave, iterating for about the fourth time that we were all trying to do the best thing we believed we could.

Controversial chalking guy came back, chalk in hand. He didn't even greet me before starting to write on the pavement in front of me. "Can I ask what you're writing?" "Sure, I'll just write it." He wrote: I PROTEST FOR YOUR FREEDOMS NOT JUST MINE.

I had a deep sinking feeling when I read that. "Clever," I muttered. It was an effective way to undercut my message, even though I deeply disbelieved his sincerity. Check if not mate.

Then a group of teenagers walked up, and one of them dumped their drink on the writing while saying "OOPS, I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THAT," as loudly and dramatically as possible. "You can't film me, I'm a minor!" another of them yelled at the nearby idling car whose occupants all had their phones out.

For a moment I was really truly scared that the chalking guy would turn back, that more protestors would swarm, that the teenagers would get hurt and it would all be my fault. But it generally fizzled. The teenagers scooped more water in their hands from the Court pool at our backs to dump on the message. They stuck around.

"Did you see the guy with the really really large flag?" one asked me mournfully. "That's my swimming teacher."

I guess that's how he got the muscles to carry around that really, really large flag.

A mandated-out-of-work electrician came by to explain to me that healthy air sensors used in his line of work all indicated unhealthy conditions when stuck under masks, and that meant mask users were experiencing hypoxia and long-term brain damage.

A pair of young people came by to talk about how useless masks were. One of them showed me a short clip from June 2020 of Dr Bloomfield (NZ's Director-General of Health and a very popular figure last year) talking down the efficacy of masks. The guy looked at me sadly. "So I've just shown you two health experts talking about how masks don't work, but you're still wearing a mask."

"Yeah, that was 2020! Health advice about COVID-19 was evolving. I see pretty consistent messaging around wearing a mask now..."

"Right, the science isn't settled," said the other member of the pair, rolling her eyes. I winced and gave her a sympathetic look, because, yes, that can be an excuse... But it isn't an excuse not to do this relatively easy thing that, according to many sources, will save lives.

At one point a woman with a Voices for Freedom sign came to talk to me, and so did her friends, and so did another woman with a sign I never quite saw, but I caught flashes of it and it made me pretty nervous as they crowded around my corner, showing their signs. "You say people have had eggs thrown at them in Thorndon? I've been egged," said the Voices for Freedom woman, and I agreed that was not on, while heartily wishing she would go away. "You say those students have been intimidated," she said, "But you know some of them have been inside to get food? I asked them if they'd like a drink as well..." I agreed that it was kind of funny that some of the secondary school students in the area had taken advantage of the free food. I didn't think it made up for the harassment.

The Police marched past in their groups a few times, and occasionally asked if I was okay. Each time I said, thank you, yes, no one has been aggressive. I don't know if it was coincidental or not that later in the afternoon, when protestors were on my corner with signs, a group of Police paused too and had a long chat with others, everyone's body language relaxed. People started to head off to the other corners. One member of Police circled back to me.

"I've had a chat with those people," he said [very approximate quote], "and made the point that you have the right to express your views just as they do." The corner cleared and I was deeply grateful. I think if four or five of the protesters with signs had come to occupy my corner, I would just have had to move on.

And it makes me sad: the possibility of appealing to fair play (you have your site, she has her corner) where we're almost all on the same playbook but not quite.

I had another long conversation with a guy who said, after about twenty minutes of talking, raw emotion in his voice, "I just don't want you to live in fear. Come over to the camp! I've never felt so much love."

I didn't have a comeback at the time, but later, I wish I'd said: you think our government is conspiring to kill us. How am I living in more fear than you? When Jacinda Ardern announced lockdowns, that was when I felt hope.

"And I just don't want you to die of a preventable disease," I said weakly. But he thought we needed to get sick for our immune systems to work. And that COVID was just a cold.

There were people shouting thank you from their cars, giving me a thumbs up. Another carload of people, very clearly protesters, shouted that they hoped I found my inner strength (and not the strength of a government shill??) one day.

There was one person who said they believed in masks and mandates, but their sister didn't, and at 68 this was the first major rift that had come between them, and it was hard.

Late in the day, a protestor brought me a box of food to show the plenty and benevolence at the camp. The box had a lot of cookies and also a yoghurt pottle and a watermelon slice. I am throwing them out.

At about 6:20pm I carefully rolled up my sign again, and stuck the half that would fit into my wheeled shopping bag, and started the walk home.

That was the hardest part. I cannot describe how unwieldy that sign was even with wheels. It was slow and it hurt. My biceps ached three days later. I kept my mask on the entire hour-plus uphill walk out of stubbornness.


A lot of protesters said, "Well, you're brave." Which feels backhanded, coming from opponents. I didn't feel brave, except for how I suppose it felt brave to stand up to be ridiculed for my ignorance and lack of glib replies. Easier not coming from your friends. I didn't fear or expect physical retaliation, as just one person on a corner alone: I wasn't a threat.

Brave might have been actually organizing a counter-protest, except what I was really craving, to feel better, was the conversations. I flatter myself thinking that even with my confused and conciliatory comments, there was some value in talking directly to people and presenting a face of pro-mask thinking.

Some friends have expressed surprise I didn't lash out in anger at the flood of misinformation. I didn't because I don't consider myself either clever or informed, and I felt sympathy for people who had lost jobs or been faced with hard choices about bodily autonomy. But looking at today's statistics, I'm a little more angry. Those protestors have been misled by lies that the mandates are a control measure, the vaccine is dangerous, the virus is just a cold... But they have come down here to mingle with no precautions and they are going to take up valuable hospital beds because of their conspiracies. They will extend the time this virus spreads. Some of them are going to die and they will cause others to die.

Comments

[blueinkedfrost]

Thank you for what you have done. I hope that you are proud of the stand you took - you were right and you gave time and effort and risk.

[morbane]

Thank you - that means a lot.

[isis]

I am endlessly impressed by your ability to be thoughtful and reasonable in the face of rudeness and entitlement and outright lies. And even more impressed that it extends to face-to-face communication! :-)

Go you for doing the good thing, which could not have been the easy thing.

[morbane]

Thank you for the kind words! I will remember them next time I am bracing myself to do something scary.

[snickfic]

Thanks for sharing this post. It's so much! I'm glad you were able to take away something positive from the conversations.

[morbane]

Thanks for reading! I'm still thinking frequently about those conversations.

[cahn]

I feel like this is so on-brand for you: changing hearts and minds by the power of friendly conversation <3 I think putting a human and compassionate face on something which they might not have considered as such is really the only way sometimes to reach people, and I think you are awesome <33

And I think facing ridicule is extremely brave, actually :P <3

[morbane]

Thanks! I'm really pretty introverted but I'm glad I did that.

[corvidology]

The best thing about your actions, which I applaud heartily BTW, is that you got them to be in a space that wasn't an echo chamber of their own stupidity at least for a while whether they're smart enough to benefit from it or not. ♥

[morbane]

Thanks! I also probably learned a thing or two. Even if some of the things were alarming like "some people literally believe that sufficient self-care will protect them from every transmissible illness that exists, no reduction of exposure required."

[azurelunatic]

Thank you for doing the hard things.

[morbane]

And to you, whether they are things seen or unseen.

[china_shop]

Thank you so much, both for your brave counter-protest and for writing it up so thoughtfully. I'm so impressed by your compassion and calm, and reading this helped shift me a bit out of my resentful headspace (or at least helped me redirect my resentment and blame to the disinformation spinners, where it better belongs). I appreciate that so much. ♥

[morbane]

Thanks very much. Honestly, that's what I got out of it, most, personally, too - feeling less helpless.

The protest is dispersed but the anger at the disinformation spinners remains.

[tielan]

Oh, well done. Even if you felt awkward and sometimes unhelpful, you had tough conversations with people - and yes, gave them a pro-mask, pro-restrictions face to focus on.

[morbane]

Thanks very much, I appreciate the kind words. That was definitely what I was trying to do.

[daisyninjagirl]

I'm glad the police were keeping an eye on you - it always seems to be women and young people who get the most flack.

Good on you for 'weaponising' your bubbly and patient personality!

[morbane]

Me too. Though I suspect anyone with a counterprotest sign on that corner would have got a response of some kind. I definitely appreciated the police the couple of times there were 15+ people around me from the opposite corner.

[chestnut_pod]

Your patience and bravery are honestly remarkable. Thank you for doing this hard thing.

[morbane]

Thanks. Same to you for past, present, and future things.