I wrestle with the lens cap before it comes free. It is an overcast Friday afternoon in
November and I have just watched two police officers douse a row of roughly a
dozen seated protesters with military-grade pepper spray. The tranquility of the large grassy quad is
violently shattered. Amid deafening
screams and then chants of “shame on you,” the twenty-some police raise their
batons in a defensive position and slowly back away from the hundred or more
angry protesters.
The crowd grows and follows the police as they retreat toward the street. ASUCD Senator Tatiana Moana stands in front of the crowd in an attempt to hold them back. The protesters are visibly furious yet are straining to remain nonviolent as they attempt to force the police from the quad whilst not being physically threatening. All the same, the protesters are moving faster than the police, and tension gradually rises once again as the police come to a halt.
The officer at the front of the formation raises his weapon in fear as the crowd of protesters approaches. He lowers it slowly. Across his face is a hint of pain, perhaps as he sees the humanity and vulnerability in the other side. His own contemplation is contrasted by the cold gaze of Lieutenant Pike to his left. Pike confidently stands his ground and threatens to unleash yet another shower of pepper spray.
The next day, the police, armed with Tasers, batons, air rifles, pepper spray canisters, and handguns, confront the student protesters. The protesters counter with weapons of their own, cameras and peace signs. The protesters become quiet and two men step forward. “Mic Check!” The universal system of public address for Occupy is being utilized. One man simply stands and holds up a peace sign, the other announces that the protesters are nonviolent and that the police can take those arrested and go in peace.
The university goes into “damage control” mode. I happen across a group of protestors surrounding an impromptu closed press conference held by Chancellor Linda P.B. Katehi. I wait with the group for hours for Chancellor Katehi to exit the building. My patience is rewarded when I am able to photograph the emotional scene of the Chancellor finally leaving the building, escorted by campus minister Kristin Stoneking. In one of the most powerful expressions of opposition I have ever witnessed, the thousand protesters maintain complete silence as they sit lining the roadway and Chancellor Katehi is forced to walk past every single one of them on the way to her car. It is so quiet that you can hear the rustle of fabric as the Chancellor turns toward my camera. Click. Dozens more cameras go off.
In an attempted photo-op, a number of university officials visit the site of the pepper spraying. It backfires as the protesters use it as an occasion to publicize their next move. As I attempt to snap a picture of the Chancellor walking through the quad, a man reaches to place a piece of paper in front of my camera. General Strike Monday.
The week is over, and I now have a series of photos showing an overall timeline of the movement, from the dramatic events of Friday through Saturday’s “Walk of Shame,” to the announcement of a massive general strike and assembly held to decide the future of the movement.
The crowd grows and follows the police as they retreat toward the street. ASUCD Senator Tatiana Moana stands in front of the crowd in an attempt to hold them back. The protesters are visibly furious yet are straining to remain nonviolent as they attempt to force the police from the quad whilst not being physically threatening. All the same, the protesters are moving faster than the police, and tension gradually rises once again as the police come to a halt.
The officer at the front of the formation raises his weapon in fear as the crowd of protesters approaches. He lowers it slowly. Across his face is a hint of pain, perhaps as he sees the humanity and vulnerability in the other side. His own contemplation is contrasted by the cold gaze of Lieutenant Pike to his left. Pike confidently stands his ground and threatens to unleash yet another shower of pepper spray.
The next day, the police, armed with Tasers, batons, air rifles, pepper spray canisters, and handguns, confront the student protesters. The protesters counter with weapons of their own, cameras and peace signs. The protesters become quiet and two men step forward. “Mic Check!” The universal system of public address for Occupy is being utilized. One man simply stands and holds up a peace sign, the other announces that the protesters are nonviolent and that the police can take those arrested and go in peace.
The university goes into “damage control” mode. I happen across a group of protestors surrounding an impromptu closed press conference held by Chancellor Linda P.B. Katehi. I wait with the group for hours for Chancellor Katehi to exit the building. My patience is rewarded when I am able to photograph the emotional scene of the Chancellor finally leaving the building, escorted by campus minister Kristin Stoneking. In one of the most powerful expressions of opposition I have ever witnessed, the thousand protesters maintain complete silence as they sit lining the roadway and Chancellor Katehi is forced to walk past every single one of them on the way to her car. It is so quiet that you can hear the rustle of fabric as the Chancellor turns toward my camera. Click. Dozens more cameras go off.
In an attempted photo-op, a number of university officials visit the site of the pepper spraying. It backfires as the protesters use it as an occasion to publicize their next move. As I attempt to snap a picture of the Chancellor walking through the quad, a man reaches to place a piece of paper in front of my camera. General Strike Monday.
The week is over, and I now have a series of photos showing an overall timeline of the movement, from the dramatic events of Friday through Saturday’s “Walk of Shame,” to the announcement of a massive general strike and assembly held to decide the future of the movement.
