The night of May 9 started like most others at Uncle Lou’s Entertainment Hall. The pulse of a crowd packed in tight, warm and sweaty as they sway to the pounding of a bass. No stage, no barrier between band and crowd — just people pressed in close in a room where every wall told a story. Artwork, signage, years of memories filled every corner of the dimly lit venue. 

But the show was interrupted abruptly with a police raid. The band was moved to a venue next door, while Uncle Lou’s went quiet.

Uncle Lou’s was a place warm not just because of the Florida heat, but with the warmth of somewhere that was lived in and loved. Outside, under a handmade sign, blazing crimson walls once announced drink specials and events. Now, they’re covered in something else. Handmade signs plaster the walls of the music venue, black sharpie demanding: “Free Our Lou” and “Orlando Needs Uncle Lou.” 

The man at the center of it all, Cleon “Uncle Lou” Williams, held together this pillar of the Central Florida music scene for nearly two decades before he was forced out of it. Williams was arrested on that Saturday night during a police raid on allegations of selling alcohol without a license. What would have been a minor infraction for many, became a terrifying sentence as the beloved music venue owner was placed under an immigration hold.

For locals of the Orlando music scene, Uncle Lou’s was not just a venue or a bar, but a haven. 

“Uncle Lou’s was where my band played our third-ever gig when we were just starting out,” said Lil Mckenna, member of Real Men Band and owner of Velvet Crowbar Booking. “In a time where venues are closing and can be really difficult to book or work with, Lou always provided a spot for live musicians of all kinds.” 

Williams came to Florida nearly 40 years ago from Jamaica. Within those years he built a family, a community, a life of giving back to others. Now, as his life was being torn apart, the community he had given so much to decided it was their time to give back.

The response was rapid, local officials Florida House of Representative Anna Eskamani and U.S. Representative Maxwell Alejandro Frost taking the lead on gathering information into the details of Williams’ detainment. As they worked with his family to gather information, the Orlando music scene mobilized in the best way they knew how: making noise. 

Within days, the music community launched benefit concerts in Williams’ honor, and bands who had frequented the venue made albums and merchandise to support. Family and friends of Williams created a GoFundMe to rally funds for his legal aid, raising over $60,000 within weeks.

“The quickness with which we came together…was impressive,” said Kevin Meehan, Orlando creative and member of the band Ghost Peppers. “It was an important step in our ongoing political education.”  

That political education can begin with a single feeling: powerlessness. But fighting an anti-immigrant agenda requires us to not stay in that feeling.

“It’s really easy to get caught up in a cycle of seeing awful news and feel overwhelmed or powerless,” said Mckenna. “Hosting shows, for me, is a way to tangibly make a difference.” 

When a loved one is detained, it is easy to feel like there is nothing you can do. What the Orlando music scene has proven is that there is always something you can do.

“It’s a good example of how one person can make a difference, even if it’s small,” said Mckenna. “…Reposting a show announcement or donating $5 to a GoFundMe goes a huge way.”

And those donations kept going even after the legal fight was lost. Even though Williams’ fight ended with voluntary self-deportation, the community ensured he would not have to rebuild empty handed. 

Though the current administration may push him and so many others out, they can’t cast away what has been built in their absence.

“Hopefully, the solidarity we expressed for Uncle Lou will endure and be a foundation for more mutual aid,” said Meehan. “Especially at the entry-level indie end of the spectrum that Lou supported so steadfastly.”

Those indie artists driven by passion and a belief in the power of creating, have started something that proves you don’t need to be a professional organizer to make change. We all have skills we can lend to the movement.

In North Dakota, tattoo artists hosted flash sales to support a fellow artist detained by ICE. In Massachusetts, college students organized a benefit concert raising funds for immigrant response relief. In Minnesota, comedians turned fear into humor and roasts. 

As communities across the country watch ICE dismantle the lives of those they love, they may feel the same powerlessness this community initially felt. What the Orlando music scene, and communities across the country, are reminding us is that we already have the power to fight back. 

Uncle Lou’s Entertainment Hall will close its doors on June 26. But, what was fostered inside those crimson walls, the community, the family, the love, will open new doors. 

“I know you all love me,” said Williams from the detention center, “and I love you all the same way.”

That love is how we fight back. And it belongs to all of us.