r/Glasgow Tools

From https://www.facebook.com/TGKW1/posts/10157510868780823 - some events from George Square the other day.

I have never felt less safe anywhere in the world as I did yesterday, in the very centre of the city that I love and that I call home. And then I was attacked.

I went to George Square, where several hundred men had gathered to defend statues. Had there been anyone there who was affiliated with the BLM or Antifa movements I would have gladly stood alongside them, but there wasn't. Other than those men (and a very few women), there were the police, and there were photographers. Given the situation, I was among the latter group. I generally congregated with the press photographers, most of whom were threatened at one time or another: "You'll get that camera up yer fuckin' arse pal!"; "Fuck off wi yer cameras!" ;"Smash it! Get it!"

Despite the safety that might come from being in the press gang, my vest, cycling cap, and colourful trainers probably marked me out in their perception as not only separate from the other press photographers, but as a man who doesn't put his hand over his heart upon hearing God Save The Queen: this was enough to make me a target for violence.

Had they been chanting messages such as "History!" or "Empire!" I might have been able to muster some respect for them, as they would at least have been taking a stance which could be argued. As it was, the only thing I could hear chanted was "WANKERS! WANKERS!"

For the first time in my life, I heard the N-word said with feeling.

There was a menace in the air that I've never, ever felt before. These men were itching for a fight, and when one of them thought they saw a representative of Antifa across the square - whether they imagined they saw a symbol on a Tshirt, or whether it was because the boy had blue hair - he shouted "OVER THERE!!" and they ran, hundreds of men running towards a single target. The police were swift in cutting them off - officers running, the screech of vans, the clop of horses - but the glee in those faces as they rushed towards another human being with the intent to hurt them was truly chilling.

Eventually something did kick off. I made my way to that side of the square to see a man being set upon. I did what I know how to do: I took photographs. Just as the police managed to impose some order, several men and boys turned their attention to me. The reason might have been because I was taking photographs, but these were not the same insults or threats I'd heard as part of the press gang; this time it was personal. "Fuckin speccy chink!" "Chinky wi the cameras! Get him!" "Aye you ya fuckin poof!" I was able to keep myself away from them until the police intervened. An officer told me to move over to the other side of the road.

I did as I was told, glad of the chance to get my breath back and try to ride out the adrenaline rush in peace. I had thought that after the Hong Kong protests, during which police threw me to the ground for no reason other than for standing near them, that I could handle this with ease, but I was wrong. In Hong Kong, even though the police were the antagonists - those to whom you are supposed to turn for protection - I felt safer then, knowing that a thousand other people had my back, there and then in that moment. In this case, I did trust that the police would protect me, but they were few. As I stood at the corner gathering my breath, three boys surrounded me, two in front and one behind, so close that we were almost touching. Out of concern for my cameras, I did nothing.

"Just let me know when he lifts his camera," said one of the boys in front "and I'll get ma arse oot!"

I was so scared that this didn't even titillate me.

"Don't you fuckin worry mate" replied the boy behind "If he lifts that camera i