Pride and Protest: Pair of events unites those opposed to president's actions
MORGANTOWN — On Saturday, Morgantown found itself at the crossing of protest and pride.
In the morning, protesters gathered in support of the movement 'No Kings Day.' By afternoon, the Morgantown rail-trail was alive with music, rainbows and community as Morgantown Pride hosted its annual block party. Though different, both events were united in a message to protect rights.
First, a rally lined the sidewalks of Evansdale with people holding handmade signs and peacefully chanting 'No kings!' and 'This is what democracy looks like!'
The demonstration was part of a movement organized in opposition that participants called 'the erosion of democratic norms and rising government overreach.'
'This country doesn't have kings,' said Ron Allen, a member of the Mountaineer Indivisible Citizens Action Group. 'We're against authoritarianism, which is the direction this administration is heading.'
Allen called the day's march not just a protest, but a stand to 'preserve our democratic rights and fend for democracy.'
'If he really wanted to honor the military, he could have done it on July 4,' Allen said. 'This is a counterpoint to that. People across the country are mobilizing, and we're proud to be part of it.'
The nationwide protests were scheduled to coincide with the massive military parade taking place in Washington, D.C., to mark the U.S. Army's 250th birthday. Saturday was also President Trump's 79th birthday.
By early afternoon, the day shifted to a celebration over the rail-trail for the Morgantown Pride Block Party.
Jeffrey Shears, the new president of Morgantown Pride, greeted attendees as they came to celebrate. The day was full of events like drag shows, music, local vendors and family-friendly activities.
'It's a great day for Morgantown,' Shears said. 'It's a great day any time our town rallies around a cause. Whether it's protest or pride, our community shows up.'
Planning this year's events came with challenges, Shears said, as they faced reduced support following the rollback of diversity, equity and inclusion measures.
'We're so used to having corporate sponsors,' he said. 'With DEI going away, we've really seen who supports our community and who doesn't.'
Shears, a military veteran and former Mr. Rainbow Pride of West Virginia, said his mission now is to serve and defend his community.
'I spent 20 years defending our country,' he said. 'Now I'm spending the rest of my life defending our community.'
For performer Bella la Vall, who took the stage during the block party, the connection between the morning protest and the Pride celebration was more than clear.
'Sometimes, the most rebellious thing you can do is be gay, be proud, be an artist,' she said. 'Even this Pride event is a 'No Kings' protest, without calling itself that.'
Originally from New York, Bella stayed in Morgantown after college because of the strong support system she found here.
'There's something powerful about being visible in a world that often wants you to shrink,' she said. 'When you have your community, you can get through anything.'
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Miami Herald
2 hours ago
- Miami Herald
How the LAPD's protest response once again triggered outrage, injuries and lawsuits
LOS ANGELES - Bridgette Covelli arrived near Los Angeles City Hall for the June 14 "No Kings Day" festivities to find what she described as a peaceful scene: people chanting, dancing, holding signs. No one was arguing with the police, as far as she could tell. Enforcement of the city's curfew wouldn't begin for hours. But seemingly out of nowhere, Covelli said, officers began to fire rubber bullets and launch smoke bombs into a nearby crowd, which had gathered to protest the Trump administration's aggressive immigration enforcement campaign. Covelli, 23, grabbed an electric bike and turned up 3rd Street, where another line of police blocked parts of the roadway. Deciding to head home, she turned to leave and had made it about two blocks when she felt a shock of pain in her arm as she fell from the bike and crashed to the sidewalk. In a daze, she realized she was bleeding after being struck by a hard-foam projectile shot by an unidentified LAPD officer. They kept firing even as she lay on the ground, she said. "No dispersal order. Nothing at all," she said. "We were doing everything right. There was no aggression toward them." The young tattoo artist was hospitalized with injuries that included a fractured forearm, which has left her unable to work. "I haven't been able to draw. I can't even brush my teeth correctly," she said. She is among the demonstrators and journalists injured this month by LAPD officers with foam projectiles, tear gas, flash-bang grenades and paintball-like weapons that waft pepper spray into the air. Despite years of costly lawsuits, oversight measures and promises by leaders to rein in indiscriminate use of force during protests, the LAPD once again faces sharp criticism and litigation over tactics used during the past two weeks. In a news conference at police headquarters last week, LAPD Chief Jim McDonnell promised "a comprehensive review when this is all done," while also defending officers he said were dealing with "a very chaotic, dynamic situation." Police officials said force was used only after a group of agitators began pelting officers with bottles, fireworks and other objects. At least a dozen police injuries occurred during confrontations, including one instance in which a protester drove a motorcycle into a line of officers. L.A. County prosecutors have charged several defendants with assault for attacks on law enforcement. Behind the scenes, according to communications reviewed by The Times and multiple sources who requested anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly, tensions sometimes ran high between LAPD commanders and City Hall officials, who pushed for restraint in the early hours of the protests downtown. On June 6 - the Friday that the demonstrations began - communication records show Mayor Karen Bass made calls to LAPD Capt. Raul Jovel, the incident commander, and to McDonnell. In the days that followed, sources said Bass or members of her senior staff were a constant presence at a command post in Elysian Park, where local and federal officials were monitoring the on-the-ground developments. Some LAPD officials have privately grumbled about not being allowed to make arrests sooner, before protesters poured into downtown. Although mostly peaceful, a handful of those who flooded the streets vandalized shops, vehicles and other property. LAPD leaders have also pointed out improvements from past years, including restrictions on the use of bean-bag shotguns for crowd control and efforts to more quickly release people who were arrested. But among longtime LAPD observers, the latest protest response is widely seen as another step backward. After paying out millions over the last decade for protest-related lawsuits, the city now stares down another series of expensive court battles. "City leaders like Mayor Bass [are] conveniently saying, 'Oh this is Trump's fault, this is the Feds' fault.' No, take a look at your own force," said longtime civil rights attorney James DeSimone, who filed several excessiv force government claims against the city and the county in recent days. Bass said in a statement that she "heard a number of accusations about the LAPD." "[Y]ou can be sure that we will do an evaluation of all of it, because one thing about our city, like a lot of other cities, just about everything is videotaped, including law enforcement and including people who are protesting," the statement said. McDonnell - a member of the LAPD command staff during an aggressive police crackdown on immigrant rights demonstrators on May Day in 2007 - found himself on the defensive during an appearance before the City Council last week, when he faced questions about readiness and whether more could have been done to prevent property damage. "We'll look and see, are there training issues, are there tactics [issues], are there less-lethal issues that need to be addressed," McDonnell told reporters a few days later. One of the most potentially embarrassing incidents occurred during the "No Kings Day" rally Saturday, when LAPD officers could be heard on a public radio channel saying they were taking friendly fire from L.A. County sheriff's deputies shooting so-called less-lethal rounds. Three LAPD sources not authorized to speak publicly confirmed the incident occurred. A spokesperson for the Sheriff's Department said in a statement that the agency "has not received reports of any 'friendly fire' incidents." Some protesters allege LAPD officers deliberately targeted individuals who posed no threat. Shakeer Rahman, a civil rights attorney and community organizer with the Stop LAPD Spying Coalition, said he was monitoring a demonstration snaking past LAPD headquarters on June 8 when he witnessed two colleagues who were demanding to know an officer's badge number get shot with a 40mm so-called less-lethal launcher at close range. In a recording he shared of the incident, Rahman can be heard confronting the officer, who threatens to fire as he paces back and forth on an elevated platform. "I'm gonna pop you right now, because you're taking away my focus," the officer is heard saying before raising his weapon over the glass partition that separated them and firing two foam rounds at Rahman, nearly striking him in his groin. "It's an officer who doesn't want to be questioned and knows he can get away with firing these shots," said Rahman, who noted a 2021 court injunction bans the use of 40mm launchers in most crowd-control situations. Later on June 8, as clashes between officers and protesters intensified in other parts of downtown, department leaders authorized the use of tear gas against a crowd - a common practice among other agencies, but one that the LAPD hasn't used in decades. "There was a need under these circumstances to deploy it when officers started taking being assaulted by commercial fireworks, some of those with shrapnel in them," McDonnell said to The Times. "It's a different day, and we use the tools we are able to access." City and state leaders arguing against Trump's deployment of soldiers to L.A. have made the case that the LAPD is better positioned to handle demonstrations than federal forces. They say local cops train regularly on tactics beneficial to crowd control, including de-escalation, and know the downtown terrain where most demonstrations occur. But numerous protesters who spoke with The Times said they felt the LAPD officers were quicker to use violence than they have been at any point in recent years. Raphael Mimoun, 36, followed the June 8 march from City Hall to the federal Metropolitan Detention Center on Alameda Street. Mimoun, who works in digital security, said his group eventually merged with other demonstrators and wound up bottlenecked by LAPD near the intersection of Temple and Alameda streets, where a stalemate with LAPD officers ensued. After roughly an hour, he said, chaos erupted without warning. "I don't know if they made any announcement, any dispersal order, but basically you had like a line of mounted police coming behind the line of cops that were on foot and then they just started charging, moving forward super fast, pushing people, screaming at people, shooting rubber bullets," he said. Mimoun's complaints echoed those of other demonstrators and observations of Times reporters at multiple protest scenes throughout the week. LAPD dispersal orders were sometimes only audible when delivered from an overhead helicopter. Toward the end of Saturday's hours-long "No Kings" protests, many demonstrators contended officers used force against crowds that had been relatively peaceful all day. The LAPD's use of horses has also raised widespread concern, with some protesters saying the department's mounted unit caused injuries and confusion rather than bringing anything resembling order. One video captured on June 8 by independent journalist Tina-Desiree Berg shows a line of officers on horseback advance into a crowd while other officers fire less-lethal rounds at protesters shielding themselves with chairs and road signs. A protester can be seen falling to the ground, seemingly injured. The mounted units continue marching forward even as the person desperately tries to roll out of the way. Several horses trample over the person's prone body before officers arrest them. At other scenes, mounted officers were weaving through traffic and running up alongside vehicles that were not involved with the demonstrations. In one incident on June 10, a Times reporter saw a mounted officer smashing the roof of a car repeatedly with a wooden stick. "It just seems like they are doing whatever the hell they want to get protesters, and injure protesters," Mimoun said. Audrey Knox, 32, a screenwriter and teacher, was also marching with the City Hall group on June 8. She stopped to watch a tense skirmish near the Grand Park Metro stop when officers began firing projectiles into the crowd. Some protesters said officers fired so-called less-lethal rounds into groups of people in response to being hit with flying objects. Although she said she was well off to the side, she was still struck in the head by one of the hard-foam rounds. Other demonstrators helped her get to a hospital, where Knox said she received five staples to close her head wound. In a follow-up later in the week, a doctor said she had post-concussion symptoms. The incident has made her hesitant to demonstrate again, despite her utter disgust for the Trump administration's actions in Los Angeles. "It just doesn't seem smart to go back out because even when you think you're in a low-risk situation, that apparently is not the case," she said. "I feel like my freedom of speech was directly attacked, intentionally." --- (Times staff writers Julia Wick, Connor Sheets and Richard Winton contributed to this report.) Copyright (C) 2025, Tribune Content Agency, LLC. Portions copyrighted by the respective providers.
The Hill
9 hours ago
- The Hill
‘Rising fragility': Therapy culture is fueling America's unrest
The unrest in Los Angeles isn't just about politics. It is a symptom of something deeper: a national collapse of resilience. Behind the protests lies a broader crisis, a fragile mindset that mistakes discomfort for danger, grievance for identity, and emotional reactivity for truth. New polling reveals a striking psychological divide: 45 percent of liberals report poor mental health, compared to just 19 percent of conservatives. This is not about ideology. It reflects two competing visions of how Americans are being taught to face adversity. As a psychotherapist practicing in New York City and Washington, D.C., I have seen firsthand how therapy has changed over the years. Once a tool for building resilience and fostering growth, it has increasingly become a system that rewards victimhood and reinforces vulnerability. Today's therapy culture pathologizes ordinary discomfort as trauma and treats accountability as incompatible with emotional safety. One woman told me her previous therapist urged her to quit a new job after only one week because it 'triggered' her. The real issue was difficulty taking directions. But instead of confronting it, the therapist simply validated her discomfort. Another patient was told that setting 'healthy boundaries' meant cutting off her entire family. No conversation, no healing — just isolation framed as progress. This is not therapy. It is enabling. This mindset goes well beyond the therapy room. It spills into classrooms, workplaces, media and now the streets. When people are conditioned to see themselves as perpetual victims and feel aggrieved, that inner turmoil eventually erupts into public unrest. Take the recent 'No Kings' protests, loosely organized around anti-monarchy themes. These demonstrations erupted across major cities without clear demands or coherent goals. They were not political movements, but emotional releases shaped by a culture that values validation over responsibility and reaction over resilience. In my practice, I see a growing pattern, especially among younger patients. Many now view the world through a rigid binary of safe versus unsafe, oppressor versus oppressed. While that lens may offer clarity, it ultimately stunts growth, fuels anxiety and deepens social division. Emotional strength is mistaken for aggression. Assertiveness is labeled harm. Coping is no longer a virtue. More concerning, this worldview is being institutionalized. From diversity, equity and inclusion training centered on personal grievance to college campuses where opposing views are treated as psychological threats, we are cultivating a generation that expects the world to adapt to their emotions rather than learning how to adapt to the world. The consequences are growing. A society that teaches its citizens to fear discomfort will falter when facing the essential demands of adulthood, leadership and civic duty. If this psychological trend persists, we will experience more unrest, greater dysfunction and a deeper breakdown of national unity — not from politics, but from a widespread failure to handle everyday challenges. Therapy's original promise was to prepare people for life's challenges. It taught that discomfort is part of growth and that personal responsibility is the path to healing. We must return to these principles. Therapists need to stop encouraging dependence and instead help patients develop real coping skills. Schools should teach grit and perseverance alongside empathy. Workplaces should reward accountability and resilience, not coddling. Media outlets should highlight stories of individuals overcoming adversity rather than celebrating grievance. If we do not course-correct soon, this fragile mindset will become the cultural norm. More young people will be paralyzed by adversity, institutions will prioritize emotion over reason, and communities will unravel under the strain of perceived harm. This rising fragility threatens the very foundation of our society. What is at stake is more than just mental health. It is the future of a society capable of facing hardship and solving problems together. America's strength has always come from its ability to persevere and overcome challenges. Without that strength, unrest will continue to grow, dividing us further. The unrest in Los Angeles is not simply another protest. It mirrors what's happening inside many Americans — a breakdown in coping, a decline in resilience and a confusion between emotions and reality. Our national mental health crisis is no longer confined to private sessions. It is playing out in public. Until we stop treating fragility as a virtue, America's unraveling will continue — in therapy offices, on college campuses and in the streets alike. Jonathan Alpert is a psychotherapist practicing in New York City and Washington, D.C., and author of the forthcoming book, 'The Therapy Trap.'
San Francisco Chronicle
10 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
S.F. shouldn't forget where it came from: U.S. Army helped shape city
Missiles are flying in the Mideast air, but I still can't get over the parade to celebrate the Army's 250th anniversary in Washington last weekend. It was Flag Day, as well as President Donald Trump's birthday. The president took the salute himself. Seven thousand troops marched, and the White House said 250,000 patriots watched. The big parade was overshadowed by events including the huge anti-Trump No Kings rallies across the country, political killings in Minnesota, a horrific air crash in India and the Israeli raids on Iran. It nearly rained on the Army's parade, the crowds were smaller than anticipated, the troops seemed dispirited, and the World War II armored vehicles looked like creaky relics. It was all 'a little underwhelming,' a reporter from the British Guardian newspaper wrote. The American social media was full of scorn. The soldiers didn't even march in step, some wrote. I read these statements with some sadness. Given the way things are going, it is possible that some of the soldiers on parade last week may soon be in a war, especially because a lot of them were from infantry units. They could be there tomorrow, or next week. So I watched the parade with a wary eye. Some of it is personal: I used to be a soldier myself, long ago. Like millions of men of my vintage, I was drafted into the Army during the Cold War. I did five years, counting some reserve duty. I disliked the Army — all of us did — but came to respect it. Then later, through one of those turns of fortune, I did two turns as a war correspondent for the Chronicle, both in the Mideast. I was with the Seventh Infantry Regiment during the 2003 invasion of Iraq, and my unit was in combat. I saw what these Mideast adventures are like in real life. The city of San Francisco and the region around it has a long connection to armies — first to foreign militaries and then to our own. Soldiers of the Spanish Army were the first Europeans to see San Francisco Bay, and in 1776, a colonial expedition from Mexico led by a lieutenant colonel named Juan Bautista de Anza located the site of Mission San Francisco de Asis and what became the Presidio of San Francisco. The Presidio was a military post for the next 219 years — first Spanish, then Mexican and, finally, an American garrison in 1847. The Presidio was one of the places where this part of California began. As the city and the region grew up around it, the fort by the Golden Gate became the most important military post in the country. The was first created to defend the magnificent harbor from foreign invasion, with cannons ringing the entrance to the harbor at Fort Point and Alcatraz Island. Army troops at the Presidio rode off to the Indian wars, to the conquest of the Philippines. Massive guns in the Marin Headlands could defeat any naval attack. In World War II, the Presidio and Fort Mason were staging areas for the war in the Pacific. More than 2 million soldiers, sailors and Marines sailed out the Golden Gate during World War II, and thousands more in the Korean War. During the Cold War, dozens of Nike missile sites covered the hills around the Bay Area in the tense times when nuclear war with the Soviet Union seemed imminent. It was our last line of defense. The war never came; the Presidio and the other military bases around the bay never fired a shot in anger. The military performed one service that affects everyone in the region to this day. The Army was the steward of an immense tract of open space from the Marin coast down nearly to Santa Cruz County, including Alcatraz and Angel islands, with the Presidio of San Francisco as its crown jewel. Most of it became part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, a park nearly three times the size of San Francisco. It was created by citizen activists including Amy Meyer and Edgar Wayburn, plus political leaders such as Phillip Burton and Nancy Pelosi, but it would never have happened without the stewardship of the Army. The Army fired its last cannon salute at day's end on June 23, 1995 — 30 years ago Monday. It was the day the Army turned over the Presidio to the National Park Service. A bugler played 'To the Colors,' and soldiers lowered the flag, slowly, carefully. Then, with a band playing 'The Stars and Stripes Forever' and led by 11 generals, the last U.S. Army soldiers marched from the parade ground out to the Presidio gate at Lyon and Lombard streets. A man who identified himself as John marched on the street, alongside the soldiers. He limped a little. He said a piece of shrapnel from Vietnam still bothered him. Still, he kept up. 'You never forget how to march,' he said. As far as I know, that was the last Army parade in San Francisco.
