Although I do support those who partake in them and respect their relevance, a part of me has always questioned the efficacy of protests.

“Light the passion, share the dream! China, China, China! Go, go, go!” 2008 Bejing Olympics supporters were shouting against, “Free, free, free Tibet!” of the significantly fewer, but increasingly vehement anti Olympics protestors.

The cacophony and dissonance of the chanting seared my ears, and the sea of China’s red flags with gold stars subdued my sight.

I decided to go to the 2008 Olympics torch ceremony turned protest in San Francisco with two of my colleagues yesterday for two reasons. The first was because I have become entirely disconnected with the progressive, organizing scene. The second is because a few of my closest, long-time friends are Chinese American and all have differing views on the situation, but I was curious to see the general reaction from protestors representing all sides, for myself.

I spoke with a few people from both the pro- China, and pro-Tibet camps. One especially unwelcoming woman holding the Chinese flag and the American Flag together, finally cooperated and gave me her take on the protest after I showed her my I.D upon her demand.

“I am here because I support China. I support the Olympics, we have to be here.” She paused and then addressed the opposing camp. “They have different opinions, but we’re not going to let that stop us, that is why we need to be here.” She was one of many that anti-Olympic protestors representing everything from freetibet.org to savedarfur.org accused of being a murderer. Yet their strong disapproval did not hinder her or the countless other supporters from “getting down” to KC & the Sunshine Band’s “Get Down Tonight” playing from the background stage and waving their Bejing 2008 flags.

The China and Olympics supporters outnumbered the opposition so much so that I didn’t dream of witnessing what I did between a China/Olympics supporter and a pro-Tibet, anti-Olympics protestor.

She was slightly taller than my third grader cousin, and a bit frail with graying brown hair, but her fervor was on fire. She was standing right next to me when it began, but I found myself more concentrated on finding my two colleagues, who inevitably got separated from me in the throngs.

She fearlessly confronted an older man, who was like most of thr Olympic supporters, was proudly waving the Chinese and American flags together. “You have no face!” She shouted. “Your face is the face of all murderers. You are the epitome of Chinese communism!” I was certain that if there weren’t three police officers a hundred or so meters away, he would have kicked her to the ground.

“You shut your mouth! You are biased! You have no right to tell me that! I am proud to be Chinese and American!” he shouted back.

The bitter exchanges continued.

“Murderer! Communist! Heartless criminal!”
“Stupid, ignorant, crazy woman!”

The two had come so close to each other that their chins were nearly touching. Was I about to witness what I thought was? Maybe. But the police officers made their way towards the two, and that finally prompted them to stop and walk away from the other.

Unsure at the moment if I should, I followed her. I asked her if she could explain what happened in her own words. She confessed that she had done the same to hundreds of other China and Olympics supporters that afternoon.

“Someone needs to tell them this!” she asserted. “We can’t let these crimes go on. It is such a shame! This is why I am here, this is why we need people to be here and tell them the truth. This is why we need these protests!”