April 11, 2021 in Huntington Beach

April 2021 had much in common with the worst of April 2020. So it wasn’t surprising, or heartening, to hear in the first full week of the month that Huntington Beach would be the stage for a White Lives Matter demonstration on Sunday, April 11th.

I grew up in Orange County, and though the area is predominantly white (https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/orangecountycalifornia) the communities I grew up with were diverse, mostly in Little Saigon in Westminster, as well as the variety of people who are drawn to running and skateboarding.

Spending formative years in these communities gave me plenty of value, and much to see in the way of the privilege and bigotry that maintains a steady presence in the region. One can say this accurately about a lot of places, and more frequently with the increased visibility we get at a relentless pace through social media, all the time, every day.

But as events have played out in the year, coming to a head in more than a few ways in April, omnipresent cameras have brought strength to the best places. I’m in Los Angeles now, close enough to hear, see, and feel the nights of demonstrations and rioting that found the city last year.

With COVID-19 winning fights on all fronts, it was hard to stay indoors then. I gave support however and whenever I could, but being recently vaccinated gave me the keys to do a lot of things I’d wanted to do for a while. And on this Sunday in April, it meant getting to show where I stand, in person, in a place that mattered and needed to be seen.

A counter-demonstration was scheduled to begin at 11:00 a.m. at the Huntington Beach Pier, a full two hours before a bunch of racists had said they would show up and say what they say.

The morning saw a blanket of cloud cover over where the pier points southwest into the Pacific. Its tail feeds directly into what becomes Main Street and the beach-city tourist spots, surf shops, and restaurants that make this spot the destination it is.

Huntington Beach Pier, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

At go-time about 80 people had already assembled, and more were quick to amass around fencing and a bullhorn facing the ocean. Every cause was welcomed, and it felt good to see “Stop Asian Hate” signs alongside support for women’s rights and unions, as well as plenty of colorful imagery against hate and the KKK. Lime green hats marked about half a dozen legal observers from the National Lawyers Guild. More and more photographers and reporters rolled in as time progressed, and people took turns stepping up to the mic.

Some spoke to personal experiences of racism in the area. One speaker talked about being incarcerated, and being asked by people around him why one would choose to live in Huntington Beach as a member of a minority.

Men and women spoke against exclusion of every kind, and chanted about what community can look like, that the Nazis needed to go home, and what America can look like.

The collective radar was sensitive to anything to the contrary, and reacted quickly.

Before an hour in, people moved quickly to cluster and call out a man who allegedly had a Panzer division tattoo, a symbol for the Nazi ranks that made blitzkrieg attacks during World War II. Whether he had one or not, he kept walking, but did not refrain from talking back.

It was the start of a pattern, where an inciting incident or words drew eyes, moved feet, and grew people in bunches around what was unclear at times, just that someone saw something that needed addressing, then everyone came to back them up.

These bursts of activity and arguments were infrequent, with lots of space between them. But the need for witnesses ran deep in the whole. And any cause for attention caught cameras immediately, seized rushes of attendees to a hub.

At 12:20 the crowd turned from an open-mic to everyone facing the street to chant and hold up signs, and getting honks in return. Support was not consistent, but not absent. Neither was outright opposition, which was dwarfed by the demonstrators with three men holding flags across the way on Main.

Main Street in Huntington Beach, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

The trio appeared docile, but alert under banners for Trump, “All Lives Matter,” and the Gadsden flag, all tied beneath the stars and stripes. They didn’t talk to each other, but did speak to whoever would talk to them, which looked to be mainly reporters.

Back at the pier, right before 1:00 p.m. one of the lead demonstrators thanked everyone for coming. He said it looked like whoever spoke for a larger White Lives Matter demonstration online today wasn’t showing up, and he had nothing but love and gratitude to everyone who did.

Within about 10 minutes, however, the flags across the way started to move. A crowd gathered around them. It was difficult to tell how many of the numbers they were catching were siding with one team or the other. But the moves marked a turn.

The corner becomes a mass within 15 more minutes, and the police by the pier crossed the street. In less than a minute the space was packed.

At 1:26 mounted police arrived, traveling north on PCH before turning to position themselves at the corner. The horses had plastic shielding attached over their faces. It is terrible to see any animal put in a position to need anything like that.

Main and Pacific Coast Highway, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

More arguments got heated, more arrests made. Not many seem in opposition to the morning crowd, but the few that are get big reactions.

At 2:08 on PCH north of Main a commotion began, then escalated to an outright fight. Soon a dozen people were focused on a point, which turned out to be one person fleeing the others. The person yelled things back at the crowd in pursuit, hateful words, words anyone can pick out, in spite of the volume around us.

The group took off down an alley, twisted on a street between business buildings. I ran to keep up, one of the lime-green hats of a legal observer ahead of me. The chase turned on Walnut, where the police substation waited at 5th like an embassy.

Officers got the person inside. The demonstrators gathered around the station, irate.

It’s not an uncommon scene, unfortunately. Which concerned me. Emotional heat around an offender, one guarded by law enforcement.

The helicopters that have hovered above the entire day focus on the substation. Below them, a drone zipped about, sharp and almost too close.

Soon, the station was swarmed by more demonstrators. Officers in tactical gear took positions around the small, one-story building. It had a porch, a door with every appearance of a big family’s home, as does the rest of the building.

Demonstrators chanted and held their signs high. People from local businesses stood and watched. A few young people asked what was going on, why this is happening.

The officers held their batons so the ends rested in their palms in front of them.

Less than ten minutes later the horses came down Walnut, taking up the whole street.

A local told the demonstrator they’re just here to start trouble, there’s no point to this.

5th Street Police Substation, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

I heard one member of a couple screaming “all lives matter” louder than I heard most of the voices that day. It’s not just the volume that stood out, but the intonation. Like he was genuinely, forlornly trying to tell people that human life is of value, while hearing nothing, seeing nothing to the contrary in April, 2021.

Time passed. Eventually, the horses went on their way up 5th, seeing nothing to be done.

It was almost 3 when I got back to Main and Walnut, quiet, both demonstrators and law enforcement standing ready. I asked a photographer what was going on. She said SWAT and the police will usually set up like this and watch before shutting things down, meaning closing rank and arresting everyone.

She told me this and both of us instantly got alerts on our phones, the sustained buzz that comes with bad weather and Amber alerts. The timing couldn’t be better, and everyone around us looked at their phones, too. The alert declared this an unlawful assembly, and that everyone who stayed would be subject to arrest.

Alert screenshot, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

Within seconds a second message came, identical to the first.

The photographer told me about how she saw this in Los Angeles last year when she took pictures at the demonstrations, then the riots that followed.

“Speaking of which,” she said, taking out a gas mask. She looped the strap around her neck, ready. I wished I had one, too.

Main Street and Walnut, April 11, 2021 (Photo by Greg Lehman)

Thankfully, it didn’t come to any of that. Eventually the SWAT unit got called back to their vehicle.

The day wasn’t quite over, though.

Heading back down to Main Street, I saw another large scuffle, several people involved. A glut started where dozens of people tried to at least see it, with the leads trying to surround whatever was happening, maybe stop it, maybe help.

On the corner a man on a bike said it was five on one, that this is how they all fight, but white boys don’t, they fight one on one.

I responded, and someone told him it started with one on one before they all rushed down here, and he says it’s how they all fight.

I’m surrounded by this at the corner of Main and PCH, and I keep following the fight. But it keeps going, to the point where it’s bizarre that a fight is continuing down a street this long.

It kept moving, this parade of sorts, towards Pacific City, an outdoor mall facing the beach.

I kept walking, watching media people peel off to talk among each other and decide what to do next.

A woman keeping with the procession tells me she’s following to be certain that no brown people get more hurt than they already are.

People watched us go by where they were lounging on the fake lawns out in front of the mall. Families looked up from the restaurants, and the fight becomes baffling when it reaches Huntington Street, then comes back across. On such an ugly day, the ridiculous invited a smile. Violence really doesn’t look cool today, and I followed for one more light back. Then I stood and watched it cross back across the street. Again.

A team of media people clapped and cackled beside me.

“All right, well,” they said, shrugging.

We talked a bit, and one of the fighters supposedly had an enormous swastika tattoo. On his arm, or chest, it’s unclear.

I told them it’s like two guys got in a fight and took it on tour. We laughed and whoever still had eyes on the instigators was still following the altercation ahead of me.

I kept following the direction of the fight, since that’s where I parked anyway. I didn’t have a good vantage point where I was, but the fight seemed to dissipate around Main. Maybe.