Despite all the Adbusters talk of my teen years, I have never actually been a protest. Well, unless you count that time in first year when I covered a protest an increase in Ontario tuition fees for The Eyeopener. Which I don’t. Real protests have picket signs. And flyers saying things like “You need to know this for your own safety. And the safety of your children. Google it.” And people wearing the Guy Fawkes masks from “V for Vendetta.” Yes friends, I attended the Anonymous Picket 2008 Against Scientology yesterday in Amsterdam.
I don’t have any strong feelings against scientology or scientologists. It was my roommate heard about the protest and wanted to go, so I have her to thank for the weirdest experience of my life. (Seriously, it was weirder than Carnival.) The group met in front of the Burger King (the fast food giant here, McDonalds holds no candle) in Amsterdam Centraal at 1300. It was mandatory to cover your face for the protest to maintain anonymity and costumes were a bonus. Protesters were so serious that they wore them while smoking or eating in the wait before the march to begin. They only lifted their masks and revealed their human faces momentarily only when they could no longer ignore the basest of human needs (i.e.: eating fries, smoking.)
The point was to look ridiculous but protest solemnly to mock the absurdity of scientology. I had the option to get a free white face mask (à la a full face version of the Phantom of the Opera) but I opted not to. My everyday clothing proved to be an effective enough protest attire. (Note the popped, Dracula-style collar.) As ridiculous as I felt with my scarf pulled up under my glasses, it was more uncomfortable than embarassing. And therein lay my dilemma while we walked down the streets of Amsterdam. On the streets, I was being gawked at by tourists and locals alike (but mostly tourists) who thought we were creepy. I wanted to take my scarf off because I did think we were creepy, it was hot and I wanted people to stop staring. But at the same time I was afraid of disapproval from the rest of the protesters. It was like in Fight Club when Marla is outed as The Tourist at the cancer support groups; I didn’t want to be called out. The entire thing was beginning to feel totalitarian to me. I wasn’t in the best state of mind, so I guess I didn’t get the joke at the time.
It was getting unbearable by the time we took a break after standing with a silent menace for about a minute in front of the Scientology Kerk. My friends and I decided to have a five-minute time out from the protest because I was getting too creeped out. This turned into us abandoning our picket signs and flyers in an alley next to a church. I never really gave scientology much thought. I always just thought it was strange how they could afford such a prime location on Yonge Street. I’m still iffy of how serious about bringing down scientology these people were or whether it was just a huge inside joke, but I don’t think I could have picked a better first protest.
