“I’ll tell you this,” says emcee Weyman Bennett into his mic. “Nazis can’t dance.” His words sound across Trafalgar Square, and the crowd goes nuts. It’s the final hour of the House Against Hate protest rave, and kinetic energy picks up and races through the throng of dancers. In the front row moves a crew of ravers from all backgrounds: a whining baddie in a “You are now entering Free Derry” t-shirt; an old head in a hot pink frontless tank top, deep in a full seven-hour dance shift; and a young person wearing thick eyeliner and a trans flag draped over their shoulders, their expectant eyes pointed skyward. 

In March 28‘s groundbreaking event, an estimated half a million people gathered to take part in the larger Together Alliance march throughout Central London, smashing records and cementing the demonstration as the largest multicultural demonstration in UK history. At the centre of it all was the House Against Hate free-entry rave, organised by R3 Soundsystem. DJs and artists such as Ben UFO, Katy B, Shygirl, Hot Chip, Leigh-Anne Pinnock, and GIDEÖN (the man behind R3 Soundsystem) took to the stage to take aim at the far-right amid Reform party popularity and increased anti-immigration, anti-trans, and xenophobic rhetoric.

“This isn’t going to be a smooth process,” artist Joy Crookes tells Dazed at the event. “The years ahead of us, especially while people like Trump are still in power, are going to be a very testing time. We need to lock in, and if that looks like the smallest protest in the world, like talking to a problematic family member, or it looks like standing at Trafalgar Square and saying something, then both count.”

In September 2025, Tommy Robinson led the far-right Unite the Kingdom rally, garnering unprecedented numbers as 150,000 people took to London’s streets, resulting in violent clashes with police. Now, just six months later, a change in the tide feels palpable, as those numbers were more than tripled by those who rallied to oppose the far-right, instead choosing to stand for the justice and equality of marginalised people everywhere. 

“Man, everyone should be here,” says 19-year-old Rowan May Early Wray under a fire engine red messenger hat. “It’s extremely important because people getting together in person – especially against hatred – is a dying art. I'm just happy to see people together and interacting in a normal human way. This is the UK. This is what the UK should be.” Wray’s friend, 18-year-old Oli Taylor, chimes in, adding, “Something like this makes it easier for people to speak out. Music is the language that goes across all languages.”

For a few auspicious hours, Central London’s streets were reclaimed, and Trafalgar Square became a place of blissed-out liberation and celebratory defiance. Stoked and united by thumping house music and a momentous common cause, people of all walks hoisted each other into the air, danced in each other’s arms, and made the decision to choose hope – in a time when hope feels like an act of resistance in itself.