This past weekend I was fortunate enough to find myself in a moment so sudden and striking that I stopped in the middle of the street to take it in.  It was a moment brought to bear by the bizarre and serendipitous intersection of political protests, San Francisco’s adventurous spirit, and the corner of 17th St. and Castro.  In in was an illustration of everything I love about this City by the Bay.

As I disembarked Castro’s MUNI station, I could hear a commotion on the street above.  At street level, I found myself mixed conspicuously among a group of pro-Palestine/pro-peace activists protesting the recent events in the Gaza Strip.  After I worked my way through the crowd, I saw a pro-Israel counterprotest on the other side of the street.  The two sides were shouting and chanting, crying out to halt an injustive on the far side of the world.  There was a tension in the air that was unexpectedly broken by the appearance of brightly colored underwear.  Making their way between these two groups were dozens and dozens of pantsless people.  Standing in the middle of the intersection and witnessing this odd convergence, I took a moment to appreciate all of the forces required to bring together a moment like this one–ardent political engagement in world politics; a free-spirited, humorous, and tolerant population; the peculiar history of this part of the city; and unseasonably perfect weather.

Of course, I should mention that as I stood there in the middle of this intersection watching these happenings, I wasn’t wearing any pants either, just some brightly colored undergarments.  I was there doing my best to embody and indulge in that adventurous spirit of the city with sixty or so cohorts.  January 10th was No Pants Day 2009 and we were traveling through the city sans-pants offering “laundry day” or “protesting the pants tax!” as reasons for our particular fashion.  BART riders would look, turn away, steal a second glance, and then stare out right.  Occasionally someone would get up the courage to ask a question or stare the other people around as if to ask, “Was I not supposed to wear pants today?  What’s going on?”

Our arrival was met with humor and confusion by the protesters and counterprotesters.  After breaking out of my reverie, I countinued down the sidewalked and was stopped by a short woman with three pre-teenaged children who were all mildly afraid of the commotion at the corner.  She asked me what was going on and whether or not it was safe, and remarkably enough, didn’t even mention or appear to notice how I was(n’t) dressed.  I did my best to give her a brief and neutral explanation of the long and complicated history playing itself out behind me.  She thanked me and took the children a few steps closer to watch.  I smiled and continued on my merry way.

Tags: Gaza, Israel, No Pants Day, Palestine

This entry was posted on Friday, January 16th, 2009 at 2:59 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.