Art of powerlessness

It was similar to a police interview room. Grey anonymous drab interiors with no windows, just artificial light, tape recorders and a CCTV camera in the corner. Indeed I know they are ‘just doing their job’ constructing a case, which involves building  a narrative for the day in question, giving context and even examining the peripherals. But why did I feel vulnerable and exposed with an overwhelming feeling of shabbiness that I was somehow in the wrong?

Yesterday morning I had an interview with the IPCC and my witness statement. It had a similar legalistic method as giving a police statement (done that in the past). Yes, the IPCC go into rigorous detail and seemingly scrupulous as well. But going in there with a less than zero belief that justice will prevail made me even more nervous. And with the added stress of being interviewed by someone in authority. I didn’t walk away feeling I had done my duty or whatever instead I felt overwhelmingly powerless and to be honest, I wasn’t consciously aware of that until I sat down in a coffee shop afterwards. They asked me questions, which seemed intrusive and politicalised questioning (why did you attend the demonstrations of the 1st and 2nd April?).

I had written down the events of that day on the 2nd April pretty immediately when I returned home as I know it is good to get your account down for legal purposes and also memory has a tendency to erode.

I probably should have (and am annoyed with myself) that I didn’t question their questions but part of me wanted to answer that it was my ‘democratic right’ to protest though part of me was half tempted to resort to sarcasm. Was that question based on context or was it politicalised? I was questioned in what can be described in a neutral and banal manner that seemed innocuous on the surface but there still resonated an enormous power imbalance. It felt like I had to explain myself. They weren’t hostile or horrible, opposite, friendly and likeable, but I still felt powerless afterwards. Emotionally wrought. And critical of myself for letting them penetrate my core being and feeling I should have been braver or stronger, that I should be immune to this, wiser, harder and organised. Though human as well.

When telling people this experience they have asked whether I went by myself. I did. I was resolute and defiant, to a certain degree, that I could do this by myself. I mean, I am a trade unionist have represented members at different levels, advocated on others behalf with various agents of state. What difference would this be? I think when you are representing yourself, it is hard, and I wished I had taken someone with me. And then again, my own anxieties and insecurities woulda kicked in that meant I must be a real wimp to not be able to do this.

It is difficult writing this as I still feel weird and exposed, those muddle feelings that I am still unpicking and trying to express. Being asked to go into details about an event in every detail was psychologically and emotionally tiring. I felt shattered and emotionally low.

I am also concerned that writing this I may put people off but that is not my intention. Kinda just want to let off my own steam (Ah, talking of steam, I was asked, ‘What is your understanding of kettling’?) and working out my own feelings as I have never done this before. Other people may have better or worse experiences, I don’t know, I can’t gauge.

Do I wish I hadn’t gone to the IPCC? Non, je ne regrette rien. But I found it hard but I am talking about my own personal experience and recollection. Like I said, I was unsure whether to write about it as part of me wanted to forget about it. But I won’t though.

All I will say is I wished I had taken someone with me (and to be honest, as a trade union activist I woulda advised that as well).

This was plaguing my mind as I marched along with other folk on the Workers’ Memorial Day demonstration. I kinda felt distracted and preoccupied though the things swirling inside my mind were linked and interconnected politically. Listening to the speakers at the rally the issues of injustice and powerlessness came to the forefront of my mind because only being too aware of how little consequence people truly are and devalued. How much is placed on the value of human life? What is the human cost? Why are some deaths more relevant and more important than others? Whether it is the Princess of Hearts or the recent beatification of a reality TV star. But then I know the answer, powerless/powerful and where you are in the social and political pecking order.

Others aren’t afforded the same importance or recognition, globally many people die in the workplace, circumstances are horrific and appalling yet their deaths are invisible, anonymous, faceless and go unheard. And for me, it is the bravery and defiance of family and friends who challenge this silence and fight for justice, along with trade union activists, who get my support, admiration and respect as it an uphill struggle.

Yesterday, I felt spaced out, tired and a bit zombified. Nothing made sense and things seemed beyond comprehension. I mean, even the tube map wasn’t making sense with all those lines interconnecting, I just stared blankly at it hoping the information would sink in for my brain to absorb but no…. And then I heard this female voice saying, ‘Can I help you madam’? I carried on vacantly looking at this map trying to translate the words, and trying to snap myself out of this inertia. I also thought the voice probably  belonged to WPC Plod, and I mused that knowing the agenda of NL, they had probably brought in legislation where it was an offence to ‘loiter’ in front of a tube map whether with intent or not. Anyway, I turned to where the voice was coming from…and it was a friendly Underground member of staff who was trying to help….

She asked me where I was going and I replied. Then asked me whether I knew where I was going after I got there.

‘No, not really. I don’t know where I am going to be frank’…. But then I was thinking of a different destination.

Sorry if this is a bit fractured and disorganised but that kinda reflects the state of my mind at this point in time.