one take on the 206 experience

8am on a Thursday morning

The determination and courage of the Black Lives Matter protesters inspires me. (BLM King County has disavowed organizing the protests for good reasons.)

Each day and night they are in the park and on the street, chanting and holding up signs and umbrellas. I've joined them, the past few afternoons, standing under a tree, joining in the protest chants.

It's strange to be among people during a pandemic; strange and slightly terrifying.

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What's even more terrifying is the militarization of the neighborhood.

Washington State Patrol flies a plan overhead, hour after hour, an angry drone that eats at the mind.

The FBI joined in Wednesday night, reportedly, with its own plane.

Helicopters dive in and out.

A half block from the busysmartypants abode, the police and National Guard have barricaded the block, from 12th and Howell down to Pike, and they stand in formidable lines, heavily armed and geared, staring out at the street. 

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The citizen journalists go out night after night, livestreaming from on the ground and apartments above the street as thousands of people protest.

Umbrellas are tools of protection and resistance.

Wednesday night was the first night in awhile with no flash-bang grenades and no tear gas.

There was even a band performing in the street by Sam's Tavern. After the cancellation of the curfew and meeting with mayor, police chief and community leaders, the mood seemed somewhat lighter.

Vermilion, the Cuff and Poquito's are hubs for water, food and medical care.

My neighborhood has adjusted to times of war, without the slightest hesitation.