Canada and/or King St.

Smokey, Mr. Ingles and associates needing room, board, and safety

So, here I was up close to the border. Although I like to explore within the limits that are given to me, it is also painful to be so close to something that won’t let you in. I usually prefer not to go. But here I was. And it was a special day coming up. With all of my work on nonviolence and self-determination, my advocacy against nationalism and for fluency in borders, I contemplated the intellectual impact of making a statement on the MLK dedication day, by crossing over, and then coming back with my self-determined ID. The problem is they wouldn’t have let me back in – I guess – even to celebrate Dr. King’s dedication. In spite of the poetry and symbolism of the act, its implication for the rights of undocumented workers, there was no getting around the fact that I would be tackling a legal nightmare, courts that would in all likelihood be unresponsive, and a situation where I would be seperated from my family/pack, and forced into submission. Did I really want to subject myself to this violence to make a beautiful and very thought-provoking point.

I opt not to. Someone with less at stake might do it. I wanted to be there for the dedication of the King Memorial. I didn’t want to risk being detained, so I continue on my way.

I note the Canadian flag at the “On the Run” gas station close to the border, and the American flag on the mailbox at “Little Bluff Street”. As I went for a bike ride through the park, spin points out, and I seize the picture, of a green frog with my camera. I suppose there are a lot of options for nationalism, but not so many, for those who choose not to define themself with a border. There are days when I rethink my free agency as a human and environmental worker. It is not an easy life. I would have a lot more freedom and mobility if I actually did claim allegiance to a political state over human and animal dignity, or for that matter world peace or conservation.

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