On a rainy Sunday in Portland, Oregon, the city’s long-standing reputation for quirky, creative protest was on full display. Protesters, some wearing nothing but their bike helmets and others clad in inflatable frog, unicorn, and banana costumes, pedaled through the streets in an “emergency” edition of the annual World Naked Bike Ride. Their target? The Trump administration’s attempts to mobilize the National Guard to quell ongoing demonstrations, and the broader federal crackdown on protests outside the city’s U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facility.
According to The Associated Press, the October 12, 2025, event was hastily organized in response to President Donald Trump’s push to send federalized troops into Portland. The city, which has seen daily and nightly protests outside the ICE building for months, awaited the outcome of an appeals court panel set to rule on October 14 on whether the deployment would go forward. A federal judge had previously ordered a temporary hold on the deployment on October 5, putting the city’s fate in legal limbo.
Despite steady rain and temperatures hovering in the mid-50s Fahrenheit (about 12 Celsius), hundreds gathered for the ride. Fewer participants than usual went fully nude—likely due to the weather—but many embraced the event’s spirit of irreverence. Some wore only wool socks, wigs, or hats, while others sported elaborate inflatable costumes. “We definitely do not want troops coming into our city,” said Janene King, a 51-year-old participant who sipped hot tea while waiting for the ride to begin. For King, the protest was a “quintessentially Portland way to protest.”
The ride’s organizers echoed that sentiment in a post on Instagram, writing, “Joy is a form of protest. Being together with mutual respect and kindness is a form of protest. It’s your choice how much or little you wear.” The annual World Naked Bike Ride has been a fixture in Portland since 2004, often drawing crowds of up to 10,000 riders. This year, its message was more urgent—and more pointed—than ever.
But it wasn’t just nudity that defined Portland’s recent wave of protest. As reported by BuzzFeed News and The Oregonian, a new movement had been brewing since June 2025 outside the ICE facility. It began with a single protester in an inflatable frog costume, who became a social media sensation after being filmed “taunting” ICE agents with dance moves. The frog, who was pepper-sprayed by law enforcement but remained undeterred, explained their motivation: “I come out here day in and day out since June because I am worried about my community. I am concerned with what is happening in my community. I don’t want to see anybody treated inhumanely, and to see this happen to my community members, my friends, my family, my neighbors, it’s unacceptable.”
The protester continued, “So, I’m out here protesting in a frog costume—especially in a frog costume—just to show how ridiculous the notion that we are violent terrorists is. It’s just to showcase how that narrative is wrong, and it does a lot more damage than good.” The frog’s resilience—and humor—became a rallying point for others. “I’ve definitely had spicier tamales,” the frog quipped after being pepper-sprayed, a moment that quickly went viral.
Soon, the lone amphibian was joined by a growing group of like-minded protesters, now calling themselves the “Portland Frog Brigade.” Their numbers swelled to include inflatable unicorns, Barney the dinosaur, and even a pig-bear hybrid, all parading outside the ICE facility and performing what one observer jokingly called “war dances.” The movement’s memes—like “United we ribbit, divided we croak”—spread rapidly online, and the frog costume itself became a symbol of the city’s resistance to what protesters described as government overreach and exaggerated claims that Portland had become a “war land.”
“The frog has become a symbol of what’s going on down here,” one brigade member told The Oregonian. “And so, we’ve decided to come support our friend Toad, who’s been out here. You probably saw him on the news, and you know, he’s a friend from another pond.” The group’s stated aim was to push back against what they called “insane government overreach” and the “war zone” narrative promoted by the Trump administration. “Which it’s not, because we’re here,” another member said. The frog symbolism, they added, “really just stems from Toad himself, the costumed protester who inspired the movement. This is all over the internet now, so it only makes sense that more frogs join in this fight.”
By October 13, the inflatable protest movement had exploded across social media platforms like TikTok and X (formerly Twitter). Videos of the costumed demonstrators—sometimes twerking, sometimes dancing in the rain—were widely shared and celebrated as a nonviolent, humorous way to counter the image of Portland as a city under siege. “Portland is leading the way. This is how you (non-violently) beat Fascism. Humor and ridicule are key,” wrote one supporter online. Another commented, “Hot take but this is a wildly effective form of protest because there’s no way you can claim the unicorn suit person who is twerking is a violent revolutionary who needs to be pepper sprayed and not look insane.”
Even those who questioned the efficacy of ridicule in “defeating fascism” acknowledged that the absurdity of the protests undermined the “war zone” narrative. “Certainly not ‘beat’ fascism but ridicule and trolling of the oppressor is actually a viable and critical strategy in the struggle. Never be afraid to engage your oppressor with farce,” another social media user opined.
Authorities, meanwhile, maintained a firm stance. As the naked bike riders approached the ICE building, law enforcement ordered protesters to stay out of the street and remain on the sidewalks, warning that those who failed to comply risked arrest. The city’s legal battle over the deployment of federal troops loomed large, with both sides awaiting the appeals court’s decision.
Through all the tension, Portland’s protesters leaned into the city’s unique brand of activism—one that blends humor, spectacle, and a deep sense of community concern. The merging of the naked bike ride and the inflatable animal movement on October 12 was a vivid reminder that, in Portland, resistance often takes unexpected (and sometimes hilarious) forms. As one participant summed up, “Joy is a form of protest. Being together with mutual respect and kindness is a form of protest.”
In a city where “Keep Portland Weird” is more than just a slogan, the recent protests have shown that sometimes, the most effective way to challenge power is with a little bit of absurdity—and a lot of heart.
