A Reporter's View of Funk the War

By Connect Mason Reporter Rachael Dickson

I hardly saw a dull face that day. Almost no one seemed annoyed, not even the cars trapped in the streets. Instead, the bystanders and citizens of DC showed a curiosity to the actions of “Funk the War” that was beyond the typical protest.

The joy was infectious. Whatever your opinion of the war or President Bush or even the ability of protests to create change—it was there. 300 people, mostly students, dancing through the streets to loud, pounding music. Some wore polar bear suits, some wore pink. Some wore long loose clothing with their faces painted and their dreadlocks pulled out of their faces. But when the rain came pouring down from the skies that Wednesday afternoon, no one left, it seemed, they just danced harder, chanting, screaming, and grooving to the beat. I followed them, using a nearly broken umbrella to keep my suit coat fairly dry, feeling almost like I had cheated nature. When I climbed over a couple protestors and a desk later to interview a student and got soaking wet, I felt proud- like a journalist willing to do anything to get the story.

Funk the War Protest from Whitney Rhodes on Vimeo.

Of those I interviewed, not one was hostile or rude or anything but polite and eager to be helpful. These protesters wanted to get their views out in the best way possible. For each person this was different. Some displayed their thoughts with saxophones and trumpets, others with jokes and puns on their signs to make light of a serious situation. Some cursed, a few threw red paint. Many sat down in the pouring rain, chained to desks, singing songs about liberation at the top of their lungs.

Workers hung out their office windows to take cell phone pictures. The media swarmed around the group, following them from block to block. Bus riders trapped on the side of the road flashed peace signs, as if to say, “I agree with you.”

Funk the War Protest March in D.C. from Whitney Rhodes on Vimeo.

Despite the free and easy feel of the protest, it was easy to see that every move had been planned out in advance by DC- SDS, the organizers of the protest. When the crowd blocked an intersection, a few students helped to distribute people across the street to have the densest blockage possible. People raced around with radios, talking about what was to happen next, how to organize against the police, when to move to the next site. The level of organization was admirable- this was no spontaneous outpouring of feeling, but something planned with exacting detail for months and months.

No arrests were made while I was there. The police that followed the protest seemed tired and bored of playing babysitter to every demonstration in the city that day. The protesters ended up blocking K and 16th for almost an hour, turning traffic in every direction, dancing, singing, and chalking the ground with peace signs as if to say, “We’re here, we care, why don’t you?”

I left from the protest soaking wet and exhausted, ready to collapse from just traipsing after Funk the War. The protests continued though as they had all day, with the people from all over the country filling DC with their chants and screams and dances, an epic show of democracy in action going on and on into the night.