Adbusters

I first saw adbusters in the airport when I was 19. I was stranded in Newark for what was to be a 7 hour delay. I was part of a study abroad group of 70 coming back from 2 months in Israel. It was a trip about 4 weeks too long. Not because of the country or the traveling or missing the US, but because of the students I was with. Nice people, all of them. I had no personal grudges. They were the picture of typical mormon kids, squeaky clean and well meaning and no secret agendas except for good clean fun. So it was kind of hard to put my finger on why I couldn’t stand being with them any longer. A little too much conformity, a little too much blatant consumerism, a little too many examples of assumed cultural supremacy, and i felt like they had all been gnawing at me the whole time. That extra 7 hours of time with them in the airport seemed like a 10 year sentence against me. I couldn’t stand it anymore and I wandered the airport stores and lounges alone.

Adbuster’s cover featured several marines carrying what looked like another soldier, probably dead, with the American flag draped over him. A quote sprawled over the front: “War is the force that gives us meaning.” It was obviously, blatantly subversive. Perfect. I had been trying for 2 months to be subtly subversive, and I needed to finally be out in the open. A magazine that was anti-war, that took itself seriously (too seriously), that openly spoke of the problems in our society. Blatantly anarchist and anti-corporate. This is something that I could wave in the face of my fellow students and say “Hey! I am different than you!” Which they already knew, which they already suspected. But I was just as desperate as they were to put me in a category. Just how was I different from them, exactly? And why?

I had personally connected with very few of the students. And I questioned the sincerity of the few I’d connected with. One I connected with because we were both the obvious outsiders. One because she was my roommate, and hey, I was a social creature after all--spending that much time with any person who isn’t totally hostile leads to some kind of connection. One I connected with because we both had an interest in journalism and were a little too intense for other people. I have not kept in touch with any of them. 

Like I said before, none of these people on study abroad were mean or bad or cruel, or even unfriendly. They tried hard to welcome me and i tried to fit in, but it just wasn’t working. But being truly nice, they even found ways to disguise that. “You’re so independent, Gini,” or “you are someone who does their own thing and doesn’t care what others think. I wish I could be like that, I admired you.” I was told these things so much over the 2 months I lived with these 70 students, I wondered if they had sent around a group email or had a secret meeting to coordinate how as a single body they should handle the strange, serious, freshman girl that was somehow outside the norm.

Anyway. I would have been attracted to any magazine that addressed war and peace, as that had been something of an intellectual hobby for several years already, and would only intensify as college went on. But it was a good time in my life and my psychological history for subversive magazines. I don’t want to make too big a deal out of it, because it’s not tragic and it’s something that I’m changing gradual, but I’ve always been in the ‘outsider’ position. Outside of popular groups, outside of the mainstream of thought. I still don’t know if other people put me there or if I put myself there. Probably both.

Adbusters lit the spark behind OWS, did you know that? You probably know that by now.