As one by one the police ripped us apart, zip-tied us in plastic cuffs, and slowly dragged us off, our comrades kept strong the chant of “No War, No Warming! Resistance Is Forming!” Early on October 22nd, SDS members from numerous chapters converged on the streets of DC to protest the War on Iraq and Afghanistan and its connection to global climate change. Twenty-six SDSers locked arms and blocked an intersection near the Capitol successfully obstructing early morning traffic. Along with signs depicting war and warming, we had a banner that stated “War Pollutes Our Democracy; Sexism Militarizes Our Bodies” to convey the message that we were analyzing war and warming with a feminist lens.
As we sat along the curb after being dragged from the intersection, an officer came by and wrote down our name and gender until someone requested ze ask our gender instead of automatically writing something down. I consider my gender to be fluid but I more often than not identify as female. However, I felt the need to demonstrate that gender is not binary, that there are more than just two genders. As ze got to me, I identified as genderqueer. Genderqueer individuals reject the idea that there are only two genders and identify as neither/both male or female. The officer looked at me and jotted something down.
Once we arrived at the holding warehouse, the police officers separated us into male and female lines. They placed one of our male-bodied members among the females, most likely because he had longer hair. Eventually they realized the mistake, and moved him to the male line. Once we checked in and received our booking number, the officers searched us (female officers for those in the female line and male officers for those in the male line). Then we sat in assigned seats corresponding to our booking number. There were strict lines of folding chairs, all facing forward, with a large aisle between males and females. Initially we were not allowed to stand, move seats, or talk with the men.
We sang chants, discussed among ourselves, and continually asked the officers impertinent questions as the morning wore on. Slowly we were called to the front for our interviews. After answering all of their banal questions, I was told I was finished and could return to my seat.
I, however, was annoyed. I informed the interrogating officer, “You didn’t ask my gender.”
He responded with, “Don’t worry, I wrote it down at the beginning.”
“But you didn’t ask me, what did you write down?”
He gave me an odd look, “Female of course.”
“I really wish you would have asked me, can you please change it to genderqueer?”
“I’m sorry ma’am that is not an option, I already filled it out.”
“I really would prefer if you changed it.”
He called over another officer and I repeated my request. She responded with, “You cannot change it, you are female.”
I countered with, “You don’t know my gender identity and you clearly cannot see my genitals”
“Honey, just by looking at you I can tell you’re female, just like I can tell you’re white. We are not changing it. You think you are so clever. Go sit down. Now.”
I walked back to my seat contemplating the irony of her statement yet aggravated by her assumption. Shortly after, an officer was returning our drivers licenses and ze tried to find the owner of a male’s ID in the womyn’s section. Clearly, sight alone is not an indicator of gender.
We spent hours testing the waters by standing up, talking across the aisle, and asking questions. Eventually be began to elude the police’s restrictions. Across the room, a couple of our SDS male-identified folks were attempting to close the enforced gap between men and womyn. Throughout the morning, they gradually moved a seat over until they were at the edge of the aisle. One of the men tried to sit with the womyn but was told immediately to go to the men’s side. However, a female SDSer managed to sit on the men’s side for some time without detection before she decided to return to her seat.
Slowly the “men’s side” slid their seats to narrow down the aisle. Eventually the “womyn’s side” side caught on and we slowly moved our seats to meet in the middle. The officers were oblivious until the aisle was practically nonexistent. An officer asked what happened to the aisle and one of our seasoned activists explained how she had been doing activist work for years but was still learning from young folks. “For example, gender lines are easy to cross…see?” Then she proceeded to switch seats with a male next to her. The officer just shook hir head but did not ask us to reform the aisle. We then dragged our seats into a circle, began to discuss amongst ourselves, and played games; the room transformation was complete. What began as an ordered, segregated, authoritarian room, transformed into an open, integrated, imaginative space. We started out as powerless, isolated individuals and became a unified horizontal group that challenged the controlling nature of the room.
Everyday in the prison system, the binary gender manifests itself in extremely dangerous ways. Entering the prison system as a transgender or genderqueer person is one of the most terrifying situations. The likelihood of abuse and rape is high and officers are unsympathetic towards their situation. A week before my arrest DC Police Chief Cathy Lanier issued a statement on how transgender people should be treated, a major victory for the DC Trans Coalition, an organization that fights for transgender rights in prison.
Our No War, No Warming experience was more of a gender experiment in a relatively risk free space. While our action attracted media attention to warfare and global climate change, we also fought a more silent struggle against the gender binary. Now we need to make this struggle heard!
