In August 2017, I attended one of my favorite events ever, in the big public park called Boston Common. I came home loving Boston, loving Antifa, loving Black Lives Matter. I loved all the random peaceniks and fighters for justice who showed up en masse. We were protesting a “free speech” demonstration designed to promote extreme right-wing ideology — in other words, fascism. That day, I even loved the Boston Police Department.

In spite of organizers’ boasts, only about 50 Nazis came for the planned rally, so few they could all fit on the bandstand. They were surrounded by about 40,000 people on the anti-Nazi side. The crowd was peaceful, diverse, friendly, and happy. The signs were passionate and clever. The police did their job, and they did it well as far as I could see.

I watched some coverage of the demonstration after it was over and was puzzled to see how the news focused on the few arrests and some scuffles where the paths of Nazis and protesters came too close together. How did they miss the monster party that the rest of us experienced? They described the atmosphere as “tense,” but 99% of us weren’t tense at all. We felt fantastic. Boston showed up to boo the haters out of our town, and we did it in style.

A few memorable moments: one or two of the fascists somehow got past the police barricades and were walking among the main crowd, some of whom as you might predict were following the guys and yelling at them. But other anti-Nazis kept them surrounded and safe until they could rejoin their pathetic little herd. That was a beautiful thing to see.

People handed out bottles of cold water. Others shared cake. It had been suggested by some that lefties should stay home, avoid making any trouble. But if you don’t show up to protest Nazis, when are you going to show up?

Another moment: when the tens of thousands who started marching in Roxbury arrived at Boston Common, the tens of thousands of anti-fascists already there raised a huge cheer and chanted “Black Lives Matter” as they joined us. There was no tension. There was joy and celebration.

Finally the Nazis gave up their platform and slunk offstage and out of the Common with their police escort. A few voices lifted from the surrounding crowd, then more and more joined in, until all of us were singing together, over and over: Na na, na na na na, hey hey, goodbye.