Each of us has a story to tell in one sense or another. I have many. For this story, we must go back a number of years. I was only fifteen years old at the time, and I was in an on-and-off again relationship with a girl from my school. She was called Ellie.
I think it was the 19th of December 2004, I was going home for Christmas, and I was taken to the local train station. I left, but as I was leaving I had a vision something was going to happen. I rang the school from the train station to say that the train hadn’t arrived. I was really looking for an angle to return to school. Moments later the train arrived and I boarded it knowing I should have stayed.
It was a few days later when Ellie rang me and alluded to the fact that she had slept with some of the students in one of the lounges. This upset me a lot at first, and then I became angry. I didn’t get physically violent, I instead turned to passive-aggressive behavior. The conversations I had over the phone with Ellie started to be monitored by the school staff.
The staff at that school were quite abusive and had been for a number of years. They were more oppressors than carers. There were more than a few instances of sexual abuse. Physical violence was an almost daily occurrence. The staff covered their tracks by saying that their violence was necessary and that it was part of the standard for restraining children who became difficult. What they didn’t say was that most of the time they would deliberately antagonise children to provoke them into confrontational situations.
It was around February when I had a conversation with Ellie. I said to her that I had a vision, and if I came back to school on Sunday, it would kick off. The staff thought that it was another psychological game I was playing with Ellie, and they called my bluff.
I arrived at Preston Train Station on Sunday evening with a number of students. It was quite uneventful, and the staff seemed to be completely at ease. When we got back to the school, I and a few students went for a cigarette. But there was some difficulty with the staff who didn’t want to give us our cigarettes and the students began to get belligerent. The staff had wanted to send us to bed earlier that night.
None of what transpired that night was planned in any way, but I whispered in the ears of a giant, and then in the ears of the others, and a revolt against our oppressors began. None of us liked our situation, all of us had been abused, so I spoke, and others followed.
It began, our night of revolt, with sticks and stones, but it morphed into an unrelenting assault on the authority that had abused us for years, and the longer it went on, the more joined in our cause. Our oppressors isolated in the building, peering out of the windows every so often, their antagonisms vacant from their opened mouths as they looked on in shock and awe.
We moved from the main building and into the woods that surrounded our school. And from the woods, we saw the arrival, and departure, of the Police. We went to the educational center, which was little more than a grouping of portacabins, and we began to smash windows. We collected things that we could use, hockey sticks, golf clubs, tents, and even sleeping bags. Then we walked back to the main building, but we were met halfway. The Police had returned, our oppressors in lockstep, a smug arrogance filled the auras around them, and we turned, and retreated back into the woods.
The Police again left, and some of our party had taken bikes. We began to leave the area, but we were again confronted by the Police. We had managed to escape their grasp again, though some of us were separated from the group. Ellie, myself, and another student grabbed a few sleeping bags and decided to sleep in the girl’s toilets back at the educational center. We all fell asleep, and later the police returned and arrested us. They had also managed to arrest several other students before us. We were all cramped into a Police Van, and transported to a Police Station in Lancaster.
Upon the interview with the Police, I and others gave a statement. I told them there that our oppressors had caused the events that transpired. Ellie had told them that I had a vision predicting it, though she didn’t say my name specifically, it was obvious that she meant me. Our tormentors named me as a ring leader. They overlooked the role they had played and sought absolution through the blame of the people they had victimised for years.
After the Police interview, many of us were sent home to await our punishments. I, like many others, was expelled for a few weeks. Some, however, returned to school immediately, and others were permanently expelled. We all appeared at a court in Preston, and we all pled not guilty.
When I returned to school, it felt much different. The riot had effectively paralysed our abusers’ vicious hands, but my role was not finished there. I was able to move my peers in a direction that benefitted us all. In the end, our riot, our revolt, had made positive changes to a system that had forgotten us, a system that had lost its purpose.
The reason I have not mentioned this event, or even alluded to it, is that it is an analogy for today’s oppression. I have said it before, I reveal and conceal. A strategy that has served me well for many years, and a strategy our new oppressors are only just learning of. There is no effective fight one can make against it. They too seek absolution through the blame of others. They too abuse those they are supposed to protect. If you follow that thought, the conclusion can only lead in one direction. It is the reason I am shadow-banned online. It is the reason they reached out to the individual hosts of HIVE. They seek to minimise my voice, and presence, online. But it is too late. I have spent the last fifteen years whispering in the ears of giants, and there is no counter to be made for a cause that is righteous.