I was living in NYC when Occupy started. I remember getting dressed one day and deciding that I would go march with them, but my husband forbade it (and yes, I do mean to use such a strong word). If I got arrested, he reminded me, there was no way I would be allowed to get my visa to live with him in Canada, end of story. Well, as it turns out, there were lots of people arrested at that march. I still wish I could have been there, but it would have thrown such a monkey wrench into our plans that I'm not sure our relationship would have survived the upheaval.
My political identity is fluid-- sometimes I'm a mere liberal, sometimes a communist, sometimes an anarcho-socialist. There are days when I wish I could go out and scream at lines of police, throw molotov cocktails at government buildings, or just make a sign and march. Sometimes I'm not one bit scared at the idea of being bashed by cops, so long as I was wearing my knee-brace, and had depression and anxiety meds to take that morning. And then I remember that I'd need a knee brace and meds to begin with and think maybe that's not where I need to be. So instead I give money to nonprofits, sign petitions and write representatives, and curate information for my 470 tumblr followers of things I think are important and philosophies that get too little attention. Unfortunately, a lot of them have anxiety and depression far worse than me, so I don't think that I can inspire any of them to take up a sign and march either.
One of my dream jobs is to open up a self-serve print shop and screenprint studio so I could at least provide activists with a means to disseminate their information, a place to host workshops and the like. I suppose that's as good as any average person could hope to do.
(Yeah wow, talk about a tangent!)