CHAZ — The New Capitol Hill Commons
The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone: Day 1
I bike in from the same cross section that I’d been protesting at the past week, the corner of Pine and 11th. It’s around 2 in the afternoon, the sun is shining, and I feel like I’ve just entered a different world.
I realize real quick, that this isn’t going anywhere. This place is nothing like what the news is trying to make it out to be. This could be a symbol of community and the Black Lives Movement for the rest of Seattle’s history. It’s a new Commons — one we’ve been needing for a long time.
As I look around, it is pure co-creating community at its most raw. It’s now been about 24 hours since the police have left the zone and its been reclaimed and proclaimed free by our neighbors who grew up on these streets of Seattle.
At first, you would think there is no leadership whatsoever, but underneath the chaos, is a strong sense of order. And one of the most beautiful things about the leadership, is that it is all black.
During one two hour block today, there were speeches and stories be shared by the POC community, mostly to a crowd of white allies. One black man shared his concerns about whoever from this leadership team ends up being the voice as things become more integrated with mainstream Seattle that they don’t sell out.
That is one of the concerns of some of the leaders now. That as this movement continues to grow, that none of the leaders twist the beautiful collective vision and goals in exchange for a personal one.
There are many other needed messages coming from this organic storytelling pop-up. A black man shares a challenge that all the white allies in the space need to hear. They get to go home after this and not be black, not be afraid. Don’t abandon this fight. I’m not here to pat you on the back, this is a fight for justice, and if it wasn’t my body on the line, you sure as hell know I’d be here supporting those that were. The mostly white crowd is silent and let’s that sink in.
More and more stories come to life in the most beautiful and vulnerable ways. Stories of fear and pain, of survival and grief. I won’t forget any of them anytime soon.
There are a total of six blocks claimed by this community. As you walk through the spaces, everything is being spray painted and chalked up. There is a huge BLACK LIVES MATTER tag taking over one whole block.
All the buildings are boarded up and stunning works of art is being created live in front of my eyes. And its for anyone to be contribute and be a part of. I notice tentative chalkers grabbing a piece and sharing their messages wherever they can fit in. I can see their initial thought of, “am I doing something wrong?”
It’s a funny realization few will probably make — that we are so deeply socialized towards obedience that it’s a tough mental barrier to get through. But each “artist” persists and after a quick glance in each direction, the words just seem to flow.
“I can’t breath”
“The establishment will always fear real democracy”
“No more racist police!”
“Defund the police”
“Empathy now”
“Stolen Land. Stolen Lives.”
And so much more.
People walk through this place in aww, with their phones out taking videos and uploading them to their social media accounts.
Along all the corners and sidewalks are pop-up booths, all in the name of community, turning the commons into a place the embodies a communal gifting and sharing economy. Twice in the past minute I see people walking by and picking up trash. “Are you finished with that?”
I’m currently sitting in a fold up camping chair in the patio in front of the “No Cop Co-op”, which is a place for anyone to get anything they need — a bottle of water, different types of energy bars, juices, face masks, and other supplies. Everything is free and donated. It takes up a quarter of the block and on one end is a sign-up sheet. As of now, they still have shifts available for restocking supplies and security throughout the night.
A young man Eli sees me writing and comes up to see what I’m doing. He gets adorably giddy when he heres me share the obvious observation that this all needs to be written down as it transforms and takes shape. He shares a similar project, chaz.zone.
Kitty corner from the “No Cop Co-op”, is the local chapter of the DSA (Democratic socialists of America) asking for people to sign petitions. Everyone at that booth is white but most of their goals are around defunding police.
I just heard that tonight at 9:30, there is another documentary showing. I also hear stories of a local conservative troll Tim Eyman that had came by earlier in the day. It sounds like he was booed out of the commons with 10 minutes of being here.
News has a funny way of spreading here. Most people passing through will never get in the know, but once you are, things keep coming back to you. This is a relationship community, and an open one at that. All you have to do is ask, (well ask around until you eventually get to the right person) and start to build some rapport with them.
Which brings me back to this idea of belonging. There’s a Burning Man like feel at the moment. Come as you are. We need you as you are. You expressing yourself fully is what makes this place what we need it to be.
Funny enough, right next to me is a little booth with sharpies and name tags where people can choose and express their “CHAZ” name. (Sounds like playa names to me.) This is a different world, a future where people feel like they can shed their pasts.
All down the block from the “No Cop Co-Op” and DSA booth are more and more pop-up stands. More gifts and donations to make sure everyone here is getting what they need. And parallel to that block is Cal Anderson Park.
The park looks similar to what it would on any other summer day, but definitely a rare sight for a spring day in the COVID era. It has pockets of communities all throughout the field, with booths lining up on the sides. I smell hot dogs and perfume.
On my walk through the park I run into the first person I recognize. We keep our masks on and skip the hug, but it’s so nice to see a familiar face after being holed up for so long.
I then see two women walking by with a sign offering “mental health check-ins”. I had to go up and ask if they were licensed psychiatrists and of course they are. This is a place where people are offering their gifts to the community.
Families and kids are enjoying the commons and taking part in different games and activities. It’s a beautiful sight.
More and more artists are taking over the streets, wielding a can of spray paint as if it’s an extension of their voice and this is their opportunity to lend it to a conversation they’ve been waiting their whole lives to be a part of.
Going deeper into the park, past the fields, we find Marcus, the man leading the gardens. At this moment there are 3 full circular plots almost finished being planted full of vegetables, flowers, and herb starters. They’ve been getting plants donated by local nurseries and are laying the ground for a bountiful harvest later in the summer. It couldn’t be planted at a better time.
Earlier I asked them what they needed. Marcus told me they needed organic mulch for these plots before they get into planting more.
So of course, I volunteered to bring by a dozen bags tomorrow afternoon. We need to have gardens in our commons. Marcus even talks about his discussions with the Seattle Parks Department, to make sure that whatever we are doing fits in with their plans. There’s a slight adjustment for us based on draining feedback happening tomorrow.
And there it is, my internal shift from they to us. I’m with them now. It’s an us. This is too beautiful to just observe from the outside, I need to participate, to co-create, and continue to observe from the inside.
We’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m still so impressed by how well we are keeping order in our new commons. You notice little things like signs for a smoking area down the block.
As evening continues, dusk comes, and I see more and more people streaming in. Lots of white people but lots of people of color as well. Signs of Black Lives Matter underneath their arms.
Many are coming to simply observe, others to lend their voice. I still have a deep concern that we will be co-opted by Instagram hipsters and white privilege, but what can I say, let emergence happen.
More and more crowds are filing in and the sun is getting closer to setting. I can start hearing music playing throughout the area. More donations are coming in for our co-op. I see a few more people walking around with drinks in their hands, but this is far from party, at least not yet. I see two more sets of friends walk by, one an old co-worker, and another a couple I’ve known for the past year.
I hope our new commons doesn’t turn into that tonight. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. We are still in the COVID era and most of these people haven’t been around a group like this in months, holed up in our apartments and yearning for the human energy that can only come from crowds of people.
“This is amazing!” A man walking by with his wife and dog proclaims. I pull him aside to ask what he means. He struggles to find the words but from the gist of what I get out of him, he is just in aww of seeing the building of a community from the ground up out of nothing.
Now that he’s gone, I notice that I’m feeling a sober high that I haven’t felt in a long time.
An indigenous woman is walking by and reminding us that we are on stolen land through stolen lives. Her name is Roxanne. And she is beyond friendly. I hope her leadership helps guide the commons.
Further down the street I notice that volunteer medics have continued to show up in the patio outside Rancho Bravo to support us. They continue to walk through the crowds and hand out masks.
Now the sun is getting real close to setting and I see a crowd forming at the other end of our commons on the corner of 12th and Pine. I walk up Pine. I smell sage, hear Roxanne playing her drum, and see people of all colors, shapes, and personalities. The park is still lit up and I can feel the energy coming from it.
I pass our Co-Op and notice that every shift for the next 24 hours has been filled. This job neighbors! That’s when the music starts.
The same M/C from the storytelling program is the lead singer of a band called Martial Law. There’s something unique about hearing music from the heart at the core of a movement. I can’t describe it. This isn’t some show that they were hired for, this is a space and movement they have fought for, that now, they get to celebrate and use their art, as a continued gift to support our community. More and more musicians take the stage and the collaborative creative expression gets the entire crowd moving and grooving.
At one point we’re encouraged to put an arm around our neighbor and sway with a new connection. I look to my left, and the eyes above the mask are kind and full of spirit. She is a white woman in what I’m guessing is her 60’s, so I ask her name and if she’s comfortable with having an arm around her. She nods, introduces herself as Megan, and we sway to sounds of reggae together.
As our singer guides us through moment after moment, more of the vision and leadership starts to take shape. This community space, what I’m calling the commons, is a staging ground for the continued fight for equity, for racial and economic justice.
This movement is just beginning and while the commons will be a safe place to recharge and for all of the community to come together, to learn and grow together, there is a lot of work to do. In front of the stage, the purposes are clear:
- Defund the police
- Fund the community
- Free all protestors
There is a future to create. A coming change to be shaped. A collective transformation and liberation to shepherd.
As I take off for the night, I realize a curious afternoon trip, led to 10 hours that just flew by. I walk through our commons and see more people flowing in. Another booth has just popped up, this one making sandwiches for whoever is hungry. More and more memorials are coming alive, for Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin, Ahmaud Arbery, and many more.
I get to my bike with a full heart, a personal challenge to do more, and a funny realization that on any other night, my bike locked up in this exact same spot would probably have been stolen.
There’s order in the chaos. There’s something beautiful emerging. Trust it. Support it. Fund it. Let it shape the change and liberation we need.
