Notes from the People’s Assembly in CHAZ (Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone), Seattle

You may have seen the fear-mongering that is being widely promoted. It basically goes like this: Domestic terrorists have taken over Seattle. Yesterday I went down to the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone on Wednesday to livestream the People’s Assembly - an event organized by community leaders and concerned citizens - to see for myself.

What did I see? Not a domestic terrorist in sight. Peaceful folks sitting on the ground, wearing masks, sharing the space, and speaking respectfully. Someone was playing protest songs on an acoustic guitar and leading a sing-a-long. I heard civic dialogue all around me. The vibe was something that I can only describe as...chill, relaxed, and friendly.

How did we get here? From what I can suss out from social media, the news and citizen-reported livestreams - the protests and marches started two weeks ago from today (tonight will be the 14th night). Protestors have had peaceful intent, but have been met with a militarized police force and challenged by outside extremist groups who have come in and started trouble. #BlackLivesMatter has not planned or been affiliated with any of the marches: they have been working hard behind the scenes and will host a Statewide Silent March and General Strike on Friday, June 12 at 1pm.

After a few days downtown, the City and the police asked protestors to move into Capitol Hill, which is a historically queer neighborhood and arts district. Police set up a barricade and a multi-night standoff complete with tear gas and rubber bullets began. Many police officers used tape to cover up their badges and identification. Body cameras were regularly turned off.

The City issued a ban on teargas. Then the City broke their ban on teargas (less than 24 hours later). Rubber bullets were deployed as a defense against plastic water bottles being thrown at fully grown people protected by riot gear. The Police published a photo of unidentified explosives they had found. When my partner and I zoomed in on the picture you could clearly see it was a vigil candle, not a bomb.

Were people angry? Yes. Were there folks who fancy themselves as revolutionaries? Sure. Was anyone violent? No. I don’t believe that rubber bullets are the antidote to a plastic water bottle. On Monday, June 8 the police left the precinct of their own accord. They say it’s about de-escalation.

And that’s a very short description of how we got here - bringing us back to Wednesday, June 10 and the People’s Assembly. The People’s Assembly started around 3:30pm - offering space for elders, community leaders, and protestors to come to the stage and offer insight and testimony. As one speaker said, “We’re all here because we want to take action, to make changes to the world, so that we can all live our best possible lives.” Another speaker said, “our community is at an intersection” - a poignant statement as hundreds of people sat in respectful silence, listening, in the literal intersection of two city streets outside the abandoned precinct.

For two and a half hours the community bore witness to statements and ideas, respectfully offered. There was talk of shifting resources under community control and funding people, not the police. There was discussion of the community organizations and organizers who have been working tirelessly for years and doing the work, despite economic disparities. One woman said, “We’re trying to build a world where we don’t have to police each other - where poor people don’t have to be policed for their behaviors.”

Protestors were reminded that this is a marathon, not a sprint. A woman who has been on the frontline every night of the protest urged everyone to take care of their “body, mind, and spirit” so that when they are asked to show up and deliver, they can do so 100%. White folks, like myself, were called in and challenged to move past guilt or fragility. One speaker summed it up, saying “I’m not here to pat you guys on the back. At all. I want you all to be here, and recognize that you’re here, because you want to be here and because you feel that it is a duty to be here.” We were asked to commit to long-term action and accountability.

Powerful Black and Indigenous womxn stood up and shared their voices and their stories. One Indigenous leader pointed out, “We must talk about environmental racism. The racism that keeps us from protecting our Mother Earth. If we cannot protect her, then there is no future for us to fight for.” Throughout the day, the community continued to consider Indigenous rights and how the land might be decolonized. An important point was raised by an Indigenous Trans activist who echoes sentiments heard in their community, “Taking this space and handing it over to us is not a decolonial action, because this space has not been held. This is not a strategic position yet. This is the cops running away to decide what to do later, because they ran out of ideas.”

We acknowledge that this will be a long process. Towards the end of the event a speaker said, “I don’t care who leads us, as long as when you get that position - don’t sell out.” The group also acknowledges that change cannot happen overnight. At 6pm, organizer Julie Chang Schulman summed up the afternoon, “some critical shared values have been established in CHAZ People’s Assembly: Commitment to abolitionist framework, commitment to solidarity and accountability to Black and Indigenous communities locally, and commitment to the unfolding process of unpacking and realizing what that actually means in real time.”

To watch a full video, with captions, of yesterday’s event please click here.

Today, the community will once more peacefully assemble at the intersection of Pine and 12th. Today, rather than listening to speakers, the community will speak amongst themselves. Facilitators and moderators will be on the ground, helping to break the community up into smaller dialogue groups to ask and answer questions about what the future of CHAZ, and our city, ought to look like. These groups will then share out.

So - what is my takeaway? CHAZ needs clear direction, clear leadership, and clear strategy. A local leader Vivian Hua summed it up well, “I do think that the folks who are showing up ARE serious about collective liberation and WILL put in the work for the Black Lives Matter movement. They’re even willing to suffer in some pretty intense ways, if one looks to the day after day of tear gassing that they endured. But there is a SERIOUS need for more systems thinking and education around strategy and organizing, especially as it is passed down from Black leaders (and Native, as well).”

How long will it last? I don’t know - I do know the City already wants the Precinct building back. I also heard whispers of attempting to convert the building into a BIPOC-led community center. Whatever the case - for now - CHAZ holds fast as a space for peaceful dialogue and civic imagination. Whether CHAZ is permanent or not - I sincerely hope the ideas it births last far beyond this moment in time. For a strong society to grow and flourish, we need radical voices that push us to think outside of the box.

If another Assembly of speakers is held, NASH will be back to share the people’s voices, so keep an eye out. Meanwhile - NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE. #BLACKLIVESMATTER

Context and Origins of the Zone

The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, or CHAZ, emerged from weeks of protests following the killing of George Floyd. After the Seattle Police Department vacated the East Precinct on June 8, 2020, community members transformed the surrounding streets into a space for organizing, mutual aid, and dialogue. The zone encompassed several blocks, including Cal Anderson Park, and became a focal point for national conversations about policing and community safety.

While the zone was often portrayed in the media as a lawless enclave, those on the ground described a cooperative atmosphere. Volunteers distributed food, provided medical care, and facilitated discussions. The People’s Assembly served as a daily forum where residents and visitors could voice concerns, propose ideas, and build consensus. This structure reflected a commitment to participatory democracy, even amid uncertainty about the zone’s future.

How the People’s Assembly Operated

The People’s Assembly functioned as an open, horizontal gathering. Facilitators used a “people’s mic” technique, where the crowd repeated speakers’ words so everyone could hear without amplification. This method, borrowed from Occupy Wall Street, ensured accessibility and reinforced collective listening. Anyone could sign up to speak, though priority was often given to Black and Indigenous voices, as well as those directly impacted by policing and housing injustice.

Decisions were made through a modified consensus process. Proposals were announced, discussed in small groups, and then brought back to the larger assembly for feedback. While not all participants agreed on every point, the process aimed to avoid hierarchical leadership and instead cultivate shared responsibility. This approach sometimes led to lengthy debates, but it also allowed for a diversity of perspectives to shape the zone’s evolving norms.

Mutual Aid and Community Support

Beyond political speeches, the zone hosted a robust mutual aid network. A free store offered clothing, hygiene products, and non-perishable food. Volunteers prepared hot meals in a community kitchen, and medics staffed a first aid tent. These efforts were entirely grassroots, funded by donations from across the city and country. The emphasis on care reflected a core principle: that safety comes not from armed enforcement but from meeting people’s basic needs.

• Free food distribution points, including vegan and gluten-free options
• Community garden plots and a “no cops, no prisons” library
• Harm reduction supplies and mental health support
• Evening film screenings and teach-ins on anti-racism

Many participants noted that the zone’s mutual aid efforts contrasted sharply with the city’s typical response to homelessness and poverty. By providing resources without bureaucratic hurdles, the zone demonstrated an alternative model of community safety. This practical work, often overshadowed by media sensationalism, was central to the zone’s identity and daily life.

Challenges and Critiques

The zone was not without internal tensions. Some residents worried about noise, property damage, and the impact on local businesses. Others questioned whether the zone could sustain itself without formal governance. Indigenous activists, as mentioned earlier, cautioned against framing the occupation as “decolonial” when it occurred on unceded Duwamish land. These critiques were taken seriously in assemblies, prompting ongoing reflection about the zone’s purpose and accountability.

External pressures also mounted. The Trump administration threatened federal intervention, and city officials vacillated between negotiation and calls to dismantle the zone. Despite these challenges, the People’s Assembly continued to meet daily, adapting to new circumstances. The experience highlighted both the possibilities and limitations of autonomous organizing in an urban setting.

Legacy and Ongoing Relevance

Though the zone was eventually cleared by police in early July 2020, its impact persists. The protests and assemblies catalyzed a citywide conversation about defunding the police and investing in community-led alternatives. Several organizations that gained visibility during the zone, such as the Black Star Farmers and the Capitol Hill Organized Protest, continued their work long after the barricades came down.

For those who participated, the People’s Assembly offered a glimpse of a different kind of public life—one rooted in care, creativity, and collective decision-making. As one speaker put it, “We are not just here to tear down; we are here to build.” That building continues, in neighborhood councils, mutual aid networks, and the ongoing struggle for racial and economic justice.