In Washington D.C. there are tons of abandoned buildings. Families are being evicted from their homes, neighborhoods are becoming gentrified, and most of these families don't have enough money for another house and are forced to live on the streets. D.C. has a large homeless population.

A few days before the IMF, World Bank, and WTO protest against global capitalism in D.C. last April, I did a "housing action" with other activists in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood of the city. We opened up a three story, plus basement, building. Our goal was to turn it into housing for low-income and no-income tenants.

When we arrived the electricity in the building was already on. We turned on the water. There was one flushing toilet but you had to jiggle the handle or else it flooded by the back door, which was our entrance. There was also a washing machine that worked but we disconnected it and used it as part of a barricade.

We cleaned the place and barricaded the doors and low windows, so that the cops couldn't get in, using wood we found in the house. The barricade on the back door was removable so we could get in and out. The windows weren't quite finished but time was running short --we had to go public soon. We started bringing in the recruitments.

Lots of people started showing up and the chaos began. Some kid in a mask ran towards the house when a cop rolled by. Soon after tons of cops showed up. They tried to push their way in, but the barricades held them back.

They told our police liaison that if people would leave they would not be arrested, and they told us they would back out of the backyard to ensure it. Some people left and the cops started to rush the door. We barricaded it more. The cops backed away and a few more people got out before they rushed the door again. This continued until there were nine of us left in the squat. We wanted to stay and if it came down to it we were willing to be arrested.

We went up on the roof and hung banners. On the ground there were lots of supporters and tons of cops, some in riot gear, some undercover, others in plain uniform. We were sitting on the roof talking about jail solidarity (meaning not giving names or cooperating with the police or their f---d up system). The cops got up on the roof through the abandoned building next door. Immediately we locked arms where we were sitting and while they were throwing our stuff off the edge we moved into a circle. We ignored their questions, sang and laughed at them instead. They proceeded to pull us apart with pain compliance holds. Once apart we went limp as they carried us down the ladder and continued to stay limp as they carried us down four flights of stairs. They set us all down in a puddle (someone didn't jiggle the handle). The cops kicked one guy in the head.

After they put us in the paddy wagon we kicked the walls to make a racket. At the police station, they kept me in the paddy wagon until the other Jane Does were finished being booked. I closed my eyes and made goofy faces when they took my picture. When I was smudging my fingerprints a lady cop threatened to break my finger if I didn't cooperate. I let her take my finger print but she continued to bend my finger back. I could feel it starting to snap so I curled up on it and broke free of her grasp. Immediately, two cops grabbed me from under my arms and dragged me to a cell furthest away from everyone else. All the other Jane Does were in a cell together and all the John Does in another cell.

I started yelling that I wanted to see my lawyer. A cop told me that in an hour I could call my lawyer and I would be moved closer to my friends. I counted out an hour and they didn't let me call my lawyer or move me closer so I continued to yell. My hand swelled up and was bruised from banging on the metal bed so I started kicking it. After about two hours they let me call my lawyer if I shut up. They would not tell me which Jane Doe I was and told me that I was at The Rock when I asked them what jail I was in. They said a lawyer was going to come and see me.

I went back to the cell where I sung Johnny Cash and danced around for a bit, then went to sleep. I woke up to find that a lawyer had tried to visit me, but they wouldn't let him in. I started screaming again. A cop started chanting back at me, " The more you yell, the longer you stay".

Then they came and told me I was going to a mental institution. In the paddy wagon I realized they were lying because the guys were on the other side of the wall. They put the other girls inside with me. All the cops were there, happy I was leaving. We were transported to another jail and were put in cells next to each other.

Soon after they took us to the court house. At this point they had figured out all but four names. So we decided to give our names and get out. When I told my public defender that I was a minor, she immediately told the Court Marshalls before I could do much else. Within minutes they moved me to the juvenile holding cells where I sat by myself for the rest of the day. My lawyer called my mom, (who lives on the West coast) to tell her that she needed to find someone to pick me up.

At the end of the day they took me to Juvenile Hall where I was strip searched and re-booked. I sat there until after midnight when someone came and picked me up. The person who picked me up had been trying to figure out where I was since four p.m. that day.

I was charged with unlawful entry. In court I waited for two hours to see the judge. I called my lawyer, (who never showed up) and she said that all my charges had been dropped. There was no paper work. The other activists have court on a later date.

The way I see it, this was just the beginning of more housing actions soon to come to Washington, D.C.