NO KINGS Protest June 14, 2025, Holland, Michigan. This marked our second visit to a local anti-Trump rally, noticeably larger than the previous gathering. Our intent was straightforward: snap a few pictures, talk to the crowd, and ask obvious, if challenging, questions. One clear question loomed: Why does this protest not reflect the demographic reality of Holland, where around 30% of the community is Hispanic?
In the weeks leading up to the event, organizers sent detailed emails urging attendees to wear pro-America clothing and exclusively wave American flags, while requesting that no foreign banners be displayed. They emphasized the importance of maintaining peace and kindness, a message that seemed to resonate with the older crowd. Participants were provided with suggested phrases for their signs, and social media was filled with creative slogans, many of which appeared throughout the protest.
Walking towards the demonstration, the atmosphere thickened with the roaring engines of motorcycles blaring pro-Trump anthems, clashing audibly with chants from protesters lining both sides of the street. We mingled among approximately 3,000 attendees, a crowd that was overwhelmingly older and predominantly white. Despite Holland’s significant Hispanic community, we counted fewer than 30 visibly Hispanic participants; our photos reflect this.
When asked directly why there was a lack of Hispanic representation, the responses were varied, though largely evasive or defensive.
“Hiding.” "Well, keep in mind, a lot of Latino folks are as white as you and me... I have Hispanic friends who are not noticeably Hispanic." "I have Hispanic friends whose skin is as white as yours and mine."
These explanations hinted at discomfort or confusion regarding racial and ethnic identity at the rally.
One participant, discernibly earnest, raised concerns about the dangers of deportation influencing turnout. "We don’t get a lot of news coverage of deportations from Holland, but there have been a whole bunch," he insisted. "Hispanic friends have told me exactly where they were when people were deported. If I was noticeably Latino, I don’t think I'd be out here. Last thing you want to do is be at a protest where you get dragged off to a detention center, right?”
Pressed for specifics on deportations, he cited three vague instances: "One was a community center. One was a gas station. I don’t recall where the third one was. I subscribe to the Sentinel online, but I don't know there's been much coverage."
He tossed in,
"I wouldn't argue this is overwhelmingly white, just to be clear—I'm not arguing with that."
A pair of men in their 30s held signs declaring "Jesus is King," seemed uncertain about the demographic disparity. One said, "I don't know why. Is it just busyness? I mean, retirees have time." He then confessed, "I'm not a native Hollander."
Our interactions turned tense when an older man angrily refused an interview request. "Get away from me," he snapped before proceeding to shadow us aggressively. His wife intervened, pulling him back while audibly frustrated. "They don't deserve you, fuck this shit," she said. Still, he persisted at a healthy distance now, thankfully—thanks, wife.
A man in his 60s, observing the crowd, remarked with pride, "Look around—this is everyday people. These are people that care." Yet when asked explicitly about Hispanic participation, he deflected, "There was a family that just went this way, not that far over there."
A nearby couple in their 60s seemed exasperated by our questions. "I have no idea," said one, visibly irritated. "I don't know what to tell you. They’re hiding. You need white privilege to protest. Unless you can walk in their shoes, you have nothing to say about it." The husband bluntly concluded, "The Mexicans never felt like they belonged here."
The most striking aspect of our exchanges was the general ambiguity surrounding the protest’s actual purpose. When asked to name a specific grievance against Trump, one man in his 50s openly admitted,
"I can’t name a single issue, but he’s not a good guy. Trump is not a nice person."
During the rally, tension escalated briefly as pro-Trump supporters drove their jeeps along the protest route, prompting angry exchanges and occasionally blocking the roadway at the intersection. Protesters shouted profanities, attempting to halt one vehicle—which only seemed to relish the confrontation and further stoke tensions.
A bloody mannequin head impaled on a stake accompanied a sign reading “Off with his head.” The provocative display, intended to symbolize a violent decapitation of President Trump, drew enthusiastic approval from passing supporters. "Nice sign," one protester cheered; another appreciatively added, "Love your sign!"
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Although no physical violence erupted, palpable anger simmered beneath a surface of confusion. Participants frequently fumbled when pressed for specifics, leaving observers with the impression that the rally was grounded more in emotion than policy.
Walter Kirn on X.com aptly stated,
"No Kings Rally, it's just Blue Sky Live."
And he seems to be correct. The event primarily served as a testing ground, quietly evaluating which issues resonated most strongly with participants. Each gathering allowed organizers to collect signatures, mobilize supporters, and tap into community frustrations.
The NO KINGS protest might have effectively harnessed local anger. But its failure to clearly define its objectives or broaden its appeal means that organizers seem to be isolating the very communities they claim to support.
The question remains whether future anti-Trump demonstrations will reflect the broader Holland community or continue predominantly as gatherings of older, affluent white residents.
Recent national data highlights shifting political alignments among Hispanic voters: Trump notably captured around 47% of Latino men's votes, marking a significant 35-point shift compared to 2020, when Biden held a wider margin. Among Latinas, Trump also saw gains, though more modest, with approximately 32% support. Additionally, age influenced these shifts—no gender difference appeared among Latinos aged 60 and older, while a notable 10% gender gap emerged among voters aged 40–59. The data suggests complex and evolving dynamics within Holland’s Hispanic community.
Eric McKee is a lifetime resident of West Michigan. Married with two energetic boys, he spends his days balancing work with dad life. Also, a firm believer that Almond St. Claus Windmill Cookies are the ultimate snack (and maybe a little too good).
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