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The most powerful moment of Thursday night's Don't Shoot Portland protest was marked by quiet.
At 9 pm, hundreds of protesters walked in silence, raising their hands up and heading south on Southwest 4th Avenue. Many of the silhouetted spectators in the high-rise apartments above raised their hands as well.
The protest drew city-wide attention when a conservative counter-protester pulled a gun on marchers.
But most of the protest was sorrowful and determined, a stark contrast to the horror in Dallas, where a similar march was destroyed by a sniper who killed five police officers.
The protest started around 7 pm, when a small crowd of people in the drizzling Pioneer Courthouse Square huddled around Don't Shoot Portland activists mourning the recent police killings of two black men—Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge, Louis., and Philando Castile in Falcon Heights, Minn.
The energy began to surge when an activist began to speak forcefully for empowerment of the black community: "I see a sister crying. I see a mama with a baby with a picture," motioning to a woman named Irene Kalonji silently holding up a picture of her son, Chris Kalonji. He was 19 year-old black man killed during a January 28 standoff with the Clackamas County Sheriff's Office.
"I'm going to stand up for every black folk, and I ain't givin' a fuck about who gives a fuck about it!" the speaker shouted, followed by the roar of the crowd.
Activist Gregory McKelvey told the crowd they stopped in front of the Portland Police Bureau's Central Precinct with the intent of making the crowd's presence known to Portland's new Police Chief Mike Marshman. "We are going to stand here until they meet our demands and the new police chief comes and speaks with us," McKelvey said, "so we can be assured that we can go home safely tonight!"
Marshman did not appear. As WW reported, he later released a statement about the protest.
The emotional crescendo of the night came when the leaders parked the crowd in front of the coolly lit glass façade of the Apple Store. It was nearly dark, a misty rain had picked up, and some solemn marchers were holding candles. One activist spoke about how he'd moved to St. Louis to Portland because he was tired of feeling scared for his life. Another led the crowd in reciting Spanish poems about unity.
Police had remained scarce throughout the evening, only visible down cross streets directing traffic. However, when the crowd moved up the onramp to the Morrison Bridge, police in riot gear formed a phalanx to prevent the crowd from crossing onto the bridge. The green light of the helicopter continued to circle above in the fog.
The standoff between protesters and riot police lasted for about two and a half hours. The march began to lose its coherence around 11:30 when it became clear that there would be no police clash and no bridge crossing.
Don't Shoot Portland march leader Alyssa Pagan said the nonviolent protest offered reasons for optimism.
"I want people to be able to start to see their own power," Pagan said. "We talk a lot about it, but this is actually what it's going to look like. The reason that it looks so chaotic is because we don't have it anywhere else. I'm telling you that this is what hope looks like."
Willamette Week