No Parking for ICE

      Having lost their parking contract with the City, ICE is looking for new parking, so the first thing today was a protest outside their building on Varick St. A scafffold provided convenient protection from the drizzle as we formed two long lines of chanting people with signs with a corridor for pedestrians in the middle. More than 100 ppl from RAR and Chelsea Neighbors United showed up along with plenty of press. Chanting for an hour can get monotonous so I amused myself by watching the reactions of the people walking by. There were a lot of supportive responses and fist pumps, some chanting along as they passed, and one or two who picked up a sign and joined us. Then there were others who just smiled or nodded.  Others seemed confused by the whole thing, and two men who were visibly startled when the end of Jay’s speech suddenly erupted into chants all around them.  There was no hostility from bystanders and just one of the usual trolls that Jamie made short work of.

     Returning my sign, I ran into Ann and she told me about how, after 30 years, she is ready to give up her show and the tremendous amount of research it requires so she can do more activism.  I said maybe she could get more guest hosts, like the activist who had filled in for her recently.  “He has a lot of energy,” I observed.  “Just watching him makes me tired.”  “I don’t have as much energy as I used to,” she said, “I think it’s the cancer medication. They told me, you are going to go into menopause again, and I have hot flashes – that’s all I had the first time.”  It occurs to me that this is the second time in less than a week that I have found myself at a protest discussing menopause with an older lesbian activist.  Apparently turning fifty made me eligible for these conversations.  

 

     It turned out we were both heading to Mt Sinai Union Square- I had a CT for surgical planning and she was keeping a friend company at the doctor- so we walked through the gentle rain, comparing notes about our various ailments and medical experiences. We talked about a friend who is starting to get bogged down by the accumulating conditions of aging.  “They talk about aging well,” I said to Ann “but I am aging catastrophically.” “I bet you wish you could go back and start over in a different body.” she said.  “I wish I could be somebody else,” I said and she nodded. I felt the tears -  which have been close to the surface lately, like my internal water table is higher than usual - getting ready to overflow, so I quickly changed the subject.

 

    I told her about the frustration of the current young ACT UP members being too embroiled in their endless discussions about masking to actually take action, how they dismissed Eric when he tried to talk to them as an ACT UP founder. It’s a strange contrast with the young climate activists who are thrilled to meet us “O.G.” ACT UP people.  

 

    There is a huge disaster heading our way on the domestic HIV/AIDS front with massive cuts to prevention, treatment and services in the Orange Menace’s 2027 budget. States have already started cutting the ADAP programs people rely on for access to lifesaving medication- between the states who have already done it and those who are about to, almost half the country will be dealing with these cuts. 

 

    Since ACT UP is not likely to step up to fight this, I’m thinking that maybe those of us who are interested in actual AIDS activism should start a committee within Rise And Resist. There is already a health care committee but it’s small and they already have their hands full with the ACA, Medicare and Medicaid issues.

 

    At 14^th St we had to decide whether to walk east or take the bus.  “I should probably save it for the march later,” I told Ann, opting for the bus.  “What march?” she asked.  “It’s the Manhattan Institute gala at Cipriani,” I said.  “It’s worthy of a march, but you might want to see how you feel,” she said, giving me a stern look.  

    At Union Square we parted ways and I headed up to the 3rd fl radiology dept. Unlike the MRI they only made me strip from the waist up, which I appreciated because they keep the room cool for those big machines. The CT is much easier than an MRI- much less enclosed and also a lot faster.  Leaving, I crossed that off my checklist. Next week I will be back for the two MRIs of my mid and lower spine to check for other tumors.

   With hours to go before the march, I made my way up to Chelsea to Michael’s to get some bead string for a client.  Wandering among the art supplies until I found the right section, I remembered how much art I used to make.  It felt like another loss, so I shoved that down too.

    It was really raining when I stepped back out and my sweatshirt was already damp, so I decided to have a cup of tea and see if I could wait it out.  As I sat there, the pain started creeping in.  Just a little at first, like a drop of dye in water, and then spreading tendrils across my lower back. In my mind, the part of me that wanted to push through and go march anyway fought the part of me that knew I should go home.    In the end, I got on the R train and fell sound asleep as young people just getting out of school chattered all around me.