When people start bringing charcoal to a protest, things are officially getting spicy. And in Baja California, nothing says “we’re fed up” like throwing a carne asada in your governor’s honor—without inviting her.
That’s exactly what happened in Mexicali on Saturday, May 17. Locals gathered for what they dubbed a “Carne Asada Masiva contra Marina del Pilar”—or, in English, a Massive BBQ Protest Against Marina del Pilar. Somewhere between 5,000 and 25,000 people assembled with grills, music, folding chairs, piñatas, and a whole lot of political seasoning.
But this wasn’t just a quirky protest—it was the flame-roasted symptom of something bigger.
The political heat turned up earlier this month when the U.S. reportedly revoked the visas of Governor Marina del Pilar Ávila Olmeda and her husband Carlos Torres Torres. While no formal charges have been announced, speculation about corruption has been simmering for years.
Now, with travel restrictions in place and zero public clarity from her office, Baja residents are asking: Is this finally the beginning of the end for unchecked power? Or is it just another round of political smoke with no fire?

Following the meat-fueled protest in Mexicali, another one is already marinating. “Carne Asada Masiva en Contra de Marina – Versión Tijuana” is now set for Friday, May 24 at 5 p.m. at the Municipal Palace of Tijuana.
So far, thousands have RSVP’d on Facebook, promising to bring both beef and beefs (yes, we went there). The event is being organized by a local figure known as “Chucky de Tijuana”—and no, we don’t think he’s just offering tacos.
Meanwhile in Ensenada, the same “carne asada against the governor” event is being planned at the Civic Plaza by the Three Heads monument, but so far only 9 people have marked themselves as interested. As for Rosarito, no similar event has been announced there—at least not yet. Looks like the grilling spirit hasn’t quite made it to the coast.




To some, this looks like a satirical spin on activism. But to many Baja Californians, it’s the only language left that gets attention—after years of silence, scandals, and public trust grilled to a crisp.
Whether you’re lighting the grill or just watching from the sidelines, one thing’s clear: the people are fired up, and they’re seasoning their demands with tortillas, laughter, and loudspeakers.
So if you’re in Tijuana this weekend and smell grilled arrachera? It might just be democracy—served Baja-style.
Question for our readers:
Is this just performance protest, or is Baja finally standing up to power in the most Baja way possible?
You bring the opinion—we’ll bring the salsa.