On Sunday in Portland, Oregon, the streets once again became a battlefield of competing visions for America. On one side were protesters chanting “Abolish ICE,” masked up, clad in black, and marching against law enforcement. On the other side stood Real America’s Voice correspondent and “Law and Border” host Ben Bergquam, holding a handmade sign that read “God Bless ICE” and “Honk if you love ICE.”
The footage he posted captures more than just a protest—it captures a clash of worldviews, an unfiltered snapshot of where the country’s culture war collides in real time.
A Counter-Protest With a Smile
The scene opened outside the local Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) building—already a fortified structure, its plywood barricades a reminder of previous attacks. Bergquam stood in front, flanked by fellow believers like Quincy, nicknamed “CC Preacher,” and Denver Kwame. They weren’t there to shout down the opposition so much as to inject a different spirit into the confrontation: blessings, humor, and unapologetic patriotism.
“All right guys, back here,” Bergquam begins, holding up his sign. “God bless ICE. They’re gonna love it.”
He continues, making it clear that every honk of support is, in his mind, a kind of prayer: “Every honk we hear is going to be a honk for ICE, whether they know it or not. And I just pray a blessing over the day, a blessing over ICE, a blessing over President Trump, every patriot that loves this country.”
It wasn’t just a counter-protest. It was a declaration: faith, law enforcement, and America deserve defense in the streets, not just on social media.
Tension in the Crowd
As the opposing march moved closer, the volume escalated. Women in masks and dark clothing screamed chants against deportation. Homemade placards reading “Abolish ICE” and “No Borders, No Nations” waved in the air. Bergquam stood his ground.
A man came up and screamed directly into Denver Kwame’s ear. The tactic was pure intimidation—close, loud, meant to rattle. Instead, Bergquam smiled into the camera and quipped, “I heard you. God bless ICE.”
Then came the mockery. A protester called him a “douche canoe.” Bergquam laughed and fired back, “That’s catchy. I might have to use that. A douche canoe.” The absurdity of the insult only strengthened his posture: he wasn’t there to bow, but to stand—and laugh—against hostility.
The Clash of Chants
The footage captures one of the most telling moments: the competing chants.
From the protesters: “Whose streets? Our streets!”
From Bergquam: “Citizen streets. Our streets. America’s streets!”
The exchange highlights the deeper divide. For the activists, the streets belong to the movement. For Bergquam, they belong to the people—to American citizens and the rule of law. His voice cuts through, refusing to concede the language of ownership to the mob.
“Illegals Are Illegal”
In the swirl of screaming and jeering, Bergquam turned his sign toward the cameras and began repeating a blunt mantra: “Illegals are illegal.”
It’s not polished policy language. It’s not a think tank report. It’s the street-level rebuttal to the slogans of “Abolish ICE.” Where the opposition frames border enforcement as cruelty, Bergquam frames lawlessness itself as the cruelty—to the nation, to legal immigrants, to victims of crime, and even to those trapped in the cycles of cartel-driven smuggling.
Faith at the Center
What made the counter-protest different from the usual shouting matches in Portland was Bergquam’s insistence on weaving faith into the fight. Over and over, he framed the clash not just in political terms but in spiritual ones.
“If anyone steals my sign, this is the biggest blessing,” he said. “I pray a massive blessing over them—that they find the Lord, that it plants a seed, and that they can’t run away from Jesus. In Jesus’ name.”
That isn’t rhetoric designed to win Twitter arguments. It’s the language of a street preacher in the middle of a cultural war zone, pointing beyond the immediate hostility toward eternal stakes.
The Broader Symbolism
The ICE building itself becomes symbolic in the video. Its plywood barriers stand as a literal wall against the anger of protesters, who see ICE as the face of oppression. For Bergquam, the building represents the thin line of order—under siege not just by the crowd but by a broader political agenda that undermines enforcement.
By standing in front of it, with a simple sign and a steady smile, he reframes the conversation: this isn’t just about ICE, it’s about whether America will defend its sovereignty or surrender it.
The Clash of Worlds
The Portland protest underscores the fracture in America. On one side: professional activists, organized NGOs, and street-level radicals demanding the end of deportations. On the other: a handful of citizens with handmade signs, a Bible in their pocket, and a conviction that borders matter.
The moment when a woman screamed at Bergquam about “stolen land” drove the point home. He responded dryly: “It’s called conquered.” That short reply carried centuries of history and controversy, summing up the hard truth of nationhood: every border is drawn through conflict, and every nation survives only if it defends them.
Standing in the Storm
Bergquam’s counter-protest wasn’t massive. It wasn’t slick. It didn’t have a sound system or a stage. But in some ways, it didn’t need any of that. What it did have was defiance—refusing to cede the streets to activists who scream but don’t build, who chant but don’t secure.
In Portland, where clashes between law enforcement and protesters have become routine, Bergquam’s “God Bless ICE” sign stood as a small but pointed reminder: there are still Americans willing to stand in the storm, to shout back when others shout them down, and to declare faith and patriotism in places where both are mocked.
The footage ends with horns honking, chants clashing, and Bergquam’s grin steady as ever. In a city where ICE has been vilified and barricaded, he turned a Sunday protest into a reminder that, for all the noise, there are still voices refusing to yield.