Chain Gang All Stars

What do we want?

“You didn’t have to speak to her,” Kai said. There were so many reporters scattered through the masses. Kai wasn’t sure who many of them represented. And though she trusted Mari with the message, she wasn’t sure she wanted Mari’s face so clearly presented for the public. Justice!

“I know,” Mari said. “I wanted to.” Kai saw her retreating back into the faraway place she’d been in for the last several weeks. When do we want it?

Kai had tried to see if she could understand. Now! She’d made some of Mari’s favorite meals to try to draw her out, but Mari had eaten them in a reclusive silence in her room. She’d holed herself up in a solitude that was unlike her. Even Nile—a boy who was clearly in love with Kai’s daughter—hadn’t been around much. Mari had lost her father, a man she had hardly known but who was known to the world. In the years since Mari’s graduation Kai had tried to keep her as close as possible. She’d sensed Mari’s struggles with anxiety when she was away even though Mari rarely spoke about them. She’d wanted to make her feel safe. What do we want? And yet the only answer she could come up with, the only thing that felt right, was to continue pushing, to continue keeping her close under her wing. Justice.

So now she decided not to say anything to her daughter. Because that’s what she was. For Mari’s whole life, Kai had been the one Mari could depend on. Not Kai’s sister, who was incarcerated, or the man they’d called Sunset. She was the one who had been there for Mari. She watched her as she chanted with all of the many people who walked down that small road with them, completely blocking one side of it. When do we want it?

Already there were thousands of people and they hadn’t even gotten to the high school, the meeting point, which was only a short walk from the farmers market, their ultimate destination. It was a beautiful thing to be a part of. A beautiful thing to get to do with her daughter. To walk with thousands, to show up and be a drop in a great waterfall. And still she had a feeling—she had a feeling that was keeping her from taking part fully. She felt the need to protect. She was worried for Mari and the coalition, as she always was in big demonstrations, but especially following Vroom Vroom; it kept her from being present. Now!

She watched as Nile shifted past Marta until he was shoulder to shoulder with Mari. He smiled at her, and when she smiled back it seemed the smile on her mouth was for him rather than from her. What do we want?

Kai thought about Mari’s father, Shareef, and all that might have been had he been in her life. It was a spiral of a thought experiment that she had been explicitly told by her therapist to curb, and yet it was that possibility that she was thinking about as they continued walking toward the school. She glanced at the drummer, who was several yards ahead of them. His arms were at his sides, his head held high in the air. A woman with green strands braided into her hair carried his stick and beat the drum for him while he rested. Justice.

It was clear they were approaching their initial destination. Megaphoned voices were giving out directions and commands and encouragement and leading chants. When do we want it? An energy that had been thrumming began to pulse and grow as the people became more concentrated. Chants bled into one another as different parties yelled, announcing their hopes with their voices. There was a feeling of community that could not easily be captured. To pound the ground, to show up with one’s body. Now! It was a special and necessary thing. It was not always the most effective action, and for some it was tiresome. But for Kai it was rejuvenating. To remember that they were not alone, that they were legion. It made her feel a power that she didn’t feel anywhere else. What do we want? To be among all those different people from different shades of life, to be there with her daughter, who had grown into a brilliant and focused young woman despite the early trauma, in spite of her anxieties. Kai was the one the steering committee of the Coalition to End Neo-Slavery looked to for most things, but Mari, very clearly, was the organization’s heart. Justice. Mari was so often the one offering up readings for them, the one willing to engage with the hard question of freedom and all of its implications, even the most obvious and unpleasant, the question of the incarcerated who were violent and would continue to be violent if given the chance. And Kai got to do what she cared about best with her daughter. When do we want it? She hadn’t pushed Mari into the life of caring, of actively advocating, of abolition, but she had welcomed her enthusiastically. Justice. But she wondered, sometimes, if welcoming and pushing weren’t the same thing for a child like Mari, who had two parents who’d spent most of her life incarcerated.

Now!

Nile bumped gently into the person in front of him. The people had come to a sudden stop.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nile said.

“No worries,” the woman said. What do we want?

And when Kai looked up she looked first at her daughter and then at what her daughter was looking at. Justice. They were late—or were they right on time? When do we want it? The women who had become the crux of the movement were walking right in front of them. Now! Passing them on the same crosswalk, the soldier-police surrounding them and the other poor souls forced to play in those insidious murder games.

They were leaving the school, heading to the market. The protestors cheered them on. Mari was watching Thurwar closely, and Kai could swear that Thurwar had not only caught Mari’s gaze but was staring right back. What do we want?