I perform my little heart out on the Santa Monica Pier with my new microphone and amp. On the walk home, I picture the project of turning this adorable character into a bona fide crowd-gathering show. But my heart isn’t in it.
That week, I plan to attend an anti-ICE protest organized by my Indivisible West Los Angeles group. I contact one of the leaders, “Would you like for me to bring my new amp?!” (She did.)
That Saturday, I attend another protest. I bring the amp again, sure, but I also know the next logical step.
When I first learned of the Portland Frog Brigade last year I was put off. I thought that wearing a costume to a resistance event trivialized the issues. I didn’t realize that there is a long history in resistance movements of “tactical frivolity.”
So I adapt.
The city block is filled with neighbors holding signs and making their voices heard. A few people play drums to keep folk’s spirits up.
I wear leggings and a t-shirt knowing that I’ll be changing right on the sidewalk. First, I shrug off my backpack and then I kick off my sneakers. I zip up the onesie, cover my hair with the hood, and take a walk up and down the boulevard.
It doesn’t take long to figure out that my fellow protesters love the unicorn. I am greeted by smiling faces. People open conversations with me. I feel like a neighborhood celebrity.
I learn how much context matters: On the pier, the unicorn is most-of-the-time awkward. At a protest, the character is embraced as a public mascot.
And that’s why, for now, the unicorn is retired at the pier. (But available for protests and parties! 😉 )
