Oppression is not just the “system.”
by Jason Thompson
Being an older, married individual with a young child I do not get out much these days. Haven’t been to a show in over a year and seldom leave town for anything anymore. Aside from the few friends locally we do not hang out with people very often as our schedules do not allow it. I do not know if it is something programmed into my brain but I have a hard time being pent up and need an outlet for the energy that swells inside. Being an opinionated bugger doesn’t help nor does being aware of what is going on around me. The two are like gas and fire together. When I see something I disagree with in the public square (virtual and real)or feel the need to contribute I tend to do so whether invited or not. Being an old school punk I have a real problem with abusive authority. Many years ago that led to certain actions which will not be discussed here.Power. Abuse. Most anarchists only see that as concerns the “system.” Depending on where you live and the degree of intense scrutiny one receives this is understandable in many situations. For my situation, aside from financially and politically (which at this point I can do little about directly) it is not the case. The local police are friendly. The neighbors are quiet and for the most part keep to themselves. It wasn’t always that way. When we first moved here we found out quickly that there was a crack house 4 houses up. They would have crowds of people who would intimidate women walking alone by shouting about what they would like to do to them.
One night the younger boys from the crack house and some of their neighbors got together and decided to light fires in the street and then stand there and stare down traffic. I was naturally curious so I jumped into my car and drove by them. They walked up as close as they could get and tried to stare me down through my window. I went home, called the police, then stood outside and waited. When the officer got within a block of them their “po-po radar” went off and they scurried. Some went up a tree, some jumped fences and disappeared into yards. I stood out in the street, flagged the cop down and explained to him which tree they were hiding in and which yards. This of course drew some ire.
After the drive-by, in which the sole white kid who lived there was shot in the leg by some Bloods from downtown and for which we were awoken by a helicopter and a spotlight shining through our windows, I was pissed. This was ridiculous. We didn’t live in Compton. They chose to move to a nice neighborhood and set up shop, probably because they figured they could intimidate the normally docile and tolerant population. I had bought the house here because it seemed like a decent neighborhood even though it was lower-middle class. After the police dispersed and the neighbors were left on the corner discussing the nights events I decided to start my own campaign. I wanted them gone.
I went inside and drew up a sign that said, “Drug House” with an arrow on it. I went out and walked past everyone and started hanging it up across the street from the crack house, in full view of the neighbors and the occupants. They were not happy and yelled some things and the neighbors thought I was crazy. I went home and watched the street from the dark for awhile. In the morning i found the crackheads had left the sign on my car.
Being armed I was not too concerned about going out and walking by the house they rented. I carried a .357 with hollow-points. Another man who lived down the road had organised a petition to send to the landlord and the city and we went about collecting signatures for two blocks. The petition listed all grievances and observed violations of the law. Afterward some officers apporached us and said that the people were definately set to be evicted, which was great news, but that the process would take a few months. For the next 6 months we were extra-vigilant. I would not let my wife walk alone and made sure she always carried her gun. At night I would stay up and just observe until the point of exhaustion.
After they were officially evicted we had two strange incidents, both using the same tactic. In broad daylight on a sunny day I was out in the yard when a tall black man approached and from a distance of two houses up yelled, “Yo! Yo!” I do not answer to “Yo!” so I started walking back inside. I felt reasonably safe as I knew my gun was on the bookshelf by the door and their were several black males talking on cell phones as they were moving someone into the rental house across the street. As I walked up my sidewalk toward the house the man’s call of “Yo!” got louder and more emphatic but I did not really care so I just went inside. I was surprised when he came up my walkway and was shouting through my screen door. “Yo! Lemme use your phone!”
I grabbed my gun and put it in my waistband. He could not see me clearly as it was too bright outside and I had no lights on inside. “No!” I stated directly. “What?” Whatchu mean no?” he asked incredulously. I walked toward the door so he could see me and said, “I mean no. You are trespassing. You can leave…now!” He looked at me angrily. “Co’mon! Lemme use your phone man!” I opened the door, which swung outward and made him back up. He looked down at me, saw the gun and heard me say, “I said no! Get off of my property now!” He started retreating backwards and said, “I ain’t afraid of dat gun. You a racist! A bitch-ass racist!” and took off down the street quickly.
The whole time there were people on cell phones across the street. He singled me out and as I had not seen him around before figured he was friends with the people from the crack house. He wasn’t getting inside or catching me off guard.
About a month later around 10:30 at night Rena and I were watching TV in the living room. I was laying on the couch under some blankets and tyou could not see me if you looked in the window, but you could see her sitting in the recliner. Someone knocked on the door. We looked at each, perplexed as to who it might be. I told her to grab her gun and go to the stairs behind the door where she wouldn’t be seen. I grabbed mine and opened the door slightly. It was a lone black male and he was visably surprised to see me and not her. “Can I use your phone?” he asked. “No.” I said. “Please, man?” he asked. “We don’t have a land line and our cell phone gets no reception here.” I lied. He didn’t believe me but he had no repsonse for that so he walked off angrily.
It has been a couple of years and we have had no strange visitors or problems from strange black men wandering around. The other neighborhood problems ( a white trash drunk who lived two doors down and who would go to my wife’s work and take pictures of her on his cell phone , a group of wiggers who grew emboldened after the drug dealers left and who would threaten people who asked them to quit racing around in their suped up pieces of shit) have all pretty much fallen by the wayside due to unsustainable drinking habits and the economy. The problems left have been milder and not worth documenting here.
My point is this… oppression is not just the “system.” It is anywhere that a group of people use force to intimidate or harm others without cause. On the streets it is law. It is enforced with a “snitches get killed” attitude. When good people who have worked hard their whole lives are forced to be subjected to such things it is the duty of the good and decent to do something about it, to protect their neighborhood and families. I could not stand the thought of my wife not being able to go for a walk without being intimidated, to think that one end of my neighborhood was a no-go zone for her. That is not freedom, it is oppression. Some people might be critical of me using and working within the system but I think they are short-sighted. Any tool that brings more safety and freedom for family and friends is good. I started the neighborhood watch here which means I have been able to get to know several officers. They are supportive. Depending on the nature of the beast that might not be something that can be done in your area but for someone like me utilising the system to build community has worked to some degree. It has given us a reputation that allows us to have more say and move more freely. Some talk about infiltration and i am personally all for it. We are lucky because our situation makes it moot.