On September 3, 2017, word of mouth spread quickly that a group of white supremacists planned to deface the murals at Chicano Park because they were frantic that their Confederate statues were threatened to be removed throughout the U.S., and this was their proper recourse of action. The nationalists caused chaos in Charlottesville, Virginia causing a riot, killing a lady, and injuring other people of color who resisted injustice. The neo-Nazis attempted to create the same absurdity in mi barrio. The day the white supremacists strategized to eradicate the park they, too, were met with the same people, as well as the newer generation who raised up against oppression. Nayeli, born in Michoacán and majoring as an engineer at UCSD, wore her custom-made indigenous jewelry; Monse, born in Mexico City, who served in the U.S. Navy, wore her Mexican embroidered blouse; and me, la pocha, wore a t-shirt that read Desde La Logan in old English lettering. Each with our own unique barrio style, we met at ¡Salud!, a new taco spot that used to be the old Porkyland, where mother would send me each Saturday to purchase fresh maza tortillas. Most of the local businesses were replaced with businesses that generated more revenue geared towards modernization. The only thing that still remained authentic was Chicano Park.
Police officers were in full force, and the Chicano Park Steering Committee wrote a letter as a reminder to stand in solidarity and not display any form of violent acts. Over 500 people came together to protect the murals, forming a circle around each one. A native man blew on his ocean shell that warned us the Nazis had arrived. We quickly took our stance, fist in the air, like an army ready for battle. Nayeli, Monse, and I guarded our mural along with a group of Pachucos who traveled from Los Angeles to support the cause. There were different forms of Mexicans: the Pachucos, the rastas with dreads, the Zapatistas, the bikers, the homies in lowriders, the homegirls in Dickies, and the Brown Berets.