I arrived on campus at Brown University in the mid-afternoon after work.
At the center of the open campus, I could clearly see the encampment containing around a couple of dozen tents. Surrounding the tents, hundreds of people sat on the grass, on benches, or on top of statues, the campus was quiet and solemn. On an elevated staircase overlooking the encampment, some women in hijabs sat together and chatted, while students at other tables drank coffee.
As I looked over towards the staircase mentioned above, a flower delivery van appeared from the street and drove on the campus sidewalk, dividing the grass.
On a separate grass patch from the encampment lay cloth tarps.
Each tarp listed hundreds of names of what are known to be every documented victim of the genocide in Gaza. The gesture was incredibly effective in demonstrating the scale of what has and is happening in Palestine.
Similar to the 9/11 memorial, the suffering documented was so vast that it could only be reduced to the name of the victim. In some cases, the name, age, or identity remained unknown. For these victims, several tarps were devoted entirely to unidentifiable victims.
It was apparent how much thought and effort had been put into this, so I ventured into the encampment. All of the tents were vacant, except for a large tent providing shade for several people at a table serving themselves food. To me, this seemed more respectful, inclusive, and impactful than any protest I had been a part of.
There was a real sense of community and commonality, which is inspiring right back to me.
I was hoping to speak with an organizer of the encampment, or someone of that nature, and wer read on his face without words. Before he could answer me, she answered for him.
"That's kind of an unconventional ask. I don't think we're comfortable with something like that. Words say more than faces."
"Words say more than faces.”
I thought about that for a second, and actually agreed with her to some degree."
"I think she is right to an extent. But she was right in speaking her mind."
She didn't know my intentions, and it reminded me that I am the outsider in this situation. I stood there for a couple of minutes, contemplating my next move, while a group of students had gathered around a protest leader with a loudspeaker."
I sat and watched them become louder and more in sync as they chanted.
"I'm so proud of these kids." Students began circling the entire perimeter of the administration building. They flocked from the encampment and marched around many times chanting together.
As this happened, I gravitated towards the crowd where I spoke to Rafi again.
We both agreed to do a brief interview, while the protestors marched in the background around the building. This went on for some time until the chanting stopped, and protest leaders on loudspeakers asked the protestors to sit down together quietly where they were.
After this happened, the protest leaders, who were distinguished by hi-viz vests, handed water to any protestors in need of some.
They anticipated a long wait in the sun, while six students inside talked to administration about the divestment leaders' demands.
I made my way to the other side of the campus where students sunbathing and reading books in the grass were staring at the masses of people sitting all around them.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, university workers driving mini trucks drove onto the campus sidewalks, weaving in between students.
Many people lying on the grass and in the crowd of protestors turned their heads towards the vehicles passing them. One of the trucks stopped behind me.A man wearing a t-shirt with a Brown University logo on the sleeve approached the vehicle, and the two men began remarking about the protests to each other. They seemed disgruntled by the mass of students encircling the building. I decided to talk to them because I had only spoken with people who were in support of the solidarity encampment. I spoke to both of them.
Briefly with the driver and more extensively with the man wearing the University T-shirt.
He was honest with me right out of the gate and told me his gripe with the students, which was that they were "misinformed" about the number of victims in Gaza.
"How do we even know what's actually going on over there?" he said, in an annoyed manner.
I was hesitant to respond to him.
But I did. "I mean, there's footage of what's happening over there."
He glossed over what I said and continued rambling, saying things like, "We've given these people money and concrete to rebuild their city."
This guy didn't seem to be someone willing to be persuaded, but I kept talking to him because I had an inkling that he felt strongly about something else in his life and was using this as a vessel for his frustration. I listened to him talk for some time, and then he said...
"I miss being able not to worry about feeding my family.
I miss when gas was two dollars a gallon."
That's when I understood his point of view better despite everything else he said.
He earns a living tending to the campus of an Ivy League school, one of the top universities in the country. Without him and the other workers, the campus's appearance would not match what the standards people hold an Ivy League school to be. His job is simple and practical, but held to a very high standard.
He seemed like a guy who wanted some acknowledgment of the problems that affect HIS life as well as many others.
Maybe his problems revolve around inadequate pay for the work he does, or maybe he can't ever find enough money to spend on something HE actually enjoys.
It's possible he doesn't have enough time to worry about world issues enough to be correctly informed or open-minded because his main focus is his family.
I think the divestment group and the protestors at Brown University should be commended for their ability to negotiate with the administration and the peaceful and persistent manner in which they voiced their opinions and their demands.
The revolution of change, reminder of our collective humanity, and the urgency for peace is needed in Gaza and in every pocket of the world.
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