On Scene in Long Beach: A Joyful Stand Against Tyranny

We arrived early – my wife, several neighbors, and I – stepping off the municipal bus at 8:30 a.m. near Bixby Park, a half-hour before the No Kings Day demonstration was scheduled to begin. But it was already clear: this wasn’t going to be an ordinary protest.

The crowd gathering even then easily rivaled the 5,000-person demonstration we attended in Lakewood last month – and this one had barely started. More than the numbers, what struck me immediately was the diversity. Young adults, families with strollers, elders like myself, people of every background and color – standing side by side in joyful defiance of ICE raids, military deployments, and the desecration of our constitutional rights. This wasn’t anger in the streets. It was resolve wrapped in community. The mood was celebratory, grounded in purpose.

One of our neighbors had made seven computer-generated signs for us to wave. We didn’t lack inspiration: “No Kings,” “Protect Families, Not Fascists,” “Stop the Raids,” “This Is Our Country Too.” They were met with constant honks, cheers, and smiles from passing cars. One car slowed in the empty parking lane while the passenger passed bottles of cold water to demonstrators. In another, a man waved a rainbow flag from his truck bed. Most honked not once, but continually. Joyous, committed solidarity was in the air.

Police presence was, to put it mildly, minimal. During the entire time we were present, we saw only two patrol vehicles drive past. In the second one, the officer waved a two-finger peace sign and smiled wide – a moment that spoke volumes. He didn’t look worried. He looked proud of his city.

With thousands attending, intersections became jammed – so people took action. Volunteers in reflective vests emerged from the crowd to direct traffic, guide pedestrians, and keep things flowing. I wondered, for a moment, why the police weren’t handling it. But the answer came just as quickly: because the people were doing it better. It was a working model of civic cooperation – calm, respectful, efficient. A real-time exercise in democracy.

By the time those who marched looped from Bixby Park toward Queensway Bay and back again, the estimated numbers ranged from 6,000 to as many as 10,000. The chants were constant – about human rights, liberty, dignity, and the soul of the nation – but they were never confrontational. This was not a protest of destruction or rage. This was a rally of hope, of defiance against cruelty, and of unity against tyranny.

When 11:00 a.m. rolled around – the scheduled end time – the crowd began to thin peacefully. But the buses? They didn’t show. So once again, community stepped in. Our neighbor Kevin volunteered to hike to Broadway, called an Uber, drove home, grabbed his car, stayed in touch with us the whole way, and coordinated a pickup point beyond the traffic mess. We were home by noon. Tired, sun-kissed, and full of something we rarely feel after a protest: hope.

What I witnessed today wasn’t just a demonstration. It was democracy alive in the parks and on the pavement of Ocean Boulevard. It was proof that the power in this country still rests in the hands of the people – diverse, determined, peaceful, and proud. And it reminded me of something else: The joy didn’t come in spite of the struggle. It came because of it. Because when people rise together – not with violence, but with grace – they remember who they are.

And what we saw in Long Beach was not isolated.

Across the country, the No Kings Day movement drew tens of thousands into the streets. In Washington, D.C., protesters overwhelmed security checkpoints. In Atlanta, demonstrators locked arms around the state Capitol. From small towns in Ohio to major cities like Seattle, Chicago, and Austin, Americans took to the streets – not for a single cause, but a shared principle: that this government has overreached its power and betrayed its people.

The New York Times described it as the largest decentralized national protest since the Women’s March of 2017. In Minneapolis, organizers canceled events due to credible threats after Democratic lawmakers were targeted in politically motivated shootings – an ugly reminder of the very authoritarianism we’re resisting.

In Torrance, “all major roads” were shut down. In Los Angeles, flashbangs, pepper spray, and arrests greeted demonstrators. And in many cities, federal agents again acted beyond local control – unleashing a version of “law enforcement” that looked far more like occupation.

Yet in Long Beach? We saw a different kind of power. We saw what it looks like when a city chooses peace, when a community self-regulates, when joy and justice walk hand in hand. While other streets burned with confrontation or echoed with sirens, ours rang with laughter, chants, music, and the simple belief that we are still the authors of our future.

In an era when federal agents are using violence to provoke chaos, when military troops are patrolling neighborhoods against governors’ orders, and when a president celebrates his birthday with tanks and propaganda, what we saw today in Long Beach was a stark, beautiful contrast.

No kings. Just people. Just power.

And just maybe – just maybe – a path forward.

Stephen Downing is a resident of Long Beach, a retired LAPD deputy chief and former bureau chief of training. He writes on policing, civil liberties, and the rule of law in Exposing the Con, Defending Democracy. You can follow his work at stephendowning.substack.com.