For the assembled activists, it
was the perfect way to reach the targets of their protest. Fans lined up outside
the Roseland Theater waiting for last Tuesday's sold-out Bloodhound Gang show
were a captive audience, giving the demonstrators a superb chance
to convince them that they were spending money to support a band that is racist
and sexist.
The Asian Pacific Islander activists and their allies hand Bloodhounders a
paper packet with an alarming neon-pink cover. It reads, "Celebrate! Women.
People of Color. Asian Pride. Celebrate Justice! Empowerment! Think. Listen.
Resist. Act."
It doesn't get much attention. One guy scribbles "Fuck you Hippies" on the
leaflet and drops it into a planter on Northwest 6th Avenue.
Three girls on the receiving end of the leaflet take a closer look. They are
young, with the kind of dewy skin you get one shot at in life. The Bloodhounds,
says Ariel Jacobs, are funny. Her Lincoln High classmates agree, saying the
group is just one part of their musical melange. The girls list Sublime, Lenny
Kravitz, Macy Gray and Ani DiFranco as some of their favorites (they've never
heard of local feminista rockers Sleater-Kinney).
"I don't understand why, if I go to see them, that makes me a racist," says
16-year-old Greta Mills, who is sucking sugar through a pixie stick. Mills says
that she's down with the whole protest thing but she doesn't think this is cause
enough to take to the street. "We should be protesting the fact that Bush is
president," she says. Then she shrugs. "But then again, what do I know--I'm
16 and I can't vote."
Meanwhile, the loose coalition of protesters on 6th Avenue is dealing with
some technical difficulties; rain has forced them to put a tarp on their sound
system, muffling their voices. A slide show projects a blank screen across the
wall.
An Asian activist named Polo gets on the mike and starts reeling off some spoken-word
melodies. It's hard to make out the words. This incites a violent reaction from
the Bloodhound Gangers. "Fuck you!" bellow some boys. "What the hell are you
talking about?" scream some others.
It's hard to pinpoint why they're getting so excited. Is it being forced to
swallow muffled spoken-word against their will or the charge that their favorite
band is racist?
For this and many other do-good causes out there, it seems, carrying signs
that say hooray for our side is no longer effective. Bullhorns and banners just
don't register anymore. People, particularly a generation raised on MTV, need
media they're familiar with: videos, CDs (see "Dancin' to the Revolution," right).
In short, they need entertainment.
Enter the cheerleaders, stage right. A group of about 10 women wearing a mish-mash
of cheerleading gear, some holding pom-poms, lines up. "Stop! Resist the hate.
Don't participate," they sing. Then they go into an old-fashioned version of
"U.G.L.Y--You're Ugly."
Portland's Radical Cheerleaders have arrived to save yet another dreary demonstration
from yawning predictability.
According to the modern protest mythology, the Radical Cheerleaders were born
down in southern Florida in 1996 as a way to make protests more creative. Combining
street theater with semiotics, the Cheerleaders tended to disarm Floridians
with their blend of flipped cultural convention and quick wit.
Soon squads formed across the country, and websites sprouted up offering cheer
sheets. Here in Portland, a group formed last November. The loose squad of about
26 (including two men) performed at the annual Dyke March before Gay Pride in
June, in counterpoint to the Rev. Fred Phelps' anti-gay demonstration in September
and, most recently, at last month's Buy Nothing Day.
But the cheerleaders rose to prominence at the head of the May Day march, which
devolved into a melee in which three squad members were arrested. One of the
cheerleaders taken into custody was 28-year-old Tori Kjer, a social-service
worker with Growing Gardens, a nonprofit that builds gardens for low-income
people, seniors and people with disabilities.
Kjer is the cheerleader who pulled the squad together last week for the Bloodhound
Gang protest. She says she's drawn in by the melodrama of it all and, as a politically
active person, she sees it as a creative avenue to make a point.
The native of Longview, Wash., was not a cheerleader in "real" life, however.
"I was terrified by the thought of being a cheerleader," she says. "But I've
always been curious, secretly curious, about being one."
For the Bloodhounds protest, Kjer sent an email to the online cheerleader list
and asked for volunteers. The group met the Sunday before and worked out cheers.
Two days later, the motley group in red and black certainly got attention from
the concertgoers. One man in line screamed, "Die, faggots!" Another group of
young men chanted, "Show us your tits!"
Clearly the aspiring frat boys were not won over. But a group of girls with
swirly pink hair stared at the cheerleaders and giggled. "I like their outfits,"
one of them said. "They're funny," said another.
Although the Bloodhound Gang eventually put on their show and spewed forth
their shock-lyrics, for a brief moment that night they had to share the spotlight
with a group of spirited women who made their streets their stage.
