This is what an activist looks like

As an activist knitter, I believe in showing up to bitch in person about things I don't like. I've attended my share of political protests and rallies.

So, last night, I took a [ridiculously over-scented, sorry about that] candle down to the S.A.M.E. vigil to encourage the California court to overturn Prop. 8.

I'm not going to go into the reasons why. If you're reading this blog, you probably already know them.

There were a lot of cameras there, which is great news for a protest group. There were at least two professional video crews, plus some pretty serious looking photographers. Lots of documentation of all sorts. As I kinda tall woman, standing toward the front of the group, I expect I was in more than a few shots.

So, where the heck does all this photo data and video footage end up? I was photographed, I was filmed, but where is the result? I haven't seen any online coverage. Since I don't have a TV, that limits things. Many times in my life a friend has seen me on the news or found my picture in the paper. I wonder where I'm showing up this morning.

I don't think I'm paranoid or extraordinarily vain. It's just odd to know that somewhere I'm part of someone's permanent record, yet I don't know whose record or where it's kept.

Supposedly, people in isolated tribes worried that having a photograph taken meant one's soul might be taken as well. That might be a legend. Yet it seems a little part of activist me has split away to lead a new life, forever holding a [smelly] candle in a group of hopeful people, willing to stand for something. If anyone looks, I'll be there. Maybe I'll see me someday.