I was finally going to see them.They were out in force outside Dutchtown High School, a few miles outside Baton Rouge. They, the face of intolerant Christianity and voice of senseless radicalism, were going to be picketing a few short miles from the house where I grew up.I was finally going to see their signs.You’ve probably seen them before. They’re large and colorful and stark, and their big black block letters spell out all kinds of hatred.”God Hates Fags.” “You Deserve Hell.” “Pray for More Dead Soldiers.”They’re the members of Westboro Baptist Church, and they’re our generation’s Ku Klux Klan. They’re the national symbol of religious fanaticism and reckless hatred, the most reviled hate-speakers of the new millennium.And they were going to be on our doorstep.Only a few protesters were gathered behind the barricades when the reporter covering the story and I arrived. But the crowd was swelling within the hour — lines of people streamed in from the road until the parking lot was full, and people still came walking in for miles.There was a college student dressed as “White Jesus,” in flowing white robes and sandals, carrying a sign that said “Fags are A-OK with me.” There were young girls in Catholic school uniforms, high school girls with dark eyeliner and lipstick and college students in tie-die and bandanas. There were wholesome-looking middle-aged mothers waving American flags and wearing pins with the faces of their soldier children standing next to men in dresses and makeup who stood next to priests in clerical collars.They were all crammed tight in a seething, noisy crowd, and I could only hear one thought throbbing in my head through the noise and commotion.This is how we beat them.It turns out the WBC never showed up. Some of the veteran protesters said it’s happened several times before. If this protest is any indication, these vitriolic mad-mongers are being halted and hemmed in by protests just like these, seeking smaller, more remote venues where crowds won’t drown them out.This is how we beat them.Don’t get me wrong: The situation was far from ideal. There was an open-air preacher from a local church who was trying to talk to the crowd about God — a conservative, evangelical’s God perhaps, but not the WBC’s God of Hate.He couldn’t get a word in. The crowd would yell him down every time he raised his voice to speak. It was a sad dance that lasted all afternoon, and he was still standing on the other side of the barricade when I left the scene — a lone silhouette against the setting sun, trying to be heard over the din.Seeing the number and diversity of people in attendance to shut out the inhumanity of the bigots that never showed up was great — and knowing these protests may be having some effect is encouraging — but seeing people getting pushed under the rug in the rush of it all is a little disheartening.There is far more gray area here than some people realize.Not everyone who professes faith in God is a bigot. Even among those who take religious texts largely literally, there are few who worship a God that hates homosexuals and soldiers and who mercilessly damns anyone to hell.It is good and just to protest people who preach hatred. They can’t be reasoned with, and whatever absurdity it takes to drown them out is justified.But the deservedly strong reactions to those on the lunatic fringe can’t color perceptions of anyone who professes faith in God.We can beat hatred.But we can’t let more reasonable people get caught in the collateral damage.Matthew Albright is a 21-year-old mass communication junior from Baton Rouge. Follow him on  Twitter @TDR_malbright.
 
 
 
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