By Portswood Protester.
These days it seems I’m always cross. Cross about something, or someone or the general state of the world. On Sunday I was particularly cross that I had to go along to the counter-protest in Portswood (1/3/26). There are other things that I needed to be doing on a Sunday afternoon, but instead I had to add myself to the pavement congregation to ensure our presence and our voices were recognised.
It’s not an activity anyone would choose to do, in an ideal world. But our world is far from ideal, so protest and march, we did.
And yet, there were valuable moments in this shared experience. Out of the hatred of the actions of the “Patriots”, the counter protestors joined together. Sure we were there to protest, but there were so many other tiny, beautiful actions that brought us together and showed what people are capable of.
We greeted friends we hadn’t seen in a while.
We hugged friends we hadn’t seen in even longer.
We smiled at acquaintances.
We smiled at strangers.
We complimented each other’s hats.
We reviewed gigs of the previous night.
We learnt new chants.
We repeated the old chants.
We saved each other from falling off the curb.
We listened to activists, councillors and business leaders speak from the heart.
We nodded and clapped.
We walked in a group, in solidarity.
We kept pace with everyone.
We deliberated over places to get the best samosas.
We argued over strawberry flavoured mango.
We compared charity shop finds.
We blew bubbles.
We got blinded by bubbles in the eye.
We almost got taken out by wind-whipped flags.
We laughed at the dogs snuffling up chips on the floor.
We returned the waves of supporters along the route.
We discussed current books we’re reading.
We recommended great books.
We chewed the fat.
We repeated all the chants.
We thanked the police and the stewards guiding us along.
We shared tips on fashioning banners to tent poles.
We suggested printing shops for banners.
We introduced ourselves to new friends.
We met readers of In Common. (Hi!)
We warned each other when there was a broken paving slab.
We shared cereal bars.
We helped pick up dropped leaflets.
We advised on where to go for a wee.
We congregated around the peace fountain.
We apricated in the sun when it finally turned up.
We soaked up the positivity.
We opened our lives to the views and voices of others.
We gave time to each other and to what we believe in.
To use the words of the chants:
This is what community looks like.
This is what community sounds like.
This is what community is.
It may not be under the best circumstances, but on a brightening spring afternoon, we cultivated tiny moments of goodness in humanity during our big act of protest.
We would hope to not have to do this, but we did it, and we’ll damn well keep doing it if we have to.
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