Why I wasn't at the Fund Our Future march (but wanted to be)

If you're based in the UK, you've probably all heard about the protest for higher education funding that took place in London yesterday. I wasn't there, but some of my co-bloggers were, and I hope that they'll be able to write about what it was like to be there.

About 52,000 people, most of them students, but also a large contingent of academic and academic-related staff, marched through central London. The march was for the funding of public services, and higher education and research funding in particular; condemning tuition fees and graduate contributions, and the LibDem U-turn on student fees. There was also a large Free Education feeder march that unfortunately doesn't seem to have received much press coverage. Obviously it's the Millbank protest that's getting nearly all the coverage right now, and I'll let someone else comment on that, because I wasn't there, and my thoughts are still in a bit of a jumble. Maybe I'll do a round-up of interesting coverage later on.

So why wasn't I there? Ah. I'm glad you asked.

The "Look Ok...Feel Crap?" campaign from the Depression Alliance Scotland tweeted "Are you a student? Would you have liked to go on today's demo but didn't because of how you feel? Or did you go anyway?" Some of the replies they received on Twitter broke my heart -- students wrote back about issues with anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions that kept them home.

In my case, it wasn't a mental health issue that kept me home, but it was a disability. I told friends who asked me that this ways because I couldn't get my mobility scooter to London (most types of public transport won't carry them). This is true, but not the whole story. It's also that when using a mobility scooter, I'm vulnerable in certain ways because I can't maneuver quickly in a crowd. This isn't a small march in Scotland -- it's a big march in London with the Metropolitan Police of kettling and head-beating fame. In a big group of people who are kettled and stressed, I could very easily get hurt. Also, my disability causes fatigue, and overnight trips on consecutive nights could cause a week or two of fatigue that would make me unable to do coursework or totally trivial things like cook food or wash clothes.

I'm not the only person who couldn't go. A great many of my friends couldn't go because their disabilities prevented them getting to London (the transport isn't accessible, and with central London packed with demo traffic, it's hard to make adjustments), or walk the whole march route even if the march had been held locally to them. Some couldn't go because they find marches too scary or anxiety-inducing or confrontational or upsetting because of mental health issues. Some couldn't go because they are scared of police officers, especially the Met, because their sociodemographic group has traditionally been targeted by the police for violence and prejudice. Some people couldn't attend because they have young children and no childcare, and were worried about their toddlers potentially being in a kettling situation (after the G20 protests, this is a reasonable worry). Some friends couldn't afford to go because they live on or below the breadline and couldn't afford the transport, or couldn't afford to miss a day of work.

(Note that many of these worries apply not only to protests, but also work. Those whose disability stops them from protesting, may also, for similar reasons, be legitimately unable to work. Those whose children's need for care means they have to stay home, might also mean that they can't work paid jobs. Those who are discriminated against by the police are likely to also be discriminated against by employers.)

When the government calls us lazy and work-shy, we have to work extra-hard to defend ourselves, and it costs energy and resources we don't have -- in my case, it might have cost me the ability to feed and clothe myself for several days. When public services are cut, we're affected in multiple ways -- not just by higher education, but also by cuts to nursery/childcare and schooling, medical services, child and family benefits, personal care, disability-specific support, housing, and the list goes on.

The people who face this kind of dual discrimination are the people who need to fight the hardest right now because they have the most to lose. They're also the people least able to fight the hardest. Often, the most effective kinds of protest are unavailable to us -- we can ask nicely, we can write to our MPs, we can sign petitions, but when asking nicely fails, we have no options left. It makes us easy targets for governments to take away our basic needs -- we can't fight back the way more privileged people can.

So to those of you who are protesting (there will be more big marches), please go and shout loud for me. If you haven't been protesting, but you think you could, please please please think about going, because those of us who really need to be there, can't.

--IP