Once when Operation Rescue sieged clinics in New Orleans I spent an intense Labor Day weekend producing a movement newsletter with Xavier, a very gay English professor from another institution, and Little Robert, an anarchist. He was known as Little Robert because he was short, mild-mannered, and very young.
Every kind of activist had converged upon the city to struggle against Randal Terry and each other. There were hip hoppers, punk rockers, Goths, socialists, radical feminists, NOW, NARAL, Planned Parenthood, Communists, transsexuals, lesbians, sex radicals of different styles, and drag queens, only some of whom were local.
All parties were very active but when it came down to such sober and meticulous actions as typing, layout, and other matters related to newsletter production, only Xavier and I had computers, and in the end only Xavier, Little Robert, and I had the kind of tenure-track stamina it took for me to renounce the beach, Xavier to give up Southern Decadence (an important drag event), Robert to miss the more colorful forms of activism, and all of us to condemn ourselves to a three day weekend of intensive work.
We did it in shifts, one person always sleeping eight hours. One afternoon Xavier was asleep and Little Robert and I were sewing the newsletters together somehow on the kitchen table. We were gossipping about the statements and antics of all the different forms and styles of activists. I said to Robert at one point, “Why do people like BDSM?” He said with certainty, “Because in an S/M scene you can actually see your oppressor, and it is liberating.” I do not know what a BDSM person would say about that, but I learned from it the importance of actually seeing your oppressor. I have always remembered it for that reason.