Reclaim “Reclaim The Night”
Nov. 26th, 2007 02:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
My esteemed colleague rang me on Saturday night. “I hate women,” she said. I told her to come for a pint.
She had just finished her duties as a steward at the Reclaim the Night march in central London. One of her jobs was to ensure that the marchers stayed together and no gaps opened up. “Could you move up to the people in front, please,” she said at one point. The woman in front of her turned round angrily. “Feminists seek consensus,” she snapped. “They don’t tell each other what to do!”
The event was women-only. If any men wanted to show their support they were very welcome to accompany the march but they weren’t allowed among the actual marchers, as my esteemed colleague had to gently explain to one young woman and her grandfather. As they ducked out of the march she said, “I’m really sorry, but those are the rules.” A woman next to her hissed, “Never apologise to a MAN!”
The march started in Trafalgar Square. Before it began, people were coming over and asking what the event was, many of them men. One of the organisers said bitterly, “Why do men always want to know what women are up to?” My esteemed colleague’s reply was, “There are a thousand of us standing in Trafalgar Square holding banners. Enquiring what we’re doing here doesn’t constitute patriarchal oppression.” The organiser ignored her.
There were many banners, but they were poorly made and rapidly fell apart. As the march progressed, banner after banner collapsed and disappeared from view. My esteemed colleague was highly amused by this and couldn’t resist saying to another organiser, “We should have got a man in.” Whatever the diametric opposite is of the funnybone in the human body, she hit it squarely. It’s tough out there for a feminist with a sense of humour who doesn’t automatically hate men she has never met.
She had just finished her duties as a steward at the Reclaim the Night march in central London. One of her jobs was to ensure that the marchers stayed together and no gaps opened up. “Could you move up to the people in front, please,” she said at one point. The woman in front of her turned round angrily. “Feminists seek consensus,” she snapped. “They don’t tell each other what to do!”

The march started in Trafalgar Square. Before it began, people were coming over and asking what the event was, many of them men. One of the organisers said bitterly, “Why do men always want to know what women are up to?” My esteemed colleague’s reply was, “There are a thousand of us standing in Trafalgar Square holding banners. Enquiring what we’re doing here doesn’t constitute patriarchal oppression.” The organiser ignored her.
There were many banners, but they were poorly made and rapidly fell apart. As the march progressed, banner after banner collapsed and disappeared from view. My esteemed colleague was highly amused by this and couldn’t resist saying to another organiser, “We should have got a man in.” Whatever the diametric opposite is of the funnybone in the human body, she hit it squarely. It’s tough out there for a feminist with a sense of humour who doesn’t automatically hate men she has never met.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-26 08:23 pm (UTC)