The most smartly dressed protester at Pershing Square on Saturday afternoon was the person in a Tyrannosaurus Rex suit, an inflatable blue number with a red pattern winding down the back. I can only imagine that this person emerged from the protest much less drenched than the rest of us. Umbrellas, hoodies and hats were only somewhat useful as the rain grew heavier through the afternoon. In the end, it took hours in front of the heater to mostly-dry the wide legs of my black jeans. But, the minor inconvenience was worth it to be part of the crowd chanting “No war on Venezuela.”
I didn’t expect to begin 2026 protesting in the rain, but that’s what happened on the first Saturday of the year. Blame the morning doomscroll, with its news on the strike on Venezuela and the capture of Maduro and his wife. Or, blame the cable news channels with hosts who look as if they are literally biting their tongues as Republicans try to justify the Peace President’s latest bloody distraction. Whatever the reason, by lunchtime, I was incensed enough to grab my umbrella and hop on a bus to Pershing Square.
The crowd was mobilizing when I arrived. It was a mixed group of folks, young people wearing keffiyehs, old people in rain slickers. There were punks arriving on skateboards, hippies wafting incense through the crowd and parents holding the hands of small children. A woman, around the same age as my mom, approached me and started talking about the organization she was with. I knew about the group and had met some other members at a previous protest, I told her. She said she wished more people would show up instead of “just watching” what’s happening in the U.S. I agreed.
The strange thing about this exchange is that I was never much of a protestor, mostly because I was, and still am, a working journalist, where having a point of view can be controversial. But, the thing that happens— or, at least, the thing that happened to me— is that you start to see the absurd lengths that publications go to in order to present themselves as unbiased. In the end, the only people who benefit from that are the ones who already wield power, which is probably the point. To me, that’s more sus than journalists being politically active.
Someone asked me if I wanted to hold a sign. I said sure and clasped the stake, hoisting a plastic-covered sign that read “U.S. Out of the Caribbean” into the air, where it stood alongside my umbrella. The chants began and the rain dropped harder as more people crowded into a small corner of Pershing Square.
People often joke about how Angelenos can’t deal with rain and, to an extent, that’s true. I quickly realized how unwieldy the sign-and-umbrella combo was and began to fear that my clumsy ass might accidentally smack someone with one or both of these things. I backed away from the center of the crowd and tried to estimate how many people were here. Probably more than one hundred. Maybe more than two hundred. It’s hard to say because, even though this was just one small corner of the square, people spilled out onto the sidewalk. Whatever the number, it felt like a lot of people given the weather.
I set down the protest sign for a bit. A woman stopped and asked if it was mine. “Yeah, but you can have it,” I responded. We talked about our reaction to the morning news. “It’s a test,” she said, “to see what people will tolerate.”
At that point in time, I already knew that the media narrative was shifting to “Venezuelans celebrate after Trump removes bad dictator,” which detracts from the points that have had average Americans in a constant state of anger for the past year. The President of the U.S. can’t just do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. My god, people, there’s a Schoolhouse Rocks about checks and balances that you should have seen when you were five. Beyond that, some of us are just not down with imperialism. I looked at the “No Blood for Oil” signs, then glanced down at my feet, realizing that I’ve had these Docs since the Iraq War. All that’s changed in the past 20 years is that the people in power have grown more brazen in their lies and thievery.
But, maybe people really have had enough. It’s not just about what’s happening inside Pershing Square. Along Hill and 5th, cars cars honked as they passed the protest. The honks were frequent and long, occasionally coming in clusters that nearly overpowered the protest chants. And, eventually, the chants changed too. Soon, there are calls to free Palestine and stop I.C.E. They’re all tangents connected to the same problem, which is this worldwide global inequality that will only continue to grow if power remains unchecked, which it probably will considering that one branch of government is pissing on the constitution while the other two shrug. So, while this may have been my first protest of the year, it’s likely far from my last.
Liz O. is an L.A.-based writer and DJ. Follow on Instagram or sign up for the weekly, Beatique newsletter for updates on new stories and gigs.
Listen to the January, 2026 Beatique Mix.
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