I'd
just arrived in DC when a Volvo nearly flattened me. Like a fool, I
was snapping pics of a Kony 2012 van rounding a rotary. Such a sight,
I figured, was less common than a decade-old “Support Our Troops”
magnet, or a rolling remnant of any other fad cause that expired some
time ago. It was a shot worth risking a limb for, but as it turned
out, I didn't have to jump into action. Just a few hours later, I spied yet another
ride decked in protest of the murderous Ugandan cult leader Joseph
Kony. And then another one. And then another one the next morning.
My
initial hunch was that a Kony cavalcade was on on my tail, making me
feel guilty for being the only person on the planet who lacked the
heart and attention span to watch the entire Kony 2012 video
that went super viral eight months ago. Even with that creeping
threat, though, I didn't give the vans much thought until early
Saturday night, when at dinner I met a lovely church-going family
that was uniformly dipped in Kony regalia – hats, headbands, and
red tees to match the circling minivans.
To my
surprise, there were thousands of others just like them in town;
they'd already marched on the National Mall with Jason Russell, the
Kony 2012 director and Invisible Children honcho, and had a
massive soiree planned for later on. It was hard to believe, but the
invitation was right on the charity's web site: “In true Invisible
Children style we are ending the night with a massive dance party
back at the convention center to celebrate the global community that
we are all a part of . . . Trust us: you don't want to miss a minute
of it.”
I
trusted them, and not just because my only prior plan was to get
stoned and go ice-skating. Even if I had a beer summit scheduled with
Obama himself, skewering this Kony bash would have instantly become my top
priority. At the time, I had no clue that my evil instinct would fade
when I arrived at the Washington Convention Center, only to find
countless well-mannered teens lining up. (I had a harder time slamming them than I expected; comparatively, I couldn't help but think about how when I was their age, I spent my weekends sniffing Special K
with crass hip-hop visions of blood diamonds dancing in my Starter hat.)
While
Christianity is utterly ridiculous, and most of these kids will end
up being cogs in corporate death machines, it's also true that religious families often raise some darn good kids. Though I found an
empty fifth of vodka in the pisser on my way out – and despite
Russell's history of gallivanting in the buff – I'm pretty sure I
was the only person there on drugs. Everybody else seemed high on
Christ, on music spun by the Jane Doze, and on the promise of
dismantling Kony's deplorable though dwindling Lord's Resistance Army
(LRA).
The
main criticism of Invisible Children is that the organization wastes
far too many millions on filmmaking, office space, and other things
besides directly helping African youth. I'm not about to be that
writer who has never penned a word about LRA atrocities, yet rails
Russell for how much more he can do in the world's most vulnerable
region. Still, in the sea of red t-shirts and bandanas, it's easy to
understand the skeptics. This is a seriously powerful movement, with
a seemingly endless stream of resources and naive supporters.
Here's
the other thing – a lot of the people at Kony Rave 2012 were down
with Invisible Children since before Russell's video blew up. One
family I met was from Virginia Beach, where they've been putting up
visiting Ugandan teenagers for years; their daughter even runs a
local Invisible Children chapter out of the school near their home. To date, I
have yet to house a single Ugandan scholarship student, so once
again, it's hardly my place to eviscerate their efforts –
especially after meeting some of those hopeful young Ugandans in DC.
As for
the party itself – there was no beer at Kony Rave. As a
consolation, though, the volunteers and “roadies,” as some paid
hands are called, passed out enough neon necklaces to stretch from
Washington to South Sudan, plus gave away free t-shirts to everyone.
If you're jealous that you missed the action, rest assured that
you'll get a chance to rock with them soon. According to a “roadie”
who I interviewed, Global Dance Nights are “the future of Invisible
Children.” The party must go on until they dance on Kony's grave.
Anyone
who thought that popular anti-LRA rage had dissolved into the AOL of
protest movements – some bullshit to keep old folks busy on the
internet – was wrong. The same goes for those who believed that pop
culture had seen the last of Russell (and his dick); in covering his
“rapid descent,” last month the Daily Beast reduced the
Californian to a “cyberspace punching bag,” and suggested that
his Kony 2012 follow-up film, which garnered significantly
less views than his breakout sensation, was “a dud.”
They'll
still loathe him in person, but Russell's detractors should see dude
twirl a crowd; at the rave, he summoned tears by asking everyone to
think about the first time they cried for Kony's victims (think Jesus
Camp on HGH). The
guy has a miraculous hold over his audience; in introducing Team
iLuminate of America's Got Talent fame, he told everyone to put their
phones away – and they did! Consider Russell the 311 of
controversial human aid fronts; like it or not, this
incredibly cheesy tour has no apparent end in sight.
I do
wish that the kids in that hall were protesting against our own
putrid leaders, and that they paid more attention to the invisible
children in their own backyards. But lamenting that high schoolers
are rallying for one cause over another is like complaining that a
blow job from a porn star isn't sloppy enough – no matter what, it's better
than nothing. In a few years, some of these kids might even be
activated by something that they read about, rather than by a
propaganda video. That might not be something to rave about, but it's
good enough for me.
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