Le Merle – Spokes bent, rim cracked, 22 May 2012, Montreal.

En réponse à l’incapacité manifeste de l’État québecois à saisir le message qui lui était adressé lors de la grève étudiante et sociale de 2012, à Montréal, ce numéro édité par Heather Davis aborde tour à tour les notions de pouvoir, d’accès, de norme et de contrôle — autant d’articulation d’une violence vécue, à la fois symbolique et structurelle. Ce sont des témoignages, des réflexions situées et des appels fragiles à réfléchir et à militer pour une pratique radicale et inclusive de la pédagogie et de l’éducation. Les textes sont en anglais seulement.

The driver revved his engine behind us, the tail end of a demonstration. I didn’t turn around. But I did stop walking and stood my ground in the road, bicycle to the side. The driver steered the car forward and into me. He hit my bike first. The back tire bent and collapsed beneath the hood of the car. Somehow this was enough. There was yelling, but no bruising, no blood… Was this incoherent road rage? Catharsis upon impact? But the gesture was articulate if we recognise hostility as a definite shape. And I do. The road was wide. He could have steered around. The driver wanted to hit me. Not me, the person, but my modest incarnation of a protestor.

Since that day, I have heard of similar assaults by car. Protesters, on foot and armed with dissent, disrupt a public space usually occupied by vehicular traffic. Individuals, in metal and plastic carapaces, deliberately press their left foot to the gas pedal and advance into soft clothing-clad bodies from behind. This has been done with some care as no one has yet died. Although, many have been injured. Too often, the instigators of this not-so-random violence then just drive away.

I know rage. It is distressingly blunt. Protests, politics and spectacle all use (the threat and thrill of) violence in their manipulations. Adjectives like “striking” and “stunning” are aesthetic metaphors of brute force. But, as long as I may, I refuse to hit and run. I’ll walk, write and speak – and stay to listen for a response. I’ll sublimate anger. I’ll transform the ground I stand on, potholes and all.