I pulled a black bandana over my face at King’s College Circle on the University of Toronto campus at 12:30 p.m. on Nov. 5, as I let my Humber media pass hang around my neck. One concealed my identity. The other announced it.
Around me, students at the walkout chanted, “No cuts, no fees, no corporate universities,” as Maddy Lee, a U of T student helping lead the demonstration, called out the lines. I’d come to join them, but my editor’s last message kept replaying in my head.
That morning, I’d told him I wanted to join the student walkout over education cuts, not just cover it. He said he didn’t quite see what I meant. I explained. He reacted with a thumbs-up, removed it, then wrote: “Ok.”
Near the front, I waited to feel like chanting. Instead, I watched reporters interviewing students and photographing protesters, wondering whether I should be doing the same. In March, outside Noma’s $1,500-a-seat Los Angeles pop-up, it went the other way: I went to report on a protest by former employees and ended up speaking at the press conference.
The night before the walkout, I’d watched V for Vendetta, 20 years after its release. A masked revolutionary hijacks a television broadcast and urges Londoners to stand against their government. On screen, a mask made resistance look certain.
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot
I wanted that certainty.
I've wanted to be a journalist since I was 15. After nearly a decade in kitchens, bouncing from cooking in restaurants to planning menus in shelters, journalism is the first work that has felt like mine. I had to ask for my OSAP aid to be restored before I could enrol, then explain myself again to transfer to Humber. I was still carrying debt from my earlier time in school.
The Ontario government announced in February that no more than 25 per cent of provincial OSAP assistance would be provided as grants, with the remainder as loans. The changes took effect Aug. 1, and they were part of what the students around me were protesting. My first appeal came months before that announcement.
I wasn’t sure what resistance looked like for me.
The crowd also chanted “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.”
A few feet away, an older man and an older woman were arguing about what the protest was about. I drifted closer.
“Don’t you know there are Muslims here too?” one of them said. Someone answered: “I’m here for the tuition, not this s---.” A protester carrying a Palestinian flag walked past, and it brushed the back of my neck.
Later, an organizer asked the crowd, “How many of you guys can’t pay rent?” I cheered. It was about the only time I did, even though I live with my parents. My thinking was that I can’t afford rent either, so maybe I was justified.
I also signed a petition called Fix OSAP ASAP, which asks the province to reverse OSAP grant cuts. Signed pages go to Liberal MPP Tyler Watt’s office.
Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring
Nigel Barriffe, whom I’d interviewed at the Oct. 24 education rally, began playing music alongside a violinist and saxophonist. Students danced in pairs and groups while I imagined joining them, but stayed where I was.
Afterwards, a man handing out Communist Party flyers asked what I thought about the OSAP cuts.
“I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?” I said, with more edge than I meant. I told him I was a journalist with Humber, and his eyes lit up. Then I added that I was also a student, somewhere between participating and not.
“You can do both, right?” the student asked.
I didn’t know how to answer. What does participating look like when you're also the one taking notes? I didn’t want to bore him with journalism ethics guidelines. I found a bench and started taking notes. I’d taken the bandana off. The press pass stayed on.
By the time the march reached Queen’s Park, it had gotten louder. Walking up the street, the crowd chanted “F--k Doug Ford,” and later, “Doug Ford is a dropout.”
Toronto Police bicycle officers stood off to the sides, some leaning against their bikes.
"Who are you really protecting?" Lee called toward them.
One officer shrugged and smiled. Another smiled beside him. I laughed.
Then came the insults. Some protesters shouted obscenities. Others brought the officers' families into it.
But I knew nothing about the officers standing before us.
The organizer’s question was worth asking. I wasn’t convinced the insults helped answer it.
Later, police stopped traffic twice so the march could move down Hoskin Avenue. On the sidewalk, the crowd chanted “It’s your tuition too” at students walking past. One protester told a student, “Don’t be a f--king scab.”
God save the King!
That is how the old rhyme ends. A verse celebrating a failed plot against Parliament became the refrain of a film about toppling a government.
Collective action is not always collective agreement.
The man with the flyers had asked if I could do both. I left around 3:30 p.m. with one cheer, one signature and a notebook full of what I’d seen. I hadn’t asked a single member of the High School Students Against Austerity I’d planned to follow up with for a name or a quote.
I still regret the questions I didn't ask. I’m less certain I regret the dancing I skipped.
