Voices: I was at the ‘No Kings’ protest. This is who we are.

On June 14, following the fatal tragedy and near-mass shooting that took place at the “No Kings” protest in downtown Salt Lake City, Mayor Erin Mendenhall addressed the city. She said, of the violence that had occurred, “It’s just not who we are.”

Before shots were fired, there was singing, dancing, handholding, water bottle passing, bubble blowing, sunscreen sharing and chants of “No hate, no fear, immigrants are welcome here.” There were cheers to democracy, “I love yous” and an overwhelming feeling of solidarity and power as 10,000 Salt Lakers gathered in 93-degree heat to practice their right to free speech and stand up for their democracy peacefully, together.

When the shots rang out, there was fear. But there was devotion, too.

First, people yelled “shooter,” “shots” and “bomb.” We grabbed elbows and ran. We locked eyes with strangers and called them over to hide.

It’s kind of beautiful, when you think about it, that our first instinct is to protect 一 to call out, alert others to danger, to reach out, to pull them to safety. It’s tragically beautiful. When we ran, we ran toward each other.

Amid reaching for hands and drawing strangers closer, we shared what we heard:

“Those were definitely shots.”

“I heard there was a bomb.”

“I saw an officer run into the crowd with a gun.”

“The police are saying to shelter in place.”

With no answers, we were strangers talking strangers down from fear.

“Panic causes more panic. We’ll run when there’s something to run from again.”

“Hey, look at those people in their apartment building’s pool, watching all this. That’s funny, right? In their bathing suits. That’s funny.

“It’s okay. We are safe for now.”

Once safe, we picked each other up. We got friends from churches and strangers from the public library and debriefed:

“The Lutherans are nice, the bishop was so calm,”

“The hardest part was seeing all the kids cry.”

“How many people were sheltering with you?”

We held each others’ shaking hands.

Later, on my couch, having followed up with every friend I knew to have been present at the protest, I looked at the news, and there I saw headlines: “One critically injured following active shooter at SLC protest” and “SLC shooting suspect in custody following gunfire at 200 South demonstration.”

But what stood out to me was The Salt Lake Tribune photo accompanying the headlines. On the pavement, surrounding one man’s body, people 一 one in a police uniform, one in an EMT vest, three more volunteers in yellow safety vests and four in civilian plain clothes, tending to him, to his wounds. An American flag was waving in the background, hung upside down — the signal for a country in distress.

I saw people who ran toward gunfire. People who called danger. People who pushed wheelchairs and strollers fast over uneven sidewalk tiles. People who opened car doors for each other.

This is our community. This is who we are.

Georgia VanDerwater is a public librarian in Salt Lake City. She has been involved in peaceful protests and demonstrations for many years, most notably marching and speaking for gun control as a student in western New York, following the deadly shooting at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. She encourages readers to read about Arthur Folasa Ah Loo, who was tragically killed in Saturday’s protest, and to donate in support of his family.

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