The Next Eco-Warriors (27 page)

We decided to go with a geisha theme and gather a group to protest the G8 summit in Edinburgh. Our hope was that geisha outfits, decorated with G8 policies, would deliver a powerful message while remaining peaceful enough to thwart off inevitable altercations with the police. This wasn't a passive protest; there were no meetings or information sessions. There were no forms to fill out or donations to make. This was something low-key, attention grabbing, and easy for people to participate in. Very soon, we began to see our initiative was something much larger than costumes and dresses walking around the G8 protests. You could see that people who had little interest in traditional methods of activism were suddenly becoming involved, talking about the issues, and learning what's at stake. We began to hold costume-making workshops, and before we knew it, more than twenty of us were dressed as beautiful geishas and on our way to Edinburgh.

Once in Edinburgh, I split off from my geisha friends and went to work on what I had previously committed to do, to produce alternative coverage with an independent media group during the protests. Much of my days were spent in an office, and soon I wished to be on the frontline too. I started to
question my form of traditional activism. Activism should be inspiring and fun, and although my ways of doing things had shown me to be successful, I wondered how I could branch out and make creativity more a part of my life.

It all came together during the G8 protest. On the big day of action, there was mass protest from all directions, descending upon the hotel where the world leaders were meeting. The geishas walked in protest from the east, a large group of clowns were coming from the west, cyclists were arriving from the north, and yet another group of dedicated citizens were coming from the south. I watched as the groups formed lines and rallied around in protest. Each individual group, with their own unique style of activism, moving toward each other, finally reaching a collective focal point and successfully stopping the delegates from entering into discussion for most of the day. In this moment, I realized that every single style of activism has its own unique purpose, yet it is the collaboration of these movements working together that can inspire global change.

After the protest, the geisha team and I regrouped in Nottingham, exhausted and inspired, to share our experiences. It was the first experience with civil disobedience or direct action for most of them. There were stories of police aggression and brutality but also creativity and fun times at the protest camp. I listened intently:

“Well, we decided on a really soft approach because we were feeling quite fearful of what could happen,” claimed one group member.

“It was such a powerful image when we stood there as a line of geishas, opposite the police, who were looking scary and terrifying defending the weapons of mass destruction,” said another about an action at a nuclear submarine base.

“Yeah, with those people in the lock-ons, we just slid between them and the police, keeping the blockaders safe. It was calmness and madness all at the same time,” a third offered.

I was elated and filled with a sense of pride that this group of young artists were excitedly discussing taking collective action against a major global financial institution that was partly responsible for the problems facing our planet today. In the weeks that followed, our goal was to become a collective that offers support to campaign and action groups by adding creative elements to their protests. Not long after that, we became known as the Mischief Makers.

We focused on street performances, costume making, puppets, and banners. We actively encouraged recycling, cycling, and living a vegan, cruelty- free lifestyle. We joined a protest demanding rights for migrant workers. We decorated our bikes with flags and streamers to join a critical mass of cycle activists. This type of activism made me uncomfortable at first, as I was used to traditional ways of protesting and direct action. I endured a steep learning curve. Yet, with each action, I began to see the benefits of this different approach. There is power in the creative, whether it's dressing up in costumes or performance art. By acting in uncommon ways, it makes passersby stop, take notice, and question what you're doing. Often, it sparks a conversation. And dialogue is where change really begins.

Inspired by the concept of “think globally, act locally,” we wanted to contribute to large-scale global issues by doing what we could to improve our own community. Most of our work was with local groups and campaigns in our hometown of Nottingham, but it wasn't long until a significant opportunity emerged—an application lodged by a waste company to expand an incinerator facility in the city. The incinerator originally was built in the 1960s, was already outdated, and had repeatedly been cited for breaching its emission quotas. Expanding the facility meant more waste would be imported from nearby counties, and as a result, more emissions would be belched up into the air and dispersed. Needless to say, the expansion proposal didn't go down very well with nearby residents and environmental groups.

I knew that Nottingham had one of the worst recycling rates in the UK. Going for a walk on garbage collection day, anyone could see the cans,
bottles, and paper just sitting in the trash bins. Our city was burning an abundance of waste that could be recycled and reused. It was time to take action to ensure that the expansion would be denied and the local waste situation improved.

We helped the local group Nottingham Against Incineration and Landfill (NAIL) organize a public meeting to raise awareness in the community. I was thrilled to see the community coming together in big numbers to stand up against their city, with families uniting and children learning about the effects of the incinerator on their environment. We had a variety of creative strategies for the campaign. We dropped huge banners across streets in the area most affected by the incinerator and held a protest rally at the town hall. We organized two community festivals called Rubbish Day Out, where we invited families from the neighborhoods to create arts and crafts from waste and recycled materials. The days were filled with live music, performances, and wondrous costumes. They were a huge success, and soon we had captured the attention of local councilors.

Within a few months, we had enabled the campaign to go from small to impossible to ignore. One of our main purposes was to encourage an understanding about what was happening to the city's waste. It was thrilling to watch members of the community learn and participate. I felt that I was a part of something really remarkable.

However, despite our best efforts and various court procedures, the incinerator expansion was eventually approved. Even though this is a devastating blow when you've worked on something for so long, it is important to reflect on the positive outcomes of the campaign. Besides raising consciousness about waste and recycling within our community, we had fun. Having fun and enjoying yourself is vital to activism. It can be hard to see results
straightaway, and at times this can be quite disheartening. Using art activism can be a welcome relief from the soulful weariness that comes from traditional forms of change making.

I have spent quite a long time trying to discover good ways to engage people and inspire them to get active. The Mischief Makers seemed to have found one of the solutions. We built a bridge between the heavy political and inaccessible academic approach and those who are uninformed or perhaps uninspired. Whatever we do and wherever we go, we always make sure to create an open, accessible, and friendly environment to allow for all people to participate. It is much easier for people to draw their own conclusions and develop new ways of behaving when they don't feel judged or preached at. Just as crucial, we never pretend to have all the answers. We listen and talk, sharing our ideas and experiences.

My work with the Mischief Makers has shown me that being creative as an activist is an effective, fun, and inspiring way to raise awareness and encourage people to change. We might not have done anything that spectacular, but it all added up. We were just a bunch of friends who cared enough to fight together on issues we found important. In doing so, we learned to creatively communicate our ideas and beliefs in and beyond the activist community and inspire each other and the people around us. That, if anything, is worthwhile.

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Thirty-three
Canada
Photographer

PHOTO BY JO-ANNE MCARTHUR

“WHY DO YOU WANT TO BECOME A MATADOR?” I asked the young boy who was no older than six years of age.

“Because I love bulls,” he said.

I was jarred by the response but kept a cool demeanor. He waved his red
muleta
and acted out an imaginary scene between man and bull. I crouched so we'd be equal in stature while I took dozens of photographs. He was one of many children training at a bullfighting school off a dusty highway, just a few hours' drive from Madrid, Spain. It was hard to understand his disconnect between love and murder, but then again it's something I often see as an animal advocate.