Cal Anderson Protest aftermath POV

So I’d been helping set up for a performance night at a little hole in the wall nearby, me and my pals went to cap hill to grab some dinner before the show. As we get over to pike street we see a flock of Seattle’s finest boys on their lil bikes.

The choice of bike officers definitely lended to being disarmingly unthreatening as the whole gaggle of them headed to cal anderson. One car could stop them all, but they knew that they were safe. We park and hear someone screaming in the distance on a microphone. No idea who was screaming what, but I knew it was some protest related to trans folks, and as a folk of that sort, yeah, same. Outside of Cal Anderson the streets were calm and people were going about their bright spring evening.

We went over to the Park, a big stage being taken down by men in unmarked white trucks, young folks having discussion with middle aged guys standing in front of the display, with their tasteful beer bellies, groomed facial hair, and oakley sunglasses. They were being allowed to leave peacefully, the crowd had moved on. A mosh pit with a punk concert, yelling about trans rights between songs, people sitting and enjoying the luke warm evening in the park, fear and anger still in the air but no longer a fever. The presence of queerness made me feel safe to play on the swing set, happy to be trans as a young adult in this city.