Activism in the City

We’re marching like lonely soldiers, with our posters up, our heads even higher; we march against violation of privacy and we demand respect and we feel oh, so righteous, and so full of wisdom and then we look around and there’s ten of us and we realize that this country is full of shit.

I’ll make things clear. Last government used to blackmail folks by filming them having sex with men, because they used to use humans as means,then this government aired the footage, hiding the faces but homo-sex-having folks and their co-habitants still got recognized, because, goshdarnit, how could  have anyone guessed that airing human figures, no voice alteration, just faces blurred, will cause anyone discomfort in such a tight, closed society as Tbilisi?

So, a bunch of activists planned a march to the president’s residency and then to the prosecutor’s office—the filming and the airing party, respectively. That morning, I woke up around two in the afternoon and could not get my head off the pillow. The night before I consumed a whole bottle of sparkling wine and here I was, unable to cope with the effects.

I don’t drink. I don’t know what to do when I drink. I don’t know what to do the morning after I drink. I just wanted to lay still and pretend I didn't exist. Or pretend that I were a unicorn…it is always cool to think of yourself being innocent and with long eyelashes and pooping rainbows in the sky…

And then, I thought of the last night, how we all gathered to watch a film and we discussed it with much fervor, and decided that we had to make a stand and  put our foot down and yell--enough!enough!enough! Though I still preferred to be a unicorn, I finally got up, found my pants on the floor and dragged my ass to the president’s residency. I wanted to show my support to some of my friends. I believe this is what my activism comes down to. I want to show friends that I care for them. Every time I argue about human rights, I try to think of the humans whose rights I am defending. Sounds stupid, but so often, we get caught up in the rhetoric and forget that real people suffer. Every day. What is argument for me, is life as usual for them.

Thus we stood, ten or fifteen of us, outnumbered by the journalists around us,giving interviews or just holding posters. Then we went over to prosecutor’s office, stood some more, pranced around for the cameras, packed our belongings and went to eat khinkali.  

We lamented a bit about lazy-ass people who would rather spend their Saturday otherwise, but honestly, if it just about making a stand, who cares how many of us where there? Popularity is for mainstream, man, the less we are, the cooler we feel, man. We’re like hipster activists. We’re proud and lonely.

But hey, we were on all the news, so I guess the goal is achieved.

 Here’s to bright future and citizens who can live in dignity. Here’s to life without blackmail. Here’s to life without headaches and here’s to unicorns and rainbows. Here’s to our country being a country and not prison…dreamers of Tbilisi unite.

p.s. the pic--the activists in front of the cameras. that poster actually shows a person being squeezed between two governments.