My Purim reflections from the Weelaunee Forest
by Rabbi Nate DeGroot
Dear Hevre,
In previous emails to this list (here and here) I wrote about the struggle over the Weeulaunee Forest in Atlanta and the widespread efforts to stop “Cop City.” As part of The Shalom Center’s ongoing solidarity with the forest protectors, I travelled to Atlanta two weeks ago to join the movement’s Week of Action. My experiences there were profound, ranging from deep fear of police state repression to overwhelming joy of Purim forest celebration. I invite you to read my reflections below.
The full piece can be read here.
Getting to Know the Forest
Walking into Atlanta’s Weelaunee Forest last Monday night to celebrate the Jewish holiday of Purim, I was nervous in a way that I hadn’t been just one day before.
I arrived in Atlanta on Sunday morning, on a solidarity trip to support the forest protectors at Weelaunee Forest. In my role as rabbi and as a staff member of The Shalom Center, I followed the story of “Cop City” for months, wrote about the issue from a Jewish perspective, and supported some of the local Jewish and interfaith clergy organizing from afar. I was now responding to local organizers who put out an invitation for folks from all across the country and world to come to Atlanta for the latest Week of Action.
I knew that being in the forest carried risk. I knew the name Tortuguita – may their memory be for a blessing. I had studied pictures of their smiling face. And like the rest of the world, I sorrowfully knew their tragic fate. I knew that domestic terrorism charges had been levied against forest protectors who had been arrested in previous police raids. And so I was aware that just by being present amongst these particular trees – which are slated for destruction so that one of the largest militarized police training facilities in the country can be built in a predominantly Black neighborhood, against the will of the people, on top of one of the country’s largest urban forests, which is both an invaluable ecological refuge and resource – I was taking a risk.
But I also knew that previous Weeks of Action had not seen police raids. That there was safety in numbers. And if there was going to be police presence, I figured it would at least come later in the week and not at the beginning.
But none of that was true.
When I first arrived at Weelaunee People’s Park – the name of the parking lot at the entrance to the forest – the place was buzzing. It was just after noon on Sunday, the Week of Action’s second day. The sun was shining. The gravel lot was full of cars and people. There were friendly greeters welcoming me and the dozens of other people arriving for the first time, offering us informational packets, words of orientation, and helpful tips. There were makeshift memorials and hand painted signs. Port-a-potties with foot pump sinks and a lost-and-found area. Up and down the main path into the forest, people were strolling, congregating, and generally enjoying themselves. Some newcomers had large backpacks slung over their shoulders like me, while others, who had already set up their camps, were dressed casually. It was clear this was a well loved and well traveled place.
Over the course of the next several hours, I would get to know, however briefly, the forest and the culture within it. I set up camp next to someone I had only just met and we got the last of the home cooked food – a delicious vegetable curry – that was available for all to enjoy. Getting up from the fallen tree that we sat on to eat, we washed our own dishes in the three-bin system that had been set up. We wandered the woods and admired the beauty. Took in with reverence all the care and concern and moral conviction that the ground and its trails had soaked up over the last year and the many millennia before that, from the Muscogee people who originally inhabited the land, to the enslaved people who had been held on the land when it was a plantation, to the incarcerated people who were forced to work this land when it was the Old Atlanta Prison Farm throughout much of the last century. Over my shoulder I overheard the introduction to an ecological forest and tree tour that was being offered and nearly cried when the leader reminded the group that the physical trunks and branches and roots of the trees that surrounded us were literally made of the carbon exhaled from the mouths of all the humans and more than human life that had ever spent time in that forest. This is where, one night later, I would be celebrating Purim.
Meandering up the winding hill some time later, I made my way to an open field, the site of the South River Music Festival, one of the draws of the first weekend of the Week of Action. Two days of local acts playing in front of an eager crowd of concertgoers. Opposite the stage, at the far end of the field, was a large bouncy house. Lining one side of the field’s perimeter were refreshment booths and on the other, information booths. In between was a mix of short grass and dirt, with a few hundred people atop it, all dancing or sitting on picnic blankets or playing soccer or frisbee or cuddling their dogs. This is where, just a few hours later, I would come face to face with dozens of cops pointing massive guns at me and the people I was standing with.
May these reflections and the spiritual conviction of all those giving of themselves to protect the Weelaunee Forest, inspire us to act for freedom for all life as we enter our season of collective liberation.
With blessings,
Rabbi Nate DeGroot
Associate Director, The Shalom Center
To contribute to jail support costs and legal fees for those arrested in the Weelaunee Forest, click here.
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