Here Them Roar 2017 by Carolyn Fath Ashby

JAN. 26–FEB. 1, 2017

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VOL. 42 NO. 4

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MADISON, WI

Madison activists mobilize for a new reality

C A R O LY N F A T H

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DYL A N B RO GA N

Madison Police estimate 75,000 to 100,000 people converged on the Capitol.

HEAR THEM ROAR

Women’s March on Madison rallies resistance to Trump BY ALLISON GEYER

demonstrations have also triggered a contentious debate about race, with many African American activists calling for more effort to bring diversity and inclusion into the movement and more emphasis on the distinct needs of black women. Levingston, an artist, activist and doctoral candidate at UW-Madison, knew she that she might face criticism from other black feminists for agreeing to speak at the Women’s March on Madison. Much of the conversation about race and the “whitewashing” of feminism has been at the national level, but it’s a concern among local activists as well.

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AGASHUS LEVINGSTON DIDN’T VOTE FOR

Donald Trump, nor does she think he will be a good president. But in a way, she thinks his ascent to the nation’s highest office could be “the best thing” that could have happened for the country. “Communities need a common enemy if people are going to band together the way they should,” she says. “I am less afraid knowing that people are mobilizing to address all the issues.”

Energy and solidarity were evident Jan. 21 at the Women’s March on Madison. Police estimate 75,000 to 100,000 people walked through State Street to the Capitol Square. The rally was part of a worldwide movement in response to the inauguration of President Donald Trump. More than 2 million activists in all 50 states and at least 16 foreign countries gathered in opposition to the new administration and to support marginalized communities that many say are at risk in this new era of far-right leadership. For many progressives, the post-election activism has created a spark of energy and optimism during dark political times. But the

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union.wisc.edu/wheelhouse

A WISCONSIN UNION EXPERIENCE

The week before the march, Levingston got an email from a person who wanted to know how Levingston could take part in the Women’s March on Madison “when it’s an affront to black women.” “There’s a simple answer,” Levingston tells Isthmus. “I’m a hybrid. I have always lived in two worlds.” Levingston is referring to intersectionality, or the idea that overlapping social categories like race, class and gender all factor into a person’s identity, experience and privilege. The term was coined nearly three decades ago, but it’s become a feminist buzzword in recent years, and it was the subject of Levingston’s speech on Saturday afternoon. “I knew that it wouldn’t benefit me and it wouldn’t benefit other women for me to show up just talking about black women’s agendas,” she says. “But what would benefit was to speak for all women present. People are more likely to hear your agenda when you have made it clear that you are there for them, too.”

An emotional Sagashus Levingston prepares to speak to thousands of people at the Capitol.

OTHERS AT THE EVENT WERE CONCERNED ABOUT the nascent movement being inclusive. Lexi Tarter, a University of Minnesota student, felt some “trepidation” about attending Saturday’s Madison march, which was to be her first major political demonstration. Overcoming her claustrophobia was hard enough, but she had seen the “contradictory” dialogue surrounding the movement on Facebook. “I wanted to make sure this was inclusive,” says Tarter, 23, holding a sign with pro-women slogans, written in Spanish. While the crowd was mostly white, those who marched on Saturday championed a wide variety of progressive causes — there were chants of “Black Lives Matter,” rainbow flags representing the LGBT community, signs promoting public education, health care, immigrants, indigenous rights and water sovereignty. Many marchers wore knitted, pink, cat-eared “pussy hats” — a response to Trump’s “grab ’em by the pussy” comments that have become a symbol of the movement. “A friend of mine who’s in the tea party actually made me this [pussy] hat,” says Jessica Lopez, a 34-year-old from Milwaukee who came to Madison for the rally. “She was happy to help me out, despite our political differences. I think our leaders could learn a thing or two from us.” The marchers’ signs were creative, with many riffing on recent headlines — Trump’s alleged penchant for “golden showers,” his relationship with Russian President Vladimir Putin, his comments about grabbing women “by the pussy.” Lynn Judnic, of Kewaskum, carried a banner listing a number of carefully chosen words to describe the new president, including one of her own invention: “pigotry.” “That’s what I think of his morals and values,” says Judnic, 65, who came to the rally with her daughter and granddaughter. Many demonstrators spoke of feeling frustrated and despondent — and even depressed — after Trump won the election. Kyla Harper, a 30-year-old information technology worker, says there have been days when she can’t even look at the news. A transgender woman, she fears the influence of Vice President Mike Pence, who is known for his

L AU R EN JU ST ICE

hardline anti-LGBT policies. “I’ve been feeling hopeless and helpless,” she says. “But being here and just seeing the sheer number of people coming together, I feel more positive. I feel like we have a chance.” Male allies made a strong showing on Saturday as well. They pushed strollers, wore pussy hats and chanted “her body, her choice!” Zeke Vainer and Austin Burrows, both students at Macalester College in Saint Paul, Minnesota, were marching in honor of their mothers. Vainer’s mom runs an agency that helps survivors of domestic violence. Trump is reportedly considering

DY L A N B RO GA N

cuts to the federal Violence Against Women grant program — a decision that Vainer says would be “incredibly damaging” to the work his mother does. Burrows’ mom works for an organization that promotes women in government. “We thought we’d come and show support for the cause,” he says, adding: “My mom is pretty inspiring.”

IT TOOK THE MASSIVE CROWD HOURS TO MOVE entirely from Library Mall to the Capitol Square. There was no sign of any counter-demonstration from Trump supporters, though one marcher reported seeing a group of men chanting the president’s name before disappearing inside a smoke shop on State Street. On the State Street side of the Capitol, progressive speakers and musicians addressed the crowd. Grisel Tapia Claudio, of Voces de la Frontera, spoke of the Trump administration’s potential impact on Latina women. “He’s said he’ll eliminate deferred action for childhood arrivals, which allowed almost 800,000 young people to continue their education, support their families and contribute to the economy by working legally,” she says. “If he sends our young people back to the shadows, the effect on millions of families will be devastating.” Katie Vieira, an English professor at UWMadison, brought her 8-year-old daughter to the rally. She remembers being pregnant and listening to former President Barack Obama’s speeches. His message made Vieira feel like she was “bringing a child into a world that was fundamentally better” than the one she was born into, she says. “With Trump, we’re going backwards.” Vieira says the energy channeled into Saturday’s demonstrations is a good start. But she urges people to keep the momentum going forward with calls to their legislators and continued activism over the next four years. “I was asleep,” she says. “And now I’m awake.” n

Madison women joined an estimated half-million protesters from around the country.

DESTINATION: D.C.

CAT H ER IN E CA P EL L A RO

Hundreds of local women road-trip to resist and march BY CATHERINE CAPELLARO

E BOARD THE BUS AT THE DUTCH MILL

THER ESA SCAR B RO U G H

ist from Seattle. Where immigrant families were celebrated rather than reviled. Where Black Lives Matter. A space where the word “pussy” was reclaimed from the president’s uncouth remarks, made into a whimsical hat, plopped onto thousands upon thousands of heads, and made into a symbol of power and resistance. Smith recognizes that this diffuse focus was overwhelming to some people. “I think a lot of criticism of the women’s march was that there were so many issues,” she says. “But I think that was the point, especially if you think about the intersection of racism and sexism.” Some on the trip, including Michelle Kaltenberg, were taking part in their first public protest. “We decided to come two or three days after the election,” says Kaltenberg, a former village president in Johnson Creek, who was making the trip with her 16-year-old daughter, Clariese. “I was disappointed in the results and the fact that [Trump] treats women the way that he does. I started reading a lot about intersectional feminism and got really interested, and decided it was something I wanted to do.” Kaltenberg de-

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Park & Ride at 5:30 p.m. on Jan. 20, Inauguration Day. As the sky darkens and we pull onto the freeway, someone passes around a bag of pussy hats. Each carries a small handwritten tag: “Handmade by a Wisconsin knitter. Please donate to a women’s shelter when you are finished. And thank you for standing up for justice and human rights.” Sarah Smith hands out chocolate chip cookies baked by a friend and maps of the route for the Women’s March on Washington. She makes a few announcements before settling into the front seat next to her mother, Sue, who drove three hours from Eau Claire to join her on the bus. Donald Trump’s victory hit Smith hard. “In the days after the election, I just felt downtrodden and didn’t know what we were going to do,” says Smith, a 24-year-old employee at Epic Systems. But her despair didn’t last for long. Smith had helped organize four busloads of people for the trip to Washington for the

Women’s March on Jan. 21, the day after the inauguration. Wei Li Werner, a senior at East High School, is making the trip to register her numerous concerns about the incoming president. “Where do I even start?” asks Werner. “Hearing Betsy DeVos, [Trump’s pick for] secretary of education, she has no idea what she’s doing. It’s really scary.” The Madisonians joined an estimated half million people who converged on the capital with a shared sense of purpose but for a wide variety of reasons. They hoped to create a space where a Kansas grandmother concerned about climate change could march next to a transgender activ-

n COVER STORY scribes herself as a “fiscal conservative who leans Democrat on social issues.” She feels alone among the many Trump supporters in her community. At pit stops, hundreds of women and girls, wearing pink hats, sweats and pajamas, pour out from the buses. Restroom labels don’t matter. Phones are charged, water bottles filled. Teeth brushed. Snacks bought. As we drive off into the dense fog, seven hours into our 17-hour ride, MSNBC is already reporting that the protest crowd will significantly exceed the inauguration numbers. I drift to sleep to the sounds of women talking politics.

We take a Metro back to the vast parking lots of RFK Stadium, threading our way through diesel fumes, searching for the buses that read “Madison, Wisconsin.”

BACK ON THE BUS, SHOES ARE KICKED OFF AND

TRAFFIC OUTSIDE WASHINGTON IS THICK.

ISTHMUS.COM JANUARY 26–FEBRUARY 1, 2017

When we reach RFK Stadium at 10 a.m., rows of buses already stretch out across the immense parking lot. Each has a sign in the window: Georgia, New Jersey, Missouri, Florida. Media reports the D.C. Metro is overwhelmed. My buddy, Amy Bethel, and I set off on foot toward the U.S. Capitol, 1.6 miles away. Individuals and families of every shade trot together through the neighborhoods carrying signs. After a mile, we notice a military police tank. The officers are highfiving the protesters. Residents have posted signs, some with quotes from Martin Luther King Jr. (“Let no man pull you so low as to hate him”). People wave from windows and stoops. The marchers begin to spill into the streets, while police and National Guard attempt to steer them out of traffic. An hour later we can see the dome of the Capitol. People are streaming in from every direction. Nature calls. I breathe a sigh of relief as I spot dozens of portable toilets. But many are locked behind a fence topped with a “No Entry” sign. “Those are for the inauguration; we can’t let you in there,” says a security officer. “What will you do if we go through here?” one woman asks. “I’ll have to arrest you,” he replies. Given that there were zero arrests for more than a half million protesters, I assume

CATHER INE CA P EL L A RO

Fiona Wolfe (left) and Wei Li Werner, both East High seniors, on the 36-hour journey. no one was willing to go to jail for the right to use an inaugural porta-potty. Special flags made for Trump’s inauguration still flutter in front of the Capitol, where the new president had been sworn in 24 hours prior. The rest of the day is spent in jubilant, cooperative throngs. With such a huge crowd, cell phone towers are overwhelmed, so messages filter through the crowd, like a massive game of “telephone.” Several people shout that the march has been canceled. Too many people are jammed along the march route, on streets surrounding the Capitol and the National Mall, to move anywhere. We know that just blocks away, Madonna, Alicia Keys, Angela Davis, America Ferrera and Gloria Steinem are rallying the crowd. We are shoulder to shoulder, accepting that this slow shuffling is “the march.” Eventually, we run into some familiar faces from the bus. “There are so many more people here than we expected,” says Erin Johansen. “It’s energizing. It’s diverse. So great to see all the women and men, the

different ages and races. It’s a great day. And it’s not the end. It’s the beginning.” Stuck at the intersection of Independence Avenue and 3rd, the crowd tightens up around a mother with a stroller to allow her to kneel down on the pavement to change her baby’s diaper. Finally, after more than two hours of gridlock, we move, making our way through the mall and into the streets, past Washington’s Trump Tower, where people deposit protest signs. A statue of Ben Franklin is adorned with a small cardboard sign reading: “This is not normal.” We never get very close to the stage, but complete the march route as the sun sets pink and birds flock above the White House lawn. The lights of Trump’s new home glow in the dusk. A row of signs, a quarter mile long, is propped against the chain-link fence that divides him from the marchers: “We will not be silent,” “Pussies Against Patriarchy,” “Keep your tiny hands off the First Amendment”... and on and on.

the phones come out. The buzz begins as the reports pour in about the huge turnout in Madison, in Chicago, on every continent. Kaltenberg says the experience was “completely overwhelming and insane.” But also a little frustrating. “We just kept chanting ‘march, march, march.’ We needed to have the physicality and the symbolism of movement. When they finally said, yes, we are going to march, that was super-cool. My favorite part was being in the midst of everybody with their signs and their chants and the movement and the togetherness.” Lucy Smith, a 17-year-old African American student at Madison College, had never been to a march before and didn’t know what to expect. “It was a lot,” says Smith (no relation to Sarah). “You’ve got the personal and you’ve got the national movement coming together.” As the bus pulls out of the lot for another long night of interstate travel, Smith and I talk about what’s next. The Madison Facebook group, which had been designed to get people to Washington and back, will now become an action center. “I think it definitely has to start on the local level. All of these women have to go back and decide that they want to do something,” says Smith. “A lot of women exchanged numbers, emails; they have these connections all across the U.S.” Smith, like many of her fellow marchers, could not hear or see much of the official action on the stage. It turned out that really didn’t matter. “My favorite part was probably when we were all stuck together and nobody could hear anything,” says Smith. “But this group of women was together and they were talking and they were eating and sharing food. You have this moment with some random strangers — that’s special.” n

T H ER ESA S CA R B RO U G H

THEY AREN’T MARCHING Conservatives say give Trump a chance

BY DYLAN BROGAN

Eileen Bruskewitz thinks protests against Trump are a “tremendous overreaction.”

CA ROLY N FATH

ILEEN BRUSKEWITZ ISN’T SURPRISED

by the massive turnout at the Women’s March on Madison. The former conservative member of the Dane County Board calls the protest “par for the course” in lefty Madison. “There’s a mentality that it’s doomsday and our country is going to hell because Trump got elected. I think that’s a tremendous overreaction,” says Bruskewitz, who voted for the president. “People live in their own echo chambers, and we’ve got a big one in Madison.” Bruskewitz is stunned that Trump is vilified for being “anti-woman.” She points to Trump’s campaign manager Kellyanne Conway — the first woman to run a successful presidential campaign — as an example of the president’s support for women. “He’s got really great women that he’s appointed to his cabinet. His companies have certainly allowed women to rise way up in the ranks. He turns to his daughter [Ivanka Trump] for advice. The idea of

Trump being anti-woman is disproven by the facts” says Bruskewitz. “When I think of what Bill Clinton did in office and what [protesters] latch onto over what Trump has said, they hardly compare.” As an elected official, Bruskewitz says she tried to bring a business perspective to many of the issues facing Dane County. She hopes Trump does the same in Washington. “I don’t agree with him on everything, but that’s one of the reasons why I don’t think [Trump’s] going to be as bad as some people think,” says Bruskewitz. Local rabble-rouser David Blaska — whose Twitter profile states “annoying liberals since 1949” — did not vote for Trump (or Hillary Clinton). He likens the women’s marches seen around the country to a “coping mechanism” for dealing with a new political reality. “I think it’s fine if [the march] makes people feel empowered. Ultimately, it probably isn’t going to change anything. Maybe it tells Trump to be more presidential,” says Blaska. “Personally, I resolve to do what I can on things I can change. That ain’t November 8. Have I given you enough bullshit?” Scott Grabins, chair of the Republican Party of Dane County, is flummoxed by the “sense that no one has ever had to deal with losing an election before.”

“As conservatives, we’ve had a president the last eight years that we felt didn’t represent our views. Yet, you didn’t see the same magnitude of protests,” says Grabins. “President Trump and the Republicans are under the gun right now.... Let’s wait to see what happens in the next 100 days and go from there.” Organizers of the Women’s March on Madison say the demonstration was called to show “support for the community members who have been marginalized by the recent U.S. election.” But Grabins rejects that premise. “A large number of women supported Republicans and supported Trump. There isn’t an anti-woman policy going into place,” says Grabins. “As a whole, I don’t see large groups of people that we are trying to marginalize.” U.S. Rep Glenn Grothman (R-Glenbeulah) is looking forward to Trump “shaking things up.” He wished the president didn’t respond to “every famous screwball on Twitter” but doesn’t view Trump as a divisive leader. “Barack Obama was always pushing the race card. He kept bringing Al Sharpton to the White House. You won’t see Trump doing that,” says Grothman. “[Trump] clearly likes everybody, and I think that’s going to come across.” n

THE DARKNESS OF NOON

DEMOCRACY IN CRISIS

A scuffle in the streets near Trump’s inauguration

BY BAYNARD WOODS the corner at 12th Street and Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, D.C., gripping their batons and big canisters of pepper spray, faces obscured behind shields, as nearly 100 activists who have been arrested are cordoned off behind them, waiting to be processed. Protesters line the other side of the street. More and more arrive, chanting, yelling: “Let them go!” A trail of pink smoke cuts through the air. There is the sound of a sting ball grenade, and several officers open up with long orange streams of pepper spray. Many people reported that rubber bullets were also fired.

Now they tackle a woman on the street, and use tall Clydesdale horses to menace anyone getting too close to the tackled protester. “The establishment protected itself, but not the citizens of our country. Their victories have not been your victories; their triumphs have not been your triumphs; and while they celebrated in our nation’s capital, there was little to celebrate for struggling families all across our land.”

BEFORE THE MELEE BEGAN ON JAN. 20, THE streets of D.C. were weirdly empty, a ghost town, nothing like what we had seen in previous years, especially at Obama’s record-setting first inauguration. “We’re not seeing big crowds,” said Lacy MacAuley, an organizer for DisruptJ20 (a

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OZENS OF POLICE OFFICERS BLOCK OFF

“Because, today...we are transferring power from Washington, D.C., and giving it back to you, the American People.” Earlier, a woman who said she lived in the neighborhood, was standing at the battle lines screaming at both sides, her body wrapped in an American flag, her face burned by pepper spray, now caked with milk of magnesia. “Why are you doing this?” she wailed. “For too long, a small group in our nation’s Capital has reaped the rewards of government while the people have borne the cost. Washington flourished — but the people did not share in its wealth.” Holding their billy clubs in both hands at throat level, officers run at people. (Dalton Bennett, a Washington Post reporter, was thrown to the ground).

n COVER STORY collection of groups that came together for the inauguration protests) and a D.C. resident. “We haven’t seen any area where we the protesters don’t outnumber Trump supporters.” The ever-growing fracas in Northwest D.C. around 12th and 13th streets began small enough. I was wandering around at the makeshift headquarters for DisruptJ20. I saw a group of five young people wearing all black start to walk away with purpose. I followed them. They pulled on their masks, but suddenly appeared lost. “Where are they?” they asked. I started to scan the street and saw it, the mass of protesters in similar black shirts they were looking for. We all ran towards them. By the time I reached them, they too were running, chased by police on cycles — motor and bike — swerving almost as if to mow them down. A protester threw a trash can into the street. It rolled into a motorbike, forcing it to stop. A sign from in front of a store went flying through the air. Other officers came in from the other side. The group was cornered. That’s when officers unloaded with the pepper spray

M A R IA M ACH IN E

and the batons — for the first time that day. “What truly matters is not which party controls our government, but whether our government is controlled by the people. January 20, 2017, will be remembered as the day the people became the rulers of this nation again. The forgotten men and women of our country will be forgotten no longer.” Suddenly, a man appears walking through the crowd, and the mood changes, briefly. “I am the president of America,” the man

says. He is wearing a boot on his head and he has a long gray beard and Rasputin eyes. “I am also an amateur hostage negotiator.” His name is Vermin Supreme and he actually did run for president, as he has since 2004 (he promised a free pony for every American). A little later, the air again filled with pepper spray and what seemed like a gas, he gets right in front of the police line and squawks out the National Anthem through a bullhorn.

THEIR 100-DAY PLAN

“Sting ball” grenades sound around the corner, where the heat of the action has moved. Lines of riot police face the protesters, some of whom throw bricks and concrete. “Officers did not deploy tear gas and did deploy pepper spray and other armaments,” D.C.’s Interim Police Chief Peter Newsham later claims. “A full accounting of the control devices deployed will be made available when we have it.” “The time for empty talk is over. Now arrives the hour of action.” The same multinational corporations Trump railed against in the campaign, had their windows smashed — Starbucks, Bank of America. “So to all Americans, in every city near and far, small and large, from mountain to mountain, and from ocean to ocean, hear these words: You will never be ignored again.” The day ends with a burning limousine in the streets. “Your courage and goodness and love will forever guide us along the way.” n Brandon Soderberg contributed reporting for this article.

Madison activists move beyond despair to concrete action BY JUDITH DAVIDOFF

ISTHMUS.COM JANUARY 26–FEBRUARY 1, 2017

OOKING AROUND THE ROOM AT THE PEOPLE

huddled around a half-dozen tables, John Kalson felt perhaps a bit less anxious. “This is what democracy looks like,” he said. “More than the marches. More than the demonstrations. More than the Facebook posts.” Kalson, who volunteers with Agrace and Habitat for Humanity, among other groups, was taking photos at the community meeting hosted by Leading Locally Madison, designed to launch 100 days of civic activism here; the effort is intended to run parallel to President Donald Trump’s first 100 days in office. “It’s a good way for people to alleviate anxieties,” Kalson said. “To start taking action.” More than 250 showed up to the early Saturday morning meeting at 100state, the coworking tech space on West Washington Avenue. Ultimately about a dozen workgroups spread out around the sixth floor, forming action plans on such topics as housing, voting rights, women’s rights and diversity. Ald. Maurice Cheeks called the first meeting of Leading Locally right after Trump clinched the presidency in early November. “The first event was an opportunity to come together and just be around other people,” he said in an earlier interview. “People were in despair coming out of the election.” Cheeks said he organized the meeting to remind people they still had “agency” to shape their own future.

On Saturday, Cheeks was pleased to see the mood upbeat and energetic. “We’re not here to sulk,” he said. “We are here to take action. So the mood I think you see, that I’m feeling, is determination.... People are committed to acting on the agency that they have to shape their community.” Cheeks pulled out his cell phone to check one of the quotes that he keeps at the ready. “The best way to not feel hopeless is to get out and do something.” Source: Barack Obama. Carrie Bohman, a West High social studies teacher since 2004, was part of the housing group. She said she has seen a big uptick in transient and homeless families since 2010. “It breaks your heart,” she says. “How can you learn if you’re so worried about where you’re going to hang your hat at night?” The housing group talked about a wide range of issues, including tax policy, lack of affordable housing, Section 8 waiting lists and the impact of online criminal records on securing an apartment. At one point, though, someone in the group tried to narrow the discussion, reminding everyone of the task at hand. “We are not going to change tax policy in the next 100 days,” said one woman. “What about the bed bug issue or mold?” another asked. “Can we do something in 100 days to pressure landlords to make repairs or do maintenance?” The day wrapped up with a volunteer from each group sharing the group’s action

plans. The idea is for members to stay in touch and meet up again in a month. The whole gang will reconvene in 100 days. The voting groups offered a clear goal: Increase voter participation in Dane County by 10 percent over the last election. The group “Diversifying Madison” announced it had changed its name to “Desegregating Dane.” Its facilitator said the mostly white group was committed to working on its “own stuff,” including trying to understand why different communities are not more connected in Madison. They also planned to volunteer as “worker bees” in organizations led by people of color — “Making sure we are listening, not telling.” The workshop on leadership produced likely future candidates. Half the people in the group indicated they wanted to run for office, said the facilitator. To aid them, the group also created a mentorship program to connect political newbies with elected officials. “I just got more work to do,” said Cheeks, smiling. U.S. Rep. Mark Pocan, a Democrat from Dane County, wrapped up the session. “As dark as it can seem...here is the secret weapon you’ve got. It’s you.” He pointed out how congressional Republicans were forced to drop their controversial changes to the Office of Congressional Ethics because the plan provoked such a public outcry. “You all jumped on it,” he said. “They didn’t even put the rule on the floor for a vote.” n

Ald. Maurice Cheeks: “The mood I think you see, that I’m feeling, is determination.”