Women's March - DTES - Feb 14 2010
by Janine Bandcroft
 It began with a walk in the 50 or so year old urban forest with my dear friend of 25 years. We found this interesting three stump podium, and I awarded Liz the gold medal for friendship.
Not long afterwards, I headed to the DTES for the Women’s March. Five hundred dead or missing women, 19 years of commemoration. As we gathered, outside the Carnegie Centre at Hastings and Main, I noticed there weren’t any police officers diverting traffic as the crowd began to overflow from the sidewalks onto Main street.
Traffic was forced to lose a lane, and nary a cop in sight. A billion dollars are being spent on security for the Olympics. Would they rather we just wander aimlessly into traffic?
Eventually they created a traffic free block along main street, and a small number escorted us along the parade route, but I couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony. We were gathered to honour the memories of 500 missing/dead women whose disappearance has essentially been ignored by the authorities. Not that I think we can't police ourselves, but one has to wonder what their priorities are.
Eventually the drummers/organizers/elders emerged from the Carnegie Centre and we were led north among Main St. Many, many media camera people walked backwards at the front of the crowd, capturing the moment. I learned afterwards that some corporate media were very disrespectful to the organizers who had formed a barrier between them and the march.
One woman said someone called her bitch, and refused to move and create space. I talked about this with an alternative media friend … we decided that, since the nature of the corporate media world is so rooted in competition, it’s life or death for those camera people. Their paycheques depend on getting that perfect 5 seconds of footage so the nightly news can claim to have covered the issue. Thank goodness the new media model is focused on cooperation and collaboration, and let’s hope it stays that way.
We wound our way through Gastown, back along Hastings St., and ended up at the Japanese Language School where a feast awaited. Elders spoke, reminding us why we were there, acknowledging the death of the Olympic athlete, offering a prayer for the food and the community. I wonder how many Olympic events acknowledge the 500 women, or the fact that they’re temporary guests on stolen native land.
One young activist sat outside eating an apple.
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