Submitted to It’s Going Down

We set out on the frosty (10F) night with two banners that read “La Migra, La Policia, La Misma Puerqueria” and “SIN FRONTERAS,” some noise makers, a marching band snare, some fireworks, some shitty buckets and a hound dog.  We blasted the action last minute, but were content with the reality that it may just be a few of us who were determined to roll up to the I.C.E. Detention Center in Aurora, Colorado and make as much fucking noise as humanly possible.

We cruised around the facility, but knew that we either had to go to the front door, or hide in the back of the huge prison where the loading docks are.  It seemed as if the only place that incarcerated folks were located was in the heart of the donut shaped building.  So we decided to say fuck it and roll into the faculty parking lot.  We looked at the only car with lights on and awkwardly nodded at them.

They came rolling out the car and we knew we had found comrades.  Then another car showed up and we all celebrated in the resounding joy of knowing that we had instantly tripled our numbers.  The hound howled incessantly and we cheered.  Just then a GEO officer rolled up on us and questioned us and we told him that we were here to say hello to our friends.  He swiftly kicked us out to across the street, an order which we resisted but quickly gave into.

Across the street we screamed, danced, unfurled our banners, banged and beat our noise makers, and heckled every GEO worker with chants of “QUIT YOUR JOBS!” and “I HOPE YOU HAVE A FUCKED UP NEW YEAR!” as well as “EL PUEBLO CONTRA LA MIGRA ES UN PUEBLOQUE NUNCA MORIRA!” and “NO LAS PRISIONES! NO LAS FRONTERAS! JUNTOS LUCHAREMOS!”  After we had shouted and exploded our message as loud as possible into the New Year, we decided to surprise them with a quick hustle around the back of the facility to see if we could reach any incarcerated folks directly and see them in any windows.  We were instantly greeted by another, more pathetic GEO worker who kicked us off the property.  We proceeded to move to the alley that was across the fence from another wall of the I.C.E. facility.  We turned up some revolutionary tunes, pulled out the crash cymbal, marching snare, banners and noise makers and made as much noise as possible.   Unfortunately there was no activity in the windows, apparently confirming our suspicion that all the people being held were buried deep within the prison.  We maintained for as long as our bodies could give warmth.  Eventually we left (but not before one of our vehicles needed a jump!) and went back to the front gate we were at before.  We gave one last hurrah and set off several artillery shells over the prison, honking, screaming and shouting obscenities to the guards, and love proclamations to those on the other side of the wall.

We all got back to our homes in tact, feeling a whirlwind of both relief and sorrow.  We had said FUCK BAR CULTURE, FUCK PRISONS, FUCK BORDERS, and had connected with one another as we hurled over the cusp of the New Year.  We commiserated with each other that we had a lot of work to do, and acknowledged our commitment to see it through.  Fuck you 2016! Let’s burn it all down this year so there’s no Amerikkka in 2018.

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