A Theory of Change

July 4, 2020. A Saturday.

The country has turned itself over in the course of one day.

Footage of the riots yesterday, protestors tear gassed and sent sprawling by water cannons, defending themselves in bloody fist-fights with opposing counter-protestors, a lone kid waving the Colombian flag in front of the Capitol before being tackled to the ground by a policeman… it flashes across newsreels and onto phones, where it spreads like wildfire through social media.

Locked in their homes, the people are angry, and the people will not have it.

Then, something else begins circulating.

Scarlet’s Violación, they’ve taken to calling it. People voice their horror, their disgust, their shock, their fear, millions of comments expressing support, confusion, outrage, an explosion of reactions that no person could possibly keep track of. But amidst the outpour, one message sounds loud and clear:

Come out tomorrow.

That’s how we end up in the plaza once more, the square packed to the brim, all of signs and flags and anger directed at the politicians sitting in their little building. There’s over a million of us on the streets today, and the women and girls have turned out like never before.

Scarlet stands up on the makeshift podium we’ve thrown together, a microphone held close to her mouth.

“Yesterday, we marched in square peacefully. We asked our government of only two simple things. To withdraw the oil bill, and to redirect that funding into clean energy. But did they listen?”

She holds her microphone out to the crowd.

No! we shout back.

“No,” she says. “They stayed quiet while we marched, doing nothing but sit on their lazy asses. And then when they did speak, what did they say? ‘Go home white bitch.’ ”

She pauses, letting the anger stew in each of us.

“Now, they say that the tweet was sent by the rogue employee in charge of the state’s social media, and that he is now fired. Maybe they’re right. But that still means they were responsible for the massacre that happened yesterday. You all saw what happened. It was their words, the government’s words, that caused hundreds to be injured. They’re responsible for what happened to me yesterday. They’re responsible for the deaths of seventeen of our brothers and sisters. They’re responsible for it all, because they haven’t done the most basic thing that we put them into office for. What we ask of them is simple. Listen to your people!”

Listen to your people! we yell in return.

There’s a hint of feedback from the mic, our chorus is so loud. Scarlet’s voice is being broadcast around the city, and straight into the Capitol from the two massive speakers that we’ve set up to face it. They hear us, that’s for sure. Now, if only they will listen.

“We’ve got a special guest joining us today,” Scarlet says, after the noise has died down to a manageable level again. “She flew out here first thing last night when the news of what happened first got out. Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow protestors, you all know who she is… my one and only sister, Tiffany Najbreit!”

This time, I think I’m actually going to go deaf. The cheers start as soon as Tiffany’s instantly recognisable face pops up behind the podium, and accelerate into a roar so loud that I feel the ground rumbling beneath me as Tiffany steps up next to Scarlet. The two of them embrace, and then Scarlet hands Tiffany the mic.

Tiffany’s speech is short and rousing. She tells us of the way her heart stopped when she first saw the link to Scarlet’s violation. She tells us of the way her heart ached when she saw what everyone else in the city was facing, their traumas and concerns just as real as anyone else’s. She tells us that there’s a better way forwards. She tells us that, though we may be angry at our politicians, we must have faith in their ability to do the right thing now.

When she speaks, she holds everyone’s rapt attention. Even the police lower their riot shields, not wanting to miss a word of what she says. It’s like a scene out a movie, the beautiful princess pleading to the court, the people behind her, silently cheering her on. But the politicians are faceless, hiding behind their walls, and I have to remind myself that what is happening is all too real.

Then, it’s Salome’s turn to speak. I, standing by one of the command tents set up by the podium, watch Scarlet working on her phone as her mother speaks. There are now two bodyguards standing by her side, as should have always been the case, and Scarlet no longer looks so eager to shake them off.

After Salome speaks, some other famous activist takes the stand, and this man is angrier, his voice rawer. He speaks of his friends currently locked up behind bars, the injustice of them being the ones suffering when the problems out there are so much worse. Then it’s the turn of a former counter-protestor to speak. He talks about how he was approached by somebody offering to pay him five times his wage to come out and demonstrate against us. He tells us his shame when he saw what that ended up causing.

And so it continues, speech after speech.

Sometime in the afternoon, Scarlet and a few select others are invited into the Capitol. There’s a cheer as they walk into the building, the wide doors finally opening up to receive them.

We sing songs and chant slogans and wave our flags.

By nightfall, the oil bill is dead, and two new bills have been passed into law. One for the environment, and another for domestic and sexual ****.