I was walking into the Mayfair Mall earlier this evening, and saw some of our people in front of me. It was about 4:00, and the die-in was scheduled for 4:30. Everyone was told to meet near Santa’s Village in the middle of the mall atrium. It struck me as really funny that we’d do a die-in in front of Santa’s Village, though it was a little intimidating to see the number of security guards and police. Area malls were on high alert after our highway shutdown as well as the massive Mall of America die-in last weekend. Someone leaked that we’d be there at 1:00, and the tendrils of the grapevine were reporting that police were prepped, were stopping and frisking, and were patrolling with dogs. The misinformation that was fed to our leaky connections suggesting that the action would be at 1:00 seemed to work. We saw no dogs at 4:00.
I don’t really like malls, especially at Christmas time. In fact, there isn’t much that could attract me to one at any time of the year. However, helping with a die-in seemed a good reason to visit. This was fairly soft core civil disobedience, especially after shutting down an entire highway last week, but I nevertheless felt nervous as I made my way into the space. I felt like a bit actor in a bad spy movie as I passed people that I knew, giving a slight nod or small smile, only to walk on pretending no connection. It was as if I was waiting for the drop, the note with information to be passed via a shopping bag, the box with the false bottom. It seemed quite hilarious to me. I’d glance at my watch to check the time because I wanted to be in place on an upper balcony right at 4:30. “Don’t check the time," I’d think to myself. "They’ll see your odd behavior... Don’t stand too long in one place, you’ll look like a creepy old guy stalking people. You should have worn nicer pants, you look like a street activist in those khaki cargoes. Go into Williams Sonoma to pass some time so you look like a shopper. Stand next to the ficus tree, so no one sees you standing next to the ficus tree. Move on because standing is too suspicious. Don’t use your phone because you look like you are coordinating something. Use your phone because everyone else is using a phone.”
I walked by a diamond store and tried to browse, but was pounced on by a salesperson. “You need something for your wife, sir?” I felt like running, or telling a sad story of betrayal and divorce, but instead bounced to a kiosk ten feet away. A hi-def television playing a live basketball game attracted me like fireflies on a July night. It was shiny and active, so I figured I could pass ten minutes in a manly fashion therefore avoiding suspicion. I was wrong. A beefy guy who looked like my high school gym teacher immediately caught me like a carny barker at a sideshow. “What kind of television service do you have, sir?” I saw that the kiosk was for Dish Network, and lied and said “Dish Network!” I don’t really have any television service. “Oh, how long have you had it?” Now, I’m not a very good liar, so I told him I didn’t know, that my wife bought it. My wife seems to be my fall back narrative in the mall! He then tried to sell me the new additional recording service that now comes with the ultra plan, and I doubled-down my lie by telling him that I thought we had it already, but wasn’t sure, and anyway, I just wanted to watch a few minutes of the basketball game and chill. Of course, I didn’t add “before our massive act of civil disobedience that will stop all Christmas shopping in the area and thus cripple the global economy” though I thought it silently to myself as I caught the eye of a co-conspirator who walked by and nodded ever so slightly. Mr. Dish Network looked at me with disgust, just like my high school gym teacher used to do; a sour look on his face like some guy who just realized the beer he took a swig out of was a bottle full of tobacco spit. I moved on slowly…
A ruckus in the rotunda brought me to the railing. A group of African American women in the atrium began to sing an angelic soul choir of Christmas carols. The action’s organizers didn’t want to intimidate anyone in this suburban space or harm the Christmas vibe, so figured that to begin with singing carols would lower the threat. I think this was a good move. These are mostly African American activists, and this is a mall that is known to have a history of issues with young African Americans. Suffice it to say that there is a complicated backstory here. The singing was well received. People clapped. The place was crawling with security, and they all seemed to be talking into their lapels. But no one stopped the singing. Participants gathered into the atrium and fell to the ground. The singing changed to a soulful song of “I can’t breathe,” a kind of bluesy hymnal that ties right into the centrality of song in the historical struggle for civil rights. One by one, a participant would rise and recite a reason for their breathlessness. “I can’t breathe because of the lack of funding for public schools…” And then fall. Another would rise. “I can’t breathe because there are no jobs in my neighborhood…” and then fall. Another would rise. “I can’t breathe because of police brutality…” and on and on. A huge audience gathered and this went on for some time. Everyone cheered and clapped. A lot of people were taking pictures on their cell phones. At the end, the group rose as one. They sang, danced in place and then moved on out of the mall snaking a dance line through the aisles, down and out the exit, through the foyer, into the night.
Security and police were smart. They let it all happen. After all, it really isn’t illegal to exhibit anomalous behaviors in complexly defined privately held public spaces. If it were, then Black Fridays would be criminal, and you’d have to pry that iPhone6 from my cold arthritic fingers. In this case, it was pure theater: fun, festive, a bit disruptive, and directed at a mall that is as nice as can be expected for a postmodern quasi-privatized heavily surveilled public space located in this suburban consumer densepack that was once a Potawatomi settlement known as “flash flash fire that flies,” aka “place of the firefly”, aka Wauwatosa, land of Mayfair Mall.
Die-in at Mayfair Mall from Overpass Light Brigade on Vimeo.