When a Pie Social Needs Police Protection

Protest is a right. But when trans activists use it to intimidate and shut down lawful gatherings, it crosses into harassment that infringes on the freedom to assemble.

I live in Massachusetts. Recently, the local chapter of Democrats for Informed Approach to Gender (DIAG) hosted a pie social. No speeches, no panels—just a friendly meet-and-greet for critics of gender ideology. As has become common, the announcement did not include the venue address. Attendees had to register online and wait for an email revealing the location. Experience has taught us that publicizing venues can invite trouble from trans activists who monitor such events.

DIAG’s attempt at discretion proved futile. Shortly after the location notice went out, the organizer sent a follow-up email warning that trans activists were planning to protest.

My first thought was: Not again. Protests by trans activists at events challenging their ideology have become routine. Earlier this year, I attended a Moms for Liberty talk by Leor Sapir. It was a small gathering, and the organizers tried to keep the venue secret. Still, activists found out—they subscribe to newsletters of ideological opponents to track upcoming events.

After a sigh of exasperation, my next thought was: Seriously? They couldn’t leave us alone for a pie social?

When I arrived, a large group of masked activists dressed in black stood outside, waving the Progress Pride flag and blocking both entrances. For a moment, I felt unnerved—but I refused to let fear drive me away. I steeled myself and walked toward the crowd. A police officer stationed in front of the venue pointed me toward Evelyn Ullman, DIAG’s Massachusetts State Coordinator, who was standing in the parking lot.

According to Ullman, two groups—the Waltham Trans Alliance and the Mass Feminist Struggle Committee—had organized the protest. When DIAG’s private security failed to show up, the venue owner became upset and asked everyone to leave. They then called the police to clear the property.

The absurdity of the situation astounded me. Police had to be called—for a pie social.

In the end, we regrouped at a nearby café. A young woman who had detransitioned shared her painful, heartfelt story. We ate pies, talked, and enjoyed each other’s company. But the whole experience left me wondering: at what point does political opposition become harassment?

Harassment, in fact, is the goal. These activists came to threaten and intimidate. There is no shortage of accounts of people—especially women—being threatened or even attacked by trans activists at demonstrations. In London, a 60-year-old woman was punched and kicked at Speaker’s Corner. A man was also punched in Los Angeles, and a videographer chased and kicked at a protest over males entering female-only spaces at Wi Spa. In New Zealand, British women’s rights speaker Kellie-Jay Keen was swarmed and doused in tomato juice at her Let Women Speak rally. For any woman attending a gender-critical event, the risk of attack is real. It is frightening to walk alone through a hostile crowd screaming at you, knowing things could turn violent at any moment.

Renée, another attendee at the pie social, recounted her terrifying experience at a DIAG discussion with Jamie Reed, hosted by the MIT Open Discourse Society last May. Trans activists made such a racket that organizers had to relocate the event mid-session, and campus security was called in so it could continue.

Afterward, DIAG’s speakers and supporters went to dinner nearby—but the activists followed. About seventy-five of them surrounded the restaurant, masked and dressed in black, blowing kazoos, pounding drums, and making thunderous noise. Renée found herself caught outside, flanked by only a few police officers.

“There was no way to engage them,” she said. A male protester lunged at her, shouting, “I f—ing hate you!” Another, appearing to be a trans man, waved a Transtifa flag threateningly. Renée feared the individual might strike her with the pole. One protester stared at her while smacking a water bottle against their palm, as if preparing to hit her. A young woman holding a “Dykes for Trans” sign approached, cocking her head and rolling her shoulder like a pro wrestler psyching up for a fight.

“I was terrified,” Renée said. Only when motorcycle police arrived did the crowd disperse, but not before one protester waved her sign in Renée’s face while her son screamed, “F— you! F— you!”

The intimidation doesn’t stop with attendees. When trans activists learned that Moms for Liberty was hosting Leor Sapir’s talk at a local pub, they called the owner, harassed the staff, and pressured the venue to cancel. The event had to be moved to a Veterans of Foreign Wars hall. Of course, activists showed up there too. Organizers had to arrange security to protect both attendees and property. Before the talk began, I overheard one organizer say, “I wish they would come inside and hear [Leor] out. It’d be better if we could debate them.”

But these activists aren’t interested in debate. They don’t show up to exercise free speech; their goal is to prevent us from exercising ours.

I’m fed up. Why must we sneak around? Why must we choose between concealing our identities or risking doxxing? Why do we need police protection just to eat pie? We’re not doing anything illegal. Why must we operate like underground dissidents and outlaws when they can organize openly?

I’m a free-speech absolutist. I will defend anyone’s right to speak, short of inciting immediate harm. I support trans activists’ right to voice their views in public forums, and I expect the same for myself. Peaceful, respectful argument is how society moves forward. But when these activists show up, they don’t seek conversation. They seek to stop conversation.

“They say they’re standing up for their ‘rights,’” Ullman said. “But when pressed about what exactly those rights are, they can’t articulate much beyond the right for males to claim female spaces, institutions, and sports, and the right to have doctors perform damaging procedures on children and themselves—funded by taxpayers and insurers. I’ve yet to hear a good argument for why anyone should destroy their genitalia or lie about their sex.”

A week after the DIAG pie social, conservative advocate Charlie Kirk was brutally assassinated while speaking at a Turning Point tour event. The scale of violence is incomparable, but the underlying impulse is the same: to use fear and threat to silence opposition. A man is now dead because someone believed they had the right to stop others from gathering to talk.

How much longer will we tolerate this culture of intimidation? How long will we allow one group to forbid another from assembling through threats and harassment?

“If they want to win this battle,” Ullman said, “they need to win it the right way—with arguments that persuade the public and legislators.”

She’s right. It’s time we call these “protests” what they are: harassment designed to deprive others of their freedom to assemble. These tactics should be universally condemned. A society that cannot tolerate dissent cannot remain free.

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