I protested against Richard Spencer. I saw masses of people turn out against him. I walked alongside and chanted with the Black Student Union, until they discontinued their protest for fear of their own safety. I then waited for an hour to get into Spencer’s event. While I waited I listened to him speak- broadcast on an Instagram live video. I waited so that I could make it to the Questions and Answers portion of his talk. My mind was a flurry with questions. Yet, when I stepped into the auditorium I was horrified. I was so aghast at the lies and the fallacies he was spewing- all of his horrifying alt-facts. I was tormented by the way he denounced those with any opposing views that discredited his ideologies. He claimed those views to be boring and those facts to be unimportant, shooing people off the microphone by shaming them. He treated anyone with an opposing view as inferior- that they did not deserve his time or energy.
I was too horrified to move. There grew a feeling in my stomach, one of shame and disgust. It weighed me down and I sunk further into my seat.
That was until he said, “White men literally don’t rape black women.” He repeated it more than once.
But this was only made worse by the support of all his alt-right cronies. They were gathered around him, crooning for his attention. Each one wanting to come back with a retort witty enough to shut down all the liberals coming up to the microphone. While he made his baseless comment against black women they clapped their hands, they cried out in his support. I walked out the door.
For a brief moment I doubted all the protests. I doubted my participation in them. I wondered if ignoring him would have been the smarter choice, treating him like he treated everyone else who opposed him.
And all of those protests would be meaningless if all Spencer had was a group of middle-aged cronies. There were students in the crowd clapping in his support. Yelling at people who opposed his ideas.
But the protests, and my participation, were valid. Because it showed solidarity. Solidarity across a group of incredibly diverse people. It was the first time I truly believed in and saw the Auburn Family. This was something that tied Auburn together stronger than the color of our skin, our geographical ancestry or our ethnicity. It displayed to Spencer exactly what he is afraid of the most. That diversity strengthens people, it does not weaken them. It binds people together for a singular cause- and it can reap amazing rewards.
So Richard Spencer, think about the consequences of your speech tonight. You may feel as if it was a success, as if you squelched your opposition with clever one-liners and emotion instead of fact. But you did not. You created an outrage, a fire that will bind the hundreds of people who gathered on Auburn’s campus today and will burn for years to come.
Tonight was an amazing instance of large protests that were carried out peacefully and with the aid of many diverse groups. It will not be soon forgotten.
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