A few days into the Occupation, I began thinking about buying a D.C. flag. Until now, I had derided the flag as a symbol of gentrification that had swept through the city in the past two decades. Newly flipped homes seem to come with the red stars and bars—a signal that I would soon be seeing its new owners in flip-flops and ball caps emblazoned with the mascots of out-of-town sports teams. Inevitably, they would be pushing a stroller that cost triple what I paid in rent here in the late ’90s.

But now I wanted one out of solidarity with my neighbors as we’re all under the watchful eyes of men in masks. We are now filming the police and warning young men on mopeds—some of whom are wearing masks themselves. We are all now fighting something we can see blast through our neighborhoods and up

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