THE WORLD
OPENS UP

RECALLING THE FIRST DAYS OF THE
2020 GEORGE FLOYD UPRISING IN SEATTLE

INTRODUCTION
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN OCTOBER 2020 BY
PUGETSOUNDANARCHISTS.ORG

In September 2020 a quiet call-out for submissions was put out to friends,
comrades and accomplices to share personal experiences of the uprising that
did in fact oceur in Seattle as an organ of the George Floyd Rebellion. While
we do not view our own contribution to the struggle against police and white
Supremacy as overtly exceptional in the broad landscape of insurrection that
overtook our senses this summer, we find importance in reading and learning
from our experiences for reflection and growth. We offer this collection as an
attempt o glimpse the chaotic uprising that encompassed our lives and hope to
provide an opportunity for those near and far to gain from it. The insurrection is
very much over in Seattle. What lives and breathes now i its skeleton is much
more like a giant octopus or squid, each tentacle representing a different arm
attacking the city and the police in a variety of ways: through militant direct
action in the streets, symbolic protest committed to raising awareness, mutual
aid networks providing tools of survival for houseless folks as well as various
legal and jail support teams.

‘There is a local story of a giant squid that lives in the Puget Sound, under the
‘Tacoma Narrows Bridge, south of Seatle by just 30 miles. Over the summer,

the city had to shut down the West Seattle Bridge due to its imminent collapse,
cutting off a large portion of the city from quick and easy access to the core
neighborhoods. At the risk of diving into hyper-local politics in an article written
for those near and far, the city government is wildly understaffed and physical
aspects of the city are literally falling apart. Seattle, an Emerald city on a hill,

is losing its shiny veneer. Water can eventually turn metal to rust. Perhaps the
manira of “Be Water” that haunted the city streets for months was more apt than
we could have possibly imagined.

‘There are multple voices present in this recollection. They are simply separated
by italics, o differentiate from when one voice ends and another begins. This
passage only covers the beginning of the uprising in Seatle, from the firt night
of riots (Friday May 29th) up until the opening of the Capitol Hill Autonomous
Zone/Capitol Hill Occupied Protest when the Seatle Police Department
abandoned the East Precinct (Monday June 8th)

‘There are many images, links to tweets and periscope videos in the online
version of this collection of reflections, and the reader is encouraged to view.
those as well. The original version of this collection can be found by searching
“The World Opens Up” on PugetSound Anarchists.org
Day One: Friday May 29th

In the 18 years I've lived in Seattle, I've never scen this city rio. It doesn? seem
0 matter how many people the Seatle Police bea up, taser,or shoot ~ the city
never really hits back. So when an FTP demo of 500ish (on the smaller side by
Seattle standards) on May 20th transformed over the evening into a miniature
window smashing melee that stretched across Downtown and Capitol Hill, I
was pretty happy. After watching other cities do serious damage in the wake of
George Floyd's death, I thought o myself “thisis the best Seattle can do” and
went to bed early the next morning, content and ot expecting miich els.

At Hing Hay Park there were speeches, people milling abou. T was anxious,
having avoided crowds for many months prior and having felt defeated for many
‘years by a feeling of stagnation in the streets, produced in part by years of the
pigs continuously outnumbering and out maneuvering demonstrations, as well
as a large part of the left in Seatle refusing o outwardly support demonstrations
that did not conform to particular kind of institutionalized Non-Violent Direct
‘Action, and admittedly by anarchists and other radicals failing to reach outside
of their tin bubble. This nigh, it would tum out, would be different, as would
each of the days that followed as people leane to feel powerful together again
and in new ways.

As the march let the park it was a few hundred people, many in black bloc
Tdon’t emember much of its beginning. Chanting. A few large banners at the
front. Sifting through the crowd and excitedly encountering people I hadn't seen
in 50 long as the demonstration snaked through downtown strets

Somewhere between the park and the Amazon Go store on 5th and Marion, a
familiar debate emerged abou leadership that I don't think I can do justice to
here. It more or less fell along the lines of part of the crowd secking a clearly
defined leader of the march, who someone explained needed to be Black,

and preferably a woman, whereas others nsisted on a more diffuse mode of
organization and leadership. The tension between these two groups became
more palpable when the march arrived at an Amazon Go grocery store and some
people began bashing in windows. Some people screamed “We're not here for
that!” Others cheered. The news would later pain a classic ‘outside agitator”
narrative that would turn the very real tensions within the crowd into a tool of
repression, claiming the ‘agitators’ had all been white and the ‘peace keepers’
had all been Black. This was simply not true.

‘The march stayed in front of the Amazon Go store for a long time, some threw
bottles at the police, others shined laser pointers into the ranks of rit cops who

stood statuesque over a line of hippies meditating cross legged in the middle

of the street. Around the comer, someone stood on top of a (non-fancy) car and

threw an absolutely enormous boulder through the windshield. T don'tthink any
4
one person would really stand behind all of the things that ook place on that
comer (Save the boulder for a Tesla). It was cacophonous, tense, and conflctual
on all sides.

Eventually the march split into two groups, with the “more organized” group
moving up into the First Hill neighborhood and the rest of the crowd moving
South towards the International District, I stayed with the second march as it
moved south, stopping every few blocks and just hanging out in an intersection
for 30 or 45 minutes. People milled about and yelled at lines of riot cops while
others spray painted anti-cop slogans all over the walls in the ltle free spaces
created in the two or three blocks around them,. It was clear that people were
hearing about the march through social media or their friends, and eventually a
lot of teenagers started showing up, hanging out, yelling at cops, spray painting,
and really more than anything just chilling in the street

Finally, after what feltlike hours of hanging out, first at this intersection, then
at another and then another, the march began to move in eamest, heading east

up Jackson St towards the Central District. At this point teenagers in cut-offs
and crop tops far outnumbered those in black bloc, and the march was small

— maybe 50-100 people, but it moved with intention, sprinting up Jackson and
through a park in Yesler Terrace to get to the youth jail, where people quickly
began tearing down fences and throwing rocks at the windows of the newly
constructed building. Its hard to express the joy I felt seeing this ~ the youth jail
has been a contested space for so many years, but the physical facade has felt
untouchable, with some anti-juvie groups explicitly discouraging direct action at
the jal, and shaming people for organizing noise demos there. Even if nothing
else had happened this night, this single moment would have convinced me that
things were changing, that the city was regaining a capacity to directly attack the
insitutions that materially carry out the entangled and ongoing projects of white.
supremacy, capitalism, gentrifcation, colonization, and hetero-patriarchy.

From that point on the march moved quickly. The cops started tailing harder
and people started throwing things and confronting the police lines. People were
pissed, pent up, and also just happy to be in the streets with their friends on a
‘summer night. Cops pepper sprayed people. The anger was palpable. At one
point while I was washing pepper spray out of someone’s eyes, someone rushed
up 10 us and exclaimed “Give me something to throw!” I looked at him, wanting
10 help, but honestly I was a bit busy. Before I could say anything, he took the
eyewash directly out of my hands and threw it at the cops. I turned back t0 the
person whose eyes 1'd been flushing out, but they were already running back
towards the line of police.

‘The march moved on into Capitol Hill, smashing every window out of the

Ferrari dealership on Madison and 12th before turning west down Pike St. As

we marched, I heard voices shouting from the crowd “No small businesses, get
5
abank!” Peaple were angry and at times chaotic, but they knew what they were
there for. We had all just watched as George Floyd died saying the same exact
last words as Eric Gamer had six years earlier. e had all just waiched, cooped
up in our houses, as the federal government willfully neglected to address a
virus that was disproportionately killing black and brown people. We had all
just watched as Jeff Bezos made literally billions of dollars in a single day while
the rest us of scrambled to figure out how we would pay rent, buy food. The
message was clear: white supremacy and capitalism are the enemy, they are
inextricably intertwined, and we will exact payment from those who profit while
Black people die.

Moving down Pike, the march between sprinting and walking, closely trailed
by a squad of bike-cops, stopping here to graffit a wall, there to bust out
the windows of a bank. Eventually the march came upon another Amazon

Go sgge and people scrambled for rpcks, smashed the windows nd sta
“Before T dould Say anyihing, e took the eyewash divecily
out of my hands and threw it at the cops. I turned back to

the person whose eyes Id been flushing out, but they were
already running back towards the line of police.

handing cantaloupes ot to the crowd. Some cracked the cantaloupes open on
the sidewalk and scraped the orange fruit out with their hands, others threw
the melons back at the sill intact windows, laughing as they watched the fruit
bounce and splatter on the ground.

Melons in hand and scattered across the street, a sprint started again and the
crowd began to thin a bit. I looked at my friend and we decided that this could
really just go on forever, and it might be time for us to go. We broke off on a
side street and walked home, remarking with amazement at how the crowd
seemed so fearless, determined, and ready to fight. We made plans to roll

downtown the next day and parted ways, eager 1o see how the uprising would
unfold from here.
Day Two: Saturday May 30th

' airly new to this city, but one thing I've noticed is that Sattle s a very
Segregated city. Working class people of color are pushed to suburbs north and
South of the city:. Folks commute to work and socialize. In those first days of

the uprising, the youth that had been pushed out, not only took part but added

a level of militancy and coordination to the rebellion. That Saturday May 30th,
the police were outmatched by youth from throughout Washington. It felt like
freedom, because we had taken back the streets, and expropriated some essential
goods, while police retreated.

Awindow to a store would come down and while some kids were

looting, others were building barricades and throwing whatever

they could find back at the police, all while chanting “Hands up,
don’t shoot!”

Iwoke up late the next day and slowly pulled myself out of bed into a pair of
fresh clothes. A mass demo had been called for today, May 30th, by community
and faith organizations that normally rally in the wake of a police shooting. A
litle hungover and still sore from the previous night, I thought maybe I would
just erawl back into bed and sit this one out. After all, the rallies that these
organizations call don't usually amount to much other than a symbolic nod at the
underlying racial and class tensions hidden in the city. But I decided to roll out
anyways. It was Saturday and I didn’t have much else going on, so why not?
‘Walking into downtown, the air was thick with the smell of tear gas and burnt
plastic. In the distance, a pilla of solid black smoke curled up into the sky.
People were streaming past us en masse, left and right, presumably to get

away from the tear gas. We thought maybe we had missed it and the demo was
over, But when we got to Westlake, the city square in the center of downtown,
the streets were full of people still. We showed up justin time to witness the
windows of the Old Navy come crashing down, as a crowd of young people
streamed in to grab whatever merchandise they could get their hands on. A black.
away, a cop car was completely dismembered, and not far from that, another one
was burning brightly. Droves of young people were smashing glass and grabbing
whatever they could. A window to a store would come down and while some
kids were looting, others were building barricades and throwing whatever they
could find back at the police, all while chanting “Hands up, don’t shoot!”

‘The rioting and looting went on late into the morning again. Cop cars were
burned. Every major store in downiown Seattle was looted. There was a thick
layer of graffiti covering almost every square inch of downtown. The city

was entirely trashed and there was nothing the police or these neo-liberal faux
progressive politicians could do to stop it. I've never felt more proud of my city
than that day. The best part is we did it all under a heavy rain, in classic Seattle
fashion.
‘When 1 finally got home that night, completely exhausted and still burning from
pepper spray, have to admit I was slightly in shock from the day’s evens. 1 had
never witnessed anything like it Cruising through social media though informed
that the action was far from over, and I was reading that people were getting
trapped inside of stores by police, allegedly mid-looting. 1 hopped in the car with
a friend to go cop-watch, an activity I don’t do often but have found that it has
legitimately had an impact on whether a not a police officer will arrest, ticket

or physically attack a person of color. The news cameras had all left downtown,
chased out by rioters or tear gas, and without anybody to watch we were worried
the police were going (o bea these people, if not worse. We parked in one of

the few quiet blocks in the downtown area, and didn’t get more than two blocks
from the car when we saw cars backing up into storefronts, people hopping

out 10 load up the trunks of cars. There were crews of ready and experienced
people, willing to enact their revenge on a city and system of corruption that has,
held impoverished people hostage for hundreds of years. We quickly realize we
were in over our heads, not only was there nothing we could do after curfew to
attempt to hold the cops in check, but we didn't want to get caught up in some,
shit and get mistaken for a concerned citizen.

Once we got in the car, we learned that police had chased a crew of people,
presumably more young rioters and looters, suspected of attempting to break
into a legal weed shop, into the Central District with a K9 unit. The historical
legacy of police using dogs to attack civl rights protesters, and slave catchers
using dogs to capture runaway slaves, did not escape us and we proceeded
directly t0 the Central District, despite the curfew. A friend of mine called (o tll
me he had been walking around in the area, and had had police address him via
Toudspeaker from the car: “Go (o your home immediately. We have employed

a K9 uni, there are police on foot looking for looters. Return your home
immediately.” We got to the block behind the weed shop and noticed too many
cop cars to count, police on foo in every direction. It became immediately clear
that attempting to cop watch in this context was no safe activity, and I tumed
the car around, only to get pulled over less than a block later. The cop informed
me that there was a curfew, that I needed to go home, and that I had been pulled
over because they were looking for people who had broken into the weed shop
down the street. Neither me nor my friend are Black, and upon noticing my best
attempt at faked-shock, the pig assured us “Don’t worry, you don’t match the
description of the subjects, you can go home!” The racialized tone was clear.
Day Three: Sunday May 31st

Before the morning could properly pass into midday, droves of “good
Samaritans” had flocked into downtown Seattle, and before evening all of

the graffit throughout downtown Seattle had been cleaned under the false
banner of “solidarity.” Solidarity to what, White Capitalism? An image of
people scrubbing over a large tag that simply reads “RAGE” painted onto the
‘Washington State Convention Center that hosted the World Trade Organization
“talks” in 1999 has been burned into my memory. Large, mostly symbolic
protests swarm throughout downtown and Capitol Hill on this day.

The following day, Sunday the 315t of May, Seattle had multiple demonstrations
throughout the city. The youth that had brough the coordinated attacks on
corporations in the financia distrit the previous day, took ther focused attacks
‘on malls and captaist box-stores in their own suburban cites throughout
Western Washington. After I checked out the march in Seatle for a few hours,

1 headed to Bellevue, a wealthy suburb. Reports had came in that the mall was
being targeted by protests, and I wanted o go observe from a distance.

The race contradictions here in Washington are definitely
magnified. I was eventually transferred to King County Jail,
along with other youth who took partin the uprisings throughout
the different suburbs that day. The majority of us were Black and
Brown.

As Larrived I saw many young folks out in the streets. The police were out in
full force as well, protecting the wealthy neighborhood. People were out of
their condos and multi-million dollar homes, on their cell phones, calling the
police on anybody they though to be suspicious. While there were plenty of
white youth who took part in the looting in Bellevue, it was clear that the police
were targeting youth of color in particular. 1 was chased by riot police and
surrounded by a riot van and had guns pointed at me, just for being in the area,
afier I'saw them let white youth walk right past them. The race contradictions
here in Washington are definitely magnified. I was eventually transferred

to King County Jail, along with other youth who took part in the uprisings
throughout the different suburbs that day. The majority of us were Black and.
Brown.

My strongest memory of this day is from when a massive march was winding
its way through Capitol Hill and a police van tried to slowly drive through the
march. I stood in front of the van, attempting to block s way and encourage
others to resist this obvious police intrusion. A large man grabbed me and pulled
me out of the way, yelling at me to not sart shit. Here we are, in the beginning
of a unique anti-police uprising, and this man was going to physically prevent
me from rather symbolically obstructing the police. I couldn’t believe it. was

9
alone in a crowd.

‘A face-off with police lined up in front of the East Precinct in Capitol Hill
ensued, including a chorus of “Hands Up, Don't Shoot!” and everybody

taking a knee in front of the cops, as well as the first real public appearance of
“Boots” & David Lewis, “official protest leaders” who would uliimately expose
themselves as police-collaborators and eventually be shamed from further
partcipation. Protests continued throughout the evening, including face-to-face:
confrontations downtown with the National Guard that were ultimately without
incident. Militant direct action and looting pretty much ceased in Seattl, instead
spreading to many suburbs in the area including Bellevue and Tukwila

Day Four: Monday June 1st

‘This day would mark the beginning of a new ritual, consisting of a large and
majority peaceful crowd marching and rallying in front of a police-line at the
intersection of Pine St. & 11th Ave, packed in tight together despite social-
distancing recommendations, listening to numerous speeches, oscillating
between kneeling and standing, only to eventually be brutally attacked by police
in response to a single water bottle being thrown, or without provocation at

all. While the optics of this material practice are intoxicating, i’s important

10 remember the politics on the ground at these demonstrations. Peace-police
abound, anarchists were believed to be boogeyman-secrel-police-outside-
agitators-white-boys (no one could agree on a single accusation), and literally
any physical action taken against the police at this time was popularly viewed

as an action against the movement. I remember ou collective ventures into the
streets to join these symbolic expressions of street-power as feeling so fleeting,
‘We would leave the house feeling curious, march and stand feeling confused,
and head back home feeling utterly dejected and uninspired. There was
absolutely no way to know what was to come within a week's time.

While the optics of this material practice are intoxicating, it's
important to remember the politics on the ground at these
demonstrations. Peace-police abound, anarchists were believed
10 be boogeyman-secret-police-outside-agitators-white-boys (no
one could agree on a single accusation), and literally any physical
action taken against the police at this time was popularly viewed
as an action against the movement.

“Everyday! Everyday! Everyday!”

That's @ new one. I chuckled to myself as I heard the crowd chan it. I was
imagining the sinking morale of the Seattle Police Department. A heterogeneous
‘mass of people fed up, declaring their rage. I have only sampled this type of

energy while in bloc in FTP marches. In those FTP marches, the chants are
10
uilized to maintain our own morale inthe face of an enemy that seems to have
all the advantages. But this was different. It wasn* just a ol to help us, it was
a weapon, an attack. Maybe that's the difference between those previous FTP
marches and the siege of a Police Precinct. The other major difference was the
‘composition of the crowd. It wasn' exclusively made of anarchists dressed in
our inest shades of black. This was different. One of the most diverse collection
of black folks I have ever seen in Seattle (as a lfe long residen). Karens and
‘Beckys in training, sipping white claw screaming “fuck the police and yelling
“black lives matter” Seasoned rebels with gas masks, street medics, and bike
Scouts. Heterogencous is an understatement.

Day Five: Tuesday June 2nd

A second day of confronting the police at the East Precinct begins. Masses of
umbrellas arrive o the frontline, becoming a symbol of the unfolding uprising,
anod to Hong Kong yet uniquely Seatile n this place that is sualy marked
by unending months of rain and cold. The stand-off pimarily remains just that,
standing and not much else in regards to rading blows or projectiles with the
police. I isn'tuntil ate in the night when the police shoot and throw crowd-
dispersing chemicals and protestors bump back with fireworks.
There was solidarity among us, and we watched mass
demonstrations in Capital Hill from the jail windows... When
all our names were announced for release that Tuesday, we all
celebrated with each other.

Most people who were arrested for protesting were thrown in cells together at
King County. I met youth from s far as Yakima, o Everett, and Tacoma. We
were all arrested in different citie for the most part, but for us arrested in
Bellevue, we were Black and Brown, facing felonies. The white comrades being
held with us, were also facing other serious charges, so they weren' released
the next day. Many of them were young, 18, or in ther early 205, and this was
their firs time getting arrested. There was solidarity among us, and we watched
‘mass demonstrations in Capital Hillfrom the il windows. We joked and made
fun of the guards. The older arrestees talked to the younger folks, about what

0 expect, about their rights, and to stay in solidarity with each other; to not

Say anything that would incriminate themselves to anyone, even wher talking
‘amongst ourselves casually, because you never know who' listening. We were
held for two days, and it was uncertain when we would even o to court, being
that court was cancelled due to an alleged bomb threat. When all our names
were announced for release that Tuesday, we all celebrated with cach other.

Walking out of the county jail we were greeted by members of the Puget Sound
Prisoner Support collective. They gave us snacks, and linked us to resources.
It was a good feeling to be met by other comrades who had our backs. New
friendships were built that weekend between some of us who were arrested and
our comrades who supported us from the strets, lasting to this day still. We built
and grew our comaraderie through fighting injustice in the streets and in their
jail cells. Our comaraderie was built through fighting injustice in the streets and
i their jail cells. I think for me, not being my first experience with arrest, these
‘moments just make it more clear that I can? stop fighting until we have world
withou cops or jails.

“Everyday! Everyday! Everyday!”

You hear i rise from within the tears gas and over the flash bangs. As the smoke
clears people fill in and it gets louder. You recognize Bernie Bots helping the
black clad riot ninja. You see an injured accomplice and yell “MEDIC!” and
‘one magically appears at your side, often alreadly tending to the brave soul who
took shrapnel to the ankle. All o a sudden you're at the frontlines antagonizing
the cowards in state-funded riot gear. As the chant ratles in your head, your fear
Toses ts fuel. You're filled with fires of determination. You will maintain.

Day Six: Wednesday June 3rd

After nights of violent police action and a massive presence in the streets,
former mayoral candidate Nikkita Oliver leads another massive march through
Seattle to City Hall, where Mayor Jenny Durkan addresses the crowd. Durkan

is met with a negative reception, and the spectacle of politics and discourse with.
power grows another day older. It must be said however that the sheer number
of people in the streets protesting the police and white supremacy is indeed
impressive. Seattle has been quiet, polite and largely kept to itself, refusing to
step outside of accepted norms and boundaries for protests. While this particular
protest did not seem interested in stepping outside of those norms, the amount
of people partcipating in such a symbolic protest was indeed unprecedented for
recent times. Recent times have no measuring stick here though, it’s clear that
we have stepped into a completely different world than the one we inhabited just
one week prior

Day Seven: Thursday June 4th

At the time this article was published, nothing was written for this particular day
of the uprising.
Day Eight: Friday June 5th
Despite everything, I still have to work, I still have rent and bills to pay, and
the restaurant I work at is still open. Seemingly as wellto spite it all, my co-
workers and I are all just absolutely glued to our cell-phones, watching various
livestreams of the stand-off in front of the East Precinct as well as marches,
demonstrations and riots across the country. The image of the charred-remains
of the 3rd Precinct in Minneapolis is burned into our minds as we share meme.
after meme with each other, celebrating attacks agains! the police and white
supremacy. I'm absolutely thrilled to share a workplace with people who I also
share the streets with, and it makes these shifts the most fun and purposeful I'll
ever remember in the restaurant-indusiry.

The sense of camaraderie is stronger as we work diligently to get
through the night so we can get back into the streets as soon as
possible. We share stories of injury, we share outrage at peace-
police, and we share drinks as we close out the restaurant and

prepare extra food to bring to the frontline.

‘The sense of camaraderie s stronger as we work diligently to get through the
night so we can get back into the streets as soon as possible. We share stories

of injury, we share outrage at peace-police, and we share drinks as we close out
the restaurant and prepare extra food to bring to the frontline. Despite having
worked in the same place as each other for years, this is the first time it feels.
like the three of s are actually working together. We head to Capitol Hill, and
head into the stand-off with boxes of food in our hands. We make vague plans to
check in with each other before the night carries on too late, and then lose each
other in the crowd of people eager to eat what we've brought

Day Nine: Saturday June 6th

At the time this article was published, nothing was written for this particular day
of the uprising.
Day 10: Sunday June 7th

‘From a flyer handed out at a Martyrs’ Vigi that was installed next to the sie of
ongoing stand-offs with the police

“Since the George Floyd rebellions began on May 26th, 2020,
following his horrific murder by police, at least a dozen more lives
have been taken by state and vigilante violence in the struggle for
Black freedom. We wish to honor them by making space to say their
names, commemorate their lives, and celebrate our own resistance, by
acknowledging the risk we all take when we move into the streets.

‘We remember the martyred and continue to fight for the living,
Bring candles, flowers, letters.”

A banner hung above the vigil reads:

Mourn the Dead and Fight Like Hell For the Living
Calvin L. Horton Victor Cazares
David “Yaya” McAtee Malik Graves

James Scurlock Dorian Murrell

Sean Monterrosa Chris Beaty
Sarah Grossman Robert Forbes
Javar Harrell Barry Perkins
Italia Kelly ‘Tony McDade

Jamel Floyd

Marquis Tousant

From the Puget Sound Anarchists post “Notes From a Martyrs Vigil on the
2nd Sunday”

June 7th, around 8pm, people gather for another consecutive day of rallying
around Cal Andersen park in a soft siege of siege of the Seattle Police
Department’s East Precinct. Umbrellas have moved to the front of the crowd

10 face the police line. The fence that had been erected by the city has been
removed. The police passive aggressively threaten violence every 15 minues or
s0. A vigilis being assembled a litle ways away from the line of SPD riot cops
and Washington National Guard soldiers at 11th and pine.

A banner goes up for the vigil that lsts the names of those killed by cops and
vigilantes during this uprising. Candles are placed in front of images of the
fallen. Pamphlets and spray paint cans were distributed among the crowd. The
whole block becomes a mural like notes in the margins of some book about our
collective mourning and rage and rebel joy.

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Accompanying the vigil are calls for amnesty for those arrested during this
uprising, A banner hanging next to the memorial reads “Amnesty for all! No bad
protesters. No good cops.” Slogans demanding that rioters, looters, protesters,
live-streamers, all those who are fighting against this anti-black world and its
police are set free spread out all over the scene.

‘Aside from heckling the police, the mood i relatively calm. This calmness is
interrupted by screams. A car is barreling down the street with, swerving into
people, with seemingly every intention of plowing into the crowd. With decisive
action one comrade throws one of the removed police barricades in front of

the vehicle and another goes for the driver stopping his vehicle. A loud bang is
heard. People scatter. Is it a police blast ball? The comrade who went for the
driver is reeling on the ground. “Gun!” people scream. Medics immediately
assist the comrade on the ground and apply pressure to his wounded arm.

A man emerges from the vehicle brandishing a pistol with two magazines
tapped together. Clearly he has come prepared to shoot multiple people. In the
confusion he tucks his gun into his hoodie and slinks towards the protection of
the police line, giving them a thumbs up before they arrest him and pull him
behind their phalanx.

1 people had listened to the police and not taken apart their barricade and used
it for their own devices there could easily have been a casualty. If a comrade
didn’t isk his lfe in an attempt to subdue the driver there easily could have
been a casualty. We protect us. Not the cops. All over this country cops and
reactionaries are running their cars into protests. They're not only firing on
crowds, they also act as an occupational force in black communities and
elsewhere enacting violence on target peoples. This reality has been made
viscerally clear

After the wounded comrade is walked to an ambulance away from the police
line things begin to calm a little. Confusion is in the air and some argumens
ensue about the logic of handing the attackers vehicle over to the police ensue,
tempers flare. Some nonsense about the cops needing the vehicle for evidence is
spouted as if we can trust the people we're literally protesting for being so vile
and who also have been attacking us every night. All in all though things were
calm

‘Throughout the night the graffiti spreads from the vigil and pops up all over as
it has for the past week. “Fight the cop in your head” s scrawled on dumpsters
that have been dragged into the street on one of the dozen barricades that have
gone up.
Eventually the police attacked and used the tear-gas that the mayor lied about
banning. Much more could be said about that night, but the next morning the
vigil remains. The following morning workers hired by the city clean up the
voices of black radicals washing away tags like, “Black Girl Commune” and
“Black Trans Lives Matter.” They may have removed some of the writing, but
15
soon after people have once again returned to that very intersection, taking risk
S0 that they may continue the struggle for black lives/liberation and against
police repression.

The most joyous occasion came upon me in the hours after the shoolting at the
Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ). Everybody' response was a complete
iteration of the fact that we don't need police to protect us. One of the front-line
demonstrators who have been at the demonstrations every day helped to stop
that person from driving their car into us. The driver shot him, and street medics
began applying a tourniquet before the assailant had even gotten out of the car.
Within hours, every street that led to the demonstration outside the precinct was
blocked by repurposed police barricades, literal fucking boulders, peoples’cars,

The following morning workers hired by the city clean up the

voices of black radicals washing away tags like, “Black Girl

Commune” and “Black Trans Lives Matter.” They may have

removed some of the writing, but soon after people have once
again returned to that very intersection...

and lines of people standing with their bikes. The numbers of the demonstration
swelled to an even greater attendance. In the face of increasingly violent police
repression, as well as reactionary attacks from behind, those of us in the streets
showed our dedication to each other to prove that a world without police isn
just a political statement, it a solution to the violence of our lives.

“Everyday! Everyday! Everyday!”

Chuckling to myself again on my way to grab some pizza. I head back to help
table next to the vigil/memorial for those martyred since the siege and burning
of the 3rd Precinct in Minneapolis. About an hour earlier, a shooting occurred
twenty feet away from the table. This is pushed from my mind as the chant rises
in response to SPD's warning to not remove the police barricade. They try to
assure us it's for our own protection. The chant defiantly drowns out the pleas
from the police to not encroach any further. I hear it again as we disassemble
the zine distro. A while later, in response to the order to disperse, the chant rises
again, only to be silenced by flash bangs and tear gas. Barricades of the people.
quickly form and are lost. As I am checking in with my friends, the police line,
reinforced with the national guard, stops progressing. After creating barricades
10 protect our rear and our flanks, I hear the chant rise again. This time through
gritted teeth and hoarse throats. The crowd my have been split but the siege held.
Day 11: Monday June 8th

Another day in the new normal cross-section of Covid-19 and the George
Floyd Rebellion, the highly flammable concoction of racialized class violence.
Rumors abound that the National Guard, who have bolstered the ranks of SPD.
for the last week at the orders of Governor Jay Inslee, are finally leaving town.
‘The whirlwind of news, rumors and hot-takes is equally intoxicating as well

as simply boring when compared to actually being in the blocks surrounding

the East Precinct. Each street leading away from the lines of police barricades
are lined with restaurants, previously closed due to Covid-19 restrictions, who
have opened their doors to offer up hot food and restrooms to protesters for free.
Organic autonomous action seems to parallel a break-neck speed with organized
networks to provide resources and mutual aid for everyone who comes out to
partcipate in the ongoing revolt against the police. I’s impossible to find any
kind of uniform politic of the protesters challenging the hegemony of police
violence.

Ispecifically remember one afternoon when the cops had started
throwing flash-bangs and shooting tear gas at the crowd, causing
a stampede and total panic, and I saw The Marshall Law Band
calmly putting their instruments down and starting to wrap up
their chords.

‘The Marshall Law Band seems to be the icing on the top, signifying just how
joyous and truly chaotic all of this is. You can walk o Pine & 11th and get
pepper-sprayed, yell at the cops, watch people in bullet-proof vests do tricks
with BMX bikes, and get yelled at for being an “outside agitator” in black bloc,
and then walk one block over and find The Marshall Law Band, an ensemble
with a rotating cast of musicians playing renditions of classic protest anthems
and funky originals. | specifically remember one aftemoon when the cops had
started throwing flash-bangs and shooting tear gas at the crowd, causing a
stampede and total panic, and I saw The Marshall Law Band calmly putting their
instruments down and starting o wrap up their chords. I worried they would

be targeted by the police, and ran over asking if they needed help getting out of
there. One of them didn’t even bother to look up at me, simply shrugging me off
with a “Nah, we good.” They carry on in this fashion every night,

‘Without fail, SPD shooting practice begins, with us as the targets. Tonight is
remarkably violent. It is abundantly clear SPD is shooting blunt objects and
crowd-dispersing chemical canisters directly at protestors —my friend was
hit wice within a couple of minutes in the same block. One protestor was hit
directly in the chest with a flash-bang, momentarily killing her. Fast-acting street
medics saved her life and ensured she arrived to a hospital. I'll never forget
watching what seemed like all of us rush towards the fallen comrade with our
umbrellas extended, as if they would stop all the rubber bullets and teargas and
14
flash-bangs coming our way.

My friend and I had to leave. Their legs had been shot up by police munitons,
and I had simply inhaled too much teargas to jump back inthe fight. It feels
strange to call it a fight now, because people would scream at you to stop
provoking the police if you fought back at al afer they shot up everyone with
all rowd-control tactics on hand. But the rage and frustration, all the emotion,
the injuries, it certainly feels like a fight now. Guzzling a botte of water helped
my lungs o stop burning from the teargas, but the cops left me fecling powwerless
and that feeling wouldn't wash away. We passed multple burning dumpsters on
our way home, complete with groups of people arguing whether to put the fire
out or let it burn, The crosswalk is still charred, months later

Hours later, the police simply packed up and left, abandoning the East Precinct.
Undeterred by uninhibited violence, crowds swelled around the intersection that
had previously been occupied by a hyper-militarized police force. In the absence
of the police, things calmed down considerably. Even Fox News came (o capture
the glamor and glory, and were frankly told right off.

People quickly moved in to fill the physical void in the wake of the police’s exit
on the block surrounding the intersection of Pine St & 12th Ave, some setting

up camp on the sidewalk directly in front of the police station. Some take up
long-arms and other guns in an effort o provide “security” for the protesors.
‘The dynamic of guns among protestors will continue to be an incredibly divisive
issue throughout the development of this occupied semi-autonomous zone, but
as rumors abound that armed Proud Boys are on their way to attack protestors,
people are thankful for the veil of safety.

Police scanners reported a group of armed Proud Boys marching from Westlake
Park in downtown Seattle towards the East Precinct. Anti-fascists quickly
mobilized and roved downtown in multiple patrols, looking for this phantom
group of armed chauvinists. Upon finding not a single solitary Proud Boy, we
realized that the police had plainly realized that protestors were lstening (0 the
scanner for the purpose of “gathering inteligence” and took advantage o that
vulnerabilty to spread panic and chaos on the fronline. Simply put, it worked.

Despite rumors and threats of violence, the night passes more
calm and quiet than the 10 days and nights of police violence the
preceded it.
Medic Report from the night of Day 11
Found on Reddit, user TheRiverlnEgypt

This is a report from a street medic abou their experiences treating a protester
who had been shot in the chest with a police munition at close range. Many of us
saw footage of this horrifying incident in the days and weeks after. That person
‘made it through the night and lived, thankfully. This report i reprinted here to
provide a glimpse of the intensity and horror of police violence throughou the
street battles of these days. We do not believe that pleas to elected politicians
will help us in these times, but this medic’s urgen request for intervention ~ and
the lack of willingness of Seattle’s political elite to do anything abou it reveals
the contradictions of so-called “democracy” and that only we can protect us
from the violence of the state.

“The last two days I have been volunteering as a medic at the protests on Capitol
Hill, Yesterday evening when the police decided to disperse the crowds, I was
treating a young woman in our first aid center who had been sprayed with
pepper spray. The SPD used flash bang grenades close enough to us that I felt it
against the back of my neck.

Tonight, my partner and I were treating a young woman in her 205 who
had taken a police projectile o her chest — we had her on a cot and she was
struggling to breath. The police advanced and we were attempting (0 evacuate
her using the cot as a makeshift stretcher. The police threw at least two, and
possibly as many as fou, flash bang grenades inside of the small area of our first
aid center while we were trying (o retreat.

‘With the help of other protesters, we carried the cot for several blocks trying to
get out of the way of the police onslaught and to a place where we could treat
her safely. Shorly after we managed to find a place where we fel safe enough
1o treat her, she stopped responding and we lost her pulse. We initiated CPR and
after a minute or two she gasped for breath and became responsive for a short
time. That cycle repeated itself for more than half a dozen times in the following
15-20 minutes.

‘We called 911 immediately afer the first time we lost her pulse and were
informed after some time that an ambulance was not able to reach us. We
managed to figure out a civilian vehicle o transport her o the ED and were able
10 deliver her (o the ED with a pulse. I was honestly terrified the entire time that
we were going to lose her and even now, I have no idea if the ED was able to
stabilize her ~ 1 can only hope that we were able to get her there in time.

Al of this however is just to explain the urgency of my request. The police are

absolutely aware of the location of our first aid center ~ last night I was upset

that they overran our location and put myself and the other medical volunteers
19

atrisk. But tonight we almost lost a patient, a young woman in her early 205,
— because the police continue to refuse to acknowledge or respect the lterally
lifesaving work that we are trying to do.

S0 1am pleading with all of you — please call the mayor, and the city council
and tell them to insist that the police respect the first aid centers and the medical
personnel who are volunteering their time and safety in order to prevent the
Toss of life. It s difficult enough to provide medical care in the often chaotic
environment that exists there today — when medics and first aid stations are
tangeted by police — it becomes nearly impossible.

Tam home now after a very difficult day and night of volunteering ~ and I can
say without question that without my partner, another nurse, and even a few
concerned citizens who came to our aid, a young woman would be dead tonight

Day 12: Tuesday June 9th

‘The sun rises on an abandoned East precinct. Despite the last 11 days being
‘completely without precedent, none of us could have foreseen this. Walking
through the intersection in front of the precinct,this block formerly filled with
an over-abundance of militarized police forces, one can't help bu feel like the
sudden peace and quiet s rather sleepy in contrast. People slowly pass through
as ifin a rance. We did it, we kicked the cops out. Or did they leave of their
own accord? Hence the birth of the CHAZ, the CHOP, or as one friend calls

it CHAZ-CHOP-CITY, and thus the end of phase one of the George Floyd
Rebellion in Seattle. There are more phases and chapters to this story, they are
even siill being written and acted out in the streets and our homes

20
‘Three Years Later: A Brief Afterword

“This collection of reflections was meant to have been put into zine format years
ago when it was originally published online, but it seems more fitting that it
finally emerges in material, real world print for the 2023 Seattle Anarchist
Bookfair, the first since Covid-19 began attacking our communities. It feels
strange now to re-read these reflections and remember what it was like to be in
the streets, surrounded by liberals and militants alike, and having running street
battles with the police. Its easy to recall those days as if they were glorious,
because we had some kind of purpose right in front of us. There was a way to
cut through the alienation and isolation of capitalist saciety by simply leaving
our houses and heading into the streets of Capitol Hill. But for many of us, these
interactions were also incredibly frustrating. | particularly recall watching a
white person yell a a Black man for attemping to break a window. When they
were confronied by two people in black bloc for peace-policing, their response
was “I'm working with black leadership!”

Itis without exaggeration to say that there were no open
Starbucks storefronts in Seattle for the majority of 2020-2021 due
10 these demonstrations and their propensity to break windows,
loot, and set fire.

The year-and-a-half that followed the days recounted in this zine were incredibly
twmultuous. From June 9th to July 1st,the CHAZ/CHOP dominated Seattle
news, culture, politics, and society a large. After the city cleared out the semi-
autonomous zone on July 1st, several nationalists and Proud Boys attempted to
march through the Capitol Hill neighborhood on July dth, but were successfully
pushed out by militant anti-fascists. Following the dissolution of the CHAZ/
‘CHOP was perhaps the most exciting moments in militant ant-police sireet
action Seattle has seen since the aftermath of the police murder of Native
woodcarver John T. Williams in 2010. The “guesi-house” in the center of Cal
‘Anderson Park was successfully squatted and repurposed to provide shelter and
electrcity for Seattl’s houseless population, and served as an organizing hub
for months of militant sireet demonstrations and direct action. A series of “Anti-
ICE” demonstrations rocked the city sreets for months on end, making sure
businesses with financial ties to Amazon and the Seattle Police Officer’s Guild
were physically attacked. It is without exaggeration to say that there were no
open Starbucks storefronts in Seatle for the majority of 2020-2021 due o these
demonstrations and their propensity (o break windows, loot, and set fire. On July
25th, a mass protest snaked its way through Capitol Hill, downtown Seattl, the
Central District, and back to Capitol Hill for the national day of solidarity with
Portland, OR that had been called. The construction offices for the new youth
Jail in the Central District were uterly destroyed, and a fiercely violent sreet
clash with Seattle Police occurred on the lawns of Seattle Central College.
‘There were s many dynamics at play in all of these events, and many of them
have yet to be acknowledged and revealed. Several individuals have been sent to
prison for their role in the uprising. Some of them have fnished their sentences,
while others have years leftin high-securty federal prison. Between the street
battles to create the CHAZ, the CHAZ tself, and the months of militant sreet
action that followed, there were glimpses into what a thoughtful, strategic and
serious anti-police street movement in Seattle could really look like. The period
of exception seems to have passed however, as storefronts are opened up and
the streets are full of cars and people commuting to and from work. Questions
abound. How do racism and authority function in our daily lives, not just as
impositions from systems of power, but in our interpersonal relationships? There
are many mechanisms at work that successfully rewinded the snap of reality
that brought so many of us into the streets week in and week out. One day, we
collectively defied the dirge of everyday life by coming together in attacking

the police, ritualistically at times. One by one, we ended up going back home
and attempting to returm to what our lives looked like before the uprising, Many
of us had emotional and physical wounds to heal, many of us are locked up in
prison, some of us are trying to support them. Perhaps next time the lid blows
off, we will ethink going home for the night.

2
23
The World Opens Up is an article posted on the website
PugetSoundAnarchists, containing many voices and reflections from
the first 12 days of the George Floyd Uprising, which lasted nearly
18 months in Seattle in various forms and actions. The pictures have
been stolen from the internet and belong to all of us who were there,
without disrespect to the photographers who captured the spirit of
our struggle. This is an invitation to the reader to think back and
remember what it felt like to embody the spirit of revolt. Tread
carefully.

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