
©2008 semel17 - via flickr
It took two years and a dozen friends for David Mahfouda to make the flag that formed the circus tent for Union Square’s election-night carnival.
It only took a few hours for the largely teenaged and twentysomething crowd that gathered there to tear it to shreds for scarves and headbands.
Hours before Sen. Barack Obama make his victory speech before thousands in Chicago’s Grant Park on Nov. 4, Mahfouda took up his flag, 129 feet long and 65 feet wide, and walked, Pied Piper-like, from his apartment near the corner of Myrtle and Willoughby streets in Brooklyn. There were hours more yet to go when his following — long-haired, mohawked, clad in blazers and Converse, carrying snare drums and cymbals — arrived in Union Square to set up camp, drummers beating a steady rhythm under the billowing Old Glory.
“I initially made it because I was really distressed by how the flag has been, sort of, appropriated by the American Republican Party,” said Mahfouda, almost sheepish, crouched feet away while young people ran underneath the flag. They chanted the name of America’s first black president, cutting between the dancers and drummers who had already taken up residence underneath the red, white and blue.
“Two years ago Barack Obama was not even running for president,” he added.
Right away, this millennial-brand patriotism was branded as disrespectful. When two police officers came over to break up the drum circle, ostensibly because the noise had gone on for about an hour, one of them observed with scorn that this mammoth Old Glory had been allowed to touch the ground.
In the end, neither the noise nor the flag left the square for hours. And, of course, the kids, many of whom were New York University students, would later rip the flag to pieces. But they did it singing “The Star Spangled Banner,” chanting “yes we did!” and belting out, jubilantly, Queen’s “We Are The Champions.” No observer who stayed through the whole proceedings could say the flag was torn out of disrespect, protest, or even satire — especially strange for a generation said to be irredeemably cynical after years of too much Jon Stewart.