So much of dictatorial power comes from just showing up. Everywhere.
Soon after my return from Vietnam, I was living in Boston and saw a notice of an upcoming Black Panther Party meeting. At the time I wasn’t sure just what they were doing, but I knew one of their primary objectives was protecting the black community from aggressive policing.
In the Army I had rubbed shoulders with enough African-Americans to understand what comes of being systematically oppressed. Although I was troubled by the shootings of police on the West Coast, the Panthers’ Boston chapter had not been accused of violence, and was ostensibly oriented toward helping blacks with food and education—it seemed like a positive move toward peaceful support of the black community.
I went to the meeting, curious to see what was up, and even considering helping them out. I also had a notion of showing that not all white people were clueless.
But I was greatly disappointed. It was a small gathering of young black men in a windowless room (lacking windows made sense, but it was depressing nonetheless). While I, as the only white person there, was understandably greeted with suspicion, they seemed more curious than hostile. It was a good start. But then I began asking questions, and before answering, whoever I was talking to would consult the Little Red Book (“The Sayings of Chairman Mao”) which everyone possessed. Where the book was not actually lying out in full view on a table or shelf, it would be in someone’s pocket—pants pocket, shirt pocket, out it came.
Continue reading “Tyrant in Your Pocket: Part II of Treading into Darkness”