'I Was in the Pittsburgh Trans Debate. Activists Had Me Scared for My Life'

I've spoken on college campuses at least a dozen times so far in my fledgling career as a right-leaning journalist and political commentator. While I've faced at least some degree of angry pushback on almost every occasion, I've never felt physically unsafe—until this week.

When I agreed to debate the controversial traditionalist pundit Michael Knowles on the question of whether the government should regulate transgenderism out of existence—he made waves for calling for the "eradication of transgenderism from public life" at the Conservative Political Action Conference—I knew it would be controversial.

But I still wasn't fully prepared for what I was about to walk into.

A mob of angry students and activists took to the streets in anticipation of the event. While some surely only sought to peacefully protest, others very clearly sought to shut down the event and scare us off campus.

Roughly 250 protesters filled the streets outside the event. I was escorted from my hotel by armed plainclothes security officers to the venue and through the main door, meaning I came right through the angry mob that was only being held back by a police line.

I heard activists screaming "get the f*** out of our city" and "eradicate transphobes" while pushing up against the barriers.

I remember noticing that some of the angriest, most volatile agitators had their entire faces and heads covered with a combination of black masks and hats. They genuinely looked like they were about to rob a bank.

I wondered, if they're really just here to peacefully protest, why are they apparently so concerned with concealing their identity?

The protests grew so out of control that the campus police apparently declared a "public safety emergency" and warned locals to avoid the area. The activists even burned Michael Knowles in effigy.

Thankfully, no one ended up getting hurt, but we didn't know what was going to happen at the time. To me, it seemed the intention was very clearly to intimidate, not discuss.

The chaotic and hostile atmosphere put a chill over the entire event, leaving us all on edge from start to finish. I actually remember having the thought—shockingly macabre in hindsight—that at least if someone were to shoot at us while we were on stage, they would probably go for Michael first, and I would have time to duck for cover.

Activists who had somehow snuck inside and taken seats among the audience tried to disrupt the event from the very beginning. Michael was barely able to get out a sentence before several mask-clad individuals leaped up and started screaming: "Trans rights are human rights!" over and over in an attempt to drown out the event and prevent us from speaking. They had to be removed by security before we could continue.

I was quite literally there to defend trans rights, yet I couldn't help but express my frustration at these naive activists who sought to shut down debate rather than engage in it. I ended up dispensing with my planned introduction and instead ad-libbing an admonition to those who sought to shut down the debate to "grow the hell up."

Fortunately, these activists sought to shout us down, but evidently not to do us any bodily harm. But we didn't know that at the time, and when they suddenly stood up and began screaming, a wave of panic surged up my spine. And that wasn't the only time I felt fearful over the course of the 90-minute event.

Throughout, we could hear the chanting of protesters outside coming through the halls. More concerningly, we heard multiple loud explosions off in the not-very-far distance and at the time had no idea what they were.

It turned out to be simply fireworks or smoke bombs, according to reports, but in the moment we all feared it was something worse. Hence why we were all on edge.

At one point in the event, a completely masked young woman carrying a backpack stood up and ran from the back toward the stage. Security raced to intercept her before she could reach us, and she stopped abruptly and took a seat in the second-to-front row.

It now seems she simply wanted to get up front for the Q&A segment, but we all momentarily feared the worst.

After the event, we were quickly ushered off the stage and, within a matter of seconds, escorted out the back door and loaded in discrete black cars that were waiting. They zipped us out of there through a back entrance to the parking lot and brought us back to our hotels.

I remember exhaling deeply in the car once we turned the corner and sped away from the event, thankful it had gone, relatively speaking, smoothly and that I could finally let my guard down.

And that's what's really so disheartening about the whole affair; not necessarily what actually happened, but the chilling effect on free speech such a hostile atmosphere clearly foments.

Whether far-left or far-right, no speaker on any college campus in America, but especially a public campus bound by the First Amendment, should ever have to fear for their physical safety.

Harsh criticism? Peaceful protest? Vociferous debate? By all means. But actual safety is the bare minimum speakers who visit a campus are entitled to.

I wish I could say that this experience was an outlier. A survey by the nonpartisan Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) found that 62 percent of college students think it's acceptable to shout down a controversial speaker who comes to campus.

And that statistic is far scarier than anything I saw at the University of Pittsburgh.

Brad Polumbo is an independent journalist and co-host of the BASEDPolitics podcast.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

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