Her parents named her June, though she was born in May. Her friends called her May Flour, for reasons that were only clear, if you knew her history or her friends.
Her friends were on the fringe of society. They had different priorities, different points of view. They saw the world differently, and the world saw them differently as well. Her friends enjoyed being victims, the world was out to get them. The system was stacked against them. The system was corrupt and only made the rich, richer. Her friends didn’t buy into the system, they didn’t want to be middle class… comfortable. They were anarchists.
But she was smarter than that; she lived a double life. Her two lives were so different they not only straddled two worlds but two universes.
Her friends never knew what she did, only that they could get hold of her through email or WhatsApp.
No one knew where she lived. When they put out a call for a demo, she just appeared. But she was a tiger with them. She dressed all in black with a bandana mask and a bullet proof vest for protection against rubber bullets. She had no fear and was always on the front line taunting the cops.
She wasn’t the leader, but she often came up with wonderful and creative suggestions to further their ambitions and goals. Like the time she converted a potato gun to fire sticky bread dough… The cops never knew what hit them, and they had a devil of a time getting that sticky stuff off their shields so that they could see.
But she never hung around to party or commiserate… Just as stealthily as she came, she was gone.
I saw her at the last May Day Demo; running with the Anarchists, taunting the cops. It was only when the cops got the upper hand and were about to kettle the demonstrators, that I saw her slip away. She knew what was going to happen and didn’t want to be held down or arrested. She just turned the corner, and in a darkened doorway changed before my eyes. One moment she was a scruffy masked anarchist, the next, a prim and proper, white haired grandmother, wearing a beige and brown ensemble and a white poppy in her lapel.
Author’s Note: I came across these discarded items on a sidewalk on May the 1st , while I was watching the police react to the May Day Protests in Montreal.
Use your words. Some people view the police as against demonstrators, but it is our right to demonstrate, and the police get lots of overtime trying make sure no one gets hurt.