On February of 2024, I made my way to a political rally called “Save the Border” taking place at the park right across one of the busiest malls on the border between Mexico and USA. I didn’t know what to expect, the only other political rally I’ve attended was Bernie Sander’s rally at my old high school, here in San Ysidro. As I cross the I-5 freeway bridge to the other side where a Motel 6 and a Denny’s sign greet me, I hear honks heralding from a distance. a caravan of 4 or 5 trucks come driving sown the streets, all proudly waving the American flag as hood ornaments on their fuel-guzzling heavy metal chunks. I was annoyed, and I kept walking to the rally, the same way they were headed to.

I arrived at the park, and I’m greeted by trucks with all sorts of sticker collages. I walk further and I see a big crowd and an even bigger stage. A man comes up to me and asks:
“What’re you doing?”
I didn’t think much about what I was wearing. some jeans, a sweater since it was winter, and a face mask.
“What’s happening here?” I ask the concerned man. He eyes me up and down.
“You’re not fooling anyone, you know why you’re here.” He points to the camera I’m holding on my right hand.
“You know there’s people here that don’t want their face to show up online.”
I look to the distance and see a couple of officers standing watching the field of people in front of them.
“I’m not looking for trouble.” I then start walking towards the crowd as I feel the man’s gaze linger on me.

The crowd is calm, just waiting for the event to start, whatever that may be. I take out my cam and start taking pictures of what I see.

And well, the event finally started. It was underwhelming. The event featured multiple speakers and some performances. A woman twirling a flag on stage as another woman did the same on the field amongst the crowd. I’m sure some were moved. A political candidate, whose name escapes me, gets the crowd riled up, speaking about immigrants and the damages they’ve done to our communities. He shouts:
“Raise your hand if you’ve personally been affected by crime from an illegal alien!”
In a crowd of about a hundred or so people, only 5 raised their hand, some reluctantly as they looked around them and noticed the startling low number of participants. The rest of the event was forgettable, more speakers shouting in fervor filled out the rest of the morning. Someone passing by the car would be curious about the event. Men, women, children, everyday people really, mere residents here in the Borderlands. I headed out about an hour into the event. There was a dad and his teenage kid walking by the sidewalk next to the park. They looked towards the gathered crowd of sun-red faces, and waving cloths, and maybe even for a second they wondered what was happening only for the next second to turn their gaze back and continue walking to where they were headed to.

I walked by the park the day after to got to the mall. There was nothing, no crowd, no waving flags, no malware spam trucks in sight. The “situation” here at the border remains the same. People going about their day, some heading to work, others wanting to get a bite to eat at the local restaurants. Some people from out of town, some speaking Spanish, others English. All peacefully doing whatever it is that people do with their time. Seems to me that whatever got the “save the border” caravan worried enough to come all the way down here, was mere fantasy. How many of them shopped at the mall after the event? How many ate at one of the many restaurants here? How many even admired the beautiful sights of the park they sought to reclaim. What did their presence really do? The answer is: Nothing. Their cries went unheard. Their presence unseen. I question their motives for traveling all the way here to my hometown, just to make some noise, only to promptly leave. What did they achieve by this? Nothing. It only made me annoyed. And now, 2 years later, I write this down. The only trace of this event to ever really exist. I don’t write this to legitimize their movement. I only seek to take control of the narrative of this seemingly inconsequential event.