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May Day

It’s a beautiful day here on the Oregon Coast. The kind of day that almost makes me forget about how difficult the winter was this year. I walked my daughter to school – as I do most days when it isn’t raining – and took my time walking back. It wasn’t until I looked at the calendar that I realized it was May Day. A few years ago, while I was living in Istanbul, I went to the May Day celebrations in Taksim Square – it was nothing less than astounding. Wonderful. Beautiful. Thousands upon thousands of union members, communists, anarchists, students, and workers marching and singing and smiling in the sunshine. Of course, that was before the current president of Turkey began cracking down on such gatherings. Two years after I was there, the celebrations involved riot police and teargas. Now, as I understand it, the gatherings are outlawed all together. This is what it is like this year in 2017

That video was recorded five hours ago.

But here I am, on the Oregon Coast, a million miles away and reveling in the sunshine of a long awaited spring day. There are no May Day celebrations here – it is simply May 1st. May Day is important. It is actually International Workers Day that I am referring to, but most simply call it May Day. It is a day to remember that we are all humans. That we are not products. That we are not commodities. We are free and we are human and all of the things we take for granted were made by other humans doing human work, by workers. We are workers. We are human. We are one.