I was fortunate to have been a small part of Occupy Boston in the autumn and early winter of 2011. If you're unfamiliar with the Occupy Movement (you're either in a coma or watching FOX News, or both), the nuts and bolts of it is that it's a grassroots protest movement born from the Occupy Wall Street demonstrations, which began on September 17th 2011 as the people's voice against wealth inequality in the U.S.

I served as a Street Medic, taking shifts both in the medical tent in Dewey Square and at some of the protests that took place around the city, and things that I saw there profoundly changed my life. There have no doubt been protests of one sort or another since the beginning of language itself, but I've never heard of one that was supported by such vastly different demographics of the population. Black, White, Latino, Asian. From students to veterans, from the homeless to business owners. Union ironworkers camped out in tents next to transgender crust punks. Grandmothers from Brookline marching arm in arm with teenage rappers from Dorchester. All brought together by the same thing, all willing to listen to and engage with each other, all fighting for a common goal. I've been an American since the day I was born, but I was never proud to be an American until the things I saw and heard as part of Occupy Boston.

While the last of the actual physical Occupations in the U.S were finally trampled by the police in early 2012, the movement lives on as a global collective resource. To learn more about what Occupy is all about and what they do now, you can check out Occupy Wallstreet,